Caveats: (The Director thought it was imperative for this particular story) First of all, I wrote this story on drugs. No, I'm not high. *g* But you'll probably think so when you read this. The meds are holding my brain hostage.

Second, I'm introducing 3 of my own personal characters. This story is based on an original story I've been writing for 4 yrs. now and I thought it important to bring my own characters into play. I won't bring them back unless y'all actually like 'em. In fact, I won't do another AU of this particular type unless y'all like it. Let me know if you do!

Third, this story contains violence and adult language and situations. However, it's not so extreme that I'd rate it past PG-13.

Okay. I'm done. :o)

   The drunken man staggered dangerously as he made his way towards the side of the street. He needed a taxi, but none seemed to be available. Grumbling to himself as he drunkenly made his way along the sidewalk, he thought that if he walked long enough, maybe, just maybe, one would appear from thin air.

In his inebriated mind there was no concept of time. The wife and kids at home were forgotten. The cab was the only thing taking up residence in his fog-ridden head. That and the beautiful woman standing at the corner.

Not a hooker. No, he could tell that at one glance. She was much too exotic to be a hooker. She smiled invitingly at him, dark eyes twinkling seductively.

"You look like you could use some company." Her voice was velvety, almost as seductive as those eyes.

"Yeah," he readily agreed. "Could always use some of that."

"I can solve that little problem for you. Just come here."

"Right away, babe." He made his way towards her, fighting the alcoholic fog clouding his mind.

A slender hand, with long, lacquered nails grasped his hand and led him down the dark alleyway.

"Well, sweetheart," he complained. "I could find a much more romantic atmosphere than this."

She laughed, the sound rich and smooth. "I bet you could. But this will suit my purpose just fine."

"If you insist." He reached up to kiss the taller woman, and as his eyes met hers he backed away in shock. "What the hell . . .?"

Those dark eyes were glowing. Pure energy was seeping from them, sheer hatred pouring along the steady stream.

"I've met too many men like you," she hissed, face twisted in blatant disgust. "They're always the ones that I take great pleasure in killing. I like to tear apart their bodies as I drink."

The drunken man swirled around at the statement, hoping to get away from her, get away from this situation alive. A viselike grip snatched at his jacket, holding him taut. Inch by inch he was pulled back towards the woman--demon-- and he realized that her grip was ice. There was no warmth whatsoever radiating from her body. He was spun around to face her. Desperate he shoved, but her strength was greater than any human's could possibly be. He yelled out, but no reply came, promising aid.

Smiling greedily her head descended towards his neck and he felt a moisture settle upon it. Then a piercing pain, like that of a pin being jabbed into his throat, chased away the alcoholic haze.

The pain . . . Oh dear saints, the pain . . .

A fresher, sharper onslaught of pain caused him to yell out involuntarily. With this came a ripping, like that of cloth being torn apart. A gush of warm liquid oozed down his neck and a pair of lips, accompanied by an eager tongue, lapped at it. Blackness threatened as the searing sensation of his skin being torn from his neck cascaded over him once again. The tearing cloth sound provoked a nausea that had initially been the product of an overindulgence in alcohol, but was now broiling over with agony and the horrifying realization that he was going to die.

As he listened to the roar of his blood being sucked out of his body darkness swirled before him. Oblivion beckoned to him and he gratefully accepted a respite from the pain.

Dimly, as the swirling nothingness swallowed him whole, he heard the horrible ripping sound a final time.

 "The victim was Leonard Minsky. Thirty-nine years old. Wife and two kids. Lawyer. He won a case yesterday and went to the bar last night, apparently to celebrate. Guess he had a little too much to drink. Robbery has been rejected as a possible motive. His wallet, money intact, was still on him."

Blair blanched at Simon's impassive recitation. He could barely even look at the body without the threat of nausea. It was the strangest sight he had ever seen in his three years traveling murder site to murder site with Jim. The neck had been ripped out, skin lying around the body in fleshy chunks; but there was no blood. None. The body had been drained completely dry.

His eyes drifted towards his best friend to see how he was taking it. Surprise surprise. Jim Ellison's face was a brick wall.

"It almost looks like the blood was drained by some type of medical device," Jim observed. "But that doesn't explain the mutilation to the neck. Has the coroner fixed a time of death?"

"Not exact, no, but they estimate it's been eight hours at the very least and eleven at the most. Looks like rats have been all over the body."

Jim knelt beside the paste-colored corpse to study it more closely. "Rats couldn't have done this much damage to the neck. It looks like a large animal did this to him."

"That drained the body completely dry of blood?" Simon asked incredulously.

"Blood sucking wolf?" Blair suggested lamely. At the looks he received from Jim and Simon he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, giving them an 'It was just a suggestion' look.

Jim rose to his feet, crossing his arms when he was at his full height. "Well, last I heard there weren't any large animals loose in Cascade; or any vampires for that matter, which is the only thing I can think of at the moment."

"It does kind of remind me of a vampire now that you mention it." Simon chomped on his ever-present cigar while scrutinizing the cadaver. "Vampire cult maybe?"

"But how did they manage to drain all the blood out of the body?" Jim demanded.

Blair cast another surreptitious glance his way before deciding he could stand neither the stench nor the sight of the body any longer. This was even creepier than most of the murder cases he and Jim had worked on previously.

"If you guys don't mind I'm going to go walk around."

"Just be careful," was Jim's not-so-unexpected reply.

Blair nodded in response before making a mad dash to get out of the alley's smothering confinements. Finally, he felt like he could take in a normal breath.

Once in open air Blair studied his surroundings. A murder in this area should hardly be unexpected, seeing as this was a seedier section of Cascade. It was merely the gruesome way the crime had been carried out that caused it to receive special attention. The alley itself was right beside the now closed bar--and if Simon had his way it would remain closed until the investigation was solved. Simon was hardly the type of person to take unwarranted risks, particularly when it came to investigations. If that meant shutting a bar down temporarily, then he would do just that.

Another thing Blair mused over was the absence of blood. How could the throat be torn out like it was without leaving a trace of blood anywhere? A possibility floated to the top of his mind, which was quickly shoved away before it could fully form. The idea was completely ludicrous.

In an attempt to get his mind off of the impossible, his gaze settled over the yellow police tape. It had been stripped around the scene, cutting off access to the alley and the bar, including that section of sidewalk.

Cops were milling about in search of any type of evidence they could gather. There was a scattering of people present, curious onlookers who might stop for a minute or two before carrying on with their daily routine. He looked over the sprinkling of people until his azure eyes settled on a particular group of three.

They were young. Late teens or early twenties. Two guys and a young woman. The young woman, oddly enough, was the one who reminded him of Jim. From this distance he couldn't make out the color of her eyes, but the icy way they inspected her surroundings was completely characteristic of Jim.

The tallest had straight dark hair even lengthier than his own. Even though his eyes were not cold they were void of any type of emotion. Almost like that corpse . . .

Blair grimaced at the thought and instead turned to the last of the three.

This guy was the shortest of all of them. Probably 5'5", he guessed. What the guy lacked in height was well made up for in musculature. Despite the tough body builder physique he was the only one who looked nervous or worried.

Blair wrinkled his nose and brow. What was going on? He tried to shove the three kids aside as mere coincidence, but he couldn't help but think that they were just a little too interested in the crime scene.

He moved forward then froze when the long-haired guy's gaze settled on his own. Quickly, he diverted the contact; but not before he had felt the spark. There had been something in that young man's gaze that had carried sheer energy, as if the guy could simply open up one's mind and take a peek inside it. Aware of the scrutiny he was receiving, Blair repressed a shudder. This was getting way too weird.

It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence . . . He played his own personal mantra over and over in his head, hoping he could convince himself of it.

Relief poured over him as soon as Jim reappeared from the alleyway. At the look on Jim's face, it dissolved immediately. This couldn't be good.

"There were two other murders with a similar MO," Jim informed him.

The groan was barely audible, but Jim heard it just fine.

"I'm sorry, Chief. Duty calls."

"I know, Jim."

"You up for this?" Jim studied him intently.

"Of course I am," Blair assured him. "Just gotta get my bearings together. Are they . . . are they as bad?"

"I don't know, to be perfectly honest with you, buddy. We'll just have to go and see for ourselves."

Blair nodded, resolved to what had to be done. "I'm with you all the way, Big Guy."

Jim's smile was well worth the resolve. "Glad you're up to it. I work better when you're around. Must be that herbal shampoo I always smell that keeps me grounded."

Blair rolled his eyes in good nature. "Ha ha, Jim. Too funny."

"Yeah? Well, at least I tried."

"You might be a kick-ass cop, but you suck as a comedian."

"In other words: Don't give up my day job?"

"Exactly."

The other two victims must have been a couple. A young man and woman found in a movie theater. It had been guessed that the two had sneaked in before anyone else had appeared. During the entire movie no one in the dark theater had even noticed them. The janitor that had come in early in the morning had come upon them. Poor guy was going to have nightmares after seeing that sight.

Blair didn't blame him.

The death of the two young adults was slightly different from the previous victim's in that there was no mutilation.

Simon had accompanied them to the movie theater, leaving someone else in charge at the alley crime scene. Dan Wolfe, the Chief Medical Examiner, had already been called down to the theater and had a list of facts already gathered for them.

"The victims are Mark Bloom and Tiffany Nelson. Bloom was 21 yrs. old and Nelson was 19. Right now the best I can gather is that they both died from massive blood loss. Only visible wounds are two tiny puncture wounds over the carotid artery. Time of death was fixed around eight to ten hours ago."

"So we have a serial killer on our hands," Jim affirmed.

"It looks like it," Simon observed. "The only difference I can detect is the lack of mutilation. This killing, in fact, would lead me to believe that we do indeed have a vampire cult on our hands."

"They would've had to obtain equipment to efficiently drain the bodies of blood though," Jim reminded him.

Before he could reply to Jim's observation, Dan was pulled aside by one of the other officers.

Blair took the opportunity to make a suggestion to Jim. "Maybe you should use your senses and see if you can pick up anything."

Jim looked over at the bodies, still in the same position in which they'd been found, and the cops over in that area. "I don't work real well in front of an audience."

At the beseeching gazes he was receiving from both Jim and Blair, Simon exhaled in exasperation. "Okay, okay. I'll see what I can do to get rid of them."

The partners exchanged satisfied grins as Banks went over to where a few cops were still inspecting the area around the bodies.

"I want everyone to fan out and search the entire area. It won't do us any good to all stay in the immediate vicinity. The killer could have left a clue anywhere. Let's spread it out."

At the orders, the few still searching around the bodies were quick to take their search elsewhere. Jim and Blair approached the dimly lit corner of the theater when the coast was clear. Blair had to mentally check himself to keep from reacting badly around the sallow corpses.

Jim inaudibly sniffed the air a couple times while Simon waited in silence and Blair bounced on his heels. Exasperation caught up with the towering captain and he laid a restraining hand on Blair's shoulder.

"Will you quit that? You're going to make me nervous."

Blair ceased bouncing and shot him a sheepish half-smile. "Oh, sorry, Simon."

"Don't worry about it. Jim, you got anything?"

Jim's face scrunched up in what could be perceived as either disgust or pain.

Blair stepped forward, a hand stretched out instinctively to offer support. "Hey, Jim. You okay?"

Jim shook his head as if to clear it. "Yeah, Chief. Just got a whiff of something really potent."

"Do you know what it was?"

"I smell blood. The odor's stronger than I expected it to be."

"Blood?" Simon regarded the dried corpses. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's definitely there. It smells strongly of death, but I guess that's to be expected." He nodded towards the bodies. "There's something else. Almost musty, kind of bitter."

"Some kind of chemical?" Blair suggested.

Jim took another deep breath of the air again, his brow wrinkled in concentration. "No . . . no it's not a chemical of any kind that I recognize." He leaned in closer to the neck of one of the bodies, where the puncture marks were. "It's strongest here. I don't have any clue what it is. I've never smelled anything like this before."

Blair frowned at Jim's revelation. "Try sight." There had to be something.

The detective moved closer to the corpses and squatted down to the closest one, the male, and scrutinized the neck's wounds. "It's smooth except for the holes. This had to have been done by some type of medical equipment. I don't see how an animal could make marks this smooth without some kind of tearing."

Well, that was a start.

"I'll have forensics go over it." Simon removed his glasses and wiped a hand across his eyes then down his face. "See what they can get out of it. Maybe they can figure out what it is your smelling. You say it's on the bodies?" he asked, replacing his glasses in their rightful position.

"Yeah. But not just that. It's everywhere; it's just strongest on the bodies. I wish I knew what it was."

"Maybe we could run some tests--" Blair began.

"Uh-uh, Chief," Jim cut him off. "No tests. I can assure you. We won't find out what it is by doing tests on it."

Blair tried again. "But you don't--"

"Sandburg." The warning tone was enough to silence Blair's arguments. "Just trust my instincts on this one, okay? I know you're the Guide and I should listen to you, but this is completely different from anything I've ever smelled. Almost like it should be living, but isn't. Maybe I'll run into it somewhere else."

"Did you smell it at the other crime scene?"

"I wasn't really focusing my senses there. After you took off I decided I probably should lay off until you were around."

"I'm really sorry about that, Jim," Blair apologized, dismayed by his own earlier actions. Keeping it together around dead bodies was something he would probably never get use to. "If you want we can go back and see if you do pick up something."

"It's worth a try. You're okay with that?"

"Sure I'm okay with it. I was just a little overwhelmed at first over there. I'll be fine this time around. Promise."

"All right," Simon said, after watching the volley of conversation. "You two go see what you can find back there. I'm going to stay here and keep an eye on things."

The entire theater had been closed once the bodies had been found. Just like the crime scene at the alley, the entire building had been taped off and cops were inspecting the premises. Outside, just like at the alley, there was a small gathering of curious onlookers.

"I saw those kids at the alley," Jim stated as soon as they had exited the building.

Blair turned in the direction Jim was facing and was able to pick out three very familiar faces. "You saw them, too?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. They just sort of caught my attention."

"Wow. I thought it was just me. That's a relief."

"Getting paranoid, huh?" Jim chuckled.

"Me, paranoid?" Blair laughed the idea off. "Never. That still doesn't explain what they're doing here. I thought they looked kind of suspicious."

"That's what I thought. Looks like they've noticed us."

The three young adults turned around speaking among themselves, walking towards the parking lot hidden on the other side of the cinema.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Blair asked, nonplused that Jim wasn't moving.

Jim held up a silencing finger and tilted his head. "Hold on a sec, Chief."

"They've got to be the ones," the short guy was saying. "Why don't we just go up to them now? They've already seen us. And you said that the curly-headed guy looked directly at you, Adrian. It's not like we're so inconspicuous anymore."

"Bram," the girl wearily exclaimed. "Enough! This is hardly the time to approach them. Besides, we have to figure out how we're gonna go about it. If we tell them the truth how much do you wanna bet that they're going to laugh at us? 'Cause, I tell you, that's exactly what's going to happen."

"I never signed up for this job, Leesh. I don't care much for the job description, and we don't even get paid for it. It sucks!" Jim had to smile at that particular comment. It sounded like something Sandburg would say.

"Come on, Mellow," Adrian replied soothingly. "It's not that bad. Just take Alecia seriously will you? When the time's right we'll go to them. Maybe I'll have another vision."

Bram sighed. "Yeah. Whatever."

After deciding the conversation had ended, Jim turned to Blair.

"So what'd they say?" The anthropologist asked, eagerly.

"I don't think they're the killers, whatever that conversation meant."

"What do you mean 'whatever that conversation meant'?"

Jim stared off in the direction the kids had disappeared in. They were already on the other side of the building getting in a vehicle. He attempted to gather his thoughts together. "They kept saying that we were the ones, but I get the distinct impression they don't know too much about us."

"Well, that leaves us with three very good questions." Blair stepped onto the street that ran in front of the theater, making sure to avoid the crowded area.

"What's that, Chief?" Jim queried, following alongside his partner.

"Who are they, why are they following us, and what do they have to do with the murders?"

"I have a feeling we may get our answers sooner than you think."

"How's that?" Blair brushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear and cast his eyes on his friend.

"I think they're going to come to us. We'll just have to wait."

"The waiting part is what sucks," the normally hyperactive grad student grumbled.

Jim grinned as they made their way around the crowd. "So you've told me before. There's at least one question we don't have to wait to find out."

"Which one's that?"

"Whether or not that scent is at the other crime scene." Jim patted the shorter man on the back. "Let's go get our answer."

The chaos at the alley had died down some by the time Jim and Blair returned. They both looked around for any signs of their mysterious followers. Nothing.

Blair took a few deep breaths before stepping into the small passageway. Time to get this show on the road.

Jim knelt down beside the body that had just recently been outlined. It wouldn't be long before it would be put in the Coroner's truck. It was a good thing they had come back as soon as they had. Much later and the body would have already been taken away.

"Getting anything?" Blair questioned.

"No." Jim grimaced at the assault on his olfactory senses. "There's too much here. I can't sort through it."

"Okay. Your sense of smell's being overloaded. We can work through that. You've done this before and you remember the drill. Sift through each scent one by one until you've either eliminated them all or have found something similar to it. One at a time."

Jim nodded to indicate that he had heard the words then proceeded to sort through each scent, discarding anything that didn't match up with the mystery scent at the theater. His nose wrinkled after several seconds.

"What do you have?" Blair inquired, squatting down beside the Sentinel. "Is it the same scent?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Almost the same. Slightly different though. I can smell . . . jasmine."

"Jasmine?" That was not what the grad student had been expecting.

"Yeah. I'm getting the same bitter scent, but its overlaid with an even stronger jasmine fragrance."

"Then a woman's involved."

Still perplexed at what his senses were telling him, he could only shake his head and shrug. "I don't want to jump to conclusions with just a simple fragrance. Besides, if it's a woman then I'm almost sure she has accomplices. Anyway, woman or not, there's no way only one person could have killed all three people. That's like saying a person could be in more than one place at once. I've seen strange things in my time, but I'm not ready to buy that just yet."

"As open minded as I like to be, neither am I," Blair admitted. "That would definitely put this in the Twilight Zone. Still, you can't tell me that nothing weird is going on."

"Trust me, Chief. I'm not about to tell you that. Whatever I'm sensing is far from normal. I just wish I knew what it was."

"Are you sure you don't want to try some tests to narrow it down?" Blair suggested again.

"No! No tests. We won't find what we need doing your stupid tests, so forget it."

Blair frowned at the statement, bright blue eyes reflecting hurt at the harsher than normal words. He rose to his feet. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't realize that you hated the tests so much."

Remorse flooded out any anger that had clouded Jim's sharp features. "Aw geez, kid. I didn't mean it. I don't even know what possessed me to say it. I guess all the negative energy's getting to me." As soon as the words came out, Jim's mouth turned in a quirky smile. "Look at this. Now I sound just like you!"

The frown turned upside down and the hurt vanished. An internal pang made Jim question himself. What had made him say that to Blair anyway? Those words were the last words he had intended to say in reaction to the kid's testing suggestions.

"All right, kid. I think that's about all we can do here at the moment. Guess we're going to do some questioning then turn in for the night. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah. Let's just figure this out before too many more people are killed."

That simple statement coming from an innocent such as his Guide was disconcerting to a man like James Ellison. Blair hadn't said "let's figure this out before anyone else is killed," he had said, "before too many more people are killed." An unsettling fact Jim knew was true. They were going to have more dead bodies on their hands before this was solved. He hadn't been lying about negative energy. It was everywhere; and it was bloodthirsty.

The day had been insanely hectic and Blair sent a thank you up to Heaven for being free of any classes. Being on break between semesters had been a godsend if he'd ever seen one. This way he could focus his undivided attention on this case. He knew that his presence helped Jim concentrate better and that he was a valuable asset to the department.

The two men had both entered the loft, exhausted. Blair flopped down onto the couch facing the balcony doors. Jim chose the chair facing towards the TV.

"Guess we didn't find out too much," Jim said, more for conversation than anything that actually needed to be said. "Looks like we have our work cut out for us tomorrow. If the serial killer happens to strike again are you going to be able to handle it?"

Remembering having to leave the tight confines of the alley, Blair nodded. "Yeah. It just startled me today. I didn't expect to see those people so . . ." his voice trailed off for lack of a word to describe what he had witnessed.

"Don't get me wrong, kid," Jim hastened to reassure him. "You did good out there today. I think you held out better than most rookies would have under those conditions. This was about the most bizarre thing I've see in a very long time."

"You've seen deaths like that? Police work or in the Rangers?"

"Actually it was when I was stranded in Peru. I was out on a hunt with the Chopec and we ran across a band of white hunters, three or four, I forget, completely drained of blood. It was like a gigantic mosquito had sucked them dry."

"Why didn't you tell Simon?"

"To tell you the truth, I didn't even think about it at the time. As far as a connection between what happened in Peru and what's happening now goes, I just don't see how likely it can be. I'm still willing to chalk up the blood drainage to medical blood transfusion equipment or mortician's equipment."

"What about the torn neck though? Why would they have torn the one man's neck and not the other two people?"

Jim sighed. "Good question. Now wouldn't it be nice if I had the answers? Right now all I want to do is go upstairs, flop down on my bed, and pass out."

"Sounds good to me," Blair wearily agreed. He watched Jim remove himself from the couch, with not a small amount of bone creaking and moaning, and start the trek upstairs. "Good night, Jim."

"Night, Chief. Sleep well." "I intend to, Big Guy. I intend to."

Wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, he twisted and turned, hearing voices taunting him, glowing eyes watching him with voracious intent. Curls fell across his pinched features as the demons of his sleep attacked him. Finally, deep within his dreams a figure approached him, a familiar young man with long flowing hair and dark blue eyes that portrayed a world-weariness belying his young years. Blair's taut visage soothed out as this mysterious stranger came towards him. What he hadn't seen in those eyes earlier in the day--what he had mistaken for a zombie-like quality--was an overbearing sadness.

"My name is Adrian Ward. I saw you earlier today. I couldn't help but notice that you and your friend saw me and my friends as well."

"Yeah, we did," Blair agreed. He looked around and was surprised to find they were surrounded by woods, but not Cascade's woods. These were different somehow.

Noticing Blair's scrutiny, Adrian confirmed his suspicions. "These are Artell's woods."

"Artell?"

"Ohio. It's where we're from."

"So you guys aren't from some other planet."

Adrian laughed. It was a pleasant sound that wouldn't have been expected from one so obviously burdened. "No. We're not aliens. In fact, we're quite human. Not even spirits. In which case I'm not really a mind reader. I don't know your name."

"Oh, Blair Sandburg." This was his first case of being visited by someone in a dream who didn't know his name. He had automatically assumed by the way this Adrian talked that he knew him. "How do you seem to know me?"

"Because you and I are a lot alike. You have special gifts like I do."

"Gifts?"

"Or curses. Whichever way you want to look at it. Makes no difference to me. It's been more of a curse for me."

"Do you know what's going on?"

Adrian drew a slightly trembling hand over his olive-toned face, handsome features twisting in despair. "Yes. Unfortunately. We came here because of this evil."

"What is it? And who are you guys?"

The deep blue eyes settled on Blair's lighter shade of blue. "Do you believe in spirits?"

Blair didn't answer immediately. He thought about everything that had happened with him and Jim--the Spirit Guide, Incacha bestowing the title of Shaman upon him, the feelings and emotions that had encompassed his entire being as the man's bloody hand gripped his arm. Surely some sort of spirit had been involved there. "Yes. I believe."

"There are evil spirits loose in Cascade. I'm not sure how many. I'm willing to guess three and I can assure you there will be at least three dead bodies tomorrow."

"What kind of evil spirits are these?"

"They're called Nosferatu, Blair. The Undead."

"I-I don't understand. I didn't think vampires were spirits."

"It's very complicated to explain what exactly a vampire is and I can only hold this connection with you for so long before I become too exhausted. We'll contact you and your friend tomorrow."

"But you still haven't told me who you guys are." Blair stepped forward, feeling damp vegetation crunch underfoot.

"Tomorrow, my friend. And we have a lot to discuss."

Adrian smiled. It was very simple, but it smoothed out the somber countenance into something truly beautiful. Almost ethereal.

"You're human?" For some reason Blair couldn't believe that.

"I'm only human. And like all humans I make mistakes." Without further explanation the young man turned and walked off into the verdant mass of vegetation, allowing it to swallow him whole.

The young Guide stood alone for a minute before the full realization of what had just occurred struck him. This was bigger than he, Jim, or anyone else in Cascade could have ever imagined. Yes, he believed in things outside of human ability and he was just as apt to believe that there were vampires outside in that city right now.

Feeding off the blood of innocent citizens.

Faded morning light bathed the anthropologist's sleeping form, gently coaxing him into wakefulness. The young man wanted to ignore it, wishing only to sleep in and gain some much deserved rest. Persistent sunbeams, softly brushing his skin, were enough to keep him from falling back into an ignorant slumber. He had to wake up. Important work had to be done. There was much to be accomplished today. Much to be discovered.

With a weary groan, Blair pushed the covers from his still exhausted body and proceeded to crawl out of the cozy confinements of his bed. In the kitchen he could hear the coffee maker's distinctive gurgle and reasoned that Jim must already be up, and would probably take it upon himself to wake up his partner if the young man did not present himself before too long.

Oh the sacrifices one had to make while saving the city. Blair chuckled quietly to himself at the thought. 'Blair Sandburg, Anthropologist Extraordinaire, Saves City from Mad Killer.' Yeah, he could see the headlines already.

Rummaging through his dresser, he pulled out some clothes and left his room to head for the bathroom.

As soon as he stepped out of his room, into the kitchen, Jim looked up from where he was sitting at the table, hot coffee in hand and news paper spread out before him. "Hey Chief. Sleep well? I was getting ready to go in and wake you. You're normally up before I am."

That was true. Something itched at the back of his mind, a mosquito of persistence that couldn't be swatted dead, only held at bay.

"Must've been more tired than I thought," he said, and proceeded towards the bathroom.

The annoying little mosquito accompanied him, buzzing in the back of his head even as he turned the knobs on and a hot jet of water sprayed from the nozzle. Irritated, he shook his head harshly. Whatever was bothering him would have to wait until he was done with his shower.

Approximately fifteen minutes later Blair was back in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee. Heavily, he sat at the table, a frown marring his normally vibrant features. Sensing the agitation, Ellison looked up from his paper, from where he was seated at the head of the table.

"Sandburg, what's wrong?"

"There's something bothering me. It's like I'm supposed to remember something, but I can't place it. Like something doesn't want me to remember."

Jim laughed off his partner's discomfort. "That's ridiculous and you know it."

"Yeah . . ." Blair reluctantly agreed, but didn't sound so sure of himself.

"Are the murders bothering you?" Jim scrutinized Blair carefully.

Not wanting to admit it, troubled eyes turned away, studying the table top with almost as great intensity as Ellison was giving his friend.

"That's it, isn't it?"

"Not exactly," Blair admitted. "But I know it has something to do with that." He had the empty expression of a man who had run into a brick wall. There was a void in his eyes and his lips were parted slightly.

Concerned, Jim placed a hand upon his partner's arm, anxiously leaning towards Blair. "Hey, Chief. You still with me, buddy?"

"There was a young man. Familiar. We saw him . . . He came to me last night, Jim."

Puzzled by Blair's halting speech, Jim attempted to understand what he was being told. "What young man? Familiar? What do you mean by that? Someone we saw yesterday?" Realization dawned. "Those three kids. One of them came to you last night? I don't understand, Sandburg. I would've heard if someone sneaked into the loft."

"No, Jim. He came to me in a vision. I remember now. Something didn't want me to remember, but I do now."

"You're starting to scare me, Junior."

"He said that we were alike. Me and him, I mean . . . said I have a gift, or as he likes to call it, a curse. And he told me who the killers are."

Jim's hand, which had merely rested complacently on Blair's arm, reacted to this news and tightened restrictively. "What?"

"Ow, Jim! My arm!"

Immediately Jim let go, staring at the arm as if it were a poisonous snake. "Uh, sorry, Chief. I just . . . what you said startled me. Did you say he told you who the killers are?"

"Well, not really who they are," Blair clarified. "But what they are."

"Now we're back in the Sandburg Zone," Jim growled, starting to become annoyed by Blair's apparent lack of sanity.

"They're vampires, man. Don't tell me that doesn't explain a lot."

"It doesn't, because vampires aren't real. Listen to yourself, Sandburg. You're spouting nonsense." Jim stared dourly at his friend, then added as if in an afterthought, " More than usual, at least."

Perturbed at Jim's refusal to take him seriously, Blair scooted his chair back, allowing it to scrape noisily across the floor. "You heard those kids yesterday! They know something and you heard it. You told me that we'd learn what they meant if we just waited. Well, I've already found out. One of them came to me and he told me what was going on."

"So who are they, then?" Jim demanded.

Blair faltered for a moment, then sprang to his feet and began pacing. "I'm not sure exactly who they are, except that the guy with the long hair's name is Adrian Ward and that they're from Artell, Ohio."

"Artell? Never heard of it."

"Maybe not." Blair's hands, along with his arms, bobbed up and down in an attempt to convey his excitement. "But there are thousands of cities in the U.S. Not like you've heard of all of them. He told me that they were here because of the evil spirits."

"Evil spirits? I thought you just said vampires. I've watched a vampire movie or two in my time and I always thought they weren't supposed to have a soul."

Blair could tell that Jim was interested in his tale now, in spite of himself. Blair took the opportunity to run all out with what he knew.

Blair's words spilled from his mouth in an attempt to be heard without interruption. "I can't claim that I know so much about vampires, after all my major is anthropology, not folklore, but I have read about people who believed that there were spirits that fed off the life force of other creatures, particularly humans. It's possible that these tales were true, I mean look at Burton and his Sentinel studies. I mean, so many people dismissed the Sentinel theory and it lay forgotten, but you're here and you're real. Vampires weren't forgotten, but what they truly were was embellished upon and so now the myths can't be taken seriously. Jim, these people know something that we don't and they could save a lot of people's lives if we just listen to them."

Jim held up a hand to dam another flood of words that would have surely come as soon as Blair had enough air to resume. "Sandburg." Jim sighed, rubbing his temple to ward off the onslaught of a promising migraine. "Just hold a minute. Let me think, okay?"

Blair gulped and halted his pacing, standing to face his partner who was leaning, slumped back in his chair.

"It's too early for this discussion as far as I'm concerned. I want to believe you, Blair, but common sense forbids me to do so. I agree that there is something different about those kids and that they may be related to everything that's going on, but I don't think vampires have anything to do with it. As far as visions go, I have no reason to doubt you there. As the saying goes, 'been there, done that.' If you say that this kid approached you in a vision I'm willing to believe you. But I think as far as vampires go . . . well, when I had made that statement yesterday I was just joking."

"Yeah, I know," Blair affirmed, trying to hide his dejection.

"Come on, buddy. Don't let it get you down. We'll find them and make them burn. They're only human, Chief. They will screw up somewhere along the line and that's when we'll pounce."

The ensuing silence provoked the Sentinel to look at his Guide. The full lips were pursed in contemplation, his expression one of a person in deep meditation. The lips fell back into their original shape and those azure eyes, so full of intelligence it sometimes surprised even Jim, eventually settled upon the older man. "You keep referring to the killers in plural. How are you so sure there's more than one?"

"I've already explained this, Blair," Jim replied, baffled even more by his friend's strange behavior. "There's no humanly possibly way for only one person to be killing these people. That would mean that someone would have to be in the same place at the same time practically. Or that they can travel faster than is actually possible from one side of Cascade to the other."

"It's funny, but Adrian, also, used the plural form. If he wasn't involved with the investigation how could he have known this? Perhaps he realizes the same thing you did--it isn't possible for someone to be in two places at the same time, which would have to be the case if there was only one killer. Vampires must be corporeal and that must be why he said what he did. Think about it, Jim. A vampire drains the body of blood, right? How can it be a spirit then? It has to be corporeal because the blood has to go somewhere. So it's perfectly plausible that vampires are the killers and that there's more than one just like you keep saying."

Jim threw his hands up in a burst of irritation. "There you go again!"

"How did he know?" Blair challenged, not giving in so easily this time around. "He wasn't working on the case. He's a civilian, there's no way he could've gotten onto the crime scene. There were too many cops around. How'd he know?"

"I don't know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the vision actually was a dream."

Blair could feel his teeth grinding into each other. Jim had never been so difficult. Then again, he'd never proposed the concept of vampire killers to him, either. The grad student was getting ready to argue further when he was cut off by the shrill ring of the telephone. Something akin to relief passed over Ellison's visage and the muscular man hefted himself off the chair.

He ambled over to the phone in the kitchen and answered it. "Ellison."

"Jim, three more murders with the same MO have been reported, all in different locations. I want you and Sandburg to go down to the park on Green Street. I'll meet you there."

"Yes sir. We'll be right there."

Sandburg looked questioningly at him as he hung up the phone. "Simon?"

"Yeah."

"They struck again, didn't they?"

Jim nodded, looking off to the side.

"Three again, weren't there?"

The detective gazed at his partner. "How did you know?"

"Adrian told me."

Jim shook his head, still unwilling to believe Blair. "Lucky guess."

"Whatever." Blair was getting sick of trying to convince the man. Jim was one of the most bullheaded people he knew.

Jim walked over to the table and picked up his mug of coffee and gulped the rest of it. "Get your jacket and let's go." His tone was flat and unresponsive to Blair's surliness.

Blair stared at his own barely touched coffee.

"Just bring it with you."

"The truck?"

"It'll live. Come on. They're waiting on us."

Already weary with the prospect of more crime scenes and dead bodies, Blair grabbed his coffee. It was going to be another one of those days.

Jim wanted to ask his friend what was bothering him. He had a sneaking suspicion what it was. Namely, a dream having to do with a complete stranger who spouted tales of myths that could not possibly be true. Was that dream really bothering him that badly? The question resounded in his head. Could the dream really have affected Blair that badly? He felt as if he should've handled his young friend a little more delicately this morning, but the mention of vampires had been such foolishness. Really, what was the kid expecting? Still, it bothered him. It was rare for Blair to be this quiet. The silence was getting to be a mental and physical distress, which got under Jim’s skin and dug mercilessly to his marrow.

Dammit, Chief. What is bothering you? His jaw spasmed. He hadn't even realized he'd been clenching his teeth so tightly. That was it, the figurative straw that broke the camel's back.

The words blurted out of his mouth before he was even given time to consider them. "What in the world is wrong with you, Sandburg? Are you still brooding about this morning ?" As soon as they escaped, he cringed inwardly at their harshness before he took time to consider them.

Yeah, that was the way to get the kid to talk. Snap at him.

There was no response from the young man for a moment or two, in which Jim took the time to berate himself for his rashness. He had never done this to Blair, why was he being so harsh to the kid now? Further introspection was cut off as a sound came from his right and he realized that Blair was finally replying to his question. The smooth voice came as a murmur that only Sentinel abilities could have picked up from across the width of the truck's interior.

"I felt a presence. It was cold and sharp, like the tip of an icicle, trying to pierce my skull. It's trying to find us, and it's coming close, but it's still searching. Before Adrian showed up I felt it. I saw eyes, gleaming in the dark. Staring at me." Haunted sapphires turned on the stone face across from him. Words came in a whisper, reflecting the haunted look behind the eyes. "Jim, I can feel it. You have to believe me. Adrian wasn't lying."

His hands clamped tighter on the wheel finding no other release for his sudden frustration. The kid was not making this any easier on him. "Do you think we'll see him?"

"I don't know." Blair sounded almost scared as he said this. "I thought I might feel him with me today, but I haven't. When he came into my head last night it felt like a connection had been made. But now it feels like something cut off that connection. It's really starting to bother me."

"You think it's a vampire?" Did he actually just ask that?

"Could be." Blair shivered. "But it's daylight. Aren't vampires supposed to be asleep or something?"

"Beats me, Chief."

They had just arrived at the park and Jim pulled into a small parking lot right beside it. Down, not too far from them, he could see cops traipsing through thick shrubbery.

"There's a small stream behind those bushes and trees. Must be where the body is." Jim sat, hands still gripping the steering wheel. "Sure you can handle this?"

Blair drew in a deep breath through his teeth. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do this."

With that, Blair unfastened his seat belt and slid out of the truck, quick to follow behind Ellison. Simon emerged from the heavy foliage; his coat flapped behind him in the steadily increasing wind. He approached them, a grim look etched on his face.

"I've assigned Rafe and Brown to one of the scenes and Datson and Wales to another. I swear, Doomsday has come to Cascade." He drew in a heavy breath. "I have some very bad news."

Jim and Blair stood in silence, waiting for Banks to collect himself enough to bring out the news he was obviously reluctant to tell.

"Besides everything that's on the news, and many of the higher ups calling in, wanting to know why the killers haven't been caught, the victims this time all worked for the police department."

In the corner of his eye Blair could see Jim blanch. Within himself he felt a cold stab of pain. It was almost strange in a sense, but he felt as if he had lost one of "his own." So deeply entrenched had he become in this social structure that he had finally become one of them. Maybe not a cop, but a part of the team.

Jim stepped forward, closer to Simon. "Who were they?"

"Officers Simmons and Morow, and Detective Parrish is the victim that was found here."

Almost imperceptible to any but those who knew him well, Jim's jaw clenched in a reaction that easily told the tale of his rage. Blair, too, could feel a pang burrowing deep in his gut at the news. He had known all three of the cops; and all three had been friends.

"Aw man," he heard himself mutter.

"Whoever's doing this," Jim stated, his voice ice, "has just graduated to cop killer. They're going down for this."

"There's more," Simon announced, before Jim could say anymore. He hesitated at the sight of his best team standing so silently, moved by the announcement of the recent victims. "The Feds are getting involved in the case."

Blood tainted the detective's face, burning it crimson. "You know our past experience with those people! They're just going to screw it up!"

Simon held up a calming hand, hoping to restrain Ellison from a further tirade. He wasn't any happier about all this. "I know, I know. I don't like it either, but we have to play by their rules. We don't have much choice in the matter. They won't pull us off, but they may make things a whole hell of a lot more difficult."

"That's all we need," Jim fumed. "This case is strange enough as it is. If anything, this will just give these wackos another chance to kill more innocent victims."

"I want you to go out there and keep your head." Simon gestured towards the bushes hiding the crime scene. "If the Feds are there, don't do anything stupid that'll make them come to me. In fact, if any of the Feds come to me about you being uncooperative, you are going to have a very ticked off captain on your hands. You hear me?"

Jim sighed, used to his captain's monologue. "Yes sir. Loud and clear."

"Good. No one's in that area; I've given them instructions to search over the entire park. Dan's gone over the body already, but I want to see if you can find something he wasn't able to." With that said, the tall, dark man turned and headed over to another area of the park where two men in suits were standing, clearly the Feds he'd been speaking of earlier.

They had a clear view of the body as they stepped through the foliage. It was lying halfway in the stream, body slumped on its side. The little stream had to fight its way across the legs that blocked its path. A pasty white hand was stretched forward, frozen in the act of clawing its way onto dry land. The right hand was partially hidden beneath the body. The head was tucked into the chest, obscuring the face.

"You don't have to do this, Chief." Ellison stared at the corpse, anger surging forward to monopolize his emotions. This wasn't something his Guide should see.

"I know," Blair said smoothly; the look on his face contradicted the ease with which the words were spoken. "It's okay. I'm handling it."

Jim knelt down beside the body, ignoring the moisture spreading along the knee of his pant's leg. He removed the plastic gloves that were required on crime scenes from his pocket.

"Is that smell around again?" Blair asked, stepping closer to the Sentinel.

Jim held up a finger to indicate that he needed a minute to check. Curious, Blair leaned in closer, forgetting the bleached appearance of the corpse only a couple feet away.

"It's there again," Jim said, distracted. "That strange scent mixed with jasmine . . ."

"The jasmine again? We should run by the morgue and have you check out the other bodies, too. Maybe we could see if you can detect jasmine on either of the other bodies. Jim, maybe the strange scent is what vampires actually smell like. You know, it may--"

"Shut up, Sandburg!" Jim snarled.

Blair recoiled at the unexpected rage in his friend's voice. His eyes widened and he stepped back involuntarily. "Jim? Are you okay? Maybe we--"

"Do you know what shut up means?" Jim turned around, eyes glistening with reproach. "Why the hell can't you ever learn?"

"I-I'm sorry," Blair stuttered, taken aback. He could only stare in confusion at this strange beast that had taken over his friend. He reached out to touch Jim's shoulder. "I just think something's wrong with you."

Jim's hand lashed out and grasped Blair's before the young man even knew what was happening. "Don't you dare touch me!"

Powerful hands clamped around his throat. The enraged face of his Sentinel, best friend, big brother, and Blessed Protector glared at him as the powerful vices squeezed tighter.

"Jim," he tried to implore, but it came out as a choked cry. He could feel his lungs already expanding with the need to take in oxygen.

"This is what I should've done the very first day," a distorted voice growled. "I knew when I first saw you what a pain in the ass you truly were. Should have done this and gotten it over with."

Blair's lungs cried out for reprieve and he couldn't believe who was cutting off the supply of air, inflicting this smothering pain. The sting of suffocation was engulfed by the piercing betrayal that he felt.

Without warning, he found himself crumbling to the moist ground, desperately sucking in air to his starving lungs. Beyond the ringing of his ears he heard Simon's voice shouting.

"What the hell were you doing, Jim?"

Warm hands brushed over Blair's shoulders and rubbed.

"Sandburg, you okay?"

Feebly, Blair nodded. "Be okay," he managed. "What . . . happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

Feeling better after a few seconds of careful breaths, Blair pushed up off the ground, aided by Simon's strong hands. Jim was standing, arms dangling lifelessly by his side, dazed.

Blair's voice came out slightly raspy. He brought a hand to his aching neck. "I think he zoned out on a scent, but I've never seen him react like this. Jim?"

Jim shook his head, bringing himself out of his stupor. He turned to Blair, uncomprehending. "Blair . . . shit. What did I do?"

Blair shrugged off Simon's hands as he made the rest of the way to his feet. He wobbled slightly, still dizzy, and attempted to compose himself. His composure was still shaky, however, and his question came out wobbly. "The scent drove you over the edge, didn't it?"

Jim buried his face in his hands. "That was the last thing I remember. I smelled the jasmine, then this tidal wave of rage just slammed into me. I felt something like it yesterday, but it wasn't this strong."

"Yesterday, too?" Curiousity seeped into Blair's feelings of betrayal, but were not enough to make the young man approach the person who had so suddenly transformed into a stranger. Yet he allowed himself to observe without restraint. "You snapped at me unexpectedly. It was at the other scene where you smelled the jasmine. Did you blank out then too?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, but it wasn't a big deal. And I definitely didn't become fully aware only to find myself strangling my best friend."

This was bad. Very bad. There had to be some way to figure this out. "Maybe we can isolate this and control your reactions." Blair had to remind himself that Jim hadn't been aware of himself just a minute ago. The words had meant nothing, the hatred and repulsion were just . . . What? Where had that come from? He literally had to force himself to make his request. "Simon, we need to work this out. We need to go back to the loft and try to figure this out."

"After what Jim just did to you?" Simon asked, incredulous. "No offense, Jim, but if you don't have full control of yourself I can't trust you to be alone with Sandburg."

Jim nodded, not bothering to look at either one of the men. He was too ashamed. "I don't blame you, sir. I don't trust myself either."

"It's important, Simon," Blair implored. "It could happen again and it may not even be me the next time. He could be thrown into jail. I'm the only one who can help him and you know it."

"So you think it's best that you take the risk of another one of these . . ." Simon waved his hand around vaguely, trying to come up with a proper word. "Attacks?"

"No." "Yes." Jim and Blair, respectively, answered in unison.

Blair shook his head, eyeing his friend with a wariness he had never felt directed towards the detective before. Even when the man had thrown him up against a wall on their first encounter, he had not felt this much apprehension. "Jim, I'd feel a lot safer if we could get this taken care of pronto. I don't care for you zoning out, or whatever it is that happened, and you trying to choke me again."

"Chief, I'm sorry. I can't even believe that I did that, aware of my surroundings or not."

"It's not your fault," Blair assured him. "I trust you with my life, Jim, but there are things that even you can't control. Are you willing to consider what I was talking about earlier now?"

He didn't want to mention vampires. Not here in front of Simon, who was watching them with a very interested expression.

"I'm willing to consider it," Jim relented. "But whatever set me off could've been anything. You know that."

"I know that," Blair agreed. "We just have to keep an open mind about this."

"You two go on. I'll take over things here," Simon stated. "Just get whatever's going on with your senses straight. We're going to really need you at full peak on this case. Both of you."

They nodded.

"I'll see what I can do," Blair said.

"It won't take long, sir," Jim was quick to add.

"Are you two going to be okay?" Simon glanced back and forth from one to the other. "I don't want to ever have to see that scene again."

"Neither do I," Jim assured him. "Let's get out of here, Chief. I'm starting to get chills."

Blair nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Simon. We really need this."

"Yeah." Simon looked down at the body. "Well, a lot of people are depending on you guys to figure this mystery out. Whether they know it or not."

Together the partners left, leaving the corpse behind with Simon. Blair could tell how upset Jim still was and in an act of reassurance, reached up to lay a hand companionably on Jim's shoulder.

The taller man turned his head in the direction of the warm pressure on his shoulder. In hopes of a reconciliation he felt he didn't deserve, he offered his young friend what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Is your throat okay?"

"I'll be fine." The hand slipped away. Blair halted, staring forward.

Jim looked ahead at what had caught Blair's attention. Parked to the right of his old pickup was a new-looking, dark metallic blue Escort. Perched on the hood was a stocky young fellow, leaning against the driver's side was a young woman, and behind her a young man with long flowing hair.

Jim knew before he even heard the words.

"That's him," Blair murmured. "Adrian Ward."

"Blair." Adrian stepped around the young woman. "I'm so glad we can talk face to face."

Blair began to approach the young man, but was held back by a restraining hand from Ellison. "Wait a minute, Chief." Blair gave him a surprised look. "I'm still not totally sure we can trust them."

"We're trustworthy," the young woman said, light brown hair flying just above her shoulders in the wind. She moved to stand in front of the shiny blue car. "I know there's no reason for either of you to believe it now, but I'm sure if you gave us the chance we could prove it to you."

"Besides," the muscular young man sitting on the car's hood intoned, "We came all the way from Ohio for this, and it sure as hell better not be for nothing."

Adrian indicated with a hand to the two behind him. "These are my friends, Alecia Wynters and Bram Lyte."

Alecia smiled, a curving of the lips that didn't reach the coolness of her eyes. She didn't trust them anymore than Jim trusted these young strangers. "Pleased to meet you. Now you," she nodded her head towards Jim -"look like a cop. But you--"this time she indicated Blair--"don't."

"I'm a police observer. This is--"

"Detective James Ellison," Jim interrupted to introduce himself. "I'm with the Cascade PD."

Neither Alecia nor Adrian seemed remotely impressed by the title, but the detective noticed a slight paling in Bram's features. This was an interesting bunch.

Bram slid off the Escort, planting his feet directly beside Alecia. His light brown bangs, highlighted with sunstreaks, fell into his eyes and he casually swiped at them. "You know, what's up with us and detectives, anyway?"

Adrian turned back to his friends and motioned Blair and Jim to join them by car. As they closed in, Blair was pleasantly amused to find that Alecia's eyes were more like Jim's than he had first noticed. They were a pale blue that could freeze a hardened criminal in his tracks. He could tell that she was not the type to mess with, but he had to wonder what could have happened to harden her at such a young age.

Bram's emerald green eyes were alight with a hidden mischief Blair had previously missed. Despite a slight edge of nervousness, the young man seemed genuinely curious of the goings-on about him, but not without a hint of amusement. Blair suspected that Bram Lyte had not always had the nervous edge about him, just as he suspected that Alecia Wynters had not always been a hard person.

For the first time Blair was also given a clear view of the mysterious Adrian Ward. The expression and shade of the eyes were captivating. They were deep as he had first thought, but of a color blue that could have easily been mistaken for black. There was a note of familiarity in those windows to the soul and Blair almost gasped as recognition sank in. Their eyes were so much alike. Not exactly in color, but he could see himself in the depths of those dark blue irises.

Adrian observed the sudden shock and his grin softened. "I told you we're alike. You and I share a very similar talent. The ability to see into people, their souls, and the ability to communicate with spirits. Be that of your own choice or not."

Dismayed by the total bewilderment on his Guide's face, Jim's defensive instincts jumped to the forefront. "What is it you want with him? And who are you people?"

Adrian Ward turned his almost black eyes on the detective. "We don't want him. I would hardly say that we go around the country searching for people with special talents like our own. It's not a social visit by a long shot. As for who we are . . ."

Bram picked up where the hesitant reply cut off. "Let's just say that if we tell you, we'd have to kill you."

That received similar snorts from Alecia and Jim. The young woman muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Good one Bram, now I know they're going to believe us."

"Is there a more comfortable place to go?" Adrian inquired, then shuddered. "I'm picking up negative energy. Feels like violence and hatred. Gawd, it's everywhere."

Blair and Jim exchanged glances at the observation. Blair felt that this was a confirmation of what he had been talking about; Jim still wasn't sure. After all, anyone could say something like that about a murder scene. Psychic powers of any sort did not need to be involved.

"Yeah, sure," Blair replied. "You guys can come to the loft. Can't they, Jim?"

Jim was about to argue and was met by beseeching puppy dog eyes. Not those. Anything but those. He wanted to say no. He wanted to tell his partner that he was out of his mind. He wanted to tell the kid that there was no way to know they were trustworthy.

"Sure. Just follow us." Where did that come from?

Getting soft in your old age, Ellison.

Once in the truck and heading back to the loft, Blair felt inclined to make sure that he hadn't pushed a decision onto his friend. "You don't mind having them come over to the loft, do you? I can't believe you gave in so easily."

"Neither can I," Jim replied, unable to keep the surliness out of his voice.

"You still don't trust them," Blair noted.

"Give me one good reason why I should, Sandburg."

"I do."

The conviction was hard to dismiss and Ellison was willing to just pretend he didn't hear it; but that wasn't going to happen.

"It has to do with me being a Shaman, Jim."

And the Sentinel had no good excuse for his Guide that wouldn't unnecessarily cut him down.

"This is important to me. I think he can help me learn who I am. Maybe then we can learn more, also, about you and I as a team. Sentinel and Guide."

"Does he know what we are?"

"He told me he wasn't psychic. He can't read minds. But I saw into him. Man, Jim. It was so . . . like . . . intense. I could see right into him. I knew that he and I are alike as soon as we were standing face to face. Man, there is no way for me to not trust him. You have got to believe me on this one."

He did want to believe his youthful friend. In a way he already did. Still, there were questions that he was getting some very strange answers. Like for instance . . . "The vampires?"

"That's part of the package. Don't get one without the other. You saw these people. How can you not believe that there's something to them?"

"Yeah, I saw them all right," Jim muttered, dryly. "That's all the reason right there for me not to believe them. That green-eyed kid--he's short enough to make you look tall--was as nervous as a rat trapped in a cage full of cats. The girl--something about her was disconcerting."

Blair perked up at the mention of the girl, but it wasn't an interest in the opposite sex that had elicited this reaction. He leaned closer to his friend who was focused on the road. "What did you find disconcerting?"

Jim paused, carefully going over his answer, before stating, "Her eyes. They were . . ."

"Familiar," Blair finished for him, his voice all eagerness. "They were familiar weren't they? Pale blue. Sharp."

"You think she's a Sentinel?" Jim queried, warily.

"No, no," the grad student was quick to amend. "But she's just like you. I saw you in her, just like I saw myself in Adrian."

"His eyes were darker," Jim mused.

"That's not what I meant." He tried to fight off a smile, but failed, knowing full well that Jim had been well aware of what he meant. "I think all three of them are connected, kind of like you and I are connected. They share some similar bond."

"Interesting theory, Darwin, but do you think they'll want to share their secret anymore than we're willing to share ours?"

Blair shrugged. "You never know. They've been pretty open so far. If it has anything to do with the murders, I don't think it will be to their advantage to hold anything back."

"What makes you say that?"

"It just seems that we're obviously important to whatever's going on, otherwise they wouldn't have bothered contacting us. If they want our full cooperation, and our trust," he cast a meaningful glance in Jim's direction, "then they're going to have to tell us a whole heck of a lot to get that cooperation and trust."