Demon's Aria : Epilogue

They left Darla in the Ringstrasse with Angelus promising faithfully that he would accompany her on all subsequent visits to her sire’s lair.

"I can’t leave them, lover," he argued, surreptitiously loosening the travel blanket that lay over his lap in an attempt to conceal where his childers’ hands were busily occupied. "Drusilla is fluent but Will doesn’t speak German, do you boy?"

Spike shook his head, face the personification of wide-eyed innocence that Darla didn’t believe for a moment and she pursed her lips in mock disapproval. "Maybe you should give him lessons then, Angelus," she said, opening the carriage door and accepting the help of the servant waiting to hand her down.

"Oh, I intend to do just that," came the murmur from inside followed by distinct giggles, only one of them feminine. Darla felt tempted to giggle herself at the change in relationship between the two males. Neither had gone into details about exactly what had happened in that Parisian sewer but whatever it was had resulted in a strong, almost affectionate, bond between them. With a mischievous grin she satisfied herself with simply shooting back, "Lessons in German, Angelus. The boy needs no encouragement, he is quite an accomplished whore already."

Spike’s insulted "Oi," hung on the air as the carriage pulled away and Darla allowed herself to be guided through the rather impressive entrance to the Master’s new quarters.

***

"Om Tare Tutare Ture Soha,

Om Tare Tutare Ture Soha"

As her lips shaped the mantra, Li Hua’s attention wandered back down the winding tree-screened track, though in this place her lack of concentration would not be deemed too disrespectful. Indeed the mantra was more for the sorcerer’s own peace of mind than for any other reason, a way to fill the endless hours until the one she had come to visit deigned to see her.

Shifting uncomfortably on her limestone seat, Li Hua tried to ignore the gaping cavern behind her, aware of every disturbance in the air that shredded her fraught nerves still further. The statuette between her palms felt alternately chill and burning hot, the diamond in its belly casting an iridescent glow that seemed to seek out the girlchild even as she suckled at her wet nurse’s breast.

Before them, beyond the forest canopy, stretched the Marshyangdi Valley, the steep sided hills descending through level after level of lush terraced fields and wooded outcrops down to the river banks glowing silver in the evening sun. The strong scent of citrus stung her nasal membranes, made sensitive from the exertion of the long climb, and in the distance she could just make out the sounds of voices and mournful bleating as the flocks were brought in for the night. Thankfully, this far from Bandipur, they were saved the cries of slaves and mule drivers traversing the main road. Over all, and rendered pearlescent in the coruscating light lowered the Himalayas, protecting the Gateway to Heaven.

"Namaskar."

The softly spoken greeting came from behind her and Li Hua swung round to discover that her visitor had finally arrived.

"Namaskar," she replied, covering her face with her hands in a respectful manner. No matter that her visitor looked no more than a child, the power emanating from her could not be ignored. This was a priestess of the highest order, possibly a manifestation of a bodhisattva in her own right.

"You wished to speak with me?" The young girl settled on the path at Li Hua’s feet, tucking her bare toes beneath the hem of her tattered sari.

There was a slight pause as the sorcerer revised and discarded the many speeches she had prepared, suddenly deeming each unsuitable for such a meeting. Eventually, and wordlessly, she held out the statuette.

Respectfully, the girl took it, turning it around in her hands, her eyes closing and lips moving in prayer As the invocation progressed the air around her grew heavy with power and Li Hua suppressed a gasp as a soft green light appeared from nowhere, limning both child and figurine. It stayed for a moment, filling the clearing with the colours and scents of spring before slowly fading away to nothing. The girl opened her eyes, which flared briefly an identical hue to the lotus in her hair, before returning to their natural honeyed brown.

"How did she come to you?"

Although couched as a question, Li Hua was under no illusion that without an adequate answer, she would not be allowed to leave this place. Quickly gesturing to the nurse to bring the baby, the sorcerer explained the odd set of circumstances that had placed the infant and the statuette in her care.

The girl listened in silence, her head inclined gracefully to encourage the older woman to share all her thoughts until eventually, when Li Hua started to repeat herself, she held up an intricately hennaed hand and asked, "You know who she is?"

The sorcerer glanced down, worrying at the jade ring on her thumb, before stating, "A representation of the Mother," and, for a second she said no more, beset with crippling uncertainty. She had her suspicions but… "I thought it to be a green Tara, Mahatara, and yet surely it is too ancient for that to be so."

"Humph" The grunt of assent sounded preposterous from such young lips and then, "The Mother has always been here, she is beyond such human pettiness, however you are correct in thinking that it is her aspect of warrior, protector and devourer of evil. This is Morrigan, Great Mother of the original tribes of Europe. The one who will bring the hero low and shackle him with magic."

"She has protected the babe." The women’s attention turned to the infant in the arms of her nurse and Li Hua pulled aside the shawl to reveal the now fading mark of the diamond imprinted on its chest. "And the Mother has marked her."

"Indeed." The bodhisattva studied the mark for some moments and then smiled up at the sorcerer. "She is certainly chosen for some vital purpose."

This was infinitely more friendly and Li Hua smiled tentatively. "According to what little prophecy I have been able to decipher, she is the one named as ‘the Mother’s sacrifice’, the one who will bring down the Order of Aurelius and prevent the coming of the Old Ones."

Obviously the words meant something to the girl and an expression of surprise followed by regret skated across her face. "I had not expected to see her so soon," she said sadly, reaching out a single hand towards the baby. "Such hope and such suffering in her future."

"You are aware of the prophecy?" Li Hua had hoped but there were no guarantees.

"Of course. Like this babe, I exist only to serve the Mother."

Now more eagerly, Li Hua asked, "Can you tell me where she is to go? The prophecy speaks of journeys and danger but nothing more explicit."

"She is also named, ‘Beloved daughter of the tribe’ is she not?"

"That is one possible interpretation, though the exact meaning is problematic."

"Take it from one who knows." The bodhisattva rose to her feet and held out her arms for the infant. On Li Hua’s nod, the wet nurse handed her over and then returned to her place, leaving the two women to conclude their conversation in private.

"My thanks, Li Hua, for bringing my daughter to me. Tell me, the messenger, our heroic little bird. She is safe?"

"Christine is back in the bosom of her family and none the wiser for her adventure."

"Good. And the other players?"

"I cannot truly say."

"Then we must trust to the Mother’s wisdom in this matter."

"We must." The sorcerer stroked her hand down the child’s face before sighing heavily and stepping back. "You will care for her well?"

An ancient smile graced the young girl’s face and she echoed Li Hua’s touch on the baby’s cheek. "I can promise you this much, though this life contains many tears, the stars themselves will celebrate her death. Nothing less than hope for the entire world lies within this one’s existence and the Mother will protect her until the time is right."

Li Hua nodded her acceptance and started back down the precipitous hillside.

The bodhisattva watched them leave, waiting for the telltale flash of light as the sorcerer opened a portal between worlds, then took the infant and stepped sideways, vanishing herself through time and around space.

***

"Darla Childe" The Master held out his arms and Darla rushed in to them, happily submitting to her sire’s desire to pet and hold her. As always she felt a brief tug of desire as her demon recognised familial bonds and she pulled back, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"You are passing well, I hope?" she asked, taking his hand and bringing it to her mouth. He tasted of scorched earth and salt, the flavours of his human heritage in war and destruction.

He stroked a finger down her neck, separating the tiny curls of hair into separate strands. "Better now you have returned to my side."

Discomfited by the reminder of her treachery, Darla moved smoothly away from him, making great show of looking around the sumptuous throne room. "And such beautiful new quarters. I never expected to see you leave the palace in Potsdam."

"Things are changing in this Europe, dear one. The holders of power wield it in ways that are not always advantageous for the Order and yet I find myself unwilling to leave."

"But Vienna? I would have thought this city entirely too human."

The Master’s face closed off and Darla smelled a rat when he answered, "Things change"

There was only one thing that would make her sire change his behaviour so drastically. Darla crept closer and lowered herself onto his lap. "Politics?" she whispered throatily, knowing he could never resist her coquettishness.

He didn’t. "Clever girl," he said and then qualified, "Incomers from the north; an Order older than ours seeking to establish a foothold in the centre of the continent. They are proving to be more problematic than I first thought."

For the Master to describe any vampire as problematic suggested that all out war hovered on the horizon. Darla was immediately all business. "Angelus and I are yours to command. What can we do?"

"For the moment, no more than you have. Thanks to you, the child of prophecy is within these walls and the Order is safe."

No. Actually the child of prophecy fell into the hands of your estranged childe’s minion and probably drowned when he released millions of gallons of water into the tunnels under the opera house. The one you have is some street brat that Li Hua, the treacherous bitch, replaced it with. But drowning doesn’t count as dying at the hands of demons does it?

Concealing her internal monologue behind a bright smile, Darla accepted her sire’s praise, until he continued with, "And now you have returned to my side and together we will rule this continent until the old ones…"

"The child." Darla interrupted; the words tumbling from her mouth more urgently than she would have wished for discretion’s sake. "It is definitely the one from prophecy?"

"We will know within the month. The seers search its future as we speak. You have doubts?"

"The mother was a whore," she stated broadly. "We cannot be certain of the father at all."

And once your seers find nothing in the babe’s future I will be free to leave this painted prison and return to my lover’s side.

***

The slap of wet cloth on the rock sounded loudly above the rushing river and Sabri sighed heavily as she stood, easing the ache in her back. She had hoped that by this age, all of this would be over but the Mother still saw fit to inflict her monthly bleeding thus Sabri must carry her clothing to the lowest point of the river so as not to pollute the water used by others of her clan. In past years she would have had her one of her daughters-in-law to help, but they were all gone now, with her sons to the promise of a new life in America. Sabri was still having difficulty coming to terms with her people being able to leave the estate, let alone the country.

Eschewing the rest of her washing, she scrubbed her hands thoroughly and sank down on to a nearby rock. Her pocket contained a small loaf of bread wrapped in cloth and she sat, staring into the distance, peeling it apart slowly with her fingers and popping it piece by piece into her mouth. The raucous sounds of children playing in the village brought a smile to her face when she compared the relatively happy-go-lucky life of the younger generation to memories of her own that still brought evil dreams and tears.

Lost in a world full of faces she would never see again, Sabri didn’t hear the quiet pad-pad of bare feet approaching from behind and shrieked loudly, spinning round clutching her chest and nearly slipping from her rock, when a voice asked, "Whose are you?"

A young girl, of no more then thirteen, stood at the edge of the trees, close enough to speak but not to threaten. Despite her appearance and use of Romani, the strange clothes she wore marked her out as an outsider, a gadje, and this alone was enough to put Sabri on her guard.

"Ivana of the Roma people," Sabri answered, giving the name she customarily used when having dealings with the outside world.

The child smiled, a secret smile that seemed older than her years and Sabri felt tendrils of fear wrap themselves tightly around her spine. Could this thing be a ghost, a mulό? With every instinct telling her to run, Sabri groped in her pocket for the bread, hoping it would ward her against whatever spirit this was, only to find it empty. What remained lay uselessly in the dust at her feet, hopelessly polluted by its contact with the ground.

Between one heartbeat and the next the creature was beside her, a warm solid hand clasped tightly around Sabri’s wrist and, in a voice that reminded the Roma of winter’s chill, she said, "Do not lie to me, Sabri of the Kalderash. I know who you are. I know all your secrets." When Sabri didn’t answer, she continued, "Do you wish me to prove it to you? Shall I tell of the time you dropped a spoon and put it back in the pot without cleaning it? Shall I speak about the gadje man who caught your eye? The one you gifted with a kiss on your thirteenth birthday. Or maybe about your wedding night and how you cried when your husband made you a woman, or the lifeless baby girl you buried beneath a tree stump nine months later?"

Horrified, Sabri fumbled out her reply. "What are you? How do you know these things?"

The girl didn’t answer and a silent expectancy fell over the pair. Reluctantly Sabri raised her eyes, looked deeply into the child’s and knew. "Mother?" she whispered.

"I carry her spirit," the bodhisattva agreed, "along with those of all good women." She paused, tilting her head and examined Sabri’s face "Are you a good woman? A worthy woman?"

Sabri fought the urge to drop to her knees and press her face into the ground. She bowed instead, lowering her eyes respectfully and saying, "That is for you to say, Mother, not for such as I."

A soft hand, unmarred by years of heavy labour, scooped up Sabri’s chin raising it until their eyes met again, and Sabri saw the ancient sadness lingering behind a sympathetic smile. "I would say you are a good woman, Sabri, a good drabarni to your people and a good mother. But they are all gone now. All your children have flown the nest leaving you alone with the winter nights nipping at your heels."

Despite her resolve, Sabri felt tears prick behind her eyes at the truth in the bodhisattva’s words. She had been a good woman, serving her tribe for many years as drabani, healing and helping them. She had born twelve children and raised eight of them to adulthood, and not many women could claim that. But now she was alone, even her husband had gone before her. All the young ones were leaving with their children and soon there would be no one except her in an empty village. A sense of desolation swept over her and Sabri slumped to the ground, covering her face with her hands to hide her despair.

The bodhisattva gathered the old woman to her and rocked her gently, whispering, "Do not cry, child I have brought you hope."

"Hope?"

"Yes." A cloth wrapped, squirming bundle was pressed into Sabri’s arms and she took it, glancing down into the face of a tiny baby, its fist firmly wrapped around a charm of the Mother herself. "Hope for you, and hope for your people."

"What… what should I do?"

"Take her with you when you go to your nephew. Leave the village behind and rejoin the travelling folk. She will be safe with your family."

The answer came as if on the wind and when Sabri looked up the bodhisattva was gone. She clutched the infant to her breast, feeling her heart pounding and, raising her eyes to the heavens, she said in a voice much stronger than she felt inside, "Thank you, Mother, for this gift. In your words I name her, Nadia and Penda of the Kalderash people, hope and beloved daughter of my tribe."

***

Well worn leather creaked as he shifted in his chair, the rough wool of his trousers scratching against tired old skin. A hand run through harsh hairs darkening his healing scalp discovered patches, scabrous with scars. Old skin. New skin. A checkerboard he’s never seen and never will. Every mirror in the house has gone. Every reflective surface dulled. Every eye turned away from him to conceal roiling disgust.

But he doesn’t need a reflection to know it is there. Scratched into his features. He tastes it. With every breath. Every unwanted morsel of food. Every clench of his throat

Failure. Self-loathing He hates himself with a fury he’d never managed to raise for demons. Pride and hubris. What price an innocent? He knows now. Knows every time he closes his eyes to sleep and they rank before him. Row upon row of accusing eyes.

The drawer slid easily on well-waxed runners and the chill heavy metal slid snugly into his hand. Slippery, cold-wet. As though it belonged there.

Sweat, even colder, on his brow and lip glistened in the late morning sun. Bright light through the study window, bathing him in unwanted heat. A taste of things to come.

For a while all he could do was stare. At the distance. At the thing in his hand. At the memories of friends who had now deserted him, their faces blank with disapproval.

The only business left has been answered by this letter. He knows now that his family will not be tainted by his mistakes. Prudence will continue to receive her gratuity. The boys will not be looked down on at the Academy.

There was only one thing left to do.

The muzzle slipped into his mouth with room to spare and a single gunshot pierced the quiet October afternoon

***

Erik closed the door, locking it firmly behind him as he did every time he left to hunt. Vienna may be a vast city but it was still home to the Aurelians and he couldn’t afford to be captured or to have his lair discovered.

No, he thought, making his way down the dimly lit tunnel and sliding back the bolt on the mean wooden gate at the end. There were still things that had to be done. The time was not right quite yet.

Chains rattled in the corner and yellow eyes appeared in the darkness. Moving silently, Erik took the butcher’s knife from his belt and squatted down next to the fledgling, patting its head as you would a pet.

"Hush, now," he whispered as the creature whimpered wordlessly and pulled away from him. "It will be over soon, I promise." And then he struck; slicing through the large vein in its neck before it had a chance to react. An empty mouth screamed in pain and Erik quickly grabbed the bowl from beside him and pressed it to the wound. He didn’t need much, but he did need it regularly and finding vulnerable vampires in this city wasn’t easy.

The bowl was half full by the time the wound closed and the source dried up, but it was enough to mask his alien scent for a few hours if drunk and smeared over his naked body. And those few hours would buy him enough time to hunt for food for himself, and the child and the human who cared for it. Gazing down at the emaciated unconscious figure at his feet, he decided it was also time to locate another source of Aurelian blood, this one was almost drained and would soon have to be staked. According to every rumour he had heard, when Erik had consumed enough, he would be able to enter Aurelian lairs without immediate lethal results and then he would know. Then it would be time, to present the child of prophecy at the Master’s court and bring the great Angelus to his knees.

***

"My Angel?"

Angelus grunted at Drusilla’s intrusion and glared at her over his shoulder.

"Grandmother is very cross with the delay."

She may have been speaking to Angelus, but her eyes were firmly fixed on the squirming body beneath him on the bed.

"Tell her I’ll be down soon," he snarled, oblivious to the sharp nails digging into his biceps as his hands flexed in annoyance.

Drusilla’s head cocked sideways as she peered around him trying to see what they were doing and she sniffed delicately, smiling at the heavy scent of sex and blood. Pouting in petulant frustration at the eiderdown that concealed everything interesting, she glided an extra few feet into the room, her head swaying as she sought out the perfect angle to play voyeur. A warning growl reverberated from the bed stopped her in her tracks, and Drusilla didn’t wait to see which of the males had made it. Gathering her skirts in one hand, she fled, letting the door slam shut behind her.

"She gone?" Spike’s head popped out round Angelus’ shoulder and then flopped back onto the pillow when the room proved to be Drusilla-free. "Thank Christ for that. One of these days I’m getting a room with a lock on the door. That way we might be able to stop all and sundry walking in."

"We could always ask her to join us," Angelus chuckled, peering down, amusement dancing in his eyes before they narrowed and he added sternly, "And did I say you could speak?"

His question, or more accurately the accompanying sharp tug on Spike’s hair, evinced a more correct reaction as Spike shook his head, though the cheeky smirk that followed more than counteracted the initial suggestion of obedience.

Angelus decided to play along and sighed dramatically, "You do realise that I should just leave you here to take care of this yourself." His hand tightened around Spike’s long neglected erection, and was immediately rewarded by a hiss of indrawn breath and an involuntary jerk of bony hips. He grinned, lowered his body until all his weight rested on Spike’s body and whispered into his ear, "I think you need to give me at least one good reason why I’m not hurrying to my sire’s side right now."

Gathering what remaining brain cells were his to command Spike considered the question and opted for telling the truth, after all he had a good case. "’Cos I’ve sucked you off so many times today I’ll be lucky if there’s space for my dinner. And what isn’t in my stomach is currently leaking out of my arse. That, by my calculations, means I should get to come at least once, you stingy bastard."

"I didn’t hear you complaining." Despite his words, Angelus began working the hard length in his hand, rotating his fist slightly on the upstroke in such a way that Spike found it even more difficult to answer coherently.

"Would that have been before or after you gagged me?"

"If you don’t stop talking, I’m doing it again."

"There are better ways of shutting me up," Spike commented, vainly hoping that his voice didn’t sound as pathetic as he suspected.

Rather than answer, Angelus kissed him and the sudden invasion of teeth and tongue pushed Spike closer to oblivion than any amount of teasing touches had managed. His hands loosened their relentless grip on Angelus’ arms and swept up his broad shoulders. One clamping on to the nape of Angelus’ neck and pulling him closer, the other teasing the outline of the tattoo, his fingers tracing the edges of the pattern he knew so well.

The kiss deepened and the weight lifted from Spike’s body as Angelus moved, propping himself on his forearm and slinging one leg over Spike’s thighs. The new position allowed for the minimum of movement and, when Angelus’ hand stopped, Spike took up the slack, thrusting his hips upward towards the friction he was terrified of losing. It felt so good; the tongue fucking his mouth to the exact same rhythm as his cock fucked the large hand that encased it, taking him to some place where sensation was everything, where his body responded without thought and without the slightest hesitation. The sounds he’d successfully managed to squash all afternoon made a decisive break for freedom. Initially no more than humiliating little whimpers that escaped through his nose, they built rapidly to a full-throated keening resonating through his skull as it was trapped by Angelus’ possessive mouth.

But just as the tension grew unbearable, mere moments before he was about to come, Angelus broke the kiss, leaving Spike’s lips hunting futilely through empty air, abandoned and alone. Beyond words, or anything resembling coherent thought, he grabbed blindly for Angelus’ body and tried to pull him back. He may as well been tugging on Mount Vesuvius for all the good it did, Angelus was so steady and immovable.

"Hush now, and turn over," a dark voice burned in his ear. "I want to fuck you again."

The hard evidence of Angelus’ need rubbed against his thigh but obeying was beyond him. Running entirely on instinct, Spike hauled Angelus down on top of him, parting his thighs so that Angelus lay between them. Their lips clashed again, hungry and passionate, blood adding to saliva and pure desire, until Angelus pulled away again.

"No, Angelus… Angel, please." Yes, he was begging, but at this point Spike didn’t actually care. If Angelus wanted to fuck him again they’d have to do it like this because there was no way in hell he was surrendering that mouth

"What…How?" And that was a look you didn’t see on Angelus’ face very often. Perplexed.

By way of reply, Spike lifted his knees and hooked them over Angelus’ shoulders as Nicci had shown him nearly a year ago, and Angelus’ expression went from confused to pleased and enlightened when his cock lined up perfectly with its goal.

"Clever boy," he purred, leaning forward and sinking deeply into Spike’s body. "Where did you learn that?"

"Gnugh," Spike replied, less than coherently.

Angelus slipped quickly into a fast insistent rhythm, pressing Spike nearly in half with the force of his thrusts, pushing his legs up and apart so he could reach that intriguing, now whimpering, mouth. Fangs dropped rapidly, puncturing two pairs of lips and, as he felt taut muscles begin to flutter around him, Angelus rose up on his hands and growled.

Words having long since deserted him, Spike allowed his body to speak in their stead, meeting Angelus thrust for thrust. With his erection trapped between their bodies, slick and stimulated by rock hard muscle, with Angelus reaching parts he’d never reached before, and with the rich taste of blood in his mouth, Spike knew he wasn’t going to last long. The near constant battering on his sweet spot when Angelus upped his tempo proved the last straw and, as the pressure built in his balls, he dragged his mouth away, arching back and baring his neck. Begging for the bite with a feral snarl.

The promised fangs never arrived. Instead he received an order, "Open your eyes. I want to see you."

Spike obeyed without hesitation and was immediately captured by the molten steel gaze of the demon above him. It penetrated him as readily as any bite and, in this moment of passion, it was like being flayed as it stripped away his defences, leaving every thought and feeling raw and exposed.

Taken unawares, Angelus lost his place, hips faltering and hand slipping from Spike’s thigh as his charge’s desperate neediness entrapped him and dragged him down for another kiss. They collided with a fury; unasked questions of want and desire expressed through battling tongues that wrung sounds rather than words from their throats. And, as his climax burst from him and his cock pulsed deep inside that grasping clinging channel, Angelus squeezed his eyelids shut, suddenly terrified that Spike would recognise the answering need in his own eyes.

***

"You’re certain."

"Unmistakably, Master." The seer shuffled backward on her knees, out of range, she hoped, of the increasingly unhappy looking vampire. "All seven of us have checked and checked again. This child," the seer waved her hand towards the human baby laid sleeping amidst silk cushions, "is not the one spoken of in the Pharnos Codex. That much is certain."

With a roar that sent minions and seers scurrying in fright, hands over their ears and stomachs in their throats, the Master launched himself onto the dais. Colourful silk and soft down filling exploded into the air as he grabbed the infant up by the neck shook it viciously and threw it across the room, narrowly missing the opening door.

"I take it the answer was not good," Darla commented carefully, her gaze flicking between the tiny corpse and her sire, who was now proceeding to tear the remaining pillows and drapes to shreds. Behind her Angelus sniggered quietly and she silenced him with a well-placed elbow in the ribs that made him wince.

"No! It was anything but good," the elder vampire retorted, spitting feathers from between his fangs and shaking more from his claws. Darla could feel Angelus’ smirk burning into her back and studiously ignored him, moving further into the room and leaving him in the shadows. Her boy’s sense of self-preservation around the Master was always appalling and Darla was in no mood to come between him and disaster this time.

Adopting the role of placator, she settled herself on the edge of the dais and patted the spot next to her. The Master crawled over and lay down, his head nestled in her lap and she crooned quietly to him, stroking his bald head and allowing her fingers to trail over the ridges and planes of his face.

"I was so certain this time, dear one," he murmured after a while, rubbing his cheek against her leg. "The auspices were completely favourable, the stars all aligned, I was sure that this was the one."

They sat in reflective silence for some moments and then Darla said soothingly, "Don’t worry yourself, Sire, I will find it for you. Tell me where to look and I will go back to being your eyes and ears amongst the humans." When he tensed against her, she added quickly, "Unless there is something other you would have us do for you?"

The Master relaxed and sighed heavily. "Well, there is this little problem," he waggled his fingers in the air indicating something outside the lair.

"This other Order?" Darla asked, keeping her voice pitched calmly.

"Hmm. They are proving something of a challenge, and Luke suggested you and the stallion could head up the troops in Berlin."

Silently cursing Luke for ever being turned, Darla continued with her caresses and glanced over at Angelus in the corner. Even from this distance she could see the excited gleam in his eye and knew that, with the promise of violence held up as an incentive, her lover would happily go to the ends of the earth. "If that is what you wish of us," she answered.

The Master sat up and enthusiastically waved several minions carrying rolled parchments and tables forward. "It is," he said, gesturing to Angelus to join them.

A map of Germany was spread out in front of them and with a flourish, the Master indicated Berlin lying at edge of a blue coloured swathe that stretched as far east as Gdansk, encompassed all of Jutland and ran north up through Scandinavia. "This is how far they have come and this," he stabbed deliberately at the map," is where we push them back to."

Angelus leaned forwards and peered at the name under his grandsire’s finger. It read ‘Hamburg’.

 

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