Quality of Mercy

"It was God's own mercy Jean had found her first."
-René in "Madam Royale"
by Princess Plum Jade

New Orleans, Louisiana
The Warehouse District
Saturday, 1:35 am
November 28, 2020

Baby Roxton wondered why the little girl in pink was wandering in the warehouse district. At first glance Baby thought she must be a young teenager, thirteen or fourteen years old. As the girl walked purposefully towards the dimly lit corner of Julia Street and liquid moonlight gleamed on her profile, Baby re-evaluated and decided she'd reached at least sweet sixteen. The teen shivered in the cold, but her silk dress was a well-made and beautifully fitted bit of haute couture. Another sideways glance revealed a gorgeous complexion and well-tended hands and nails. And there was a certain ease in the little beauty's movements, calm and comfortable. Confident. As though nothing on earth could ever be wrong for her. Her posture confirmed good upbringing of which wealth and social prestige were only a small part.

Some tourist's kid, must be walking the wrong way from her hotel...Didn't have enough sense to put her coat on.... Baby might have been intrigued with her if she didn't have business of her own. She growled down at her Prey.

The human male underneath Baby groaned piteously and met eyes utterly devoid of judgment or compassion. They were terrifying eyes because of their emptiness and the man knew he'd get nothing from the woman except more pain before he died. He had heard of angels of death before, but hadn't believed in them. He was also young, from a privileged background like that lovely girl, and had walked away from aggravated rape charges in the New Orleans courts mere hours ago. Not because he was innocent, but because he was rich and handsome and had awfully wonderful prospects in society. A few handshake promises among the judicial set had also helped. His father was an affluent attorney in Tennessee. He couldn't allow his son to go to jail on such scandalous charges just because some little co-ed couldn't say "No!" forcefully enough for him to understand her after he'd had a few drinks.

Baby had become undead proof to the Loyola student from such a good family that no evil deed went unpunished. He believed in angels of death now.

The girl's low kick, a pale pink kidskin ballerina flat swiping neatly up against Baby's chin hard enough to snap her head backwards, was a complete surprise when it came. Baby snarled in honest confusion. Who did this silly girl think she was? For that matter, who did she think Baby was? Didn't she know better than to bother the Queen of New Orleans when she was playing with her food?

The girl smiled grimly. Even, healthy teeth gleamed under shards of moonlight that pierced the ragged awning above her head and bathed her delicate prettiness in silvery mist.

"I really don't allow this kind of thing here." She strode towards Baby, arms slightly curled and raised in a defensive posture.

Baby used only one fraction of a second to glare at the girl-- A new Slayer, the Council didn't advise us there was a new one; I'll hang them in their own guts as soon as I get a flight to their fucking headquarters!--before she rose to her feet in a near invisible glide. The Slayers never ceased to irritate her with their pompous self-righteousness insistence on saving all humans, as if all humans were worth saving! Didn't the silly bitch have enough sense to know this trust fund punk would've done the same thing to her as he had to that other girl? He'd done it before in high school!

The girl was ridiculously easy to take down, and Baby wondered why most Watchers didn't seem to think it was important to teach their Slayers anything but rudimentary fighting. No tactics, no survival skills, as if every fight was a suicide mission and survival didn't matter. This one was weaker than the other Slayers Baby had met. She seemed more focused on dashing her prey down and killing it quickly. Once Baby ducked her first few violent attacks and delivered a solid uppercut to the side of her face, she went reeling against the worn brick building, snuffling slightly.

The most heavenly aroma perfumed the air around her and Baby actually drooled slightly. Blood, she realized, but more than blood. It trickled from the young girl's split lip onto her chin. It stained Baby's knuckles where she'd struck her. Baby inhaled deeply and some wild up-to-now barely controlled impulse seemed to explode. The girl smelled like pleasure too sublime to be imagined. The vampiress had no idea what it meant. She only knew she could not stand not to be part of it.

Baby reached for the rapist and snapped his neck casually, dumping him to one side without looking at him. He was no longer the slightest bit interesting to her. She had eyes only for the girl turning warily towards her. The girl had dark eyes, deep brown with faint sable highlights to them, large and rounded like rose petals.

For a moment they were both perfectly still, eyeing each other curiously and with varying degrees of hunger or fear.

Baby grasped the girl firmly and crushed her against the wall with her own body. She didn't think past her desire, only howled, a bone-chilling triumph that lacked even the slightest trace of the human in it, and sank her fangs deeply into the girl's soft white throat. Fluid, hot, rich, and warm flowed over Baby's tongue and down her throat. It was exquisite, filling the vampire queen with euphoric delight and she felt her heart spring--literally beat inside her--against the young woman's chest.

"Don't!" Her victim screamed in genuine agony and pushed her entire body against the redhead's mindlessly, without strategy, only desperately seeking to end the pain. Baby braced herself against the smaller warm body, holding the girl utterly immobile and the darling screeched louder.

Baby growled a warning and drove her weight down against her prize to keep her still. She suckled and drank and delighted in the flavors; fear, innocence, power, and a warm spicy base that seemed to quench the demon's thirst inside her in a way nothing else ever had. She'd never had anything this good, anything that made her feel this way before: Free...Alive...Real.

The girl stopped fighting, only trembled beneath her, tears tracking her round cheeks. She'd broken out into a sweat and Baby detected the hint of arousal as well, light musk on the chilly night mist. In the moonlight Baby could see her eyes were dilated and her breath reduced to shallow pants as she slumped forward. She was going into shock and pure animal panic seized the Queen of New Orleans. She did NOT want this exquisite creature to die!

Without a moment's thought, Baby ripped her blouse open. She drew a taloned fingernail over the pure flesh just above her left breast and cradled the nearly insensible woman in her arms.

The girl whimpered once, a sound that might have been "Don't!" Baby rubbed her back soothingly with one hand.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Jack Niemczyk's Mansion
Wednesday, 3:42 pm
September 21, 2022

"Come here, Charlotte sweetheart." Baby's low command chilled the air with a honey drawl.

Charlie Jolivette cringed inside at the name and remembered she was Charlotte now and not Charlie. Baby didn't like the name Charlie; she said it wasn't dignified enough for her Pet. Forever and always she was Charlotte now.

She moved towards the bed without hesitation. Hesitation was never good if Baby was in the wrong mood and the tension in her face puzzled Charlotte. Usually Baby was in her best moods when she was with Jack. If she had moments where she wanted to be kind to Charlotte, Jack usually did the trick. But Charlotte sensed some secret amusement in the vampiress' heart that made her quail.

Baby smiled brief approval. "Take off your clothes, honey, and come into bed." Her smile widened when Charlotte stiffened and her large round eyes flickered with shock. "I want you to get to know Jack better."

Involuntarily, Charlotte took a step backward and Baby frowned warningly. She felt Charlotte's confusion and fear tamped down deep within while her captive demigod determined to hide it the best she could, but her impressions were easily open to Baby who'd been keeping her for nearly two years now. Charlotte was frightened of Jack. He was so much taller and physically stronger than she was. She was also afraid because she'd witnessed some of the rougher encounters Baby enjoyed with him.

Baby grinned and savored the aromatic bouquet of the young woman's fear blended with inevitable arousal, hot and creamy. Jack tensed slightly beside her and Baby giggled. She had deliberately neglected her Pet for several days once she'd decided to do this. Now the poor darling ached for fulfillment and her scent was richly potent and intoxicating. Jack's eyes hadn't left Charlotte and his nostrils quivered.

"Charlotte, take off your dress." Baby's exquisite golden hazel eyes carried an unmistakable warning: don't make me tell you again.

The girl's huge black opal eyes swam with tears as she reached for the hem of her simple knitted shift and pulled it slowly over her head. She was mother-naked beneath it--Baby liked Charlotte to be easily available to her. She had considered keeping the girl naked all the time but it seemed too impractical. Other vampires were likely to covet her too much and that might cause problems.

"She's a bit on the slim side for your taste, sugar," Baby whispered to her best beloved child. "But her enthusiasm is very refreshing. And she's good for you."

Jack restrained a perverse desire to laugh. Baby almost sounded like a concerned mother exhorting a finicky youngster to eat his vegetables. Charlotte certainly lacked the wealth of Baby's voluptuous hourglass body, but she was pretty enough in a delicate ethereal way and she had the loveliest ass he'd ever seen on a female. The ebbing candlelight shone on Charlotte's collar, white gold chain links set with winking pink diamonds, and her otherworldly smell made his body tense into rocky hardness. Jack tried to swallow his rising lust. She was already so afraid, biting her plump rosy lips and flushing. He drew in a deep unnecessary breath to taste the subtle increase in her body temperature and the spice of her flowing blood.

"But...I thought you said no one would ever touch me but you," Charlotte reminded Baby in a low voice.

Baby smiled. "Jack's different. Jack's mine. Just like you are. And I want him with me forever. I want him to walk beside me even if it's in the sunshine. So you be a good girl and make that happen and we'll all be happy. You'll like Jack. He can be very sweet." She breathed in deeply remembering just how good Jack could be. "So very, very sweet. And he feels so good. You'll like it." The smile twisted. "Maybe he can even give you babies. Would you like that? Little babies to keep you company?"

Charlotte made a choking noise that hinted of barely controlled sobbing and she shook her head violently. She knew all too well what kind of life a child of hers would be born into. She had lived it long enough herself to know there was no escape from it. "No! No, I don't want..."

Baby rose naked from the velvet draped bed and strode over to her reluctant Carrier.

"Sugar baby," she whispered tenderly, drawing Charlotte into her arms. She nuzzled Charlotte's curly hair, smiling again when the tender gesture gave the last little emotional push to send Charlotte's tears out of hiding. Baby kissed the girl slowly, sensuously, on her mouth, then ran her hands down the length of the girl's body, fondling delicate lines, soft peaks of firm musculature.

"I want you to be good to Jack for me. Really good." She urged Charlotte towards the bed and gently petted her backside as she climbed onto it. Jack guided her to his side and marveled at the soft perfection of her flesh. He had been turned in early middle age and even the mild rejuvenation of his turning had not eradicated all the traces of time and wear on his skin. Charlotte's skin seemed to be perpetually fresh and new without any of the chemical breakdowns engineered by weather and aging.

She was so beautiful, fresh, and clean. So passionate, he smelled her hunger thick in the air and his body responded accordingly. He had never felt desire like this. His recent life had been about experimentation and breaking free. Jack had tried things he'd never even believed possible--exhilarating, intoxicating things. This felt like that. He felt like he had the first time he took a hit of smack or the first time he'd leapt across an alley ten-stories above the pavement. Jack could scarcely believe his Queen would offer him this gift, the most precious gift of all. A deva's blood was supposed to be the ultimate aphrodisiac for a vampire, perfect ambrosia. He'd never tasted it though he'd felt its fire when an arrow had pinned Charlotte's body to his. Her blood had burned in him from that moment on. Whenever his mistress' pet was nearby, he could smell that blood moving beneath her skin, surging in her veins. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to touch her some days. He had never believed his sire would allow him to be near the Deva, much less hold her and drink from her. When Baby had told him that she wanted to share Charlotte, he knew she truly loved him. Why else would she offer him such a treasure? No other vampire had ever done such a thing. At that moment, he couldn't have loved his sire more. He glanced up and Baby smiled down at him. There was no hint of meanness in her expression. If she took pleasure in Charlotte's soft crying it didn't show. More likely it didn't interest her. She had decided Charlotte would be his tonight and Charlotte's feelings or fears really didn't matter to her. He was the only one who mattered to her tonight.

Charlotte was young and didn't understand that they needed to please Baby and that if they did, she'd take care of them. Didn't she take wonderful care of Jack? Hadn't she given him everything he'd ever wanted? He'd have to figure out some way to make Charlotte understand so she could be as happy as he was.

"Shhhh....Lie back." He coaxed the woman who held the birthright to true immortality in her blood cells to recline on lush down-filled pillows covered in white satin.

Charlotte's trembling escalated as the last bit of candlelight flickered out. "Please, Jack," she whispered.

He covered her lips with his fingers to shush her then bent to kiss her. "It'll be all right," he whispered. "I promise." He didn't want her to plead with him not to, couldn't bear it, because he'd have to do it anyway. Even now his body was screaming at him to hurry, to meld with her, to taste her. He fought his own desire. She was young, so very young, and she'd never had a man. Of course she was frightened. What virgin wasn't? Still it was better not to let her plead. Baby wouldn't like that. He'd take all that into consideration. Regardless of how much he wanted to bury himself in Charlotte this instant, he'd hold back and make sure it was good for her. He knew she wanted him, he could smell it. Her arousal was like rich toffee, warm and sweet, all around him. When his hand skimmed her thigh he could feel it, wet and slick even that far from her core. She wanted him. Her nipple was hard and peaked under his palm. He could smell a taint of fear and she trembled in his arms but that was to be expected. She was only afraid of something new. Not of Baby. Not of him. He trembled himself from the bone-deep need he felt for her. It was so hard not to rush, not to take what he so desperately wanted but she was so tiny and so delicate. He couldn't hurt her. He could never hurt her. So he would take his time. And he would be gentle. He would be very, very gentle. He bent his head and delicately kissed that hard, peaked nipple.

"He's not going to hurt you, dearest." Baby purred contentedly as the girl whimpered softly under his touch. "Unless I tell him to. Now, be good a good girl and let him show you what to do."

Baby dusted the back of her jeans. "A little warning would be a good thing!" she shouted at the sky. "Jerks!"

Jack took over the job of dusting off her behind. He enjoyed doing it more than she did. "I take it that the Powers That Be really want us to start on this case."

She laughed at his use of the word "case." Almost everything was still related to work for Jack. Jean laughed with her. "I'd say so. Opening a portal under our feet kind of makes me think this is a priority for them, mes amies."

René checked that falling through the portal had caused no unintentional rips to go with the intentional ones that decorated his faded jeans. He had perfected the arrangement of holes and tears to best show off the glories of his legs and didn't want it ruined. He wasn't sure but he thought the inverted L over his left knee was a touch larger than it had been and more of his knee showed through, but that was acceptable. After all, he had beautiful knees. He responded to his brother while he did his inventory. "Yeah. They got a hard on about this one for sure. Since when did they take to sending messages to you anyway, Jean?"

Charlie shivered. "I don't know but that was weird!" Jean was busily checking every inch of her for the least bump or bruise. He was every bit as thorough with her as Jack was with Baby.

Satisfied she was unhurt, he wrapped his arms around her and she could feel his chuckle vibrate her ribcage. "Oui, that's right. You've never seen Maman when the Voice of the Oracle gets a message from the Powers," Jean said. The vision of his mother, floating two feet off the floor, arms outstretched with golden light pouring from her eyes, was not something that happened often anymore. He thought of the message that had poured from her lips, echoing with that voice that wasn't hers. 'Prince of the Redeemed, the dark Queen would rule all. The children cannot remain in her keeping. Eliminate their threat.' He sighed. "It's a pity they don't speak English."

"Or at least French," René added. "They can't ever just say what they want. They got to be cryptic."

Jack growled slightly. "Can't say that I think much of their managerial skills. How are we supposed to know what the hell to do?" He sniffed the night air searching for any danger to his wife and his family. The breeze blowing down the alley where the Powers had dropped them was heavy with moisture and the taint of ozone from an approaching storm. He could smell the nearby Mississippi and the scents of the French Quarter a bit further off. So they were in New Orleans, he concluded, a different universe for sure but they were still the guardians of the Crescent City. They were in one of the warehouse districts if smell was anything to go by, the one just beyond the Quarter from all the sensory evidence. The wind picked up. He didn't like that; he couldn't be sure what was downwind. He growled again before nuzzling into his wife's red hair. The faint aura of gardenia washed over him, soothing and just sweet enough to tempt. Beneath that was the unique smell of his sire and his own scent indelibly mingled with hers. They were so much a part of each other now he wondered if the two scents could ever been separated. Just as she always smelled of him so he always smelled of her. It comforted him the many times throughout the day when they were forced to be apart. "So what child are we supposed to rescue?" he asked the world in general.

Baby's whisper floated up to him as she looked toward the mouth of the alley. "There. That one."

A human child, her heartbeat and breathing plain for the members of the Pride to hear, was being dragged along by a pair of strange vampires. They were arguing her fate while her plaintive little voice was just as clear as her heartbeat. "But I don't want to be killed! Don't killed me!"

Baby's growl sent a shiver of anticipation and adrenaline running through her gathered family. "Come on!"

The vampires holding the tiny girl never realized they were even under attack. Intent on the child and their argument, they never noticed the Pride gathering around them.

"Look, I say we drain her. Who's to know? Think what she must taste like," one of them said longingly. His face was craggy with demon ridges and his pale hair hung limply over flat yellow eyes.

"She'll know," his companion answered. He held the little girl's arm tightly. "She knows everything. She's probably going to dust you just for thinking such a thing." His demon face didn't hide his Asian heritage. "The Queen said to take the brat out here, snap her neck, and dump her in the street for the rebels to find. That's what the Queen wants; that's what we do."

"Not while I'm around," Jack said and drove his stake unerringly through the vampire's back and into his heart. He scooped up the child and removed her from the fray, such as it was. René staked the blond vampire even as it looked at Baby and screamed. Jack looked down at the near-weightless child in his arms. She couldn't be more than four or five years old, little more than a baby. "See, it's alright. No one's going to hurt you," he said gently.

Big green eyes looked up at him, fearless and free of tears. "You came! You really came!" Little arms hugged him tightly. "Daddy! Oh Daddy! You came."

Jack came within a hair's breath of dropping the child. Before he could say another word thunder rumbled and the skies poured rain down in a solid wall of water.

Heavy raindrops pounded the roof of the abandoned warehouse but it was dry inside. It was the closest shelter the vampires could find to get Charlie and the child out of the raging storm. The wind blew with hurricane force and sleet was mixed with the driving droplets of water. The rain was icy and both humans were shivering and blue-lipped despite Jean and Jack's best efforts to keep them dry. The child had faired a bit better than Charlie had. Jack had sheltered her with his body while Baby draped her leather jacket over the little form. Jean had wrapped his suit coat around Charlie and René had given up his jacket for her sake but it was light denim and the water had seeped through both garments, leaving the Deva soaked and freezing.

The warehouse was only a couple of blocks away and a quick sensory reconnaissance showed it was empty but still carried a lingering hint of the family's occupancy.

"It looks like this world is a splinter of ours," René observed as he shook water from his long ebony hair. "This place looks just like I remember it. We used to live here, Dionne," he added for Charlie's benefit. "Long, long time ago. Before Spike was Master." His teal eyes clouded with distant memory. "Back when I was first turned."

"Me, too," his brother said. Jean fiddled with the plug of the old space heater and it started with a hum and the acrid scent of burning dust. "That's better now." He smiled at the child. "We'll get you warm and dry in no time." He spun the dial on a pad lock and grinned when it opened. "Looks like wherever we are, it's close enough to home that I know the combination." He dug through a dented and scarred locker. "René and I used to keep changes of clothes here, just in case. Let's see if anything is still...voila!" He pulled out a couple of duffel bags. Soon Charlie was dressed in a set of her husband's sweats, several sizes too big, while the little girl was engulfed by one of René's T-shirts.

The child started to laugh. "Mommy looks funny!" she crowed. "Are you playing a silly game, Mommy?" She suddenly looked fearful. "I'm sorry." She hung her head. Even half-wet, myriad perfect ringlets hung about her shoulders and down her back. "I forgot to ask again. I'm sorry." She went to stand in front of Baby. "Ma'am, my Queen? Can I talk to my mommy, please? I'll be good. I won't forget again."

Baby looked at her companions with confusion. "Of course. Ah, what's your mommy's name?"

The child looked up, pleased. "Oh, I know the answer. I know this one!" She pulled herself up proudly and recited, "My name Sarah Abigail Roxton. My daddy is Lord Jack Niemczyk, Companion to the Queen. My mommy is the Deva Charlotte Jolivette." She looked around, vastly happy with herself. "My mommy is the Queen's Pet."

The child's face fell and she looked at Baby fearfully. "No, I remembered. I learned it right! Please, it's not wrong!" To the whole company's horror, the little girl fell to her knees before Baby. "My Queen, please! I learned it right. Don't be angry! Please, please don't be angry. Daddy's playing a mean game. Please, I'll say what you want. Don't hurt me. Please, my Queen. I'll be good. I'll learn it the way you want me to. Please don't have me killed. I don't want to be killed. Please!" Tears flowed down her cheeks.

Baby gasped in dismay. Jack was horrified by the terror his few words had caused. He scooped up the girl. "No one's going to hurt you. I promise. I didn't mean that you gave the wrong answer, okay? I was talking about something else." He cradled her close to his chest.

The child's eyes never left Baby's face. Large, round, and willow green, their color matched his perfectly though they were shaped like Charlie's. It was obvious to anyone seeing her there in Jack's arms that they were closely related. She had his classical nose and his mouth. Her damp ringlets were as abundant and curly as Charlie's but they were lighter, touched with the pale gold that gilded Jack's hair. The little girl's skin was the same creamy smooth wonder that Charlie's was. If looks were anything to go by, it was clearly possible that she was Jack and Charlie's daughter.

Baby nodded in agreement with her husband. "No one's going to hurt you. I promise." René came and laid a comforting hand on Baby's shoulder. It was especially needed when it was clear the child didn't believe Baby.

Jack swallowed and patted Sarah's back. "It's okay. It really is." He looked at Jean over the curly head. "Me and Charlie!" He looked more than a little sick.

Anything else he might have said was interrupted by a tiny hand pushing against him. "Daddy! You're getting me wet again!" The cold, rain-wet clothes that didn't bother the vampires obviously bothered her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Jean? Is there another T-shirt?" Jack set little Sarah down before the heater. "I don't suppose you have a blanket stashed in there, too?" He managed to get the child into a dry shirt and wrapped in a blanket, the adults carefully talking of nothing that might upset her, when there was a low rumble from her tummy. Jack couldn't help but smile when Charlie's stomach growled in response. "Sounds like someone forgot to eat for a while," Jack said and patted Sarah's nose with his forefinger.

Jean nodded. Charlie hadn't said a word in several long minutes. She was transfixed by the little girl and Jack, only occasionally glancing away to look at Baby in dismayed confusion. "It's still storming," Jean said. "But they do need food and something to drink. I'm not sure the water here is safe anymore."

René nodded. "It doesn't look like anyone has been here in years. I doubt the pipes even work." He looked at the child. "I don't think this is a good place. I think we need to get her out of here and get home."

Baby nodded. She'd avoided saying much since the sound of her voice tended to frighten Sarah. "Unfortunately, I don't know how we're going to get home. Hopefully when we have what we've come for, the Powers will give us a portal."

"The message said children, cher," Jean reminded her. "There are other babies like this one somewhere."

"You mean my sister and brother?" Sarah said, playing with the buttons on Jack's coat but careful to stay away from his wet lap. "They're at the palace. I don't think they're dead yet. I don't think they was supposed to be killed. Just me."

Charlie swallowed hard. Just thinking of such a thing made her nauseous. "Sarah, why were you supposed to be killed?"

The child looked at her as though she were impaired. "You made the Queen mad, Mommy. You know better than to do that. The Queen said you was very bad and Daddy was very bad and so I had to be killed 'cause you had to be punished. Remember? She made me tell you that I had to be took away and killed all alone because you and Daddy were very, very bad and I was going to be dead and it was your fault." She looked at the grown-ups. "I guess you made the Queen not mad anymore since she says I don't have to be dead now."

He held her close. "It's alright. I've done just as bad," he whispered in her ear. "Don't let what a duplicate does get mixed up with what you do in your head."

Sarah was staring at them intently. "Ma'am? My Queen? Did I say a bad thing? I'm sorry if I did. Please don't be angry." The scent of fear was rising from her.

Jack ran a hand over her hair. "Sarah, this isn't the same Queen you know. They look the same but they're different people. This queen won't hurt you or...or punish you that way." He felt unbelievably ill. His wife's distress and revulsion were nearly a physical presence beside him.

Sarah frowned in thought, a double crease appearing between her bright green eyes, and Jack realized she really did look like him. "Like a twin?" she said finally. "My cat had kittens and two of them looked just alike. My keeper said they were twins."

"Your keeper?" Charlie choked, trembling slightly. The possible connotations of that word sickened her. Jean stood beside her, shouldering some of the burden of her fear. She'd never suffer alone as long as he lived.

"Yes, like twins," Jack said. "This queen is very nice. She won't let anyone hurt you."

The child considered Jack's information carefully. "You're not my daddy, are you? You're a twin, too."

Jack's shudder was visible. "I'm glad I'm nicer," he managed to say. He stood quickly. "Look, you need some food, okay. I'm going to go get you something to eat." He kissed her quickly on the top of her head and fled the room. Baby joined him outside the door. "God," he said as he pulled her near, not caring that she was still wet; so was he. "What kind of place is it where I'm a better father than...."

"Shh. You're not as bad a father as you think you are," Baby said. "But yes, this is a pretty awful place. I'm not sure, but I think I've done something really horrible here. That baby girl said Charlie was my pet. That means I have the sort of power Jean has. Jean just never uses it. What if I do? Sarah keeps calling me the Queen and not the way that title is usually used on me. And I seem to kill babies without even a thought." She pressed as closely to Jack as she could, needing his physical touch.

Jack needed her just as badly. "Well, I guess we'll find out." He sighed and buried himself in their connection, letting the bond pull him into her mind and her into his. It calmed them both. When he pulled away his head was clear again. He kissed her gently. "We'll be okay." He stepped away though he didn't want to. "That kid really does need food and some water. So does Charlie. I think I better go get some. But I don't want you on the streets, not if you really are some sort of dictator or something. It's too dangerous." He gathered her close again. "I'm not going to risk you. Not until I have a better idea what's going on."

Charlie swallowed, her mouth dry, and licked her lips nervously. René had managed to procure an old chess set from one of the various cubbyholes in the dank warehouse. He was chattering blithely with Sarah Roxton about the various pieces and how they actually worked in the game as he set it up on the remains of a battered picnic table on the other side of the room. Jean held Charlie's hands in his.

"You're like ice, petite-chere." He drew her gently against his body, his arms surrounding her in a cocoon of tender care. "Why so frightened?" He smiled a lazily confident smile. "This is our job, petite. Things go wrong in a world, we fix it. That's all."

"Jean," she breathed his name softly. She stepped closer to him, letting her body drink in his warmth and closeness. He felt so strong and powerful against her. When he was near her power seemed to anchor, strengthen itself, and make her stronger. His heart beat, a steady melody against her cheek. "That little girl says I'm the Queen's Pet." Jean gently stroked her spine through her sweatshirt and kissed her forehead. "I...What is a pet, Jean? And how did Da...." she faltered. "How did Jack and I have a...." She was ashamed of herself for not being able to say the words plainly, 'How did Jack and I have a baby?' but Jean knew what she meant. He felt the same sense of wonder and repulsion his wife did and her anxiety spilled through him, staining him with confusion.

Jean sighed. He caressed the back of Charlie's slim neck, allowing his finger to softly trace the fine whirls of scar tissue from his mark. She bowed her head and rested gratefully against him, surrendering to his gentle support. His voice was low, soothing, even if his words were not. "A pet is a human toy, petite. A vampire's casual lover, used for blood and pleasure without any real bonds of love between them. A slave."

Memory sparked in her dark blue eyes. "When I first came here--I mean to you--people said I was Angelus' pet because of the bites. That's what they thought?"

Jean Claude shrugged. "The vampires who didn't meet you, close enough to smell you, might've thought that." He did not add that everyone knew perfectly well that she'd had no lovers besides him. They would have smelled sex on her if she had. Jean himself had tasted her innocence the night he first met her. "They would have been very wrong. You were never a pet, m' petite amour. You were my wife from the very beginning." He kissed her softly, tenderly. "Always my wife and mine alone."

Baby snarled at the Naga-Kin demon. He was the best mythological consultant in the Northern Hemisphere according to Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, but Baby didn't like him one bit. Unfortunately, Wesley had put himself and Drusilla beyond Baby's reach, disappearing somewhere in Asia. Baby couldn't slap her eldest son regardless of how much her hand itched to do just that. Of course, she wanted to do more than slap him for taking Nina, Kevin, and Devereau with him. Ah well, one day her agents would find Wesley and he'd pay for turning traitor. He'd find out it didn't do to defy his mother.

"Ahhhhhh!" Like all Naga-Kin, Cephalaus smelled things mainly through his taste buds. His skinny forked tongue flickered out of his unnaturally thin lips constantly to get a better sense of the beings around him. His murky greenish yellow eyes stared out lidlessly from a humanoid face covered in dry glossy blue-black scales. He was unusually tall with a slender build and his hands and feet were disproportionately small and fine for his height. He moved in a disturbingly boneless flexible way, almost an upright slither. His annoying sibilant accent and his constant requests to smell Charlotte brought a golden glow to Baby's hazel eyes.

"So why am I having so much trouble getting inside Charlotte's mind? I'm her sealed mate. I should be able to hear her every thought. I'm supposed to possess her completely," Baby complained.

"You cannot posssssesss the Deva in truth because in truth you do not want her. You want only what she iss. You do not want to be a part of her. You wissssssssssshhhh to own her, not lovvvvvve her."

Baby didn't like his answer. "Oh, I'll own her alright. If I can't possess her in the traditional way, I'll find my own way." She snapped her fingers and two burly minions grabbed the reptile. "Put him in the cage I had made for him."

"No! Whhhhhhhhat are you doing! Freeeeee me!" The demon tried to wiggle free from her guards.

Baby smiled at his frantic struggles. "You know too much to just wander around freely, snake. What if you decided to share all that knowledge with Jean? I just can't have that." Her voice was pleasant, as if she were discussing there being too much rain for the roses. "I thought of just killing you but you might still have uses. So for the time being, I'll keep you around. Your cage is pretty and you'll make a nice decoration for the waiting room. You'll amuse my visitors and serve as a nice warning of what happens when people aren't respectful enough to me."

As she watched her minions lock him away, welding the door of the cage closed forever, her smile was soft and lent her face a Madonna-like cast.

"Well, I've thought of what you told me, Cephalaus," the Queen said as she held out a bit of food to the captive demon. He snatched it from her, his prominent ribs and bony fingers showing how long it had been since he'd had sustenance. "Now, now, don't be greedy. I'm in a good mood and you might get a full meal if you behave."

The Naga-Kin demon settled back on his skinny haunches. "Yes, my Queeen. Your wisshh is my desssire."

Baby smiled. She knew he was a lying snake but he groveled prettily. She handed him another bit of food. "So, a happy deva increases in power and that power is transferred to her Keeper?"

"Yesssss, my Queeen. Devasss mussst have the touch of their Keeper and sssssome ssssort of lovvvvvve to grow and sssurvvive." He was rewarded with a large chunk of meat.

"Well, Charlotte's very happy with Jack's attentions. She gets wet if he just walks in the room now. Hell, one kiss from him and she's gagging for his cock. It's kinda cute. If she doesn't behave, I just don't let him touch her for a few days. It's fun to make her watch us when she knows she can't have him when I'm done. But that keeps her blood away from Jack and I want him to be immune to sunlight and stakes and all the other dangers out there." She fed the snake demon another morsel. "I have an idea. I want Charlotte to have children. You told me that devas can have children with a vampire."

Cephalaus shivered. He didn't want to tell the Queen what he knew but he'd learned the price of lying or withholding information. At least she wasn't railing at him about Charlotte's lack of blue eyes. He didn't know the answer to that. All the texts said a true deva had blue eyes. He didn't know why Charlotte's were brown. They simply were. But the Queen's obsession with it was completely out of proportion with the importance of the few statements in the texts or with what she already possessed. She had the only known deva in existence. Why wasn't that enough for her?

He focused on the Queen, praying she'd remain content with his answers. He was so hungry. "Only with her ssssealed keeper, my Queeeeen. Only a vampire who is ssssealed to it can impregnate a deva. And they musssst be of the opposite ssssssex."

To his incredible relief the Queen wasn't upset. "I thought that might be the case," she said. "That little accident that proved Jack is somehow immune to the magic that makes a sealed deva's blood poisonous to other vampires really was a Godsend. Not only does it mean my sweet Jackie will be able to stay with me forever, it means I may be able to breed my own carriers." She smiled and stretched. "If Charlotte and Jack have babies, well, maybe one of them will be a deva. And if having one carrier is good, won't having two be better?" She laughed happily. "And they'll be wonderful leverage with Charlotte and Jack. I'll let her bond with them, play with them, love them. With her babies in my care, Charlotte will do whatever I say." She thought for a moment. "Jack has parenting issues, but I think even if he won't bond with the children, he'll feel protective of them. Jackie has a big old protective streak. It can be so useful sometimes." She laughed happily, handing the entire plate of food to the scholarly demon. "See Cephalaus, you don't have to love a deva to control them. You just have to know the right incentive. Anyone will do anything if you give them the right incentive."

Charlie watched as Sarah played checkers with Baby. They were using the chess set René had found since Sarah didn't know how to play chess but she did know how to play checkers. It was bizarre yet comforting to watch her mother amuse the child. She couldn't ever be that thing that Jean had described to her. Not to Baby. She shivered. Not to anyone. It was too disturbing to contemplate. She couldn't think of it too intently without her stomach roiling. Thoughts of any sort of intimate relations with Baby left a sour taste in Charlie's mouth. It was much better to just sit and watch Baby play with Sarah and not think of where Sarah came from or who her parents were. Or how that had happened.

She wished René would return. She understood his need to patrol the warehouse and the area around it; he needed to make sure everything was safe. But she'd feel better when he was back in the room with them. Not that she was afraid of Baby. She could never really be afraid of her mother, but René seemed to make everything lighter and he'd distract her from the thoughts she found so troubling.

With a sigh she glanced toward the door and felt all her concerns fall away. "Jean!" she cried out happily and launched herself into his arms. "Oh Jean! I missed you!" She snuggled happily against his broad chest. "I know it was only for an hour but I missed you! Make René go next time and th...." Her mind registered the horror before her heart did. "No heartbeat," she whispered. "No heartbeat." Her scream echoed through the vacant building, rolling down the stairs and running through the empty aisles.

She pushed away from the vampire. "Mama! That's not Jean!" The frantic overtones cut through the damp air, hysteria barely controlled. Her mind was already reaching out for her husband, assuring herself that he was all right and hadn't been turned into whatever this was before her. Jean pulsed with life but this creature's eyes were as cold and dead as his body.

Baby was already on her feet, her Berretta in one hand, and the child in the other. "Charlie, run! Find your father. Find René. Just run!"

For once, Charlie didn't argue. She dashed through the door behind the vampire that looked like Jean. Oh my God, if Mama is evil and Jack and I have children, what is Jean like here? The thought wasn't a pleasant one. She collided with the solid bulk of a hard undead body. The catwalk outside Jean's old bedroom had no less than five vampires waiting. There was no way she could fight them all, though she tried valiantly. But weaponless and no longer used to relying on her Slayer skills, such as they were, she was quickly overpowered.

She was pushed back into the room. The instant the vampires released her, she darted to her mother's side. Baby was backed against an old desk. Charlie could see Sarah huddled beneath the desk, her hands over her head. "Get under there with her, Charlie. Protect her as best you can," Baby ordered. "I don't want either of you hit by a ricochet." Baby never let her gaze move from the vampire that looked like Jean. "I'm telling you right now, I'll put a bullet through your brain and that isn't fun. Tends to leave you messed up," she told him.

His own gun rang out and Baby's arm jerked, the Berretta dropping from her fingers. Blood poured from a hole in her wrist. Charlie cried out but no one reacted to her. The creature that looked like Jean smiled coldly and spoke; his voice was so like Jean's but so filled with icy bitterness that Charlie wanted to stuff her fingers in her ears so she wouldn't have to hear it. "I intend to put a crossbow bolt through your black heart." He laughed without any real mirth. "It's all I've been living for." His henchmen trooped through the door. One of them handed the not-Jean a crossbow.

Baby snarled and clenched her teeth. "Pick up my gun, Charlie. Use it if you can. Jack's on his way. Your husband will come for you. Just hold on for a little while, honey. René's on his way, too."

"Filthy liar," the not-Jean grated, and the crossbow twanged. Charlie gasped then nearly wept when she saw the bolt clenched tightly in her mother's hand. She hadn't believed Baby could be fast enough to catch it.

"That's one," Baby said, never moving from her spot guarding Charlie and Sarah. She dropped the bolt to the floor in front of Charlie. "There's a stake for you to use, baby girl."

The Jean-creature shook his head. "I should have known it wouldn't be easy." He sighed. "I was going to do it myself--I figured I owed you that much for what you used to be--but I guess a firing squad will do." His minions raised their weapons.

"Jean, please don't!" Charlie cried. "She's not who you think! She's not your Queen."

Jean's beautiful lips twisted into a sneer. "She never has been." He looked at Charlie with the barest touch of compassion in iced coffee eyes. "I know you don't have any choice in your lies; you're just her slave. But in a way, this is all your fault. If you'd never come...I wish you'd never been born." He signaled his men to fire.

With four crossbows trained on her, Baby accepted the inevitable. She raised her chin proudly and pushed her love out to her spouses. "René. JACK!" she whispered.

"NO!" Charlie's wail was answered by the multiple sounds of the crossbows firing, their thud into undead flesh, and the unmistakable sound of a vampire disintegrating.

René fired his matched Desert Eagles before the vampire he had pushed in front of his mother as a shield had turned to dust. The vampire nearest the not-Jean fell, its knees shattered and useless. "Two down. I didn't like your odds much," he snarled. "So I thought I needed to even them up, me."

The vampire that looked and smelled so like Jean dropped the weapon he was holding, his hands seemingly gone as numb as his expression. "René?" he whispered. "Oh my God!"

René growled and sighted down his golden guns. "Yeah, that's right. Now can your boys reload before I blow a hole clean through your head?"

"Don't shoot!" the Jean clone ordered, and for an instant René thought the vampire was talking to him. Only when the three remaining minions lowered their weapons did he realize the true nature of the order. "René?" the duplicate Jean asked again.

"We been through that already," René snarled. "Yeah, I'm René. So what? Want to be sure you know the name of the man that killed you?" His finger tightened on the triggers of his guns. He knew that a volley of shots from the 50AE semi-automatics could completely sever a spinal column, dusting a vampire via decapitation. He stared into the other vampire's eyes. And saw Jean, not some evil double, not some stranger, but his own consort. He frowned. He could even feel the other man, gentle around the edges of his consciousness. "Oh fuck!" He took a deep breath. "Bébé belle? You okay? Dionne? You and the petite? You all right?"

Baby stepped up beside him, her gun in her left hand now. "I'm fine, baby. Charlie and Sarah are okay, too."

"They damn well better be," Jack said from the doorway. Yellow demon glow hid the color of his eyes.

The clone Jean looked at the embracing pair and then back to René with sadness so deep it etched lines in the immortal youth of his face. "Duplicates. You're visitors from another universe."

Jack growled, a deep and threatening sound. He glowered at the vampire that had shot his wife. "Give me one reason not to tear your head off," he said, careful to keep his body between the stranger and Baby.

René sighed. "Because that really is Jean," he said. "If you take the time to reach out, you'll feel him. He's not evil or vicious. He's just...Jean." He had also felt emotions from the stranger that were more than a touch troubling, a bone-deep sadness and grief that seemed to intensify whenever this new Jean looked at him. It hinted at something René wasn't very comfortable with. And there was a burning hurt and rage whenever Baby crossed the stranger's mind. René figured this Queen who looked like his adored Bébé must be pretty awful to generate that much hate in a mind so like his own Jean's. His husband didn't hate easily.

Jack growled again but took a moment to follow René's advice. He sniffed and some of the glow faded, allowing swirls of olive green to appear in his eyes. "Okay. Fine." He showed a glimpse of long fangs. "But good guy or bad, you even think about hurting my wife again and I'll kill you." The gentle, almost conversational tone of Jack's voice left no one any doubt that he was completely serious.

There was a bit of posturing but eventually the two camps of combatants sorted themselves out and an armed peace settled in. But only when the last crossbow had been put away did Jack holster his Glock. Now that some of the hostility was eased, introductions that were more clarification were exchanged. The resident vampires went first. The three guards with the alternate Jean were identified as members of the family. Jack thought he recognized one of them but he wasn't sure; Spike's family was vast and numerous. René alone had hundreds of descendents. There were other followers of this alternate Jean out in the warehouse now but they weren't introduced and remained outside what had once been Jean's old bedroom. Their leader shrugged in a gesture familiar to all the Pride. "I'm Jean DuValliere, Master of New Orleans."

Jack nodded, silently communicating to his Jean to let him take the lead for a few moments. Knowing Jack was trained in interrogation and interview methods, Jean sent his approval and affection to his lover. "I guess you know clones or something of us. Our Jean Claude is Prince of New Orleans. Our Spike is still alive and he's the Master of New Orleans and a good chunk of the southeast. That's Jean's brother and husband, René Beaumont, Master of Alabama, North Florida, and Georgia."

The clone Jean had gone from staring at René to being unable to look at him, but he shivered when Jack spoke René's name.

The Master looked at him quizzically. "That's new. And a little unbelievable if Spike is still alive. I knew her as my mother long before she became the Queen of New Orleans."

Baby shrugged. "I'm still Jean's mother and matriarch of the clan but I'm also Abby Niemczyk. Spike and I are separated. I'm very much Jack's wife. Have been for nearly thirty years now." She relaxed a bit when Jack kissed the bandage on her wrist and settled their laced fingers on his thigh. "And I've always been Queen of New Orleans. Mostly I'm just Baby."

Jack wasn't sure he liked the other man's tone. "My daughter, Charlie DuValliere, Jean's wife."

The Master wasn't surprised. He'd obviously figured out the wife part, though the part about being Jack's daughter caused a dark eyebrow to climb.

Jack glanced at the little girl seated on René's lap. "I guess things are different here."

"Very different." One of his guards came and whispered in the new Jean's ear. He nodded and then explained to the Pride. "This location isn't safe. Looks like the Queen may know something happened and the Deva's child is alive. If you will, we can move this conversation to Rue Royal."

Mental impressions, words, and emotions were quickly exchanged among the Pride, the Master catching the residuals and wincing in memory of what it had been like to be so connected to someone.

This time, Prince Jean spoke for the Pride. "Oui. All right. If it's a trick, René and I get whatever bits of you Jack and Baby leave, n'est-ce pas?"

The Master laughed bitterly. "That's not as big a threat as you think it is. The Queen's been trying to kill me for over twenty years; I'm used to it." He caught the fleeting impression of their surprise through the link he had to them and shook his head at their odd innocence. "She rules in ways you've never even imagined were possible. She does things you can't conceive of."

Jack strolled stealthily through the gorgeous hallway with its fantastical Italianate frescoes and glittering crystal sconces. Baby had claimed the Fairmont Hotel as her primary residence then proceeded to execute any investors or guests who objected to her decision. Her personal quarters had once been the Presidential Suite but Baby had decided they were too small and construction crews had worked feverishly to accommodate her whimsy on how she wanted her new apartments to look.

Charlotte's quarters were a petite suite of rooms built adjacent to Baby's bedroom. Jack had a luxurious personal suite of his own just opposite the hall. Jack preferred to visit Charlotte in her own room and bed. Baby didn't object to him taking the Deva to his bed but he disliked the idea of having Charlotte where he sometimes had other lovers. Baby never visited Charlotte's room, preferring to summon her Pet to her own larger chamber for feeding, pleasure, or chastisement if the Queen felt it was warranted.

"Everyone needs a place all their own," Baby had told him once with a dreamy smile and a knowing nod. "A hidey-hole, a place to imagine they might be safe."

Somehow in Jack's mind Charlotte's rooms had become "their" place and Jack wasn't all that happy about it. It created a conflict in his loyalties. Baby had always been first and foremost to him. Jack owed every bit of adult happiness he had to Baby. If it weren't for her, he'd still be trudging away on a treadmill, working hard to give a hundred-and-fifty percent to his job while life and youth passed him by. Baby had given Jack the freedom to live and Spike's Pride had given him the first sense of real family he'd ever had. Without her he'd be an old man now with nothing but infirmity and death in his immediate future.

Charlotte was supposed to make things even better for everyone, but it hadn't worked out that way.

Jack pushed the door open without knocking. The soft presence of warmth he felt in Charlotte's rooms always disquieted him. It gave him the kind of peace he could barely remember from simpler human days, a school-kid's peace when he visited his grandmother for the weekend and butter cookies baked in the oven. His life was thrilling, exciting, and certainly very dangerous. Peace had become a rare luxury and these rooms offered it--or at least a semblance of it--where Jack could almost forget the complications outside of it.

It was a feminine bower decorated in all the lovely fluff and frills of traditional nineteenth-century European grandeur. Dark polished walnut furniture upholstered in blush silk jacquard, pink so soft it was only a shade away from white. In a small study nook, ornately carved foxes chased equally ornate hares up the legs of a Queen Anne writing desk where an indecently thick Harry Potter novel rested next to a plain glass bowl of white floral potpourri.

Jack's cupid's-bow lips flickered into a brief smile. Charlotte was one of the few people Jack knew who read for pleasure.

The wing back chair, a choice seat very near the marble-framed fireplace, was something of a mismatch with the delicacy of the sitting room. It was old, worn, darkened, its saddle leather the shade of Viennese coffee. Supple, discolored, even battered looking; this deliciously comfortable chair was Jack's favorite seat. It was large enough for him to hold Charlotte astride him comfortably while he fed and cozy enough to snuggle her afterwards.

A small solarium was situated beyond the rosy living room, its central attraction a vintage Chickering grand piano where Charlotte practiced dutifully at least thirty minutes a day. She didn't have the best ear for playing and Baby was known to rage at her lack of improvement, especially when she reminisced about Spike's clever hands with the instrument. Charlotte had a lovely, soft, clear singing voice but that didn't particularly interest or please the Queen one way or another. She could sing quite well herself and wasn't overly impressed with Charlie's talent.

Matching French doors were situated on either side of the solarium. East led to a small terrace with a modest flower garden. West led to Charlotte's bedroom, a confection of Victorian fantasy in cherry wood and white chiffon embroidered with rose satin rosebuds and vines of green satin leaves.

Jack wondered for the trillionth time how the plush carpeting remained so immaculately white. Magic had to be involved, he mused. He'd tramped in here after hunting through some of the filthiest housing projects in Orleans Parish, his cowboy boots all muddy and bloody, and still not a trace of dirt remained.

The furniture was meticulously, abnormally neat, and clean. Jack had thought it was fabulous to live in a hotel at first with twenty-four-hour housekeeping services but its appeal had faded for him quickly. All their rooms had a nearly sterile unlived-in quality, like a museum exhibit, not like a home at all.

Jack spared a gaze for the menagerie of miniature stuffed animals and beanbag animal toys crowded into a large display shelf on top of a chest of drawers. He'd given up trying to ignore the pang the sight of the toys brought him. There were a few fantasy creatures and jungle toys, but nearly all the toys were more realistic-looking domestic pets and farm animals. Poodles and Basset hounds, cats of every description, pigs, bunnies, and lambs, these toys told the saddest story of all to the FBI profiler. He wondered more than once what dreams Charlotte had ever entertained about a life--a normal life--of her own. Animals undoubtedly would have been part of it.

"I used to have a dog," she had told him once, a lovely rare satiated moment when he'd loved her just enough so that she lay breathless, sated, with a dreamy smile. "A standard poodle my grandma bought me when I was ten. They're so smart!" She'd chuckled. "Perry was so smart he knew the difference between Cheetos and Planters Cheez Curlz! He never would eat the Planters!"

It wasn't the real reason. Jack would've known it even if he hadn't already been able to feel her through their building bond. Charlotte didn't want a pet because she would love it. If she loved it, Baby would find a way to punish her through it.

So the toys rested on their shelf in the corner opposite Charlotte's platinum iron bed, plastic eyes and fine thread yarn whiskers nested in monacrylic fur. The only pets left for a lonely young woman.

"Jack." She said his name softly, tentatively. He heard her stir on the bed and turned to watch her sit up in bed. She drew the sheets modestly up, just under her arms, and the gesture did not offend him. It was even sort of charming. He'd explored and enjoyed every last inch of Charlotte, there was no reason to hide, just an innocent human habit.

"How are you, honey?" He smiled at the vision she presented, thick dark hair spilling over her naked arms onto snow-white pillows. Through the misty curtains of the ceiling canopy hanging over her bed, she looked like a fantasy princess from a fairy tale. Jack made his way over to the side of the bed where she nestled, then sat down on the edge of the thick mattress.

"Okay." She leaned toward him to plant a soft greeting kiss on his face. "You're early."

"Are you sorry?" he asked. His heart thrilled when she shook her head and he reached to take her into his arms. The sheets draped softly down her figure, pooling back around her waist. "Charlotte?" He frowned at her slight stiffness and held her slightly away from him, then realized there were faint traces of tears on her face. "What...."

He stopped talking as a flash of white metal catching light shone on the pointed tip of Charlotte's breast. Jack swallowed the slightest scent of blood, very little, slightly soured in a mixture of white blood cells, like healing fluid from a wound. He stared stony-faced at the gleaming white metal rings adorning each dark pink nipple.

"When?" he asked, though he knew it'd been done today. She was not pierced this afternoon when he'd left her sleeping in Baby's bed.

"A little while ago." Charlotte sniffled and looked up at him. "Baby sent someone to do it. She thought you'd like it." She made a pitiful attempt to smile. "Now we match," she added softly.

He said nothing because there was nothing he could say. Her hurt nipples were swollen, pinker than usual, and the scent of her injury would have normally roused him. But he sensed more than her injury. Jack was bonded enough to Charlotte to detect the residual fear and misery of her earlier experience. She hadn't wanted to do it. Baby had made her do it, cajoling her, maybe threatening her.

Jack had seen Baby starve Charlotte before, isolate her from bonding with either one of them until she sobbed when one of them was nearby. When that happened, she grew thinner, her slender ribcage grew more pronounced, and her eyes were feverishly bright.

"Don't look so sad, Jack." Baby's eyes had gleamed maniacally. "Tomorrow she'll take one look at you and beg you to feed."

"She's...." He almost hadn't trusted himself to keep his voice neutral, apathetic. His own body had responded to the need he'd sensed in Charlotte and he had felt almost desperate to join with her, cradle her in his arms and drive into her until she was a quivering puddle of satiated nerves. "She's ready to beg now."

Jack didn't speak, only drew her carefully into the sheltering comfort of his body. It seemed to be a magical gesture, one that allowed Charlotte to relax and let the tears flow. "Oh Jack, why do I feel this way?" Charlotte wailed as she held him close. "I hate her. She's cruel. She's so cruel. But when she touches me, I can't help but want her. What's wrong with me, Jack?"

He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong with you, sweetheart. That snake guy, the one she keeps in a cage, he told her that you'd feel that way. It's part of that Red Gold thing. Why else would demigods want to be tied to nasty, evil vampires?" He petted her hair. "You can't help it. It's like oxygen; you have to have it. And you have to have it from her." He swallowed. "I'm not enough."

He smelled his sire on her. Charlotte's gorgeous mouth was bruised and swollen and even scraped from carnivorous, possessive kisses and she smelled of Baby's musky sex and her gardenia perfume. Jack felt a surge of pure frustration. When could he have her for one moment--one night--just for himself?

She shivered. "I wish she'd let you seal me, too. Then maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

"Well, the snake says that if she wants me to father children with you I'll have to be your Keeper, too. And she wants that. Maybe you'll get your wish."

"NO!" Charlotte's fear was evident. "No. Oh my God. You know what she'd do to any children I'd have. She'd... Oh God, I can't even think about it. If they are born carriers she'll seal them to herself and then they'll be like I am. We can't, Jack! We can't have babies for her! It would be awful for them."

Jack couldn't tell her that he doubted they'd have much choice. If the Queen wanted him to impregnate Charlotte, she'd find a way to make it happen. "I'll think of something," he said. "I'll try to figure something out." He ran his hand over her thick hair, giving her what comfort he could. He could feel her hopelessness. They both knew how completely they were under Baby's control. She owned their bodies and, in some ways, their souls. He wasn't sure how they could find the will to keep fighting her but he knew they'd try. They had no choice but to try.

"Should I order dinner?" Charlotte whispered against his shoulder. Jack smiled into her lovely hair. At least she found his words comforting enough to relax. She believed in him. He shook his head and something young and boyish in him laughed joyously at the fun of it. Even though she couldn't see him shake his head, Jack knew Charlotte understood him.

"I need a bath," he declared, swooping her petite body easily up against his chest. "I'm filthy." He kissed her smooth forehead and melted at the smile breaking out on her lips, sunshine after a long rain.

It wasn't true. He'd showered before leaving the gym so that he'd be clean and fresh when he visited the Deva. But that was a harmless lie. He would take Charlotte into the bath with him and wash away some of Baby's smell from her and pretend she was more his.

And I'll turn the rings for you, sweetheart. After they've been wet and softened up a bit. I'll turn them very carefully so they'll hardly hurt at all. I'll take care of you.

~ Prologue ~ Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16 ~ Ch 17 ~ Ch 18 ~

Baby's laughter was self-satisfied and deep. "Is that good, little girl? Is that what my sweet little goddess needs?"

Charlotte didn't open her eyes; she'd seen that wicked smile too many times and didn't want to see it again. The hand that was driving her to heights of physical pleasure stilled.

Charlotte gritted her teeth. She was so hot; her body on fire, aching and so sensitive the least touch felt like a blow. Baby had been feeding regularly for twelve days now, each feeding driving the need Charlotte couldn't control higher and deeper. Charlotte could barely stand to be in the same room with her Keeper now without crying. Just the scent of Baby's perfume turned her knees weak and brought a rush of wetness between her legs. The simplest touch, the least caress, and Charlotte was awash with desire and longing. Now finally, the Queen had seemed willing to end Charlotte's agony. She had finally let the casual touches turn into something more intimate. Even now Charlotte could feel Baby's breath, warm from regular intakes of Charlotte's mystical blood, against one taut and peaked nipple. That faint touch of warm air hurt so much that Charlotte wanted to scream.

Helpless, afire and burning in every cell for the touch of the woman she hated most, Charlotte's hips lifted, trying to find pressure and friction against Baby's motionless hand. She tried to hold it in, but a tiny whimper escaped as she wriggled and writhed, desperately seeking release from the unending need that wouldn't leave her. Her hands gripped the sheets so tightly she felt her nails tear the satin, but she wouldn't reach to touch Baby. She wouldn't! She wouldn't give the vampiress that sort of satisfaction. And she dared not touch herself. She'd learned the price of that. She knew that the hand that gave her pleasure could also bring pain. The moment Baby had taken her maidenhead was still vivid in her mind and the knowledge that something so filled with pleasure could instantly turn to something filled with pain was never far from her consciousness. So she gripped the sheets and clenched her teeth and prayed Baby was merciful and wouldn't leave her like this.

"Charlotte? Answer me, honey. Is this what my baby goddess needs?" Baby's mouth clamped down on Charlotte's nipple, sucking and pulling it with soft lips until it pulled free. Over and over, never more than soft lips and gentle suction. And a hand that never moved.

Charlotte could barely breathe though she was panting as if she were running for her life. "Please! Please!"

She was burning alive. The fire between her legs was going to consume her. It was sending lava through her veins, searing her flesh from her bones. Soon nothing would be left of her except the unending need. She drew her legs further apart, pushing and rubbing against that motionless hand. She was so wet she slid across it effortlessly. The scent of her arousal was so strong in the air she could hear the guards outside the door moaning from the smell alone. It had been so long. Twelve torturous days filled with unrequited desires: touches, caresses, and sharp fangs driving Charlotte to the brink of oblivion only to leave her teetering on that precipice before mocking laughter pushed her back down into emptiness, unfulfilled and aching, always aching and burning. Baby never allowed the desire to slacken. She'd kept Charlotte in a state of constant arousal for twelve days. The human slept when exhaustion overtook her only to awaken to soft hands on her breast or her butt, on the inside of her thighs, or on her mark. There was no relief, no release, just arousal and aching want.

She couldn't live this way. If Baby left her this time, she'd die. She wouldn't be able to live with the unquenched fire and the pain. She bit her lip and tried not to moan. She opened her eyes and met the green ones of the Queen's Companion. There was empathy and distress in their depths and Charlotte was surprised when he turned away with locked jaw and clenched fists, unable to watch her humiliation. She silently blessed him for having that tiny bit of consideration, since the Queen had none.

"Charlotte. It doesn't have to be this way." How could a voice so hateful make Charlotte want to kiss the pouting lips it came from? Baby's tones were dulcet and calm, hinting at sweet escape from the burning desire Charlotte felt. "Just tell me this is what you want."

Warm breath and razor fangs fluttered over her mark. "Oh God, please, help me," Charlotte silently prayed.

"Just say it, sweetie. Just say the words and I'll take all the hurt away. I promise."

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Charlotte's mind screamed even as she lifted her hips to try once more to find surcease from the agony between her legs.

Dainty fingers, well-manicured, small, and so necessary to Charlotte's sanity, moved in the slickness, a slim thumb settling over that bundle of nerves that was throbbing for a touch.

"Charlotte, sweetheart? Listen to me." Baby scraped her fangs over Charlotte's mark, that sensation as strong as the one coming from Charlotte's pulsing vagina. "If you don't say it, I'm leaving. Now."

"NO! Please. I...." The fingers stopped moving, began to withdraw, leaving the ache undimmed. "I need it. I...I want it." Even as the hand began to move again, thrusting, fingers twirling, and fangs sank into her throat, sobs erupted from her. "Oh God help me! I want it! I want it. I do. I do."

"Good girl." Baby's voice crooned her pleasure. "Never say I forced this on you again, Charlotte. Never."

Even as the Deva's hand released the sheets and her arms came up to wrap around Baby's body, even as her lips found Baby's and opened for a deep kiss, even as she climaxed and some of the fire was finally quenched, Charlotte wept.

Jack Niemczyk shivered and wondered how everything had come to this. How had he come to this? He watched his sire pleasure her captive goddess and worried. Why didn't the girl just do as she was asked? She kept fighting back, resisting her enslavement. Baby didn't like being this cruel to her. She couldn't. But Charlotte kept defying Baby and bringing these things on herself and his sire wasn't the most patient of women. He'd felt Baby's displeasure often enough himself. "Why didn't the girl just give in? It would be so much easier for all of them," he rationalized. He turned away, unable to watch as Baby broke Charlotte to her will yet again.

In answer to the disbelieving faces around him, Master Jean spread his hands wide and repeated, "Here, the Deva is the sealed Carrier and slave of Queen Baby. She is mate and some say sealed Carrier to the Queen's slave Companion, Jack Niemczyk. I don't know how that's possible but I do know that she's mother to his three children."

"She would have to be sealed in order to conceive with him." Charlie shuddered. "That's...gross."

Jack indicated his complete agreement. "Very gross." He didn't protest when Charlie left the protection of Jean's arms to climb into his lap and wrap her arms around his neck, seeking his love and that paternal solace she could get nowhere else. "It's all right, princess," he told her. "Don't think about it." He rested his cheek against her curly hair.

"Honestly, Dionne." René grimaced in disgust. He still didn't understand why Charlie found comfort in Jack's lap when his was readily available. Charlie looked back at him in confusion. Even after all these years, the rivalry between the two men remained a mystery to her.

"So, how do you fit in?" Jack asked the Master. "What's your part in this? I get the feeling the Queen isn't your favorite person."

The alter-Jean looked at little Sarah Roxton. "I'm trying to stop Baby. It's horrible what she's doing. Do you know what she had planned for that baby girl?"

His twin's beautiful mouth twisted in distaste. "An execution as nearly as we can tell. To punish this slave of hers, this other Charlie." His wife shuddered and hid her face in her father's chest. Jack's eyes grew hard and dangerous.

"Yes. And that's the least of it," the other Jean answered. "The Deva and Lord Jack are being punished for trying to smuggle their children out of the Queen's Palace. Jack contacted me secretly and asked me to hide them. He believes the children are in terrible danger. I agree." The Master's dark eyes were horribly blank and empty. Baby thought he must have witnessed so many terrible things, nothing seemed horrible to him anymore. "She found out--I don't know if we were betrayed or if she merely guessed." He shrugged. "Might've just been bad luck on our part. They were trying to get them to me. I've had people out looking for that child all over the city. When I heard she'd been spotted with the Deva and the Queen, I thought Baby had decided to kill Sarah herself in front of Charlotte. Actually, I half-expected that she was going to force Charlotte to kill the child. Baby's more than capable of it. I sure wasn't expecting that a different version of the Pride had shown up to rescue Sarah under some sort of order from the Powers That Be."

Jack shook his head. "I don't get it. How did this happen? If Baby claimed Charlie...sorry, Charlotte like you say why would the family overlook this claiming so quickly? I mean, if Charlotte was hurt and complaining and Baby was ill-treating her, wouldn't Spike or you, possibly even Pretty Boy Beaumont interfere? I mean, it's your job to defend innocents." He ignored René's growl. Jack really had no doubt that René would have leapt to Charlie's defense. It was just necessary to get in whatever dig he could at the Cajun any chance he got. René always reciprocated.

Jean stared at his hands clasped together in his lap and Jack realized the Master had to have asked himself that question thousands of times. Jack doubted a day passed without Jean wondering how this happened. His clear voice, devoid of the accent Jack had come to love so well, was soft and bitter. "Things came apart pretty quickly. Baby took Charlotte to Jack's house, not Rue Royal. We didn't know she was there until Charlotte was pretty much under the Queen's control. And so were you. I mean, my Jack. He never had a lot of resistance to Baby. God knows what she promised him. And she used his slave bond against him."

Jack didn't comment, though he knew Baby had originally marked him as a slave Companion, not a free one. He also knew that she had seldom used that compulsion against him even in the early days and never after their marriage. Their bond was different now. Though he'd never been marked as her consort he was very much her husband and had forged bonds with her that had nothing to do with vampiric blood ties.

The Master continued, "Of course, Papa knew the minute he smelled her that Baby had taken a female lover. She said it was a friend of Jack's that liked to play with them and Spike let it go at that. He figured a woman was no threat to what he had with Baby. Things were bad between Baby and Papa back then; Spike was gone a lot in those days. So if she was gone for days at time, well, we all just figured she was mad at Spike again and pouting at Jack's."

Jack nodded. He remembered those days vividly. And that was just the beginning. This Jean hadn't had a chance to watch the disintegration of Baby and Spike's marriage the way he had. This man hadn't seen the look in Spike's cerulean eyes when Jack had challenged him for Baby. For a few seconds Jack had seen why Spike had the title of The Bloody. But in the end Baby had ended up in Jack's home, wearing Jack's wedding ring, not Spike's. He liked to think it was better for all of them, even Spike.

Jack said nothing, though, and the Master continued. "Then we started to notice physical changes in Baby. She was warm sometimes. We heard a report that she'd been seen out in the daylight. We knew that wasn't possible so we figured whoever saw her was mistaken. It was just someone that looked like her. Finally we--Papa, René, and I--decided she had found some spell or artifact that would let her be more...human. She'd done it for Spike, so why not for herself? Spike was thrilled. Half their problems were because she wasn't human anymore. He thought she was trying to put their marriage back together."

He ignored the comfort he heard Jack murmuring to Baby, though his lip curled a bit in distaste. Jack, in whatever world he existed, had obviously made his bed with Baby and as far as Jean was concerned, Jack could lie in that iniquitous bed until it killed him. The whispers of denial and disbelief from the Deva sitting beside his duplicate were harder to ignore. He wanted to scream at them all that they didn't know what kind of monster sat in their midst. Duplicate or not, he ached to plunge a stake into the cold heart of the redhead sitting with Jack Niemczyk. She was capable of just as much evil as the Queen and they all blindly sat there ignoring the danger or, worse than that, offering her solace. He longed to jerk René away and lock him up somewhere safe before Baby could destroy him again. He knew that given half a chance she'd destroy them all.

The Master eased the drapes aside and stared out at his drenched courtyard and didn't look back at his visitors. He particularly avoided looking at Baby. "Jerod finally came to Papa with a very disturbing report. He said Baby was keeping a young woman, little more than a girl, against her will and...abusing her sexually. Papa didn't believe it, of course. If there was anything Baby hated it was a rapist. The idea that she would force herself on anyone but especially another woman was inconceivable. Jerod insisted he would get proof and bring it back to Spike. We never saw him alive again. He was found a few days later in the river."

He watched the sleet beat against the broad leaves of the banana trees. Weather had become problematical in New Orleans since the Queen had taken over. Droughts were followed by floods with no rationale or semblance of the natural order of things. Sandbags permanently protected the edge of the porches and forced the run-off out to the carriageway tunnel so it joined the flow on Royal Street. More sandbags kept the water in the street away from the house. If the downpour didn't stop soon, half the city would be flooded. For an instant Jean wondered if that wouldn't be a good thing. Maybe if New Orleans was finally overtaken by the river and the Gulf, some of the horror it had become would be erased.

"Anyway, we confronted her and even the part of it she admitted was more than disturbing. Papa was so angry. I don't think I've ever seen him quite that upset."

"What did he do? Spike, I mean." Jack transferred Charlie back to her husband's care. He had a sneaking suspicion what had happened to Spike and if he was right his own wife would need his undivided attention soon.

"Argued with her. They didn't do anything but fight about it for two days. You have to remember that we still didn't know Charlotte was a deva. We had never even heard of such a thing. We thought Baby was having some sort of psychotic episode. Finally Papa told me he was going to lay down the law and tell Baby she had to turn Charlotte over to him so she could be cared for and set free." Master Jean looked up at Baby with eyes so cold and hard Baby shrank back into Jack's arms, afraid of her gentle son for the first time in her life. "I never saw him again," Jean said.

The Master of New Orleans nodded. "Oh yes, she could. She did. Baby killed Spike."

Baby was shivering, holding tightly to Jack's hands where they were wrapped around her waist. She had started out sitting next to him on the couch but ended up leaning on his shoulder with his arms around her. "I could, Jean. I tried once before," she reminded her son.

Her Jean protested, "That was different. You saw Spike kill Jack. You couldn't bear to have the man you loved taken away. You thought your husband had been murdered in cold blood. We all understood that. Seeing Jack die that way was more than you could take."

Her smile was sad and knowing. "Yes it was. And what if Spike was trying to take my carrier away? What would I do then? What would you do, my darling, if anyone, even Spike, tried to take Charlie away from you?" Jean's face carried his answer. "How much easier would it be for me with my notorious lack of control?"

"That would be tragic," Charlie said, wishing she didn't have to hear any of this. She reached for Jean's hand and found it waiting for her. She twined her fingers with his.

The Master nodded. "Losing Papa was the greatest tragedy we could possibly face." He was still staring at Baby with that cold and hateful look in his eyes. "In your defense, I doubt if you set out to murder Papa. I think when he threatened to take the Deva it sent you over the edge completely."

Jack growled defensively. "My Baby hasn't done anything. Stop confusing her with your Queen." He'd challenged Spike and told Angel to go to Hell; he wasn't necessarily afraid of Jean DuValliere.

Jean nodded. "True. All right. But I do think Baby struck out at him without really thinking. They were in the exercise room. I think she just grabbed an axe off the training room wall if there wasn't one already in her hand and decapitated him without even thinking about it. She just lashed out while Spike probably never dreamed of defending himself from her. He probably never even saw it coming." Jean looked away. "I hope he didn't, anyway." He took a deep breath. "She claimed it was a terrible accident--which in a way it was."

René was shaking his head in denial. He'd killed his father and Jean in another life and those memories lived inside him. He knew how easy it was to lash out but he didn't want to think about it. "What did you do?"

The Master shivered slightly as he did every time René spoke. This time he couldn't look away from the black-haired Cajun, though he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "What could I do? I had no proof. I hadn't felt any warning or message from Spike. Everyone knew Baby and Spike had been in love for years and years. No one wanted to believe she'd killed him. It was too awful to contemplate. So I did the only thing I could. I succeeded my father as Master of the Pride."

"So how did Baby become Queen then?" Jack asked, though he had a good idea how it had gone down.

"She was already Queen of New Orleans. She just started using the power that title gave her." He managed to look away from René. "I tried to protect the Deva but Baby had her firmly in hand by then. And she had already started gathering her own people, her own minions. She pulled in a lot of demons that were dissatisfied with Spike's law, with my law. Now there's a war in the underworld, if you'll forgive me for the cliché." He took a drink from the cup of coffee beside him. "It really is a war. We've lost dozens of people on both sides. Remy died in one of the first battles. Shelley couldn't accept Papa's death and managed to get herself killed within six months. We've lost many of the younger children. At least Rex has come home. Angel can deal with L.A. on his own; I need Rex. He helps me run things. It's been open war for over a decade now. The Queen owns half of the French Quarter and all of Tremé, Algiers, most of West Jeff Parish. I have from Bourbon down to the river and downtown, part of the warehouse district. I took back the Garden District. That pissed Jack off. He didn't like losing that house." His smile rapidly faded. "I still have the other lands that were under Pride control. René's children are all loyal to me. Sam hates Baby and has for some time. Claudia made the mistake of going after the Queen. She's dead but her children are loyal to me." He sighed. "Still, the Queen is building up a lot of power and wealth. She uses humans, uses demons. She uses everyone and everything. And she doesn't care who gets hurt. If some of her minions and humans die, well, that's just the way it is. I can't fight that way. Too many of my people are family. I can't just let them die to hold a piece of land." Charlie understood now why he looked older. "I fight where I can but she's going to win eventually. If I can't find a way to kill her, she's going to win."

Jack shook his head. "It sounds like she's ruling under a case of might makes right. That isn't the best way to do it. Her seat on the throne will be rather unsteady."

His male lover nodded. "Oui. With evil vampires and such as her main allies, it will be very unsteady."

Jean's duplicate sighed. "Not unsteady enough. And she has a weapon none of us can match: she has her pet deva and the Deva's children."

Charlie licked her lips and held tightly to Jean. "I just don't understand. How could this happen to the family? You all have always been so close. And if I'm Baby's Pet then why...." Her voice trailed off and she glanced again towards the curly-haired, green-eyed little girl playing with a Barbie doll with such eerie quietness on Jean's Persian rug. The child was nearly preternaturally quiet. She'd told them the Queen didn't like for her to be noisy. Charlie shivered and wondered what could make a five-year-old that silent and obedient.

Baby held the tiny form of Jack's six-month-old daughter and smiled at Charlotte. "Now, darling, you be very good for me and hold back that rain and I'll let you visit Sarah all day tomorrow!"

"There is a drought going on! You're hurting people!" Charlotte protested. "You're drying out good land to punish a handful of people who won't pay you!" She swallowed and struggled to hide her longing glances at the soft-skinned, sweet-smelling bundle of her daughter in her Keeper's arms. It was bad enough the bitch could sense her distress without her showing it too openly.

"I know, but they aren't nice people. They won't pay the tribute like I asked them to," Baby explained in the voice of a mother telling a child she couldn't play outside because it was too muddy. "How long has it been now since you held this little sweetheart? Two days? Three?"

Baby nodded. "And you know babies need their mamas. All sorts of studies show it can affect their health if they don't have that closeness. Even though you're pumping breast milk to feed her, babies need to nurse to really feel loved."

Charlotte's breasts tightened and Baby sniffed appreciatively when the young mother's milk let down at the thought of nursing her daughter again. "See, your body knows that. Just promise me that there won't be any rain and I'll let you nurse little Sarah right now. Keep the rain away and I'll let you hold her and bathe her and feed her. I'll even let you nap with her today. Wouldn't you like that? Holding this darling thing while she sleeps? Babies are such little angels when they sleep." She kissed Sarah's fuzzy little head. "Babies need their mamas more than some corporate farm needs rain." Sarah began to cry. It was past her feeding time and she was hungry. It was a plaintive, lonely sound and cut Charlotte more deeply than any knife ever could.

Charlotte bowed her head and held out her arms. "Please, give her to me. It won't rain until you say so. I promise."

Baby looked down at her weeping Carrier. Charlotte begging on her knees had been mildly pleasant but the Queen was bored with it now. Besides, just saying sorry wasn't enough. Charlotte and Jack both had to realize they'd crossed the line and it couldn't happen again.

"Stop crying, honey," she ordered firmly. "Sarah's dead but you have two babies left. Just never, ever try to sneak them away from me again. Because you see, if I can't have them, no one will."

"Don't!" Charlotte was sobbing incoherently. "Don't do this! I'll never do it again! Never, never, please!" Her face had gone red, and her voice grew thick with distress. "My Queen," she said hoarsely. "Please, don't hurt Jack. We've always tried to do what you wanted..."

"You lied to me, Charlotte! You convinced Jack to lie to me, too. I can understand you doing it. You've always lied to me about every little thing you could but Jack's never lied to me before. So now Jack will have to face his own punishment. I'm going to flay every inch of skin off his back. I really can't believe he tried to do that! He's always known better than to defy to me. And now you do, too. Stop crying, Charlotte, it won't help anything. It's too late for Sarah; she's dead." Her smile was the most horrible thing Charlotte had ever seen. "Look at it this way, at least I didn't feed her to any of the minions and I had her left where the rebels can find her. I'm sure Jean will give her a proper burial. He's so sweet and good about things like that. And if you're good, I'll let you take her flowers once a week. It's the least you can do since you made me kill her."

Charlotte was too wounded and appalled to even speak. Baby's smile never wavered. "Don't cry, baby girl. After all, you and Jack can make a new one. Maybe it will be another girl. I'd love a darling with pretty blue eyes." The vampiress visibly brightened at her own idea. "Yes, make me new baby, Charlotte, with blue eyes. This month. I want you pregnant by Fall." She walked away as Charlotte collapsed onto the cold marble floor and lay too stunned to even cry.

René stared out the window at the water rushing down the gutters of Royal Street. He could see the sleet bounce and glisten before it melted away. "The storm ain't let up none. Y'all are having a bad winter."

The Master sighed. "It's July." He stood and moved to the taller man's side even as René turned to stare at him. "The Deva is mourning her child," he explained. "That poor woman. I can't get a message to her that Sarah is fine. I have to wait for Jack to contact me and my spies report he's chained to the Queen's wall. He isn't taking the loss of his child well either. He's railing and screaming about the Queen's cruelty." Jean sighed. "Rumor has it he won't live out the day. And believe me, when it comes, Jack's death won't be pretty."

Baby growled deep and menacing and Sarah scuttled under the nearest table, doll forgotten on the floor.

"Shh, sweetheart. It's not me he's talking about," Jack murmured in Baby's ear and concentrated on calming her. He had felt his wife's thoughts becoming more and more fractured as the night progressed. Jack hadn't seen her this way in years. He was concerned about both the short- and long-term effects this mission was going to have on her.

The Master wasn't sure he hadn't actually let the Queen into his house when freezing golden eyes turned on him and she hissed, "No one hurts Jack. No one."

"I'm fine. No one's trying to do anything to me," Jack said, and whispered something so soft and low even the other vampires couldn't hear, while Prince Jean coaxed Sarah out of her hiding place and into his arms. To the Master's amazement, Baby's face thawed and she relaxed back into Jack's arms, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She nodded slightly at whatever he was telling her and the Master could actually feel her surrendering to Jack's will. Whatever else this Jack Niemczyk might be, he wasn't Baby's slave any longer. There was no greater proof that this wasn't the Queen. This was the woman Jean remembered as his mother. Just like the man beside him really was an aspect of his beloved brother and adored husband. He looked up and found René observing him with sharp teal eyes. Jean knew as well as anyone that René wasn't stupid; he just ignored most of what went on around him. If René decided to focus his attention on something, the other Cajun was every bit as perceptive as Jack was...and every bit as manipulative. When René's hand fell on Jean's shoulder, he knew that René was well aware of the effect that touch would have on him. He tried to work up a good dose of anger but couldn't manage it. It felt too good to feel that familiar pressure again.

"Cher?" That well-loved voice produced a bone-deep shiver. It was exactly how Jean remembered it and more beautiful to his ear than the sweetest symphony. "You been real careful to talk about everyone but me. So you want to tell me how I died here?" René asked softly. "I feel you grieving every time you look at me. So what happened? Did I stay with you or did I go with Baby?"

Jean drew a shaky breath. "Neither. You... my René tried to make peace between us. He couldn't stand to see us fighting. He thought we could still be a family. He thought we could work it out somehow. But then there was an accident. It was Baby's fault. I know she didn't intend for it to happen but I'll never forgive her. Never." He gathered his resolve. Baby was now staring at him with solemn eyes while Jack held her even tighter than he had before.

"It was very early on. Papa was dead and the Queen had moved into Jack's permanently. René was living at his own place with Jo but he spent a lot of time with me. The Queen... well, it was becoming obvious what she was doing but René didn't want to see it. Or he didn't want to admit he saw it. But it was pretty plain he was going to have to choose between me and Baby. Jo, Jo saw exactly what was going on. She was encouraging him to stay with me. She kept telling him that Baby had finally lost her mind and that maybe he and I together could help her. She...." Jean looked away from René and found his gaze captured by Jack's. He took a deep breath. "There was a fire one night when everyone knew René was here with me and Jo was home without him. Only René wasn't here. He'd forgotten my anniversary present and had gone back to get it. He said he didn't want me to wait for it." Jean's face became set and hard. It was the only way he could tell the story. He had to lock away the feelings it brought up. "The house was already on fire. René tried to get Jo out. He could feel her still alive inside and he refused to just let her burn. He...he burned with her." He shook all over for a moment, remembering the feel of his husband burning to death, Jo's screams echoing in his mind. He looked at Baby and the cold hate returned to his espresso eyes. "Our investigation showed that Jo was tied to her bedpost and the fire started in her room. She never had a chance. Neither did René."

Baby shuddered. "No! I would never...." She looked up at Jack and realized she couldn't lie to him. "Not without a really good reason."

Jack didn't say anything but his hold on his wife didn't lessen. "Okay, I keep hearing all these awful things this Queen of yours has done. So tell me why the hell my duplicate is still with her?" He glared at Jean and kissed Baby's temple muttering, "It's okay, sweetheart."

Jean raised an eyebrow at the dichotomy of Jack's question and his action. "I never understood that either, Jack. I never have and I never will." He turned away from the embracing pair and looked at René before he added bitterly, "But it looks like some things never change."

Jack declared that Baby was too tired for any more discussion. She'd dealt with messages from the Powers That Be topped with emotional upsets and getting shot. He was putting her to bed. The rest of them could do as they pleased but they'd do it without him or Baby. "Is there a place we can sleep?" he asked Jean in a tone that had a good deal of demand in it.

The Master arched an eyebrow. "Any of the guest rooms will be fine," he answered a touch coolly.

René watched the retreating pair and sighed. "You get used to it," he told the Master.

Prince Jean shrugged elegantly as he patted Sarah's back. "Somewhere down the line Jack fell in love," he explained. He laughed slightly. "With someone besides me."

"So did Bébé, damn it all," René growled and took the child from him. Her little arms wrapped around his neck and she laid her head on his shoulder with a yawn. He rubbed Sarah's back with the practiced ease of a man with three cherished children, seven well-loved grandchildren, and one adored great-grandchild. "But the Yankee's right, it's past dawn and we're all tired. It's been one damn long night."

His husband agreed. Charlie had taken Sarah's place in his arms and was nodding off against his chest. "Mais oui! We will all be better for some sleep. Tomorrow we'll be able to think more clearly and come up with a plan for whatever it is we have to do." He looked at the child content in his brother's arms. "Getting her siblings to safety has to be our first consideration."

The Master nodded. "Yes, especially if the Queen executes Jack. God knows what that will do to whatever tenuous hold she still has on control and sanity." His face was solemn as he considered consequences and possibilities before turning his mind to more immediate matters. "There are plenty of rooms upstairs. I sleep in Claudia's old room," he said, not wanting to explain that he'd stayed in René's room until René's scent had faded and he could no longer stand the empty feel and smell of the bed he'd so often shared with his brother. He couldn't sleep in his own room for the same reason. The lingering fragrance of Baby's perfume in Spike's suite had made it impossible for him to rest there either. It wasn't right that her scent remained after René's dissipated, Jean thought resentfully. Even now, he sometimes imagined he smelled gardenia at certain spots around the house. "Jean, you and the Deva are welcome to Papa's room." Maybe his duplicate could erase that scent finally.

"The Deva's name is Charlie," the Prince reminded him softly. It troubled him that his other self was so formally distant with his wife. Prince Jean chuckled as he added, "She has thousands of names and epitaphs but her family calls her Charlie."

"An' it's a stupid name for a pretty girl," René added casually. "I tell everybody but nobody sees it but me." His brilliant aquamarine eyes flashed wearily. "Her real name's Dionne." He pronounced the word in lazily slurred French, D'yawnnn, and it sounded like a caress.

Jean swallowed and took in the sight of the handsome black-haired beauty holding the drowsy child. The masculine smell of the person Jean loved best was back in the house. Jean inhaled deeply, taking in all the nuances of the scent that triggered images of René in his mind: cologne, shampoo, soap, gunpowder, hair gel, Jean's own scent, Baby, a touch of Nina, even Jo mingled with the base scent that was René himself. It was as though time had rolled back and Jean's husband had returned.

"René." Just saying the name felt oddly painful. "You're welcome to either my old room or yours. The baby can have the other." Even Spike's scent had returned with these familiar strangers. It lingered on their clothes and skins. Maybe Jean would be able to sleep decently for a change. For the first time in over two decades, Jean's house smelled like home.

Rex Lawson stumbled down the stairs. It was only a little past one in the afternoon but it was nearly as dark as night. The storm continued to rage outside, hail now occasionally mixed with the sleet and rain. The thunder and lightning was an angry constant. It was cold and miserable and there were already reports of flooding and problems for the living population of New Orleans. He and Jean would have to figure out how they could help, if Rex could get his brain to work, that is. He'd been out long past dawn and had gotten only a couple hours sleep. He felt disconnected from the world and hazy from exhaustion. He was dispirited and tired and worried about the child Jean had charged him with finding. Even if the rumors were true and she'd somehow escaped the Queen's executioners, she might very well have succumbed to the storm.

He saw his brother entering the dining room ahead of him and frowned. Jean was up early. Rex worried that the Master got too little rest. Jean was wearing himself out again. Rex sighed. As soon as he was a little more awake, he'd do his best to chase Jean back to bed.

He followed Jean into the dining room and froze. He blinked a couple of times and decided he was dreaming. He was really upstairs sound asleep and dreaming. That was the only rational explanation. There was no other reason the Queen would be sitting at the foot of the dining table with Jack Niemczyk lounging comfortably at her right hand. There was no other reason Jean would be kissing her cheek with a soft smile and a light in his eyes that Rex hadn't seen in years. He shook his head but the vision remained. Jean was now kissing Jack, deep and lovingly, while the Queen smiled benevolently at the pair.

"Damn, Jean," Jack said contentedly, a slightly lopsided smile crinkling the corners of his eyes and deepening the creases outlining his well-defined mouth. "That wakes a man up better than hot café au alit."

The petite beauty beside Jean laughed, the sound crystalline and filled with a sparkle that matched the china gleaming in the lamplight. "Good morning, Daddy," she said and kissed Jack on the cheek before turning to do the same to the Queen. "Good morning, Mother."

The beauty who Rex slowly realized was Baby's captive demigod blushed slightly and Jean laughed. He pulled her close and kissed her as lovingly as he had Jack before pulling out the chair one removed from Jack's. "Some," he answered with twinkling eyes as he seated the goddess politely. He kissed the creamy back of the goddess' hand. "I didn't keep her up too late." He winked down at her.

The Queen nodded toward the epergne overflowing with fragrant roses and lush green vines. "So I see. It hasn't taken over the whole table...yet."

Jack threw back his head and laughed aloud. Jean's eyebrow rose appreciatively and he captured Jack's mouth for a long kiss.

René brushed past Rex with a sleepy "'Morning, Rex." Riding piggyback with her arms around his neck was the little girl Rex had searched for all night and half the morning. "Jean! It's too early to be that disgusting," the dark Cajun said, but there was a smile on his perfect lips. "'Morning Jack. Good morning, m' ange," he said as he transferred the child to Jack's arms and kissed Baby warmly. For an instant, their faces were veiled by René's ebony hair.

Jack ignored them, wrinkled his nose at the child, and soon had her laughing. Jean took his seat beside Jack and laughed along with the little girl. René ruffled her ringlets before leaning down to weld his lips to Jean. "Bon matin, m' amour." Jean's eyes were glowing with happiness when René released him from the deep kiss. "Good morning, petite soeur," René said to the Deva, and gave her an affectionate kiss. "What's for breakfast? I need coffee." He looked up and one perfectly arched eyebrow climbed a fraction of an inch. "You gonna just stand there like a bump on a log, Rex?"

The former policeman swallowed the lump that had lodged in his throat but it wouldn't go away. Those clear albeit sleepy aqua eyes brought to mind happier days.

"Yes, dear. Sit down and eat something. You and Jean both look too thin." Baby's voice sent a frisson up Rex's spine. It sounded like it had all those years ago when his sire was alive and they were still a family. If not for the child sitting in Jack's lap, Rex would have thought he'd somehow traveled back in time. He half-expected to see Spike seated at the head of the table. He swore he smelled both his sire and Remy's scent beneath that of the roses that bloomed uproariously in the silver bowl on the table.

He felt a hand settle on his arm and looked down into the dark, pained eyes of his eldest brother. "I see you've met our guests. I meant to tell you as soon as you got in but I fell asleep," Jean said softly.

The Master nodded. "Yes, from another dimension. The Powers That Be finally decided to send help." He took a deep breath and tried not to think about the kiss he'd seen René give his alternate self. "Come, brother. Meet our guests and eat. We have a lot to decide today."

Baby stared at Jack's two remaining children. The little girl toddling about chasing a ball looked much like her sister, though her nose was more Charlotte's than Jack's. Her large round eyes were just as green as her father's were, though. She looked at the tiny boy lying in his lace-covered bassinet. He yawned, teeny fists flailing, his little rosebud mouth forming a perfect oval. His eyes, squeezed tightly shut during the exertion of yawning, opened and looked up at the vampiress. Baby sighed. There was no doubt about it; he was going to be the spitting image of Jack, right down to the willow-green eyes. She growled and stalked angrily from the room.

"Cephalaus! Cephalaus! You worthless snake," she shouted as she stormed into her audience chamber. "Why?" she demanded as she rattled his cage hard enough that the Naga-Kin demon dropped from where he squatted on skinny haunches onto his nearly non-existent backside.

"My Queeeeen," he hissed and fell on his face. "My Queeeen. Cephalaus exissssstss to sssserve my Queen. Cephalaus is her loyal ssssssnake. He...."

"Shut up," Baby snapped. She wasn't interested in the litany she required him to utter whenever she entered the room. It impressed and intimidated the demons, vampires, and humans who wanted some favor or business agreement but there were no visitors at the moment and she was in no mood to hear him mutter nonsense. "Just shut the hell up!" She shook the cage again. "Why don't any of the babies have blue eyes?" she demanded. "You told me a true deva has blue eyes! A blue-eyed deva would make me invincible, you said. So why the hell does my deva have brown eyes? Why do all her children have green eyes? Where the fuck is my blue-eyed deva!" She rattled the cage so hard the plaster around its supports cracked and rained small flakes down on the demon's already dusty blue-black scales. "You said the Keeper of a blue-eyed deva is loved and respected by the whole world! So how do I get one!"

Cephalaus didn't dare look at the Queen but his sibilate voice rose up. "The Living Goddessss, true immortal, bestowsss upon her Keeper the true power," he quoted. Ancient texts and scrolls littered the back of his golden cage, his only real companions. "The Sssssun Lord is belovvved by all the people for only through him will the earth bloom and live. He is life and all the world payssss him homage." He glanced up with glittering eyes full of madness. "The Living Goddess, Deva Incarnate, sssapphire-eyed with the power to rule over Life and Death submitsssss only to her Sun Lord. And the people sssshower them with love and worssship," he intoned. "Only he can truly rule as her equal. He is the raressst of men."

"I've heard this all before, snake. The Sun Lord this and the Sun Lord that: the Sun Lord can do anything. The Sun Lord rules the world! You said it didn't matter if the Sun Lord was male or female. You better not be telling me now that the Keeper has to be male!"

"No, my Queeeen! The Ssssun Lord can be a Ssssun Lady! You are the Sun Lady. You walk by day. Your body is warm and your heart beatsss much of the day." Cephalaus crawled into his pile of books and papers. "Sssee, it saysss ssso here. The books do not lie. They never lie to Cephalaus. They know. They tell Cephalaus all. They whissssper to him, telling him sssecretsss. They are Cephalaus' friendsss. They never hurt Cephalaussss."

Baby snarled, long fangs showing against her red lips. "Worthless imbecile! You're crazy. Stone nuts! But crazy or not, Charlotte and Jack better breed me a blue-eyed deva soon or I'll cut your fucking dick off and feed it to you!" She reached through the bars for him but he scuttled further back into his books and hid his face, whimpering. She gave the cage a final shake. "I want my blue-eyed deva. And I'll have one! I'll be the Sun Lord, you just wait and see. I'll have the power and EVERYONE will love me then."

"It almost looks like lip gloss." Baby sighed and smiled a very funny smile. The Deva's blood was a deep opaque blue-red with a faint iridescent quality that made it glimmer in the smooth glass phial.

The Queen's madness was showing more and more. Dr. Anne Bridger was savagely glad of it. The traitorous bit inside her that cleaved to her human past felt reluctant sympathy for her sire. In a way, Anne supposed, Lady Roxton was the biggest victim of the distorted world she'd created after she'd killed her husbands. Recollecting Spike's death and her own turning blotted away the sympathy before it reached Anne's elfin features. Still, she retained a calm neutral expression. Mother loathed excitability in her children.

"So," Anne continued. "I've determined the toxic levels of your Pet's blood comes from a unique organic element that has never been defined by the scientific community. Its toxicity stems from its ability to retard the undead growth and regeneration process on an extremely fast and cellular level." Her simple tweed a-line skirt brushed the white lab cart as she stood behind a small wooden stand displaying uniform phials of blood ranging in color from a clear red-tinted watery fluid to the dark red-black sparkling substance in its pure state. "The undiluted blood is the most virulent and fast-acting." Anne gestured towards the darker phials. "Even a small dose will kill a fledgling vampire in seconds. Antibodies in the blood overpower a vampire's blood chemistry so that its cells die rapidly or don't function." One corner of her mouth slanted in a mirthless smile. "The vampire dies and dissolves. Immediately." She gestured at the clearer specimens. "The blood diluted with plasma retains the same toxic properties, but its effects may be slower."

"May be?" One dark auburn brow arched in dry inquiry. The brilliantly golden eyes beneath the brows were purely interested in the information. If it bothered her in the slightest that the fledgling test subjects were kills she'd sired expressly for this purpose, Baby didn't show it.

"It still kills the fledglings almost instantly," Anne declared. "An older vampire might survive a little longer, although there's no way to tell how his functions would be compromised. Paralysis, maybe, or weakness before the eventual death. The toxic element would inhibit the mutated demonic cells from ingesting nourishment. The cells would die and so would the vampire."

"Doesn't sound like fun!" Baby chuckled warmly. "But what about my blood? And Jackie's?"

Anne lowered her lashes for a moment. She felt sorry for Jack Niemczyk. Almost. She'd locked herself in the lab when his screams had first begun. The Deva loved him tenderly and the Queen made him suffer for it. That was the reason for Baby's existence now: to make others suffer for love since she no longer felt either emotion--love or suffering--herself.

"The Deva's blood cells combined with yours and Lord Jack's differently," Dr. Bridger answered quietly, smoothing back a wisp of straight brown hair that had strayed out of her chignon and rested on her cheek. "In your case, the element combined with your vampiric blood chemistry to create a neutral compound. I think it likely the toxin may not have developed in the Deva until after you first sealed her, a defense mechanism. The serum and the cells in your blood are adjusting to the compound, accommodating and absorbing it instead of rejecting it. Your cells are actually evolving into a singular category. The human genotype of your DNA has grown stronger, yet the vampire compounds are retaining their characteristics as well." She tapped a manila folder on the cart. "Lord Jack's reaction is exactly the same except...."

The Queen tried to restrain an urge to slap the stupid cow. She rarely tortured or injured any of her children as long as they were useful and didn't piss her off too much. "Except?" she prompted Anne gently. Still Anne hesitated. You're really pissing me off. "WHAT?" An open-handed slap against the doctor's temple accompanied her blood-curdling screech.

Anne dropped her folder and a mess of papers flitted over the cold white tile floor. What the hell had Spike ever seen in her? Baby never had had much restraint. Becoming a Keeper had only made it worse.

Anne swallowed a mouthful of blood from where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek. "Jack's change is more rapid than yours," she explained calmly, lightly, as though the ugly violence hadn't occurred and her jaw wasn't throbbing. "I'm not entirely sure what it means."

"I think--maybe?--his original blood type might be more compatible to the transition." And maybe, just maybe, some good parts of the fairy tales are true and not just the parts about the monsters! "The myths and information we've gathered indicate that different bound pairs grow at different rates and levels." Because love must've made some kind of difference in the end! Even chemically a woman in love secretes different hormones and chemicals than when she's lonely. What does it matter whether it's the feeling itself or the physical result? At least if it's true I haven't wasted all of my life and Spike made it mean something for a little while....

"Your Majesty!" Swift light bootsteps dashed along the outside corridor before one of Baby's younger children opened the door and stood in just beyond the doorframe. Anne suppressed a sour smile at his obvious repugnance for the laboratory and its mistress. He knew well enough he could have ended up here like an ordinary lab animal if Baby hadn't chosen to spare him for whatever worthwhile reason had been floating in her mind when she passed him over for that particular "job" and turned him as a child rather than a minion.

"Whatisit?" Baby's steady growling didn't allow the words to separate. The fledgling's already fair complexion paled.

He bowed his head and touched one fist to his chest in a brief salute before he explained, "Ma'am, there are reports. Travis and Nguyen haven't checked in--"

Baby grinned. Jean was always so reliable! The little darling was probably already laid to rest in white satin ruffles with all the proper accoutrements of a Christian burial and Jean wouldn't even send Baby a bill! Of course, it was the least he could do after that mad-dog animal brother of his had hired a hit on Charlotte Jolivette. Or was it Jackie? Baby still wasn't sure and the assassin hadn't survived her torture attempts long enough to verify it. Either way, that drama had a happy ending. Whoever the arrow was meant for, it had passed through Charlotte and into Jack and that was how they'd discovered Jack's immunity to Red Gold. Why, if it hadn't been for Rex's animosity, Charlotte could never have had her babies!

"I like the way you say 'ma'am." Baby traced the fledgling's high angled cheekbone. His fair coloring and wiry build reminded her of Spike but his voice was syrupy Georgian Cracker. "Say it again," she purred, golden eyes heavy-lidded.

"Ma'am." He swallowed. "There's another report, Ma'am," he added carefully. Baby leaned into him to sniff his exquisite fear. "It's Jean DuValliere, Ma'am, he's been seen out at the Café du Monde with a young girl. She's marked. A consort, Ma'am." He didn't add that the informant thought the mark looked unusually cruel and aggressive. He didn't know Jean Claude DuValliere personally but everyone seemed to think he was one of the kindest most compassionate demons who ever lived.

"That's good! It's about time he found someone new!" Baby's smile was genuinely pleased. She looked at Anne over her shoulder. "Isn't that wonderful news?" She'd heard that Jean hadn't touched a lover since the night René had been lost. Saint Jean the Lover turned Saint Jean the Monk, now that was a sin!

"I'll send him a gift," Baby announced jovially. "Supper at the Sazerac for two--just for them. And a few dozen roses." She chuckled at some inside joke. "We'll give the pianist the night off." She opened her mouth and pressed a moist kiss directly on her child's slender lips, then groped his crotch through his jeans and sighed, disappointed at his lack of bulk.

"Ma'am, they were seen together. This morning outside his house. During the day. Mr. DuValliere was walking outside in daylight. MA'AM!" He screamed the last word pleadingly when her grip between his legs tightened violently. Her eyes bled from golden-greenish hazel into blazing leonine fury.

The Queen lapsed into a brutal cacophony of the filthiest swearing the boy had ever heard. She'd have sworn his daddy's boozing poker pals under the table any day of the week. She crossed the room in the blink of an eye, lifted Dr. Bridger's lab cart, and hurled it across the room with all her might. Enameled metal, stainless steel, plastic and glass containers and tools crashed or shattered against companion objects on the counters and cabinets opposite the side Baby stood on. The wheel on one corner of the cart bent from the impact before it broke off the counter's edge. The samples of devi blood spattered into aromatic patterns on the bottom cupboards and the silvery-brown tiled floor. A shallow tin pan clanged softly and the rubber stopper for a glass phial expelled its last breath as a small iron tool crushed it. Several of Anne's perfectly sharpened number two pencils rolled away from the ruins of her research, halting against her tidy workstation in the corner.

The Queen was gone, knocking the fledgling down and trampling over him like he didn't exist, before the pencils stopped rolling. The fledgling glided upwards with a practiced ease that left Anne thinking he might be used to being knocked down and trampled.

Anne breathed a soft sigh of relief at being left alone and ambled over to her workstation. Slowly, she sat down at her meticulous desk and stared into the blank gray reflection of her expensive computer monitor.

It would never be over, she knew that now. Anne had already realized her usefulness to Baby Roxton would never end and she would never receive her promised reward. No matter how diligently she worked, Anne had only half the solutions to an extremely complicated equation. The mystery of the Deva and her successful secondary bond to Jack Niemczyk was not going to ever be credibly explained through only scientific research. Magic was also involved, and mythology. If only Wesley was able to help...Anne couldn't bring herself to grudge him his luck in getting away.

Baby would never be satisfied with her answers and her theories. Even if Baby was satisfied she still wouldn't allow Anne to walk through the courtyard at sunrise. The Queen had always been a monster of selfishness even before she became an actual monster. She hadn't really loved Spike anymore, hadn't wanted him in a good long while.

Their planning session got off to what the Master categorized generously as a rocky start. He was intensely glad he'd called Tara in to care for Sarah. Tara's magic was strong enough to protect the child against almost any threat and there was a core of kindness in the elderly witch that would be good for the child. Sarah didn't need to see her protectors fighting among themselves. She had enough problems for one so young.

As it was he had even greater problems on his mind. He wasn't sure everyone was going to walk away from this meeting alive. His brother was certainly not making anything easy.

Rex was much less inclined to be trusting than the Master. He glowered at Baby constantly, setting Jack's temper on edge until the blond finally stood chest to chest with the black vampire.

Jack growled and bared long fangs. "You don't want our help? Fine. We don't need your help, we don't need your attitude, and I damn sure don't need you getting in my wife's face every two minutes. As far as I'm concerned you can go fuck yourself." Rex was a good four inches taller than Jack was and much heavier, but Jack didn't back down so much as a centimeter when the other vampire growled back.

Rex wasn't intimidated. "Yeah, you're right. We don't need your help. You talk big, but when it comes down to it, you're nothing but Baby's lap dog and always have been. You don't care about anything else, not even your own children." Rex's voice darkened in rage and dark brown eyes bled into golden flames as he added, "I don't think there's anything I need from a man who'll stand by and let his own daughters be executed."

Charlie leapt to her feet, indignant roses blooming in her cheeks. "How dare you speak to my father that way?" She glared up at Rex, as unimpressed by his majestic height as Jack was. She elbowed her father aside. "Jack is the best father there ever was!"

Rex looked at Charlie as though she were crazy. He'd heard every rumor, viewed every surveillance film, and even seen with his own eyes just how unfatherly the Deva's relationship with the Queen's Companion was. It was abusive and cold and hateful. Rex had known Jack was a pervert from the beginning; his games with Baby had always been sick. But since the Queen had gone bad, the diseased nature of Jack's sexual deviance had metastasized in the permissive environment of Baby's court. Rex had seen the photos and films of Jack leading the poor Deva around on a leash attached to a fantastically jeweled collar. He'd seen them from a distance himself; Jack with his mouth pressed to the Deva's and his hands all over her. He'd heard the young girl's whimpering even a block away. It had taken four of Jean's children to keep Rex from taking on the Queen's guards and trying to kill Jack. Jean's spies had reported how the Deva trembled whenever Jack came into the room. And Jack really was old enough to be her father. Christ, she was little more than a teenager when that son of a bitch raped her the first time. It made Rex want to throw up. If there was anything Rex hated it was a child molester and for someone like Jack to be one set Rex's teeth on edge. God damn it! They were both ex-cops! They were supposed to protect the weak, not prey upon them. Rex wanted him dead.

"I know he is! He's been my daddy for years now!" Her eyes narrowed and she folded her arms defensively. Rex was so much taller than Charlie she had to nearly throw her head completely backward to make eye contact with him. "He takes great care of me and the family. He's handled the Pride's security for as long as I've been with them. No one dares come near any of us and my own personal guard won't thwart him because they know he protects me!" Her blue eyes snapped fiercely. "Not that I really need it much anymore," she continued scathingly. "I could fry you with a lightning bolt any time I feel like it, but I feel better having him around to look after my children!"

Rex growled down at the petite goddess. She was so dainty and pretty that her harsh chastisement left him feeling like a butterfly had bitten him. He had lost three of his own children to Jack's idea of protection. He wasn't inclined to feel gracious towards the man who'd tortured and killed his daughters slowly just so the Queen could get her jollies watching. "Then you're crazy! Jack's a motherfucking son of a bitch and always has been. I should have ripped his head off years ago and I may just do that right now. The bastard...."

There was a crash as a curio table toppled, spilling whatnots onto the polished oak floor and he found himself pressed against a wall, his mother's tiny hand knotted in the material of his shirt. Glowing yellow eyes scowled up at him. "No one threatens Jack!" she snarled, a deep growl coming from low in her chest. "How many times do I have to tell people that!"

The Deva's deep blue eyes glared at him over Baby's shoulder. "And I'd thank you to remember that, whatever you think of this other Jack, I mean the one in your world, my father isn't he!" Her sensuous mouth had tightened into a displeased pout. Rex heard her pulse speeding, rushing with distress and outrage, suffusing the air about her with an unspeakably delicious aroma. "He's not going to take flack from you because you're pissed off with some alternate version of him! So relax! I'm not joking about that lightning bolt! Try hurting my daddy and I'll show you." She turned away from him and impaled the Master of New Orleans with a reproachful look that spoke volumes of knowledge about this man she barely knew. "Jean Claude DuValliere, is this how the Pride receives guests--I mean well-meaning people who want to help--under your authority? Is hospitality so changed here?" She sounded genuinely disappointed.

"Enough!" the Master snapped. "Lady Roxton, Deva, please!" He seemed reluctant to say their names. "Rex, this isn't helping anything." He sighed. He knew Rex wanted nothing to do with Jack Niemczyk and why. "We have more important things to worry about. There are a couple of babies that need us." He watched thankfully as Prince Jean coaxed his deva away, whispering to her, though the glance the Prince gave Rex was hard and cold.

It was Jack who finally eased Baby's fist open and gently pulled her hand away from Rex. "Sweetheart, it's all right," he said. "I can take care of myself. I know you know that." He kissed the top of her head and pressed reassuringly against her back. "And if he tries anything, I'll chop all of those braids of his off and have them made into a wig for you as a Mardi Gras costume." He grinned brightly. "You'd look really cute as Cleopatra." Charlie giggled and Jack winked affectionately.

Rex growled in challenge. "Any time you think you're big enough." He wasn't really sure how it happened but he found himself face down on the floor, with his arms pinned painfully behind him and Jack's knee pressed with excruciating pressure into his spine.

"I'm big enough," Jack said softly, twirling a single, severed braid between his fingers. "Never doubt it."

The pressure on Rex's spine eased a bit and then disappeared as Jack released him and stood. "I don't know exactly what happened here and I don't particularly care," the ex-FBI director spat. "But get this through your head. I'm NOT the Jack Niemczyk you know. I'm not some puppy for this Queen of yours." His eyes were as cold and green as moss agate as he watched Rex climb to his feet.

"Yeah. So what are you?" Rex grated as he rubbed his shoulder, and fingered the stub of his missing braid. "If you're not her puppy, what the hell are you? FBI?"

"Retired after thirty-five years of service," Jack said with cool dignity. "What I am is Protector of the Pride. Like my daughter says, I'm in charge of security for the family. And no one gets past me. I'm primary husband to the Queen of New Orleans." There was intense pride in that statement. René growled and Jack snapped, "Not now, Beaumont." He swept a chill glance over Rex. "I'm alpha male of my sire's bloodline." Baby grinned proudly. Jack's demeanor demanded Rex explain why Jack should even speak to him.

"He's not nearly as well-mannered as you are," Charlie whispered confidingly to her husband. "If he were my Prince, I'd send him to finishing school." Jean smiled benignly and shushed her. René barely held in his laughter and tucked Charlie securely under one arm.

Jack shrugged. "You know what? That doesn't mean shit to me. I don't follow Jean because of his title; I follow Jean because I respect him."

Jean's hand fell on his shoulder again. "And that respect is reciprocated, cher amour. Our fears for our children and grandchildren are much reduced because of you."

Even René nodded reluctant agreement. His problems with Jack were personal, not professional. He had no issues with Jack's methods of protecting the family.

Jack wasn't backing down. Jean tugged gently on his shoulder. "Mon amour. The Master is right. We can settle dominance issues later. We have two very young children that need us."

Jack nodded. Jean was right; those helpless children came first. With a final hard glare at Rex, he gathered up his wife and sat down on the sofa with her on his lap. He nuzzled her hair and neck with little snarls and growls, not relaxing until she responded in kind. Charlie tilted her nose in the air and let every inch of her posture show her continued disapproval of Rex. She sat down beside her husband and nuzzled his neck much the way Jack was seeking solace from Baby. When she was finally happier she narrowed her eyes and looked at Rex. "Keep that lightning bolt in mind."

Idea after idea was offered and discarded. None seemed to offer an acceptable chance of getting into the palace and getting the children out safely. The Master shook his head again and again. "No! You don't understand! The Queen is keeping the children both as hostages to ensure the Deva's compliance as well as breeding possibilities." He felt the sudden shock of Charlie's appalled horror as the thought of the life her alternate persona lived slam into his belly and the Master felt a curious impulse to comfort her. Even as he glanced up, Prince Jean's shoulder cradled her proud head and his fingers threaded through her hair. "She will kill them before she lets them out of her control. As long as she's there, they are in extreme danger."

Charlie's whole aspect brightened. "Well, then we just need to get her out of there, don't we?" She looked to Jean and Rex for information. "What's the major dance club here? Where do people go to be seen?"

"Your solution to the problem is to go out dancing?" Rex fumed. "That's just as good as your morning stroll for breakfast."

"I had a hankering for beignets." Charlie shrugged carelessly. "Do you want to hear my plan or not?"

Jack arched an eyebrow at Charlie. He felt her excitement and knew she'd gotten one of her probably dangerous ideas. There were times when his daughter was as much a loose cannon as his brother Remy. "What's going on under all that hair, honey?"

"The Master has told us that the Queen is fixated with a blue-eyed deva, so why don't we give her one to chase?" As Charlie outlined her plan Jean wasn't sure if he was proud of her brilliance or concerned that she'd risk herself so carelessly. But finally he looked at Jack and nodded.

"Well, that'll take care of the rescuing the children part. Dealing with the Queen...I guess that's your job," Charlie concluded with a confident expression towards Jack.

"It's a good plan, Charlie," Jack said. "I couldn't have come up with a better one myself."

She grinned. "You're not the only one in the family with brains, you know." She winked at Rex. "Like father, like daughter." Thunder rolled across the sky and lightning cracked about the house. "And don't you ever forget it."

"Oh you're such a wonderful artist, darling!" Baby gushed over the little girl, twisting a honey-blonde ringlet, winding it on her finger, then releasing it to spring back on the child's head. "Now isn't that the sweetest thing you ever saw?" She held up Sarah's drawing to show it to Jack.

Jack nodded, concentrating his attention on the details of the five-year-old's work with crayons and colored pencils. It was very well done for a youngster, he thought, with careful lines and the crayon drawn in the same direction to create an even texture.

"It's the four of us," Sarah explained frankly, eyeing the Queen with wary hopefulness Jack tried hard not to see. The Queen was unpredictable and though she seemed nice right now, Sarah was used to extremely mercurial changes of mood in Baby. She'd allowed Sarah to have a cat, then ordered its kittens taken away when it hissed at her.

Sometimes Sarah wondered if her own mommy had hissed at the Queen and that was why they couldn't live in the same rooms together. She knew her mother wanted to see her more than the Queen let her.

"It's from when we went to see "The Nutcracker" last Christmas. I drew it to show Gracie since she was too young to go."

"Awwwwwwwwww hoonnnnnnnneeeyyyy!" Baby chuckled and petted Sarah's head affectionately. "Such a sweet thing! She gets that from you," she assured her Companion.

Jack arranged his face into what he hoped passed for a sincere smile. Sarah had a good memory as well as artistic skills. Jack's hair had just been cut that day, unusually short, and Sarah had depicted that in her drawing. She'd also colored Jack's suit charcoal gray instead of the de rigeur black, a surprisingly subtle detail for a five-year-old to remember. Baby was larger than life beside Jack. Dressed in a dark wine-red corset gown that emphasized her voluptuous figure, she carried Sarah easily on her hip. Jack's smile brightened at the careful attention Sarah had given to depict her ice-blue satin "ball dress." Lord, how proud she'd been of it that night, promenading through the hotel lobby with her bodyguards to hear the smooth fabric swish over her crisply ruffled petticoat!

To Jack's right, slightly behind him, Charlotte gleamed in a simple slipdress of pure white silk charmeuse. "I know, white's out of fashion in winter, Jackie, but I love her in that color!" Charlotte's hair was swept away from her face with silver combs decorated with pearls and the length hung free behind her, just hitting the top of her bottom, a Botticelli beauty. Ostentatious white diamond-laden chandelier earrings lent an ethereal contrast to the black diamonds in her collar. The matching platinum chain leash trailed negligently over Jack's broad knuckles beneath a brilliant Cartier watch.

Jack's smile faded. His daughter was old enough to remember that damned collar and that double-damned leash. What would she think of him the day she was old enough to understand what it meant and why it was there?

"Nice," he replied shortly, glancing only briefly into Sarah's gentle green eyes. They're like Jo's, he thought, remembering his departed daughter with a surge of regret he'd grown used to. Jo, at least, seemed to have had a decent childhood without being close to him. She'd found happiness for herself, however brief her life. Jack had lost Johanna when he'd just begun to find her. His son, Francis, was as good as dead for taking Nina and fleeing the country with Wesley and Dru.

The vampire steeled himself not to smile back at the precious round face so like his own beneath the lovely mop of curls. A moment later, Sarah dropped her eyes, silently hiding her disappointment.

Baby grinned and winked at him knowingly. She knew Jack wasn't comfortable visiting the children and tried to interact with them as little as possible. He tried to stay out of the nursery altogether, but if Baby required him to accompany her during her periodic visits to see his offspring he had little choice but to do so.

"They grow so fast!" she remarked. "Next thing you know Sarah will be a teenager."

"Yes, soon she'll be all grown up. We'll have to watch her carefully, make sure no one decides to claim her," Baby said gently.

Jack clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. "You think she's going to be a Carrier after all?"

Baby shook her head, her mouth pursed in distaste. "No, every magical test and all the blood work indicates she's not going to become a deva. Still, she's a very pretty little girl. And healthy. It'll all work out fine." She glanced toward the bassinet where Sarah's new brother slept peacefully. "When John's sixteen or seventeen, she'll be twenty-one, twenty-two. That should be the perfect age for her to start having babies. I'm sure she and John can produce a deva."

Jack's heart stopped and then restarted with a jerk. He bit down on his tongue to keep his protest to himself. He'd nearly been startled into saying something. He didn't dare object to anything the Queen wanted. His control was as tight as he could manage, his emotions carefully blanked. He couldn't let her feel his revulsion.

Baby smiled. "Yes, I think the two of them have a very good chance of breeding a deva for me. And all the tests indicate Grace is going to be a deva though not a blue-eyed one." She ran a hand along Jack's arm. "Isn't that wonderful, Jack? We'll have another deva. Your little girl will make a lovely deva. We'll share her just like we share Charlotte." Her smile grew seductive. "And think how pretty the babies you make with her will be." She reached up to stroke his elegant jaw line, sensuous bedroom eyes revealing her excitement with her own plan.

It took every scrap of hard-learned, deeply ingrained control and survival instincts Jack had not to leap back in repulsion from his Master. Frozen razor clarity forced the former FBI profiler to acknowledge several facts, of which his sire's obvious descent into insane depravation was the least terrifying.

A blanket of ice shrouded him as it finally struck him that the three children in the nursery were his children, children he'd made with his Carrier. It had taken Baby declaring frankly how she planned their futures to make him see it. The golden-haired little girl drawing at the table, the rosy toddler with his fairness and Charlotte's sweet-faced features building castles with soft blocks on the floor, and the downy-haired infant boy in the bassinet were his children. Never had he felt more helpless or indignant than when he realized he had no power to influence their future welfare. He had no say over how their lives turned out. He was fathering a slave race whose fabled ancestry lent them a hint of glamour and made them seem more interesting than common minions but slaves were what they were.

The awful loneliness and degradation of Charlotte's life--and his own--would not end with the three of them, Jack, Charlotte, or even Baby. It would extend for generations of immortality. And mortality. Every child he'd helped usher into this world, deva or not.

Jack swallowed his rising gorge and pretended nothing was wrong. He prayed she ended this conversation soon. He wasn't sure how much he could hear without throwing up. "I'm sure they will," he managed to answer in a conversational tone.

The Queen was pleased. "Yes. It looks like you've already made one deva for me. I'm sure you'll make another one, Jack. You're so good. A blue-eyed one this time. A pretty, all-powerful, blue-eyed deva for Mama? Won't you, Jackie? Won't you make a blue-eyed deva for your Mama?"

Jack accepted her kiss. "I have to get in touch with Jean," he thought frantically. "I have to get in touch with him and I have to get him to believe me and, more importantly, I have to get him to help me. He has to help my children."

It didn't matter if the vampires were tired or not, the plan was in place and had to be implemented. Rex had forgotten just how effective Baby and Jean were when they worked together and when Jack joined the pair things fell into place with a speed that dazzled him. The visiting Jean was able to move about freely in daylight and apparently Jack was able to do so to a lesser extent when Charlie DuValliere fed him. They quickly gathered what was needed since they didn't trust any one else with even a hint of what they had planned. Clothing that would disguise them for Charlie's plan was purchased. The best venue was settled on and contingency plans were rapidly made. Rex didn't like any of it. He had no doubt that the sight of a blue-eyed deva dancing in the Queen's own nightclub would get the dark monarch's attention. But there was far too much risk involved. The Deva probably would not be killed and even if she was Rex honestly couldn't work up much feeling about it, but she also risked capture. The Queen's minions and agents would covet the distinction and possible rewards to be offered at Baby's court if they could present her with another deva. Rex didn't like the idea of adding to the Queen's power.

Of much more concern to Rex's way of thinking, Jean insisted on going with these strangers. The idea of the Master walking nearly unprotected into the Queen's territory chilled Rex. It was nothing short of insane. He argued and argued that his brother shouldn't go anywhere near the club but Jean was adamant. Rex was sure it was these strangers' influence. They made Jean forget that he was ruler here now and couldn't go out and fight all the battles himself.

As they were sorting out the clothing Jack and Prince Jean had purchased, he expressed his concern that the Deva might be captured. Maybe that would get their attention since they didn't seem to care about Master Jean's safety.

Charlie looked at him scornfully. She liked this Rex less and less the more she became acquainted with him. She had seen him watch her feeding Jack before Jack went out into the daylight and his disgusted expression had made her feel somehow soiled. She had always loved the feel of her Father's growing warmth and his gentle thoughts as he drew softly from her wrist and caressed her hair. Rex's glare had made their exquisite bonding seem sullied.

"I've already told you, Jack will watch out for me," she replied. "I don't have to worry about anything while Daddy's around. You may not think so but back home everyone says he's a great man. They call him a hero."

Rex laughed and watched Sarah Roxton playing quietly in the hallway outside. He'd heard as much of how great a man Jack Niemczyk was as he could stomach. "Funny, around here everyone says he's the father of your bastard children. You know what they call men that screw their daughters." And kill their own cousins, he added silently. "How many bastard babies has he given you?"

Charlie gasped, a painfully quick intake of breath, as though the vampire had physically struck her. Her eyes, large and beautiful, filled with hurt rage. Rex wondered if their vivid color darkened or if it was a trick of the light as clouds shifted at the windows outside and sent a dull gloomy cast over the room.

The lightning bolt that sent Sarah into hiding under a cane-backed chair shattered the French doors of Jean's old bedroom. Thunder rumbled across the city and the wind rose to a nearly painful howl. Rex swore aloud.

"You don't know a thing about him!" Her voice sounded threaded into the outraged thunder outside. Or maybe the thunder threaded her voice. "And if your Queen manages to catch me she deserves to drink because Daddy and Jean will be dead and I won't want to live!"

Jean was beside Charlie instantly, folding her into strong gentle arms. "Petite, it's all right. I know you and Jack have never even thought of doing anything that would dishonor any of us. Shh, belle." He glared at Rex with more than a hint of warning as his sable eyes rapidly darkened to midnight blue to match his wife's. She turned her face into his shoulder and Jean kissed her soft hair.

René showed a hint of fang. He'd heard just about enough of Rex's pissy attitude towards Charlie and Jack. "You know, I don't like Jack for shit but I got no problems with him and Charlie. He ain't ever even imagined doing anything with her." He strolled languidly up to his younger brother. "Now, my daughter Nina is married to his son and I'm married to his daughter Jo and have been for years and years, and I can tell you that whatever else Jack is, he ain't no child molester. He don't abuse his children or his grandchildren unless you count smacking Charlie on the ass when she's being bratty. She don't seem to mind over much and she loves the annoying son of a bitch." Gold swirled in the tropical seas of his eyes. "So back the hell off from my sister." He looked at the doors hanging crookedly from their frame. "Or she might just turn you into barbecue, yeah."

Jack's hearing was excellent and he'd caught every word of Beaumont's defense of him. He'd also heard the comment that led to it. René was right; he'd never even considered romance with Charlie. At least not until he'd come here. Now, no matter how objectively he tried to see it and reason that after all these were different people, the sight of Sarah Roxton smiling hopefully up at him from under a cloud of Charlie's gorgeous hair just unnerved him.

It was the reminder the child represented that disturbed him, Jack decided. The reminder that, for all the tenderness between them and no matter how much he wanted to protect her, Charlie wasn't his natural daughter...Any more than he was Baby's natural son.

René wandered out into the hallway in time to see Jack convince Sarah to come out from under the chair. The blond vampire hefted the little girl easily and continued to talk to her calmly, almost as if she was an adult. René had seen that before; Jack never talked down to his grandchildren. He had grown-up conversations with them. René grinned and then frowned at the faint warmth he felt for the Yankee. "She's a belle thing, Jacques," René said as he brushed Sarah's cheek with one hand. "She reminds me of Josette and Véronique a little bit." He grinned, thinking of his green-eyed granddaughters.

Jack nodded. "Yes, they both look a lot like Kevin and Johanna did when they were little."

René wrinkled his nose in consideration. Johanna was very attractive and Kevin was quite handsome and he imagined they'd been cute children. "Yeah. You make pretty babies." His smiled turned blindingly bright. "Not as pretty as I do but pretty enough."

Jack growled. "Maybe you should have stuck to that. Seems to be all you're good at."

"Well, me and Jo, we keep trying." René's beautiful face softened and a warm light filled his teal eyes at the thought of his sweet consort. She wasn't the type to worry, but he hoped she missed him a little. Johanna actually made being Jack's son-in-law worthwhile. His smile lit the hallway. "And trying and trying."

Jack gritted his teeth and knotted his free hand into a fist. "You motherfu...."

"She never lets us have any fun," René muttered. "It's not like we really gonna kill each other."

"No, I just want to break a few bones," Jack agreed. "Maybe cut your balls off."

They both called back their capitulation and set to making Sarah more comfortable. The constant wariness in the child concerned both men. Their grandchildren never had that spring-wound caution to their every movement. They couldn't help but wonder what sort of life she led. How could her parents let her life be so full of fear? What sort of world was it at this Queen's palace?

"A leash?" Charlie exclaimed, gaping in response to the Master's reply to her inquiry about the Queen's Pet Charlotte, how she looked and dressed. Charlie wanted to look as different from the duplicate Deva as she could manage without actually wearing a disguise. "You must be mistaken," she asserted forcefully.

Master Jean looked at her helplessly. Charlie DuValliere was too full of confidence and high spirits to relate to the two decades of constant abuse her duplicate had received in his world. It gave Jean a sense of bitter pleasure to know he had been part of her strength in this other reality. The Deva was one of his deepest regrets, his most appalling failure.

Rex shrugged. "I've seen it. You...She doesn't set foot outside the house or in any of the public rooms without a leash. Niemczyk always leads her. And she wears a collar all the time. It's the Queen's order."

She gawped at him in disbelief. "I would NEVER! There is no way anyone could make me wear a collar like a dog!"

"I could make you do it." Baby's words tasted sour. She met the Master's eyes briefly and again saw the loathing that he didn't try to conceal. "If I put my mind to it, I could make you do it. Anyone can be made to do things if you know the right buttons to push."

Jean's lip curled for an instant. "And you are a master manipulator. You know all the right buttons. I'm not surprised that the Deva wears a collar like an animal. Don't doubt it for an instant, Goddess. If Baby wanted you to wear her collar, you would."

"I--do NOT--think so!" Charlotte's voice was tight and strained with outrage. The Queen chuckled and ruffled the other woman's hair, then bent behind Charlotte's chair to kiss her carelessly. The Deva swallowed. Her anger with Baby must be affecting her feelings, Charlotte thought. She didn't feel the slightest trace of desire for her Keeper.

If the Queen noticed her lack of response she wasn't concerned by it. "Oh I understand! You don't want to kneel or wear a collar and leash for me like a good Pet. You hate it. We have this argument over and over every time I ask you to do this one little thing for me, Charlotte!" The Queen's scolding was high-pitched, nearly playful. Her pert little mouth curled up to make tsking, disappointed sounds. "You think it's demeaning, you think it's degrading. You think being Pet to the Queen of New Orleans is degrading!" Baby paced idly across the room, laughing and shaking her head over her Pet's stubborn foolishness. "Fine. I'm not going to physically force you to wear it anymore since you think it's so beneath you. But...." She drew the curtain away from the window seat, revealing a plump, rosy baby cooing in an infant car seat.

Charlotte frowned at the demonic woman. Baby's smile formed glaciers in the crystal carafe on the writing table. She picked the baby up and fondled it lovingly, crooning to her in the high-pitched tone women instinctively used to quiet and amuse babies. Her words were only for Charlotte, though.

"If I tear this little one apart in front of you--Yes, that's right. Right in front of Mommy.--If I tear her apart piece by piece, joint by joint...." Her voice suddenly tightened into a hiss that resounded in the now eerily silent room. "It might not be so beneath you then?" She smiled. "Children are wonderfully resilient, Charlotte, they can take so much more damage than an adult and still survive the beating because their growth level is so much faster!"

The Deva rose to her feet and Baby grinned at the flash of temper in her flower-petal eyes. She liked it when her Pet got temperamental with her and she didn't do it as often as she had in the past.

"You won't do anything to her," Charlotte practically growled. She honestly believed it. She wouldn't murder the prize she'd sought so aggressively over something so stupid.

Charlotte thought of the long nights Baby had coaxed Jack to service her repeatedly, rousing him past even vampire endurance and whispering to him to fuck her one more time, hoping Charlotte would conceive. Charlotte sensed, with a pureness of instinct all the oppression and manipulation on earth couldn't squash, that her daughters were not the products of those nights. There were other nights and other days when the Queen was busy with matters she preferred to keep Jack separate from or playing with a new Pet on her own that Jack came to her. His embraces were exquisite, soft and strong. Wet deep kisses left Charlotte sighing and gasping when her body melted into liquid flames as it joined to his. He whispered encouragement, told her she was so beautiful and felt so good to him. She couldn't understand how she could ever have feared his touch; it was so gentle and filled with the tenderness he kept mostly concealed. My Charlotte, mine...God, I need you! Those nights had made her children, the Deva was sure of it. Charlotte wondered if Baby suspected that as well and that was why Baby allowed them to happen.

The baby screamed and began to bawl noisily. Charlotte screamed herself when her Keeper lifted her taloned fingernail and licked the drops of blood away. Baby's golden eyes rolled in relish and she hummed softly.

"Now! Now!" the Queen scolded laughingly when Charlotte rushed towards her, her elegant hands clenched into fists. "You better just settle yourself down, honey! I don't want to kill Grace by accident." Baby smiled approvingly when Charlotte stopped abruptly. "I didn't scratch her face or anything. Gracie's going to be as pretty as Sarah, I think. Two babies in the nursery are lovely--though I'd like to see more after so many years of trying, dearest! But two is better than one and if something happens to one, we've still got the other...Oh! You're hurting yourself, sugar. Stop that." She kissed her carrier's bloody lower lip, suckling tenderly where Charlotte had bitten it. "Now kneel down, like a good girl." She caressed Charlotte's luxuriant hair idly as Charlotte sank to her knees, then put the infant back in the car seat, carefully fastening the straps so the child wouldn't somehow fall out.

Sighing contentedly, Baby turned her attention back to the assortment of ostentatiously bejeweled chokers displayed on lush beds of midnight blue velvet on her desk a few feet away from the window-seat. Many of the local jewelers were vying with each other for the privilege of having their work shown on the Queen's Pet and they'd sent beautiful pieces of strong, costly metals and rare stones. Boudreaux, Doucet's, Aucoin Hart, as well the famous Adler's and Fischer's.

"Hmmm...They're all so nice, which one? Which one?" An eerily childish note entered Baby's voice as she cocked her head to the side. "Something very nice. It's our anniversary after all. Jack!" Her call brought her Companion into the room. He was waiting just outside the door, Charlotte's burst of terror ringing through their link and sending him hurrying from the lower levels of the hotel to be as close to her as he dared. "Charlotte's agreed to wear her collar like a good girl. Which one do you like, honey? They're all pretty. Hmm. This one, don't you think? It'll look good no matter what she wears." She lifted the strand of silvery metal and strangely twinkling black stones and handed it and the matching leash languidly to Jack. The fun part of the exercise was over. Now she was bored with it. "Put it on her, Jack, and take her down to breakfast. Use the leash to lead her. And Charlotte? You wear the collar from now on. All the time. Never take it off and never refuse to wear it again."

Jack swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he fastened the collar around Charlotte's neck. It didn't matter that it was platinum set with rare diamonds; it was demeaning and unnecessary. Jack hated it. He'd hated it the first time he'd seen Charlotte wear one and every time she'd worn one afterwards. It reminded him far too much of the invisible one resting around his own throat. How long until he had a real one? Only his would probably be gold. Baby said white metal didn't suit him. He took a deep breath and leaned down. "I'm so sorry," he whispered in Charlotte's ear. "I don't want to do this." He looked down at the leash in his hand.

"Here, give it to me," Charlotte said and took the hateful thing from him. She hooked it to the loop in the front of her collar and handed him the lead.

Charlotte closed his fingers around the loop of the lead. The metal was icy against his warm skin. "It's alright. It is. I don't mind so much when you're the one who does this. At least you don't enjoy it." She touched her chest. "I can feel that you hate it as much as I do. That makes it bearable."

Jack brought her fingers to his lips. "Then I'll see that no one else ever makes you walk with this thing on. I won't let anyone else lead you around this way." A muscle in his jaw jumped.

She ran a gentle hand over his temple. "Thank you." She glanced toward the alcove where their baby had been hidden. "We can't have any more children, Jack. We just can't."

He frowned at the change of subject but nodded his agreement. "I know. The spell I've been using is supposed to keep me infertile but it isn't reliable enough. I've been trying to find a better one."

She kissed him. "I know you'll find one. I trust you." She squared her shoulders and lifted her head. "We need to go down to breakfast. We daren't be late." She took a deep breath and even with the hateful mark of servitude around her throat, Jack thought she looked like a princess. "Lead me down, Jack. I don't mind if you do it."

New Orleans, Louisiana
Mysterious Ways Magical Museum & Curiosities Gift Shop
Friday, 5:30 pm
February 17, 2040

Karel Sigismond was descended from an impressive line of witches, magicians, and sages who traced their roots back to Celtic Britain, Holland, and Africa as well as Germany. Many witches tended to have an affinity for a particular type of magic and Karel's chosen field was enchantments and charms. He'd made quite a name for himself by performing live magical exhibitions and hosting a paranormal talk show for several years before he'd returned to New Orleans to enjoy a semi-retired status as a local celebrity.

He was an arresting man, beautifully preserved at fifty, and his compactly muscled build lent him an androgynous quality. His hair was silvery white without one touch of its mousy brown left, hanging in glossy wavy layers over his shoulders. His eyes were soft gray, warm and mild. His features were evenly placed, not distinctive or beautiful until he smiled. His smile seemed magical in itself, warm, empathic, and attentive. Karel's physical appearance seemed to radiate the intrinsic beauty of his nature.

"Would you like some chai, Lord Jack?" His voice was a rich mellowed tenor that made the vampire think of butterscotch melted over ice cream. "Coffee?" He persisted, blinking slightly at Jack's refusal. "Water and lemon? How about a root beer?" His smile widened enticingly, revealing toothpaste-commercial perfection in his teeth. "I keep two kinds! Barq's and Abita!"

"I don't keep alcoholic food or drink in the house," he apologized. "It injures the aura," he explained quite seriously.

His brow arched higher but Jack didn't argue. "Abita'll be good." He was nearly seventy years old. In his time he'd interviewed or interrogated too many New-Age flunkies who took their spiritual diet seriously. And, in all fairness to the guy, he was in great shape.

The magician jogged to the cheerily yellow tiled kitchenette and retrieved the longneck bottle with its distinctive polka-dot label. All the while he muttered bullshit about how Abita was superior to modern soft drinks since it used natural herbs and yucca root for foaming properties as well as local cane sugar instead of corn syrup, which gave it a "better body" than more recent formulations. Jack thanked him and sipped the cold beverage directly from the bottle, ignoring the silver tumbler of crushed ice placed thoughtfully on a bevnap next to him.

"So." Jack set the bottle down and met the witch's pleased smile. "What's so down about the drink?"

Karel looked slightly confused for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter. "I know I must seem silly to you." His mild gray eyes warmed with mirth. "It's just an old superstition ingrained in me by Gram."

He gestured towards a carefully preserved sepia portrait of a pale-haired woman clad in a simply cut fitted suit indicative of the 1940's when fabrics were rationed and clothing styles were restricted by wartime conservation efforts. Her face was wholesome and plain but her smile was luminous, almost incandescent.

Karel continued, "It's just old folk beliefs, you know? A visitor's acceptance of hospitality indicates good faith, that they mean you no harm."

Jack indulged a long silent moment between them before pointing out, "I'm a vampire. I can't do you harm until I'm invited." He watched the other man gravely.

Karel burst into charmingly ringing laughter. "I don't think so, Lord Jack! You retain too much of yourself."

The white-haired witch shook his head slightly and made a negligent gesture. "Did you really go through all the trouble of booking a last-minute consult with me on a Friday evening to issue death threats?" The grin again, perhaps a touch of worry but not much, and he shook his head emphatically. "I don't think so! Why don't you just relax, Lord Jack, and tell me how I can help you?"

Jack opened the magnetic clip on a fine presentation binder covered in dark full-grain calfskin. It was a beautiful object, a gift from Baby back in the days when she'd allowed him to work. Those had been good days, Jack thought, so good he'd persistently overlooked it when those days and those feelings grew so distant and rare they became only wistful memories he thought about when he first woke up in the evening.

His gaze dropped upon the test results Anne Bridger had faxed him with a brief ironic note of congratulation scribbled into the left margin. A sliver of grief stabbed his heart hard enough for Jack to want to cry. Charlotte had wept when she'd told him she was expecting their third child and that broke his heart. Never in all his years had Jack yearned to return to his human days so much. If he were simply a middle-aged man with a young wife, her news would have been a surprise, perhaps bringing up concerns for the future, but hardly a cause for tears.

The recollection of Charlotte's misery sent waves of hostility roiling through him and Jack knew blue flames danced in his eyes when Karel leaned slightly backward against crushed-velvet-covered cushions on the sofa opposite the chair Jack sat in.

"Charlotte. Is. Pregnant. Again." The softest growl touched the vampire's words.

Karel's eyes widened and an uncomprehending smile spread over his face. This wasn't news he expected Jack to be angry about. "Lord Jack, this is wonderful! A beautiful omen! This will be your third child, yes?"

Jack's growl blossomed into a fully-fledged roar. He hissed, openly revealing prominent canine fangs. "There shouldn't have been a third child! Or a second!" he shouted.

"But I thought you'd be proud, my Lord! Your children prove your own evolution towards true immortality from undeath! There can be no doubt that you are the Deva's true Keeper!" Why aren't you glad? Frowning perplexity asked the question Karel wasn't quite willing to say aloud when his guest was so toothy and sorrowing rage poured off of him so copiously it made the room stink. And why hadn't the Deva taken the reins of her power to help countermand the freakish weather conditions in the state?

"One child was more than enough!" Jack snarled. He reached into his pocket for an older piece of paper printed in faded blue ink. "You promised me this spell would keep me sterile!" he accused. "It hasn't worked!"

"Please." The white witch cleared his throat, genuinely anxious to help his client. Jack seemed utterly desolate beneath the thickly crackling veneer of rage. "Allow me." He took the folded sheet of paper from him and opened it, briefly scanned its contents. "Oh dear!" He smiled ingratiatingly. "Lord Jack, did you attempt this spell on yourself?" he asked.

"Three damned times!" Jack struggled to control his more feral drives. His eyes settled back into soft green. "The first time seemed to work. She didn't conceive for thirteen years on it! I thought I'd done right by her! But since the first one...." His voice grew lower, guttural, while his throat tightened with heartache.

"Jack." He felt the sudden sensation of the Deva's concern falling around him, wrapping over his arms and shoulders as though Charlotte herself was right there, holding him. "Dear Jack, where are you? What's wrong? I'm scared for you." Tenderness, trust, all the things he didn't deserve and couldn't help wanting as desperately as he hungered for the woman herself. It was terrible hunger, primal and visceral. Jack had dismissed his last mistresses and boy-toys years ago. He wanted nothing like he wanted to be part of his Master's Pet. He could do nothing for Charlotte, had no power or influence to even protest when the Queen ill-treated her. Charlotte gave him everything! The least he could do was this one little thing she'd asked of him.

Jack took a deep breath. "I'm fine, precious." He sent his affection rushing back towards her. "Just a little business. I'll be with you tonight." If Baby didn't need him, he would never be anywhere but her rooms again.

Karel swallowed a lump in his throat. It seemed many of the rumors he'd heard about the Deva's situation were true. That was bad. The demented vampire Queen was carrying a dangerous weapon that might very well affect the entire global ecosystem in the years to come.

"This..." Karel gestured at the brief list of components and required incantations printed in bright blue indelible ink. "...Is not a typical mechanical spell, my Lord. It's actually a combination of necromancy combined with a touch of vengeance. A curse, if you will." Karel sighed. "Curses work a little bit differently than mainstream magicks. They have built-in criterias and counters. Being cursed is like being locked in a cage. You can get out of it if you've got the key to unlock it."

Evidently Karel had never visited Baby's main hall. Jack restrained himself from slapping his forehead into the palm of his hand. "Would you please just tell me what I'm doing wrong?" he asked.

"It's a fairly simple curse," Karel replied smoothly. "Very popular with older married men or trust-fund playboys. People who don't want to deal with a paternity scandal but like their...freedom." Karel grimaced distastefully. He had remained faithful to his own partner, Kyrrill, even after his death seven years ago. "But you know, a lot of the younger guys don't have much luck with it." He smiled again. "No matter how cold they think they are they're just too romantic!"

"Right!" Karel cleared his throat again. "The subject is afflicted with non-viable sperm 'as he spends his seed in his unwanted partner.'" He read directly from the page. "It prevents conception between...."

"Unwanted partners! Yeah! I got it! Anyone you don't wanna knock up! I read it myself!" Jack's complexion grew mottled as he clenched his fists.

Karel shook his head and made clicking noises with his tongue. "Unwanted partners, my Lord. As in unloved partners. Casual, unimportant--er--encounters. Like a one-night-stand you pick up at a bar. It won't work with a wife, a mistress, or a long-time lover you actually care about!" He chuckled ruefully. "Nothing's a hundred percent when you add love to the mix!"

Karel felt only the flutter of air around him for the split second it took the vampire to grasp him in his fists and slam him against the wall hard enough to crack ribs and crumble plaster. He didn't even feel the pain at first, he was so shocked by the quickness and ferocity of it. He'd struck his head hard and imagined he heard a woman's high-pitched scream.

"Son of a bitch!" Jack shook him violently, eyes blazing. Karel's wristwatch clattered on the smooth cool wall. "You son of a bitch, you never said that, never told me!" He snarled and shook him again. "WHY?"

"My Lord. Forgive me, please," the witch appealed softly, bowing his head slightly, making every effort he could to appear submissive and non-threatening. "It...It never occurred to me you would not want to conceive with your deva! I thought that perhaps you wanted time to bond with her and let her grow to love you before you wanted children." He realized he was actually whimpering in genuine fright. The creature before him was so on the edge, a mixture of fury, bitter sorrow, and hot passion. "And she has!" he added reassuringly. "You know she loves you and has for many years now! And you love her, too!" He was actually weeping he was so frightened, but he managed to meet the vampire's dark blue eyes. "Your children could not have been conceived otherwise under the influence of this spell! Isn't that a wonderful thing?"

For a moment the vampire just glared at him and Karel wondered if his hour had come. Icy fingers squeezed his belly and he had a strong urge to use the bathroom. Jack reminded him of a cornered wild animal. "My Lord?" the witch began softly.

Jack released him abruptly, dropping him on the pale blue carpet and turning on his heel. His answer to the witch's question was bitter and broken. "Yeah wonderful. I love her and she loves me. Our love is so strong it'll overpower a curse. But not strong enough that I can do the one thing she's ever asked of me."

"And the boy...looks just like me!" Jean smiled incredulously and the tired-looking lines in his face perked up a bit. It was amazing to think that in another life he'd been blessed by being a father again. And this time he'd had a son as well as daughters. "Does he act anything like me?"

Charlie smiled strangely. "Well...He's very good with languages." She paused for a moment. "And he's very kind to animals. He found a dehydrated mongoose and nursed it back to health himself when he was only seven years old! Drusilla, the one in my world, says he will be a wonderful healer. He starts Pre-Med at Yale this fall."

Strange contradictions of delight and distress filled the Master of New Orleans as his eyes drank in the images from Charlie's pocket photo album thirstily. It seemed too fantastic to be true. His duplicate seemed to have everything: a son and a daughter, twins, and yet another son much younger than the twins, a lovely young wife. He laughed. Even pets. Dogs, a kitten, horses, lambs, and even camels in the paddocks of a gorgeous plantation house. And there he was, his annoyingly happy alternative self strolling with Spike and René. Another picture of him in an easy suit of cool white linen with the Deva in an exotic-looking dress that seemed to flow around her and their younger son, Gabriel, in full-cut pants and a dark blue tunic of the same fluid fabric his mother wore. Behind them a lush green pear tree bloomed with fruit within a small sand courtyard of the Deva's palace in Egypt. Could he really be this man, a diplomatic figure and co-ruler of a small principality? Jean knew he could, the proof was before him, but it was still a bit much for him to believe.

How could things be so different in their world? Was it really only a matter of Charlie being discovered and claimed by himself instead of Baby that made all the difference? Had that one act saved the world and himself so much grief? The dark corruption of the Queen had never happened because somehow he'd stopped it. What had this other Jean DuValliere done that he hadn't? Where had the Master gone wrong?

He pushed the thought away. He couldn't stand to think of it any longer. Not tonight. Some other night. "Are you sure you can do this thing?" he asked her quietly.

"I don't know it for certain," Charlie replied honestly. "This is not my true land, my true home. But my Prince and I are well-bonded. I think maybe we've got a good chance of pulling it off."

Her plan seemed fantastical. She was going to dance at the Queen's club and somehow that would get the Queen's attention. All of his visitors swore that all Charlie had to do was dance and she'd create a complete scene. He wasn't sure he believed them. Still, she was certainly dressed to attract attention. The slim leather pants had such a low-slung waistband the hollows of her hips were plainly visible. She was naked beneath the midriff scoop-necked top of white stretch lace and her nipples showed plainly, dark and hard, through the clinging fabric. Her hair was a work of art thanks to Kiku, the best beautician on his payroll. It was painstakingly arranged into a disheveled cloud, partially piled up on top of her head while much of the length hung freely around her face and down her back to her waist. Kiku had artfully attached little gems with Velcro tabs randomly throughout the mussed tresses, rosy pearls and twinkling white crystals to gleam and catch the light with the slightest movement. The Master of New Orleans had seen women wear even less in the various Vieux Carré; nightclubs he frequented, but the look seemed daring for Charlie DuValliere. He couldn't believe she was nearly forty; she looked almost like a teenager flirting with trashy clothes to defy her parents. Of course, he was seventy-one himself. He had to remember that she was a goddess and not a normal human woman. She was a woman permanently hidden in the body of a teenager.

Her smoky eye makeup made her brilliant blue eyes overly prominent but then that was the point, of course. The Queen was supposed to hear of a blue-eyed deva.

Anger and remembered grief flitted briefly over her features before she replied. "I was tested. Jean and I both were. A would-be keeper didn't believe Jean Claude was my true Keeper." She looked down and idly traced the leather lacings on the fly of her pants. "We proved him wrong," she added finally.

"Pure blue eyes," the vampire murmured. "The blue of immortality." He half-remembered some research he'd read about the vampire legends in Greece. Anne wasn't sure what they meant.

"Yes." She shrugged like it wasn't important. "So." Charlie watched him as he sat at the antique table and fiddled with the black satin mask he'd wear that night. Looking at the pocket album again he felt as though he'd lived hard without the comfort she and her husband enjoyed daily. His house might be just as opulent but somehow he felt deprived.

"So." He echoed quietly. His accent was missing, his tones so different from the words he heard coming from that other Jean. "You and me--that other me--we're in love?"

Maybe his alter-ego's life wasn't as idyllic as the photos made it seem. "Married." He nodded knowingly. "But not in love."

"We love each other." It sounded lame even to her. She sighed and decided there was no sense in hiding the truth from this man. "We didn't in the beginning. Our marriage was an arrangement. Jean didn't choose me and I don't think he ever would have if I didn't carry Red Gold." Lyrical sadness touched her words. The Master felt the sorrow spill over him.

He couldn't stop the question that burst from his lips. "So neither of you are in love?"

"I don't know." Charlie felt a sudden dip in her stomach. No one had ever asked her that question before. Not even her husband. The woman realized she'd never considered whether or not she was in love with Jean and she had the most discomfiting feeling that maybe she should have.

The closest thing she'd ever felt to being in love was when she was sixteen and crushing wildly for Blakeley Doucet, the grandson of the Wolf-King to the Loups-Garou pack that had remained a trusted ally to her family for nearly two centuries. Even the flower of that love had chilled in its earliest bloom by the fact that they both knew they could never be together. Blakeley was expected to marry among his own species and Charlie had always taken it for granted she would end up dead from slaying or trapped as a vampire's carrier, the latter option hopefully avoided due to the former.

Being Jean's carrier wasn't horrible or frightening or any of the things she'd feared when she was a teenager. She loved being held by him, touched by him whether on her body or within her mind. She loved the children he'd planted inside her and she loved caring for him, riding with him, dancing with him, letting him comb her hair before bed.

Maybe she hadn't had a chance to fall passionately in love with Jean like a fairy tale or a romance novel, but her Keeper was precious and dear to her heart and she could never set another love in his place. Jean was too good to her.

The Master asked a question more complex than he knew. "I do love Jean. Very much. And Jean loves me. He shows it in a million little ways, every day. Am I 'in love' with Jean? Maybe." She smiled suddenly. "I think maybe I am a little. What we have is very beautiful. It's tender and comforting and means more to both of us than anything in the world. It lives in our children and everything we've built together. It's not the mindless passion of a pair of teenagers. Yes, Jean loves me. I don't doubt that. But is he 'in love' with me? I don't know." Her smiled didn't dim when she added, "Of course, Jean is in love with someone else. But I knew that from the beginning."

She stepped into the high-heeled dance-style pumps. She tested them for stability then bent to adjust the instep strap over her right foot. Her tousled hair swept over her shoulder and Jean's eyes widened at his own mark, deeply gouged and torn into the Deva's ultra-smooth skin. The perfect texture of her flesh made the ragged tears and scarring that much more obvious and ugly. It looked like he'd gripped her and dug his fangs in for all he was worth while she fought against it.

"What happened?" he asked, his throat tightening. She stood back up and looked at him wide-eyed. "Your mark. What happened?" Sickness broiled his stomach and his jaw ached. "Did I react like her?" The venom and hard anger in his tone left no doubt who he meant. Charlie said the marriage had been an arrangement and he hadn't loved her.

She shook her head emphatically and the gleaming glittering paste jewels seemed to roll in the sea of thick tendrils. "No! You--I mean Jean--is nothing like her!" She tilted her head slightly to the right and touched the mark gingerly, recalling long-past pain. "This was my fault."

Jean frowned. He couldn't understand what the Deva's soft hurt whisper meant. She didn't look like the kind of woman he might love or even seek for casual pleasures. Yet she seemed young, buoyant, and deliciously willful. He couldn't imagine how she'd caused Jean DuValliere to mark her so cruelly.

He opened his mouth to say just so much when a brisk thumping knock whisked over the door and René's voice drifted over. Jean closed his eyes and immersed himself in that beloved voice, honey-rich accent vibrant with affection and high spirits.

It had been decided that they should arrive at the Jesuit, the Queen's favorite night haunt, separately. Charlie turned away from the Master, grateful for the distraction.

"Je sais, mon frère!" She threw the door open with a giggle. "Jean told me when he was leaving."

"Well, belle." René's eyes flowed over Charlie with an appreciative glint for her look. "I was hurt when Bébé left me for the second ride but--" He glanced at the Master in his silk shirt and jeans. A slow smile began in René's eyes and spilled over his entire face. "Seein' as I got all the beautiful company, I think I be all right."

Date: Tues, 9 July 2041 22:29:54 -0400 (EDT)
From: "Butterfly Spring" <ButterflySpring@tarkmail.com
To: msieuledauphin@glimmerstone.com
Subject: Chemical Analysis

As you already know, Jack's plans were rudely discovered and turned against him. It is still unclear to me who betrayed him or found him out. The Queen retains her sire's ties to him, of course, but her extremely unstable nature makes me doubtful she sensed his efforts before they were made.

He has been beaten, viciously so, as you can imagine. The Queen's majordomo told me frankly the blows inflicted on him should have severed his spine and killed him but they have not. More "parlor tricks" of the Deva's blood, I think. Paul has grown bolder, too, and is pressing me for more information on my lab studies and research to discover more about the Deva's blood and capabilities.

The Deva herself has wept pitifully off and on all day. She has refused her food and only sits at her piano, staring at the keys. She has borne too much. I think if it were not for her surviving children she would succumb to madness or at least catatonia. She never stops crying so it follows that it never stops raining.

I have been consulting with several MD's on the subject of the genetic codes to produce blue-eyed offspring between Jack and Charlotte. The genetic capabilities between the two definitely exist and I'm confident with the proper genetic manipulations I can assure the Queen's desire. I fear that will not be enough, however.

Some ancient Greek texts speak of "vampires with blue eyes who are truly immortal." These vampires were generally not feared and sight of them was considered lucky, an omen of good times to come. They are often in the company of animals and take great joy mainly in their partners and their families. These vampires showed characteristics not common to our natural race: no photosensitivity, no excessive homicidal tendencies or killing rages when they were angry, no revulsion for holy regalia or artifacts. They produced children naturally with their own mates rather than through blood contamination.

However, the texts are disturbing in that they state more than once that these vampires were not born blue-eyed. Rather they were "reborn blue-eyed." I am not entirely certain what this means, and there is too little scientific information for me to offer more than theories.

The Order of Saint Benedictus, a disavowed arm of the Roman Catholic Church who made it their life's mission to kill anyone suspected of carrying the "cursed and unnatural bloodline," asserts that they tortured, killed, and dissected several blue-eyed women and children seeking to see if there were any particular differences in how they healed or died. They noticed nothing to differentiate them from other victims. Of course, it's entirely possible that many of the Order's "suspects" were perfectly normal in all respects.

My best conjecture is that the "true immortal blue eyes" is either a euphemism or there is more to it. Actions or events cause the "true blue eyes" to appear. Rather like one's hair turning gray if one is human. As always, there is no way to know for sure.

I hope this information is helpful to you, my Prince, and I regret I am so little help to you. I cannot say for certain whether Charlotte will ever develop "pure immortality" or not. So much of the mythology I've read is fantastic! It speaks of goddesses and nymph-like creatures seducing vampires, werewolves, and various demons from their more chaotic lives into an idyllic existence. Yet Charlotte's blood seems to have driven the Queen absolutely mad.

My next theory is that the Queen is not Charlotte's Keeper at all. Although she marked and claimed the Deva there is nothing in her care of her that indicates any of the deep emotional attachment all the texts declare a vampire shares with its carrier.

I have done a private analysis of the steel arrowhead used in the attempt against Charlotte's life in September 2022 and discovered something remarkable. The arrow was poisoned with Killer of the Dead, an almost incurable substance known for its ability to fatally poison and kill even a well-aged Master vampire. I believe this arrow was meant for Jack, not Charlotte. As you already know, the arrow penetrated Charlotte's shoulder and pierced Jack in the chest, pinning them together. Obviously, some of her blood combined with the Killer of the Dead and passed into his system. Yet it did not kill him.

I suspect the two substances somehow neutralized each other and gave Jack a tolerance for Red Gold. I also believe his bond over the Deva has become the dominant one. There is no emotional attachment in the Queen's bond at all and, as time passes, it is more than obvious Charlotte loathes her. Yet her desire and need for Jack does not diminish. You cannot hope to save the Deva without saving him, my Prince.

As always, the above e-mail address will be inactive once I send this e-mail. I will send you any new information if I find it, but I don't hope for much. I hope for less and less each day, my Prince, and if there is any hope I cling to it is for the day when my love reunites me with your father.

Jack glowered at the crowd of mixed company in the Jesuit. It was a policeman's nightmare and a demon's small paradise, openly vice-ridden and otherworldly. God only knew how they got away with it. The nightclub was obviously a main hangout for humans as well as vampires and various demon-kind.

Jack didn't like the idea of so many people present. The whole idea of this stunt was for Charlie to be seen and noticed. But there was no way to know for certain exactly how a large crowd might react and the more crowding, the less control Jack had over his daughter's security. Who knew but the demented Queen might have spies planted among Master Jean's followers? She might already be aware of their presence and they could be walking into a trap. The fact that the Jesuit was immediately behind the Queen's primary residence didn't make Jack feel better about it.

The mixture of types in the club was disquieting too. Jack easily recognized a clutch of loups-garou and wondered how they'd ever passed as human to him before. There was a sharp easy grace to their movements as well as an attentiveness to body language that ordinary people wouldn't show. They looked barely old enough to legally enter the club and wandered among the demons, openly fascinated with them, children gawking at exotic dangerous animals and imagining themselves immune from danger.

Some of the humans were definitely too young and were trying desperately to appear sophisticated and interesting by wearing overdone makeup and too little clothes. Demon and vampire groupies, half these kids would probably end as somebody's dinner or somebody's minion.

Right before his eyes, a Blevault demon offered a hit of smack to a young girl whose skirt was so short the tops of her fishnet thigh-highs accented the sweet crease of flesh before her ass began. The girl gave him a game smile and leaned slightly forward, spreading her thighs for the Blevault's long willowy fingers. Jack felt a moment of pity, then tucked it away. He was here to help people who wanted to be saved, not mourn over those he couldn't protect.

Jean was antsy. Jack felt him readily scanning and watching the various groups of mingling pleasure-seekers, users, victims, and adrenaline junkies. He wore a white half-mask, like the one stage actors used for the "Phantom of the Opera" musicals, and his dark hair was slicked back closely against his head. No one challenged him, although his wonderful build drew admiration and longing from various feminine and masculine eyes. It wasn't unusual for someone to conceal his likeness in this setting and other people wore elements of disguise as well.

René had surprised Jack into laughter when he had angrily objected to Charlie being brought to such a degenerate place, a desecrated Catholic church at that. Given the beautiful vampire's degenerate past it seemed awfully comical that he'd be so indignant over the stately church being defiled then re-opened as a nightclub that was essentially a sex shop. René had seen--and done--worse things and had never seemed to mind.

On the other hand, it was mighty disturbing to realize the said defiling of this church had occurred with Baby's blessing. Baby--the real Baby, Jack reminded himself--had always taken a particular pride in the fact that her offspring were Redeemed. And sex within the confines of a holy sanctuary was one of her few taboos. Jack shrugged. Better to concentrate on things that really mattered: staying alive, rescuing the children, and getting the Hell out of Dodge.

The sparse bar seating and few tables were supplemented by several dilapidated pews, completely or partially intact. Couples and groups crowded the hard-back wooden benches to feed, fuck, ingest an illegal narcotic or two, or any chosen combination of the above. The dance floor spread the width of the church and almost half its length. The DJ had to have been a vampire or a wannabe. Why else would he keep playing such an eclectic mix of tunes spanning decades of popularity? K.I.S.S. merged into Paula Abdul's sweet-natured danceable pop.

Artificial fog and burned tobacco cradled the air in toxic hands. It was ugly. It was evil. It rocked! Who knew what could happen or who you could meet in a place like this? The humans were just as hungry for excitement and sensation as the vamps were for blood, fear, or pleasure. Jack understood their fascination; it had hit him late in life. He'd been a vampire groupie, too, just luckier than most.

A pale hint of sensual warmth, white roses, and a sudden flood of curious fascination stirring in the vampires around him alerted Jack that Charlie was strolling through the club's entry and heading towards the dance floor. Jack watched calmly and struggled to control his rising ire as she meandered past the well-lit bar and her costume revealed itself to him.

The semi-smoky air grew rank with hunger and lust. Hard eyes glazed and glared after the faint sway of her lovely hips and Jack felt an apologetic surge of desire from Jean.

Jack growled indignantly when René drew Charlie carelessly into his arms for a moment as she half-pivoted beside him. His hands swept gently down her bare arms in a brief reassuring caress before she writhed effortlessly away. Jack grimaced as he watched Charlie frown over her shoulder at her brother as if to say, "Come on! Don't throw me off my groove!" René shrugged and pouted, rich aqua eyes glinting playfully. "Sorry chere, I couldn't help myself."

"Honey!" Baby's laughter was both reproving and amused. Her arm slid up Jack's chest and curled over his neck. "Your baby's all grown up! Try liking it!" Her eyes glowed with teasing mischief as she added, "Everyone else does."

"Does René have to put his hands on both my daughters?" Jack groused as he drew his wife closer. He very nearly purred at the intimate pressure of her breast against his chest. He spared a moment of longing for the decade they'd spent in a mortal lifetime. Her body had been warm to the touch. Jack's nostalgia lasted only a moment. The warmth had been one of the few good things. Very few. Being human generally sucked.

"Hmmmph!" Baby scoffed. "René may be the one person you can trust with Charlie besides Jean and yourself. He won't touch her even if he wants to," she pointed out calmly. "There's nothing wrong with seeing Charlie as she is, Jackie. She's a beautiful woman. Get used to it. Try liking it." Her eyes, hidden behind poison green contact lenses, glowed with teasing mischief as she added, "Everybody else does." Baby trailed her hand from his shoulder to his elbow. Her fingers boasted a Gothic French manicure: black nailbeds with marbleized gold and white tips. "You look incredible," she added in a guttural whisper that sent electricity burning through Jack's brain. "Your ass is just as fine in those jeans as it was back in Albuquerque." A gentle squeeze of the admired attribute punctuated her words. Jack wasn't the only one who sometimes thought of those long-ago human years.

"You're not bad yourself." Jack nibbled her lips with blunt teeth and reached behind her, cupping her ass in one large hand and pressing her against his body so she could feel her effect on him. "I love this get-up," he added, sweeping a light hand over her brunette wig. The brown wavy hair was styled into voluminous graduated layers a la Farrah Fawcett's glory days and spilled over Baby's shoulders. The elegant hound's-tooth two-piece gabardine dress with sharp pleats in the skirt and soutache scrollwork adorning the weskit top perfected her disguise to a T. Jack could never have imagined her wearing it in a million years but he still found it oddly appealing. Her black-and-white spectator pumps boasted six-inch stiletto heels and her eyes were level with his chin.

Jack himself had dressed down in a battered leather jacket, plain black T-shirt, and worn black jeans over his cowboy boots as well as a western style hat. Jean had suggested the false thick blond mustache as an additional blind to his identity. He and Baby looked just as mismatched in disguise as they looked in their normal clothes, he thought with a grim smile.

Paula Abdul faded into the backbeat techno club mix of Prince. Baby's body jerked provocatively against Jack's, a sign of her delight; "Get Off" was one of their favorite songs.

Jack swallowed, his throat dry, as Charlie's body relaxed and one hip glided upwards then dropped down rapidly in easy accompaniment to the techno beat. He'd known what Charlie did here tonight would be different from her ordinary performances, more blatantly provocative than erotically suggestive, but he hadn't quite expected this. One beautiful hand stretched outward in a languid invitation to the entire club then rose high above her head before drifting back down, fingers trailing lightly over the curve of her breast, her waist.	

Jack groaned aloud and felt himself go rigid when Baby ground her pelvis insistently against his crotch. He clutched fistfuls of his wife's pleated skirt and mashed his lips against hers, nipping demandingly when she didn't open her mouth fast enough.

Of every song Charlie could have picked to dance with, she had to pick this one?

Paul Athanasius liked the Jesuit. His liking had nothing to do with the nightclub actually being a half-demolished church turned viciously decadent playground for the undead. He liked the age and vibration of the building's acoustics. Granted, it was relatively young, barely two hundred and fifty years old; the bricks had retained a striking degree of psychic impressions from the various people who'd passed by them. Births, deaths, weddings, triumphs and dark tragedies from the past all melded with the wild desperation of the modern youth seeking to embrace eternity among the jaded creatures who sought to feed upon them in the present. Paul had always been a little psychic--not much, but just enough to pick up these impressions. His talent hadn't grown over time and the Master had been disappointed in him. Spike had never cared about it one way or another and Baby had never been told.

The backbeat dance rock cut through Paul's thoughts and his white teeth gleamed in delight. The club also had fantastic acoustics. He'd always loved good music quality.

A human waitress, a very pretty girl with golden caramel skin and chestnut hair braided into cornrows trimmed in metallic gold fringe, met him in the vestibule and handed him a Lauwenbrau. Her deep-set golden brown eyes smiled briefly at his polite thanks before she moved along, staggering slightly on her heels.

Paul's thick brows knit curiously. The waitress was not drunk nor did she smell of narcotics and it was forbidden to feed on the hired help. He caught another scent: hot and faintly musky arousal rising from beneath her plain black miniskirt. The vampire shrugged. Baby hadn't thought it good business to forbid sexually harassing the hired help since that didn't endanger their lives. Paul hadn't argued. He'd existed for over twenty-three centuries. The girl with the braids was hardly the first barmaid he'd ever known to get felt up on the job.

Paul's heavy strides were acknowledged and deferred to by many of the club's patrons as he roamed idly down the western aisle in the body of the church. Being second in power only to the Queen was not a bad position to hold. Paul sipped his beer slowly, relishing the malted bitterness on his palette. The faded figures in the illuminations on the walls, barely visible, gazed steadily away from the world of flesh and debauchery imposed upon them and various light effects created crazy shadows on the carved medallions above them.

"Pavlo!" A husky Italian accent pulled a droll smile from the Queen's major-domo. "Oh my sweet Pavlo, come to me!"

His eyes, clear and blue as the base of candle flames, lit upon two vampiresses with a middle-aged human male. The ash-blonde vampiress was slowly unfastening the man's shirt buttons, digging her nails into spots on his chest as she slowly drew the shirt open. The man winced when she scratched him hard enough to draw blood, then sighed deeply, "Oh! Sarina!" and his head fell back smiling as she licked his wound with a raspberry tongue. The other vampiress straddled the pew and watched them with patronizing adoration even as she summoned Paul frantically. She was Sarina's identical twin but her hair was dyed midnight-black. Her eyes were pale blue and seemed almost silvery as she beckoned.

"Celeste." Paul nodded cordially and veered towards her, leaning down to receive a wet open-lipped kiss from her wicked crimson mouth. "How are you?"

"It's like Hell here tonight!" she growled playfully against his chin as she reached for his hand. Before he could think to stop her she'd lifted her slim leather miniskirt and drew his fingers against her naked crotch. She was soaking wet. "Can you feel it all?" she purred.

Paul toyed gently with her for a moment. She was a glamorously beautiful woman, with a delicious hourglass body slightly too full to be considered beautiful by the modern American standard that seemed overly fond of a more adolescent shape and size. Celeste Di Lysandros had been a premier opera starlet when Aurelius first lay his greedy eyes upon her. Centuries later, she was no less a drama queen.

Celeste gasped in delight as he stabbed into her a little harshly with two fingers. "Oooo, mi amore, she makes the whole room spin!" she moaned, ripping her leather blazer open to reveal a pair of breasts Venus would have envied. Paul smoothed one large palm dutifully over her, then squeezed her nipple the way he knew she liked.

She was right; something was different in the club. A wave of sexual awareness seemed to be titillating the atmosphere and blending into the drinks. Paul glanced up from his sweetly moaning project to glance around. There were always couples huddled in the corners and some more openly reclining on tables or against the bar for gratification. All of that was a common sight. His former paramour smiling and writhing before him like a cat in heat was nothing new. Paul had always suspected Celeste would have claimed him as her lover if she hadn't been scornful of his slave status in their sire's household, but that hadn't stopped her from yanking him into her bed or bath every chance she'd had.

What was strange was that everyone in the bar seemed in some way involved in coupling. Others were leaving, hurriedly, the odor of urgent arousal trailing from beneath their clothes as they rushed home to lovers or spouses or just to find someone they might like.

A tall golden cowboy-looking vampire had smashed his pick-up, a curvaceous brunette in a hound's-tooth suit, against the wall opposite the dance floor. She gave a short anxious cry before he slid home into her, pressing deeply until she rose on tiptoe even in her high-heeled, platform shoes. The cowboy draped his entire body over hers, cocooning her flesh closely and protectively, nuzzling her neck as his hips rolled ardently against her, carefully slow to prolong their pleasure. They looked like they were almost in love.

A loup-garou howled wildly, a younger female with two would-be mates melded closely to her, snarling warningly to each other. A fight was certain to break out between them at any moment. Paul doubted the bouncers would be able to do anything. He couldn't actually see any of the bouncers, but they were probably clinched with partners or masturbating in the bathrooms.

"It's a spell," he thought. "Some sort of magic to promote mating urges." He hadn't seen or felt anything like this since the days he'd spent with Aurelius in Egypt after the Roman invasion. "Could it be? A deva? Charlotte?"

The Master shivered as waves of pure desire washed across him. The air pulsed with it. The speakers vibrated with it. He swallowed and found himself panting as though he couldn't breathe. "René, what's happening?"

René smiled, sharp white teeth gleaming in the darkness. His teal eyes glowed, tiny flecks of golden fire dancing across their ocean surface, shards of sunlight on nighttime waters. His black sunglasses rested on top of his head, holding his long hair away from his perfect face. He didn't care if people stared and muttered that René Beaumont walked the Jesuit. It would just give their Queen something more to think about. "It's Dionne," he said, and reached for the man who still bore his consort mark though it was beginning to fade after twenty years of disuse. "She's dancing."

The smile on the darker Cajun's face grew. "Your deva here, she don't dance, does she? You don't got no idea what a deva really is, do you?"

Jean controlled the shiver than ran through him as a wave of the purest sexual energy he'd ever felt rolled through the club. He could feel René's hands on his waist, a familiar pressure he thought he'd never feel again. This close, bare inches separating them, he couldn't help but feel the other man's thoughts as well. It was so tempting to sink into that bond. He had to remind himself that this wasn't his René. His René was dead. That heartache never left Jean, but this man would. At some point, this beautiful creature would return to his home and Jean would be alone again. If he dared let himself feel again, love again, he wasn't sure he could survive that inevitable separation.

"I guess I don't know what a deva really is," he admitted and tried to focus on what was going on around him rather than the scent of clean sandalwood and arousal that rose from René. Jean knew he was reputed to be one of the great sensualists of his age and he'd seen a great many things, but never had he witnessed anything like this. Nor had he ever felt anything like it. Desire in its most primitive form, pure and powerful beyond his experience, painted the air itself with carmine streaks. He could see the energy pooling and flowing from somewhere on the dance floor to flood the entire church and ooze out into the streets. He saw his duplicate moving purposefully about the crowd on the edge of the dance floor and inadvertently let his envy of his other self slip onto the surface of his mind.

"Now why you feel that way, cher?" René said, leaning close to speak in the Master's ear. "What's Jean got that you so jealous of?"

René wasn't fooled. "You don't need to feel that way." He curled his fingers in Jean's belt loops and drew the shorter man close. René had done that a hundred times over the years and Jean had welcomed it each time. This time was no exception. He couldn't push René away. Not when it felt so good and so right to feel his brother hard and ardent against his stomach. "You're my Jean, too. I feel it. I know; you're in my head." He brushed his lips across the Master's ear, barely avoiding the ribbon that held Jean's black satin mask in place. "I know what you feel. Oh Jean, I know. I lived without you, thinking you were dead for years. It drove me crazy, turned me into a complete lunatic. You're stronger than me," he said and kissed the whorl of Jean's ear. "But not much."

Jean shivered as though he was ill with a violent chill. "René, don't. I can't...."

"Shh, amour." René's breath was cool against Jean's temple. "Let go. Just stop hurting for a minute and let go. Let me make you feel like you deserve to for a while. Let me love you."

Jean clenched his teeth as the lips he dreamed of every time he closed his eyes feathered across his temple and his eyebrow.

"Je t'aime, Jean. Je t'adore, mon coeur." Blue-green eyes filled Jean's vision, his Heaven both waking and sleeping. "I always have and I always will. Toujours, amour, toujours."

One of René's arms, long and full of strength, wrapped about Jean's waist as slender fingers brushed Jean's cheek. Jean felt René in every corner of his mind, in every cell of his body. The empty, cold places in Jean's heart were filled for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Nothing had felt like this in so long. Nothing had felt right without René. Jean had been dead inside for so long that this sudden surge of life hurt. And with that hurt, other, older hurts, more deep and soul-rending, escaped their locked prisons and welled up to rush through him. The pain he'd kept buried for so long, the grief and hurt and longing, burst from him.

That voice that he'd thought forever stilled freed his own tongue. "René!" It was a wail of need and loss so great it had frozen a man's soul. "Oh God, René! It HURTS! It hurts so much. You were gone and there was nothing left but hurt. I couldn't feel anything but the hurt."

"Shh." René held him close. "Shh. I know. I can feel it inside you, amour." He petted and soothed with hands that knew everything Jean needed. "Let me take it away for awhile. Let me make the hurt stop." Kisses fell on Jean's hair, on his cheeks, on his eyelids. "Let me love you for a while."

The tears Jean had kept hidden, had never let anyone see, fell from his coffee-dark eyes. "Yes, love me. Please. I need you to love me. That's all I ever needed."

At long last, after so many years of deprivation, René's lips found Jean's and Jean kissed him with all the love and longing he felt inside. He'd barely had a moment to send René his love on that horrible night so long ago; he'd had no real chance to say goodbye before René was gone forever. Jean had so much he'd never told René, so much he had kept hidden away for all the usual reasons people keep things inside. Suddenly, he knew he had the chance to correct that. This was his René. The mark on Jean's neck throbbed with knowledge of his consort's nearness. This was his husband. This was the man he loved. He opened his heart and mind to René, letting him in, letting him know everything there was to know about Jean Claude DuValliere.

René raised his head, though his arms held Jean as tightly as they ever had. "Oh Jean, m' cher Jean, you been alone for so long. Much too long. I can tell." He ran gentle fingers across Jean's cheek. "When's the last time you let someone touch you?"

Jean's voice was hoarse when he managed to answer. "The night you died." He ran his hands across that beautiful, beloved face. "I haven't been with anyone since you died."

"Oh Jean!" René looked down at him with startled amazement. "You shouldn't have done that to yourself. You're meant to be loved, Jean."

"I couldn't. I just couldn't," Jean whispered. "None of them were you." When René's mouth settled on his, he no longer demurred or protested. He wanted and needed this so much. He surrendered and as René had asked, he just let go. He allowed René to lead him away, he wasn't sure where and didn't care. The noise and heat of the club flowed around them but somehow Jean felt untouched by it. He could feel René's love surrounding him. His brother's hand held his, leading him around coupling pairs and groups, René's voice always murmuring in Jean's mind. No one but René touched him. The press of bodies parted for them as René led him to a small room behind the altar. It had probably once been the priest's dressing room but was now fitted out as an office and storage area. A small desk, somewhat battered, sat in the center of the room, a little lamp atop it. The gentle glow of the lamp allowed comforting shadows to fill the edges of the room while still hinting at its contents. Half-opened cases of liquor and supplies were stacked against one wall but there was a decent couch against the opposite wall. Its leather surface was worn but whole and soft. It was the same rich brown as Jean's hair.

"I don't want us to be out there in that crowd," René said softly as he dropped onto the subtle leather, dim golden lamplight falling over half his face. "You deserve better 'n that." His smile was as soft as his slurred English and just as welcome. "Come here."

Jean went willingly into the arms that René held open. His lips opened for the kiss and the solace René offered. Jean reveled in the touch of René's hands and the feel of his lips. His mask was soon dropped onto the floor along with his dark shirt and René's glasses. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of René's black silk shirt, clumsy and awkward. It had been twenty years since Jean had undressed anyone but himself. All the suave, polished skills that had made him the premier playboy of south Louisiana had deserted him. This wasn't about fun and games or controlling the bloodlust. This was René. This was his precious adored René who could always reduce Jean to his rawest emotions and leave him as trembling and self-conscious as a teenager. This was his beloved husband, the man whose touch Jean believed he would never feel again. René's tongue against his chest, inside his mouth, wrapped around his fingers, all filled Jean with a sweet joy he had nearly forgotten existed. René's body pressed to his was worth more than anything Jean possessed. Jean ran his fingers over taut muscles and smooth skin. He inhaled deeply, scenting his love's arousal, and felt as though he'd been felled by a sledgehammer. He'd been so caught up in the joy of touching René and feeling him near again that he'd lost connection to the desire building and building within the club. Now it hit him with redoubled force. He clung to René as the Deva's power surged through him. He wanted nothing more than to join that building energy and feed that desire. He gave himself over completely to the want he felt in René's mind. As he had so often in the long ago past, he gave everything to René, letting René possess his body wholly. When he felt René push deep inside him, he let his brother flood his mind as completely as René possessed his body. As they moved together in a well-remembered dance, he felt his mental and emotional connection growing. René's mind and heart were open to him and Jean rejoiced in it as much as he did in the physical joy René's body brought him. In René's mind Jean's family lived and loved. He could feel them all. Jack, his one-time lover and friend, was completely engrossed in Baby and she surprisingly was completely engrossed in Jack. His other self, his alter-ego was there, too. That other Jean's hunger was as deep as any the Master had ever felt. He wanted his consort, his Charlie, desperately but he held his hunger under tight rein, knowing it wasn't time. When it was, he'd join with her and all New Orleans would know they were one--as the Master was one with his René. This was how Jean was meant to live, not the Hell he'd lived for nearly twenty years. He was meant to be with René, joined to him mind, body, and heart forever. Jean would never forget that. He would never let the cold and the grief freeze him. He wouldn't surrender to that living death again.

He urged René's fangs to his throat, to his mark, begging him to drink, to claim him again, to be one with him the way Jean craved. He held René tightly, pressing René's head to his neck, lifting his body to meet his husband's. "I love you. I have always loved you more than anything or anyone. I always will," he whispered as he urged René to drink deeper, to thrust harder, to love him as greatly as he loved René. He pushed their consciousness together until he could no longer tell which thoughts and sensations were his and which were René's. When René's moment of release came, Jean shared it, spiraling out of control and crying out with René so that their voices blended into one voice, one cry of love and joy.

Paul grunted obligingly when she gripped him through his pants while his eyes raked the dancers gyrating against each other on the floor. Some of them groaned openly, or cried out on the verge of climax. Yes, the impulse was stronger on the dance floor itself.

There she was! Paul finally caught sight of her. Now, Miss Jolivette, what are you doing dancing the night away, as the Americans liked to say in the Seventies? The last Paul had noticed she'd been groveling before the Queen, pleading for Lord Jack, the traitor.

Paul grinned evilly at the recollection of her useless tears. Baby had beaten Jack so hard it was a miracle the bones in his spinal column had held together and he was still alive. Sounds had come out of Jack that had utterly transcended suffering, but he hadn't wept. Nor had Paul expected him to. The Deva had cried piteously.

"If that creature had even the slightest clue of the power she stands to inherit, she'd be a genuine danger and a most worthy ally."

The entire situation involving Baby, Jack, and Charlotte disturbed Paul. It had been he who identified Charlotte as a deva and urged Baby to claim her as a true consort, but the Queen had not done so. As an Aurelius minion, Paul had lived through millennia of blood, betrayal, and the general chaos of vampire politics and warfare. He hadn't expected Baby to kill Spike, but it didn't surprise him when she did.

Her decision to share Charlotte's keeping with her Companion hadn't been a surprise either. After René's gruesome death the Queen had lived in frightened agony of losing Jack, the last person to hold a bit of genuine affection for her. It had seemed almost a Godsend when the assassination attempt against Charlotte had revealed that Jack was strangely immune to the toxin in claimed Red Gold. In all his years and studies Paul had never known a case where a Deva could be shared, yet Jack and Charlotte seemed to thrive on each other.

Celeste whispered his name tightly and Paul closed his eyes for a moment when she took him in her avid mouth, slowly closing her lips over him as she cradled the flesh beneath his rock-hard member in one hand. Teeth bit, but very softly, and she drew on him, swaddling him with her wet pink tongue. The top of her throat was pure velvet.

The lovely creature's skilled attentions didn't fool him. Celeste was courting his pleasure to win his confidence and, perhaps, secure an oath of loyalty from him in the future if Baby were no longer there for him to serve. Paul knew, as did anyone with a lick of sense, that the Queen was hopelessly mad. Granted, she seemed invincible, but there were ways to topple a monarch without actually killing her. Even now many of the vampire families "loyal" to Baby were biding their time, waiting for opportunity to present itself, a weakness to be revealed that they could turn to their advantage.

Paul continued to serve Baby, but it was only a matter of time before she was foiled, if not by her open enemies, then by a more covert one. He'd given her his word, his loyalty, and that meant something to him, but he had not survived as long as he had without a healthy dose of practicality. Jean Claude DuValliere was a good ruler, but he was weak in the sense that he valued his flunkies too much. Celeste might be as good a choice as any and who knew how high he might rise at her court?

Paul gripped the woman's silky hair and squeezed her slightly, stroking the back of her throat with short, careful strokes. She growled lightly when he withdrew from her, then gasped when he pushed her backwards hard so that she fell from her precarious position on the pew where Sarina had drained her mortal lover dry and now snuggled with the corpse. Paul was astride Celeste only a second after she hit the dark red plush carpet.

Paul flinched at the uneducated dialect that condemned its owner to the Tremé; projects for the rest of what would be a short life anyway. Still, the vulgar turn of phrase did state the obvious.

"Ah, Pavlo!" Celeste gasped beneath him, her legs winding round him in a merciless grip. Her porcelain cheeks could have almost been flushing, her rouge was so perfect.

Charlotte's cry on the dance floor was wild. Paul believed he could hear her panting, and the smell of her--faint soft rose perfume mixed with clean just-out-of-the-shower sweat and a thickly wet, burning hunger--permeated the clouds of desire that scoured every corner of the building. He had no idea she'd known how to do this! Not a trace of her customary pleading passivity showed; excitement and power seemed to course through her body then lash out into the bodies around her, like electricity traveling to circuits before it burst into brilliance within a light bulb.

Her power wasn't arousal or even sex. It was far too primal for that, too basic. The strength of ages pooled deep inside of her seemed to manifest itself in a glut of compulsion impossible to refuse. Not a single person, souled or unsouled, wanted to refuse.

The man who appeared behind her was tall, not overly so but handsomely built, certainly a vampire. Not too young, there was power in him. Paul didn't even see him approaching Charlotte, he was simply there the moment she'd cried out. He wore formal evening clothes and a white mask that covered most of his face, revealing only a sensual well-cut mouth.

The Deva was trembling, her graceful abdominal muscles gleaming with sweat and her legs shifting restlessly. Celeste snarled, indignant at her partner's neglect, and clawed Paul's forearm with red-varnished fingernails when he sat up to watch. Charlotte seemed to glow and glisten all over between carefully placed accessories and sweat. A crystal tattoo gleamed on one hip, the likeness of a dragon. Faux gems twinkled and glimmered in the lovingly arranged mess of her hair, and her lips gleamed, pink and glossy-wet. The Queen's Major-domo's face grew rigid with carefully contained surprise as he focused on the Deva's face.

"Has she used contacts or cosmetics to make her eyes appear that deep rich blue or has she finally changed? And where did the clothes come from? Where is her collar? Baby never allows her to be seen without it."

The masked vampire's arms snaked over her, turning her to pull her up against his chest. The cry from Charlotte wasn't a cry at all but a needy sob. He'd heard that sound often enough when Baby punished her. Paul filtered away everything surrounding him, the moaning and shivering bodies writhing and reaching, the strobe lights and skipping shadows playing along the broken pews, the padded tables, and the velvet cording that surrounded the dance floor. He only watched the couple.

The vampire cradled the goddess comfortingly against his chest and she sighed as he strode away with her, half the distance of the bar. He leaned over with her, shushing her consolingly as he settled her on a brilliant scarlet, felt-covered billiard table. One elegantly shaped hand reached out to yank the entire light fixture free, dropping it casually on the floor beside them. Shadows fell over them, not enough to obscure their beauty but perhaps enough to give the Deva a hint of privacy and make her more comfortable.

The whole room seemed to be holding a collective breath when her vampire Keeper--she had to be Kept, why would he allow her out if he wasn't sure of his hold upon her?--tore the lacings of her pants, but they seemed hopelessly knotted and her hips rose off the table's edge, reaching for him. He allowed his demonic portion to flow over him, and beautiful hands grew into talons to rip the shiny cowhide in scraps away from her hips and thighs, never once marring the tender white flesh beneath. He probably ripped his own buttons when he opened his fly, and pulled her legs up high so that her ankles rested on his shoulders.

She cried out in aching relief when he filled her in one simple thrust, planting himself deep within her. He bent over her, soothing her with soft words, lovingly crooning, as he kissed her tears and loved her with a graceful artlessness that made Paul want to laugh and wonder why he hadn't recognized him before.

How could he not have known? Who else could soothe an aching partner so deliciously and passionately, kiss her wet cheeks and suck softly on her throat while he skimmed her body with loving hands, tracing every soft peak and contour, gliding languidly on treasured little spots where he knew she was more sensitive and likely to cry out in joy, until her tears turned to passionate little cries that grew louder as they moved together, tightly locked in ecstasy?

"Jean. Jean. Jean. Ohhhhhh!" She screamed it, quivering violently, and the lovers all around her sighed and moaned as more waves of arousal, weakened but still potent, seemed to reach out for everyone. "JEAN! I love you!"

She sat upright and his arm slid beneath her to support her against him as she ripped away the mask.

"Je t'adore, ma petite chere." His fangs slid deep into the sweet join of her neck and shoulder and they shuddered together, wildly, until Jean DuValliere sank to his knees because he couldn't hold them up anymore.

"Oh my God! We did it in a church!" Baby was visibly distressed. "That is just...icky! And wrong!"

Jack couldn't help it; he laughed. "Sweetheart, you have the oddest moral code of anyone I've ever heard of."

"And it wasn't a real church," Charlie added comfortingly. "Not like there'll be mass or confession any time soon."

Baby glared at her. "This is your fault, you know! For forty years, I've avoided doing things like that in any kind of religious sanctuary!"

Charlie drew herself up proudly. "I am the Living Goddess, Mother," she declared in a low impressive tone. "No being can refuse my calling...." She lapsed into a girlish giggle. "It's okay, we won't tell anyone. And...." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've never been on a pool table before. So it's a first for both of us."

Jack howled with laughter and Jean chuckled warmly as he felt a hint of genuine shyness flash in his wife. Charlie was beautiful, her full lips swollen with kisses, her breasts tender from her arousal as well as his caresses through the sheer clinging lace. Her skin radiated the warm blush of a woman well loved and eager for more.

"Viens-ci, amante," he whispered huskily, opening his arms for her to climb into them. She nuzzled his chest, opening the last few buttons on his shirt to feel his bare flesh on her smooth hands. Jean reached beneath Ren�'s black silk shirt that served as an incidental dress for Charlie and allowed his fingertips to glide over warm skin.

Baby glared at Jack harder than she'd glared at Charlie. "It's your fault, too." His left eyebrow climbed quizzically. Her glare turned to a smirk. "If your ass didn't look just as good in jeans now as it did when you were twenty-six, I might have been able to resist. But with you looking like that." Baby had a hand on the gluteus maximus under discussion and wasn't much inclined to let go. After all, this was a limo, not a church.

Jack hummed against her neck, a soft accompaniment to his daughter's sighs in her Prince's arms. He felt the Master's quizzical gaze and suppressed a chuckle. Beaumont would distract Master Jean soon enough; Jack could feel the Cajun beauty's need for the Master through their complex bond. The effect of Charlie's dance could linger for even the most normal of mortals; for vampires as passionate as the Pride it led to hours of need and heightened desire.

His wife's comment sparked a question in his mind. "I wonder what you were like at twenty-six," he murmured against her skin.

He felt her flash of discomfort and sadness and vowed to love them away. "Pathetic, Jackie, I was completely pathetic. I'm much better now," she answered.

Everyone in the limo felt the burst of consolation and reassurance from Jack. "I don't doubt that for a single second, sweetheart, not for one second."

Charlie lifted her head and stared across where her father's dark sunset-gold hair blended with the dying-ember-red of her mother's and wondered how they could ever be with anyone else, regardless of what dimension they were in. She could no more imagine Jack without Baby or Baby without Jack than she could imagine the Earth without the moon...or herself without Jean.

Jean sighed softly at the delicious feel of his wife's body enveloping him with languid ease. He caressed her lean thigh muscles as they contracted, cupped her wonderful ass as her hips rolled forward only to ease back and press against him again.

Their coupling at the nightclub had been heated and urgent. Charlie had overreached herself. Uncertain that her natural abilities would influence the ecology of a dimension separate from her own, she had compensated by throwing all her power into the dance. Jean's own passion had been exacerbated by her painful ardor and, in the end, he'd acted mainly to soothe her, love away her distress, and give them much-needed relief. They made love now for comfort and to bond as only their kind could. Jean loved Charlie slowly, soothingly, coaxing her to calm and soften until she cooed in his arms.

Her lovemaking was utterly assured and he loved watching the delicious movements of her body's curved lines, her swaying breasts, and soft mussed hair sweeping his legs when she leaned back. Her dark lashes fluttered and her low sweet whine urged his fingers to the precious jewel hidden in her swollen cleft.

He gasped when secret muscles in her velvet interior rippled and squeezed, locking him tightly inside her and urging a low, hoarse cry deep within his gut to push its way free through his lips. Prettily manicured fingers plucked his nipples just hard enough.

"Charlie!" He surged upward beneath her as her body rolled forward. She slammed her hips against him, clutching his shoulders for balance as she lifted a quivering mouth for tenderly invasive kisses. Her clinging interior pulled every drop of seed he carried and she moaned her contentment as she relaxed on top of him, panting softly.

"Ma petite belle." Jean stroked her hair tenderly. His world was full of her now: her scent, her warmth, her fragrant moisture drenching his groin. Their emotions reached each other, twining together into a daisy-chain of mundane concerns and tender affections. They were concerned for their children, even though they were nearly grown. It wasn't that they'd never spent the night apart from them before but there was no way to call or reach them to know how they were doing.

"Ma belle." He smiled gently down at her and she snuggled closely against his side. They would bathe later. He loved the aroma of their joining, liked it to surround him as they slept.

"I love you," she whispered sleepily against his ribs. "So much, Jean." She sighed drowsily. "Mon amour seule."

"My only love." The vampire basked in her sincerity. He whispered a line he half-remembered from the Kama Sutra, which one of her Hindu acolytes had encouraged him to study so he would know better how to love her. As though anybody needed a textbook to know how to love Charlie! "Being the source of virtue, woman is the best means of reaching heaven." He kissed her, a soft tender brush of warm lips on her forehead, and smiled as she reached up to caress his face with silky soft fingers.

"Thus," she replied in a sleepy whisper, her deep blue eyes luminous with confident pleasure, "if husband and wife act according to each other's liking, their love for each other will not be lessened...." She gave him a last sleepy kiss. "In even a thousand years."

Celeste's creamy nude lips drifted into a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth smile while she nodded pleasantly and made a show of moaning as she gingerly stretched her ripe body. She ignored Sarina's warning glance across the length of the bar. At this moment Celeste did not fear anything, not even this stupid maniac the locals called their Queen. The past four hours had been a veritable feast for her. Paul had used her wildly, roughly, as desperately as he had back in the old days when he seldom had a woman regularly. Her entire body was wonderfully sore and her senses still reeled from the euphoric auras that had hovered all over the defaced church and engulfed its patrons in a whirlwind of unstoppable sensuality. Celeste had never felt anything like it in all her lifetimes on earth. She and Paul had loved violently long after the Master of New Orleans boldly carried his delicious woman down the main aisle of the church to his waiting limousine. They'd stopped one time, to draw Sarina into their embrace and love even harder. Paul had recalled his duty to his precious Queen about fifteen minutes ago and advised her of the incident on his cell phone while they'd dressed.

"My Liege." Paul watched the Queen carefully to gage her reaction. "She was very similar in appearance, but it could not have been your Charlotte. This one had blue eyes." He swallowed as he added, "Jean Claude claimed her openly, and he fed from her. He could not have done that with Charlotte." "Unless Anne has been keeping more secrets than I thought and has discovered an antidote to the poison of a claimed Deva!" Paul fumed. He knew perfectly well Anne Bridger had to be one of the stoolies in the Court, sharing information with the Master. Paul didn't care about the Court gossip, but her lab work and research findings were valuable and he was certain she was stalling and holding back information about her work. The former Master's mistress was a liability, why didn't Baby see that? There was a time when Baby would have killed any potential threat on the spot, much less an obvious one like Anne.

"My blue-eyed Deva," the Queen shrieked. "He fucked MY blue-eyed Deva!" Suddenly she laughed. "He probably still is fucking her! My Jean always was one to recognize a good fuck when he saw one. He's my smartest baby, you know. The best of my sons."

Celeste nodded emphatically, a little too emphatically, Baby thought angrily. The six-hundred-and-some-odd-year-old whore still stank of the night's escapades. Baby was surprised the bitch and Paul weren't glued to each other by their own fluids.

Baby swirled her glass idly and a blanched ugly rage crept through her. The entire nightclub smelled of blood and passion. The Queen had never sensed anything like it. An orgy was nothing out of the ordinary for many of the demonic races that habitually patronized the club and many of them came in couples or groups to enjoy the permissive atmosphere. Others came alone in hopes of meeting someone new to entertain their appetites. But last night had gone beyond the pale even for The Jesuit. A mass orgy, there was simply no other way to describe it. Baby could still sense residue from the intensity of pleasure, lust, and fear lingering throughout the remnants of artificial fog and cigarette smoke that permeated the building.

There had been a bloody, ugly fight between two young hotheaded loups-garou over their female age-mate. One of the young men had slashed his friend's eye nearly in half. The winner had chased the frightened young girl out of the club and no one knew for certain where they'd gone.

Baby had had to laugh about that when the local Wolf Clan's Secretary had complained to her about the incident. "That's what happens when you're born to a race that mates monogamously for life!" she'd barked at him on the phone. She grinned maliciously at Paul's impassive flinching. The Loups-Garou only acknowledged the Queen's authority because Charlotte was in her keeping and their tolerant truce had been strained to the limit from the beginning.

The magical effect of the Deva's dance--yes, Paul was sure it was a deva and he ought to know, he was the only being Baby knew who'd ever seen one previous to Charlotte's appearance--had not stopped just in the nightclub, however. Everyone had succumbed to the waves of desire and pleasure-seeking that permeated the atmosphere for blocks. The cold rain hadn't dampened their ardor. Even Baby had been affected by it. She'd wanted Jack badly and couldn't do a damn thing with him since he was hanging like prepared meat after the worst beating she'd ever given him. She'd gone to Charlotte instead, sure the Deva would be sensitive to this peculiar mood. To her surprise, Charlotte had squirmed and wriggled and turned away, whining angrily when she tried to touch her.

The Queen strolled idly past the billiard table and the scent of Jean DuValliere overwhelmed her. Dear God, he'd been hot for his partner, every bit as hot as he'd ever been with Baby back in those soft earlier years when they'd loved each other. But something was--not quite right. She stopped and frowned down at the brilliant blood-red felt. The woman smelled so very like Charlotte Baby would have sworn it was her Carrier if she had not had Charlotte with her herself. Even the soft warm sweetness of her perfume--just a hint of white roses--was familiar. There was another scent, too, the barest trace of...It couldn't be. She closed her eyes, the better to focus on the mingled smells. There, beneath the overriding scent of the Deva, was Jean. There was no mistaking the basic scent of her long-time Favorite beneath the environmental scents that clung to the base. Crisp, clean. Paper. Leather bindings and ink. That wax and old plaster scent that clung to those who lived at Rue Royal. And...Sandalwood? Jean had given up sandalwood years ago. And under the sandalwood, actually a part of it was something that set her undead heart pounding. She refused to believe it. No. The scent of the two men had been mingled for so many years it was just a sensory ghost, like feeling sensation from a severed limb. Still....

She quested out further, annoyed that male vampires seemed to have better olfactory talents than females. She could see better than any man in her Court and her hearing was exquisite, but men could track by scent far better than she could. "Paul! That lying bitch that said Ren�'s ghost was here? Where did she see it?"

She hurried toward the spot he indicated, silencing him with a peremptory snarl and gesture. Jean had been here too. If anything, the scent here was even more familiar and for just an instant her body ached for the touch of his gentle hand. She shook it off. These days, Jean's hand was likely to be far less than gentle when it wrapped around her throat. She closed her eyes and stepped closer to the area Paul had appointed and nearly fainted.

HE had been here! She opened the door to the little manager's office and gasped. So strong! It was so strong! Sandalwood and gunpowder. Sword polish and bayou mud. Car oil. Soap and hair gel. Deep and rich, multi-layered and contradictory. Musky sex atop a biting astringency that cut like a knife.

She stumbled further into the room, that blessed glorious scent surrounding her. Jean and Ren�. Her precious, lovely boys had been here together. She wanted to cry. She wanted to sing. She wanted to surround herself with that scent forever. If there was a spot in this church that was still holy this was it. Her Ren� had been here and sanctified it. Maybe she would build a shrine here like she'd built a garden monument where his house had stood. Nothing could be allowed to sully this room now.

A taint appeared on the air, sour and cold. The Queen opened her eyes as Celeste seated herself on the corner of the desk, hands resting on the desktop between her thighs. "You'll need to air this room, Your Majesty." She inhaled deeply, and a low appreciative purr resonated in her throat. "It smells like a whorehouse in here."

Baby dashed her bourbon directly into Celeste's face. "Then fold up your legs and take a God damn shower!" she snapped. "The only whore I smell here is you!"

The older vampiress bared her teeth threateningly and her porcelain white face darkened with rage. It was all she could do to nod respectfully towards the Queen and back out of the room. Baby forgot herself. Celeste was an Aurelius Princess many times her elder. One day soon, Celeste would remind her.

The Queen had already decided to end Celeste's existence. She'd order the old vampiress killed as soon as she returned to the palace. How dare the jade call her adored husband a whore! He had always hated that name more than any other. The Queen wouldn't accept any insult to him or his memory. She'd carve Ren�'s name on the slut with fire before she killed her. Sacrilegious bitch! In the meantime she'd have this room sealed. No one would be allowed to clean or air it. That scent had to be preserved.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. For just a moment, something akin to peace settled over her. She could almost feel him in the back of her mind. "Ren�."

The rumors spread quickly, false ones aided by DuValliere bribes as well as genuine reports of the Goddess "blessing" the guests at The Jesuit. They flowed as heavily as the runoff from the rain that blanketed the city.

The reports of the events at The Jesuit and the possible repercussions were as numerous as the speculation about the weather. One sad-eyed vampiress declared she'd seen "Le Beau", the beautiful ghost of Ren� Beaumont, lurking in the shadows smiling longingly upon the festivities. This would have been hastily dismissed except for the fact that several of Ren�'s children were present and swore they thought they smelled him at the club.

"Ren�'s spirit has returned to comfort the Master and give his blessing on this new union to the Goddess....

They say the Master will be healed of his grief through Her love, and take his rightful place instead of squabbling with this madwoman, his husband's murderess!"

Still others declared they'd seen the Master with his demigod out in broad daylight only a few days before, scarfing down beignets and caf� au lait at the Caf� du Monde.

"He is Sun Lord already, and has kept his power secret to deceive the Queen into reckless confidence. It won't be long, now."

The faithful, carefully watching for a sign, lay dying plants at the banquets on the house at Rue Royal. And watched them spring into flowering health. Even cut bouquets of bare branches burst into bright leaf and flower if brought within a block of the Master's home. By noon it looked as though a garden had sprung into being before the house on Rue Royal. People assembled to worship the Goddess, to pray to God, Allah, the Buddha and a pantheon of gods and demigods. Cries of thanksgiving and pleas for the rain to cease and the sun to shine rose from those kneeling in the midst of Royal Street. Songs and mingled voices reciting well-remembered prayers created a smooth symphony throughout the day. Preachers, priests, priestesses, holy men and women spoke to the crowds of the myriad possible meanings of the way the plants throughout the city were blooming and growing even as they were coated in freezing rain. In addition to the devote of many faiths, gawkers and the curious braved the cold sleet to see the miracle of the flowers and to stare at the religious. The police were forced to close the street and reroute traffic.

The Queen wanted to see the miracle herself. Ordering Alan, her blond child with the sweet Georgia accent, to attend her she set off for Rue Royale.

It seemed she wouldn't be able to get close to the house even with her guards forcing their way through the throng. Baby had seen fewer people than this crowding the sidewalks during the height of Mardi Gras. These were the times she regretted that most of her vampire guards were too cowardly to step outside the house even on a day as overcast and dark as this one. The beating she'd given Jack before she'd left had assured that the weather would remain dismal. Charlotte was handcuffed to Baby's bedpost, able to see Jack but not touch him. She'd probably weep the entire time Baby was gone and the sky would weep with her.

The Queen snapped her fingers and Alan plucked a bouquet of bare rose branches from a cart, snarling with long fangs bared when the vendor dared to demand payment. Alan passed the near-lifeless stems carefully to his sire, who smiled her approval at him. He was quite pretty when he had that puppy-dog eager-to-please look on his face. The fledgling pushed a path through the crowd until they were close enough to see the balconies of the house and the banks of flowering plants below them. His sire stared for long minutes at the second floor. She'd heard that Jean didn't sleep in Master Spike's old room but light glowed warmly in the windows today. Had her son finally overcome his feelings of loss and grief enough to take his proper place in his own house?

She turned to ask Alan what the latest surveillance had to say about darling Jean. The young vampire was staring incredulously at a spot slightly below her chest. The Queen looked down at the now green and lush branches in her arms. Even as she watched, green rosebuds blossomed into fragrant vivid flowers in her arms.

Alan shrank back from the livid anger that lent a gray cast to Baby's skin and set hellish fire in her eyes. She glanced up at the balconies of Rue Royal again and pride as brilliant as the flowers she held brightened her face.

"Jean always was so good at anything he set his mind to. I wonder exactly what it is that he's set his mind on this time?"

Her reverie was interrupted by the crowd calling out and surging toward the iron gate that barred the carriageway of Jean DuValliere's house. At her signal, some of her guards ran to find out the cause of the disturbance. Even as they raced back to her, a limo pulled away from the house under police escort and headed for Canal Street.

"My Queen," one of the guards gasped with the proper salute. "A short woman with long dark very curly hair accompanied by several bodyguards slipped into that limo."

Baby looked down the street where she could see the red glow of the limo's taillights. "Follow it!" she ordered tersely. "Follow it. Find out where it goes. Let me know where they end up." She handed one of her roses to Alan. "Then we'll find this new goddess and take her home with us where she belongs, won't we, my sweet little son?"

Alan swallowed as his sire's hand closed tightly over his, driving the rose thorns into his palm. "Of course, Mother. We'll do whatever you think is right, ma'am."

"Right now I think I need to go home and make sure Jack fully realizes how very badly he's behaved. Maybe one more beating before I let Charlotte heal him will make enough of an impression." The Queen's frown lightened as she looked back at the Master's house. "Rest well, my sweet Jean. You've always been such a good son and now you've found a blue-eyed Deva for Mama." She felt Alan shiver as she smiled. "I hope you get a proper reward for all the good you've done, dearest darling Jean."

"Please Charlotte, just do as she says," Jack implored weakly. "She'll just hurt you if you don't."

Charlotte continued her feverish assault on the handcuff. The nail file wasn't working and she dug in the drawer of her bedside table for something else that might force or pick the lock. Tears, their tracks pale against her red skin, flowed unchecked down her face. "I have to help you," she whispered. "I can't just let you lie there." She threw the file across the room and stretched her body as far as she could, every muscle straining to reach him. If she could just touch him....Her fingers fell inches short of his outstretched hand and she couldn't contain the sobs that shook her.

Jack tried to move; just a few inches would give her the solace he so longed to grant her, but his chains were too heavy and his body wouldn't respond the way he wanted it to. "Please don't. Charlotte, please. I don't like seeing you cry that way," he managed to say.

Charlotte slumped to the floor. "I can't just let you lie there and...and bleed! I want to help you! I have to help you!"

Jack swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. "I know, sweetheart. But we don't have a choice." He paused to gather his fading strength. "If you free yourself, the Queen will punish you. And I can't stand to see you hurt. Just do what she says. Let me take the hurt, not you. Okay?" He managed to pull himself an inch closer; it wasn't much but it was enough that the tip of his finger touched the tip of hers.

She breathed heavily for a moment, and Jack could have sworn she was gathering strength just from that infinitesimal closeness. Instinctively, he pressed for their bond, letting her mind rest against his. What did the pain his body was experiencing matter when she was in such agony? "Please. I can't stand it when she hurts you. Let her think it was all my idea. Let me take the punishment."

Charlie felt his distress clearly and struggled to override her anger and fear. He was so gravely injured, she didn't want to add to his pain. She focused on that one small bit of physical contact she had with him. It wasn't much but she sent what healing force she could through it, trying to ease some of his pain. "Alright, I'll do what you want," she gritted. "But I don't like to."

"I know. Don't worry. She doesn't intend to kill me. I can live through this. I'll be here when she's done." Jack's small reserve of energy had been depleted and he laid his head on the cool wood of the floor and let his consciousness fade.

She drew a deep breath and anger suffused her entire being for a moment. "I hate her. I loathe her. One day, I'll find a way to kill her."

Ren� ran a languid finger across Jean's cheek. The Master was reluctant to leave Ren�'s bed even though the call that it was safe to attempt their infiltration of the Queen's palace was expected any minute and Ren� was already up and dressing. They had loved and talked and loved some more throughout the day. Now Jean wanted to know about Ren�'s feeling for his brother's wife.

"Why wouldn't I love Dionne? Dionne done as much if not more for Jean 'n any of the rest of us ever did!" Shadows touched Ren�'s beauteous eyes. "Though from what I see here, maybe he done more for her, too."

"He can't love her as much as he loves you!" Jean's whisper was roughly passionate and sure of himself. Regardless of the changes in his alter-ego, he was sure that his love for Ren� could never diminish. Hadn't he just found that twenty years apart had only deepened it? He loved Ren� more now than he ever had. The thought of his brother leaving terrified Jean. "There is no way he can love her the way he loves you."

Ren� stood very still. The cool damp air seemed to play with his features. "No. Sad ain't it?" He pulled his shirt on. "She deserves better." He looked away. "And so do you." He sat down in the old rocker he always found most comfortable of all the chairs in the room. "You got to understand, over the years we've all just sort of come to an agreement. Maman lives with Jack. It makes me want to spit some days but that's the way it is. I got my place and she comes there sometimes. Mostly we go out to the plantation. Jo lives with me. Jean, he comes and stays sometimes. But me and him, we got us a little tiny apartment just for us and sometimes we go there for a whole week or so. And Jean has Dionne. She lives out at Egypte. That's her plantation. Ain't none of us perfectly happy but ain't none of us miserable either. So yeah, I love Dionne. She's my baby sister. I love Jo. She's a sweet, sweet thing. And I don't actually hate Jack; he just annoys the shit out of me." He smiled impishly. "But I think I annoy him more." He bent to pull on his boots. "It ain't perfect, no. But it ain't bad."

Jean lay back on the pillows and watched Ren� move about the room. Ren� was humming to himself as he brushed his hair and Jean felt a surge of pure envy and jealously for his duplicate. So his alter ego was splitting his time between his wife and husband. That other Jean could lie in bed like this surrounded by the comforting smell of Ren�'s love and look his fill at his unbelievably beautiful brother any time he wanted to. He could see the faint ripple of muscles across Ren�'s shoulders and his upper arms as he pulled the brush through his hair. The Master let his gaze settle on the brush as it smoothed through silken waves of blue-black. He could smell Ren�'s shampoo from where he lay. He could still taste his love's kisses on his lips.

Ren� was wrong; it was a perfect life, and it beat the hell out of the life the Master was living.

The Master thanked Anne gently. She had remained true to their friendship regardless of the Hell they now lived in. It hurt Jean to know how miserable she was but maybe the time was coming when she would finally be free of her sire's domination. He extorted her yet again to be careful and hung up the phone.

"The Queen took the bait. She's left for Baton Rouge to try and overtake our decoy. The rumor that I'm trying to slip my deva out to Angel in L.A. seems to be working. We should have enough time to get the children out and get them somewhere safe before she's notified and gets back." He checked his guns. "I hope Wesley gets back to me soon. If he's willing to hide these babies away, we'll have nothing to worry about. He's kept Devereau safe for twenty years. The children will be happy with Kevin and Nina."

Ren� agreed. "Oui, they're always underfoot somewhere. Holidays can get a little bit crazy." He laughed. "We've had to move most of the celebrations to Jack's house or the plantation. There just ain't enough room at Rue Royal."

"And if Fran�ois doesn't learn to keep it in his pants we're gonna have black-haired babies all over the French Quarter," Baby muttered to herself. The recent birth of her illegitimate great-grandson was merely the latest in a string of wildness that marked his father Fran�ois as a true Beaumont even if his surname was Niemczyk. And there was already another girl pregnant. Kevin was ready to kill his eighteen-year-old son.

Jack sighed at her comment. He had no idea what to do about Fran�ois. Kevin said a good deal of the problem was Jack's influence, of course. How could Jack expect his grandsons to value self-control when one of their major role-models was so obviously lacking in that area? Fran�ois saw his grandfather sleeping with pretty much anything that moved so of course Fran�ois thought that was an acceptable way to act. Jack claimed it was simply too much of Ren�'s genetic material in the boy.

Still, Kevin was a good father and loved Fran�ois deeply. If anyone could get Fran�ois through this waywardness, Kevin would. "The kids will be good hands. Kevin and Nina are excellent parents," Jack said.

Their discussion on child rearing was interrupted when one of Jean's grandsons appeared at the sitting room door. "The cars are ready, Master."

"And so are we," Jean said. "Come, mes amies. It is time to give these poor b�b�s a new life."

It wasn't easy to sneak into the Queen's palace but it wasn't as hard as it might have been. Baby could walk unchallenged and make sure no one saw her companions. The sight of Cephalaus' cage, the old demon muttering to himself as he scribbled furiously in a battered journal, brought a frown to Baby's face as they slipped soundlessly through the audience chamber. They eschewed the elevators in favor of the stairs and quickly climbed to the residence floor. Anne's reports had given the Master exact knowledge of which floor the Queen had taken as her own but she was less sure where the children were kept on that floor. Only their human keepers, Paul, and their parents were allowed near them. The Queen wouldn't risk any chance of some vampire claiming one of her pet's precious offspring.

Still, the Pride had no doubt they could quickly secure and liberate the children from this opulent prison. They began the slow process of checking every suite, Jack and Ren� picking locks as quickly as anyone else could have forced them open.

It was sound that attracted the Pride's attention. Voices showed that they were not alone on the residence floor. But even through the closed doors lining the corridor, the bellows sound of large lungs and the slow rhythm of human heartbeats showed these were adults and not the children they sought. Prince Jean motioned for them to move on but Baby ignored him. Her nostrils quivered at the infinitesimal taint of blood on the heavily filtered air. From behind the door came the clink of metal and the slither-thump of a heavy chain hitting hardwood flooring. There was a sharp moan of pain and a woman's voice, raw with tears, cried out. "Please, be careful!"

"Look, the fucker's just lucky the Queen didn't kill him." The answering voice was gruff and unsympathetic. "Though I got to say she came close. I'm surprised he's still in one piece. Norm, get his feet."

There was a rustle and the faint woof of something large landing on something soft. "Please," the woman pled again and Jean frowned. Even distorted by endless hours of weeping, the voice was recognizable.

"Charlie," he whispered softly. His wife was beside him but it was unmistakably her voice he heard. It must be the duplicate Charlie, the deva everyone called Charlotte. Ren� and Jack frowned with him; they had recognized the voice as Charlie's as well. Baby's eyes glowed slightly but not from hearing Charlotte's voice. That hint of blood, barely there, was stirring uncomfortable feelings of concern and anger deep inside her. She moved a step closer to the door.

"Now the Queen wants you to heal him up," a different man's voice said. "So you be a good Pet and do as you're told."

Charlie's hand on Jean's arm silenced his deep growl. The insolence and contemptuous tone set his teeth on edge. Charlotte might not be his Charlie but she was a deva. And in his opinion no woman, goddess or otherwise, should be spoken to that way. He turned to his twin but before he could speak to the Master, the door opened and the scent of blood that had been so faint before washed out into the hallway.

All of the Pride and even the Master recognized that blood spore; they'd all smelled it at one time or another. "Jack. That's Jack," Ren� whispered.

"My Queen!" an older human, a guard, exclaimed. "We've done as you asked. The traitor is with your pet." The purple scar that vined from the corner of his mouth to his temple writhed with each word. It was stilled forever as the heel of Baby's hand broke his nose, shoving a sharp splinter of bone into his brain. A half-step behind her, covering her as he always did, her husband grabbed the second guard as he exited. Jack snapped the human's neck even as the man goggled at Jack as though Jack was an apparition.

The Pride and the Master followed Baby and Jack, slipping soundlessly through the door the guards had opened. Ren� dropped the dead men's bodies within. An opulent suite lay before them. Silently, they checked the other doors leading into the room. All were empty and quiet except one. The woman's high voice, its musical element submerged with sorrow, came from a curtained doorway. The gathered vampires didn't have to move closer to hear Charlotte plainly, but at a silent signal from Ren� they drew near enough to the diaphanous drapes to see into the room. A woman sat on a bed generous with fine bedding and satin sheets: Charlotte Jolivette. A man lay face down on the bed, his back turned enough that they could see it was raw and bleeding. Skin hung loosely in places where it had been nearly torn from his muscles. Blood stained the ruby sheets, darkening them to black where he lay. Baby recognized the golden brown hair and broad shoulders. The sight sent rage roiling through her. The appalling abuse leveled against that well-loved body sent her spiraling into homicidal fury so strong it paralyzed her. She was literally too angry to move. The force of it blasted through the deep links she had to her family and even the Master. Wrath, molten and all-consuming, locked them to her, emotion so strong it struck them all dumb and immobile. All they could feel was Baby's mental scream at the sight and smell of bloody flesh. Her mind shrieked his name even though her lips couldn't.

"Jack." There were tears in Charlotte's tone and care in the hands that moved delicately over his body, soothing and curing. Even her soft voice held healing elements as her fingertips drifted over his biceps. "Oh Jack." There was a world's worth of sorrow in her words. "Look how she hurt you. You're still bleeding."

She bent to kiss him and Jack shivered as the minor cuts began to close. The deeper ones started knitting themselves shut beneath his skin.

The family stared at the ugly mess of Jack's back as welts began to fade and die down. Blood crusted over healed skin. Charlie trembled slightly next to Jean as she watched her duplicate gently touch the torn body of Jack's duplicate. There were tears in the eyes of both devas.

"Love you...Love you...Love you so..." The injured Jack reached for his Charlotte, needing her bare flesh against his. He wanted her warmth to engulf him so he could forget the chill of the last two hellish days and nights. He felt her mourning all around him, part of her love and sorrow for him and what they'd lost. He wanted to cry then like he hadn't cried while Baby railed at him and laid his back openly repeatedly as she raged her disappointment. "Traitor! You betrayed me! How could you?"

"Let me hold you," he whispered, sliding strong arms over her body. "Let me touch you. I need you."

Charlie's face was scalding and she buried her head in Jean's chest, unable to watch anymore. The rest of the family, held immobile by Baby's mind, felt the overwhelming grief coming from the pair on the bed. Baby could feel the pain that Jack was experiencing, the emotional and mental agony far greater than the pangs of his rapidly healing body. Through him she could feel his Charlotte, devastated as only a mother could be by the loss of a child. Baby had felt that pain too often herself, her two daughters dead along with their father in a car crash when the girls were no older than Sarah Roxton and then Nina taken away when she was only weeks old. The force of Charlotte's anguish overwhelmed Baby's mind and locked her in remembered pain. That pain spread out to Ren�, Jean, and back to her Jack. Through the injured Jack, Jean was already experiencing their agony and he fed it out to his wife, his husband and his two lovers. The Master had once been linked to the man bleeding on Charlotte Jolivette's bed and he couldn't block the impressions from him or from the Pride. Feedback loops grew and strengthened, locking cries inside bodies and ravaging souls human, demon, and both. Long minutes passed as the vampires and the deva were locked inside their minds, aware of their surroundings but so imprisoned by shared emotion they couldn't move. Baby tried to scream over and over but no sound would come. Watching Jack make love to Charlotte as he tried to ease her pain and his own was so hurtful even Ren�'s teal eyes overflowed with tears.

The burn of healing desire inspired by their Red-Gold mate-bond quenched, his back covered with a crisscross of pink, healthy skin, Jack held his Charlotte tenderly and finally found words for his guilt. "Charlotte, I swear to you, I NEVER thought she'd kill our baby. I'd never risk one of them that way. I knew she might kill me but I never thought she'd really kill Sarah. I thought Sarah was too important to her. I swear I'd never have done it if I thought...."

Her soft hands moved over the smooth whipcord muscles in his shoulders as he shuddered and finally wept against her. "I tried! I tried so hard not to care! I tried so hard not to make her jealous!" His body shook with the force of his sobs. "I've hidden how much I feel for you. I knew she'd never tolerate it. But I can't help it! I love you. And I swear I love our children. You and them, you're the only good that I have left. There's nothing decent left in my life anymore except you and the children. And God help me! I've let her kill Sarah!" The cry that came from his throat was ripped from his soul. "She killed Sarah! She killed my baby girl!"

It was the Master who managed to fight his way free from the bounds of emotion and memory that paralyzed the Pride. "She's not dead," he gasped. "She's alright."

The Prince nodded as the grieving man on the bed spun and placed himself between whatever threat they might pose to his consort. "We found her in time. Sarah's fine. She's safe."

Her son's words shattered the silent paralysis that gripped Baby and she screamed against her Jack's chest, her mouth pressed to him to muffle the cry. He held her and rocked her as sobs racked her slight form. Ren� joined Jack, holding her, not caring that he was holding Jack as well. For the moment their rivalry was put aside; only their wife and the pain they were all feeling mattered.

Jack stared in amazement at the sight of twin Masters and a mirror of himself comforting a sobbing Queen. "What are you? How...?" Charlotte hid behind his solid form, too drained from healing Jack's horrible wounds to even stand much less fight against whatever evil magic had brought the Queen into her room to torment them further.

Jean focused on the man sitting on the bed. "Duplicates from another reality. The Powers That Be sent us to help. They told us to save your children." He smiled softly, reassuringly. "I swear to you. Your little girl's fine, mon ami."

Jack stared for a moment and nodded slightly. There was no other way to account for what he was seeing. He accepted the explanation. He desperately wanted to believe Sarah was alive. He felt a tickle in the back of his mind and realized he could still feel the vestige of a bond to the Master and to this other Jean. There was truth echoing through it. His daughter lived. He bowed his head and they all heard the faintly whispered prayer of thanks he offered up to the God he suddenly realized hadn't forgotten him after all. His consort pressed against his back, still holding him. He shared his surety that what these strangers were saying was true though their pair-bond. Over his shoulder her big eyes stared at the Pride and the Master in hopeful disbelief. "Oh, thank you," she managed to gasp. "I can't ever...Oh thank you!" She buried her face against Jack's shoulder.

The feedback loops vibrated with joy and thankfulness, freeing the vampires and the devas and allowing coherent thought to return, until that searing rage surged through their links again and caused both of the living goddesses to gasp. Baby raised her head from Jack's chest, her fury nearly a living entity striding through all their hearts and minds. Her golden eyes glowed with demon fire and her voice held the promise of burning death. "Jean, we have to find this THING that I've become and kill it."

The Prince's eyes glowed with azure fire to match her gold. His own rage was as dark and icy as hers was brightly aflame. "Mais oui, Maman! We will kill it. Together."

With a freshly healed Jack Niemczyk leading the way, it was not difficult to find the nursery wing. With Baby acting as imperiously as her alter-ego ever had, it also was not difficult to get inside and remove the children. Who would gainsay the Queen if she asked for her Companion's son and daughter? Especially when she burned with visible rage. One look in her golden eyes and her servants scurried to do her bidding. It was only a matter of a few minutes before she and Jack returned to the Deva's quarters where Baby's true consorts, both Jeans and both devas waited. The captive Deva was extremely wary as she approached the woman who looked so much like her cruel Keeper. But this woman handed over the infant boy she held without demur or mocking laughter. His sister, little more than two years old, snuggled against her father and for perhaps the first time in her life, Jack felt free to return her affection. "What now?" he asked. "How do we all get out?"

Jean considered for a moment. "To be honest, we'd planned to just have Maman and Jack walk out with the babes. We didn't know we'd have you two along as well. It complicates things. Let me think for a minute."

The Queen's Companion shook his head. "Follow your plan. Get my children out of here. Disguise your wife as one of the servants and let her and my consort just walk out of here with you. I'll get out on my own. But get my kids and Charlotte out."

Baby looked at him and smiled. "Despite what I've heard it looks like there's still some of my Jackie left in you." She looked at her eldest son and her husbands and knew they shared the same thought. She nodded. Even though the Master had said the Queen's Companion didn't want to be rescued, had claimed he and Charlotte couldn't be freed, she knew the slave deva couldn't exist without the blond vampire. "No one gets left behind." She smiled icily. "And I know how to get us all out."

The Master didn't question that. "Fine. So, are we ready then?" Master Jean's sable eyes flicked across his companions. "And if we have to fight, we fight."

"Just a second." Jack handed his daughter to Ren� and reached into the back of Charlotte's tunic, easing under her abundant hair. For a moment, Ren� felt every bit as annoyed with the alternative duplicate of Jack Niemczyk as he'd ever been with the one in his world. They didn't have time for his games. Then the little deva made a choked cry, her dark eyes misting, and her willowy hand swooped towards her throat. Her Keeper lifted away a handsome platinum link choker set with glimmering black diamonds. For a moment he held it, an unfathomable expression in his clear green eyes. He had the air of a man who'd grown tired of a very old game and meant to get rid of the dice so that they'd never be played again. The force of his boot against the metal and stones gouged and splintered the hardwood floor.

The Master of New Orleans watched his former lover gently caress the long-haired young woman. He kissed her repeatedly, a stream of kisses on full, tempting lips. "You're mine," he whispered, a catch in his voice. "Mine alone." He drew a deep and cleansing breath. "She'll never touch you again as long as I'm alive." He strode across the apartment and into the adjoining bedroom. They could all see him fling the mangled bit of jewelry onto the bed for the Queen to find. He stalked back to his consort's side and took his daughter back into his arms. For an instant he looked exactly like the man the Master remembered falling a little in love with. "Now we're ready. How do we get out?"

Baby smiled. "You just let me take care of things, sugar-pie. This is my house, right? No one here dares disobey anything I say." The anger that burned inside was still there, barely banked and ready to explode. No one with half an ounce of sense was going to stand against her. She grinned at the Queen's Companion, her fangs showing long and sharp as daggers. "Put a coat on, honey. Baby's gonna take care of it all."

Everyone but her Jack watched in amazement as she strolled casually into the hallway and shouted for the guards. He simply smiled. The enslaved Deva clasped the baby to her chest fearfully and stood as close to her consort as she dared. Her Jack stationed himself as best he could to protect her and his children. His duplicate looked at him and grinned. "Don't worry. If my Abby says she'll take care of it, she will." The Deva marveled at the look of mingled pride and affection that had settled on his face as he looked toward the hallway. "She's one Hell of a woman."

Ren�'s grin matched Jack's and for once he didn't mind agreeing with Jack. "Oh yeah, she is." His expression perfectly matched Jack's.

Baby's voice floated in to them. "So what part of that was hard for you to understand?" she snapped. "I want the hallways cleared, I want the cameras off, and I don't want to see or hear any one of you for at least twenty minutes! I want you all out of my sight!" Jack shivered pleasantly at the growl that crept into her voice. "Or do I need to break heads and rip out entrails?"

"No, my Queen! I'll have everyone behind closed doors in ten minutes," the guard said.

"Yes, my Queen," the man said and began a flurry of conversation over his cell phone.

It actually took him six minutes but Baby pretended she didn't notice. Five minutes after that the Pride and their new dependents were outside and another five saw them in the big limos the Master had provided. Jack and Charlotte couldn't believe that a matter of ten minutes saw them free of their decades-long captivity and on their way to Rue Royal.

Charlotte Jolivette held her son, her precious little Johnny, tightly and stared in amazement at the man sitting across from her. He was the image of her consort but something was very different about him. It took her a few moments to figure it out but finally it hit her: he was happy. He fairly glowed with contentment. And it wasn't some passing emotion. This was a man who was happy with himself and his life and had been for some time. Right now he was looking at Baby, this Baby who wasn't the Queen, with so much love and pride that his green eyes were bright with it.

The smile the redhead turned on him was radiant and sincere. Charlotte had never seen such a smile from her Queen.

"I mean it. You were wonderful." Jack grabbed his wife and covered her face and neck with kisses while she laughed like a teenager. The kisses became less playful and more heartfelt and Charlotte wasn't sure if she was seeing something beautiful or something frightening. She'd seen Baby and Jack kiss a thousand times. In truth she'd seen them do almost any sexual act that was humanly or vampirically possible. But she'd never seen such tenderness between them. And when this Jack sank long sharp fangs into Baby's neck without asking, without any sort of permission, Charlotte expected his life to end. Instead this somehow softer and more forgiving queen gave a tiny gasp and held him closer to her. "Jack! Oh Jack. I love you."

"My Abby," he murmured when he finally released her throat. He was overjoyed. He knew what she felt for him but she seldom said it. Not that way. She told Beaumont constantly because Ren� was a needy bastard and couldn't seem to get through the day without hearing it. But Jack didn't have to hear it to know it and he wasn't weak enough to have to ask for assurance. The times when she did tell him she really loved him, it meant something special to him. He kissed her again and their lips didn't part for the rest of the drive to Rue Royale.

Charlotte looked at her husband in confusion. Her Jack was frowning but she could feel a sharp pain coming from him. He turned to face her, wistful regret in his eyes. "Baby wasn't always the way you know her. I know you never really understood why I was with her. But there were reasons I first wanted her," he whispered. "She gave me a lot in the beginning. They were good years." He laughed ruefully. "She set me free. Of course, she enslaved me later, but in the beginning, I was free maybe for the first time in my life. She taught me to live just for the joy of it." He shook his head. "I just can't remember what it felt like anymore. It's been too long." He jerked his head at the pair completely involved with each other across from him. "We weren't like that but she wasn't a monster either. Looks like he kept her from being one. I wonder what he did differently."

Charlotte shivered. "I don't think it was you, Jack. I...I think it was me. My blood. The power. She couldn't handle it. I think she lost it the minute she tasted me."

"Maybe." He could sense enough of this alternate Baby to feel her surrender to this image of him. He'd never been able to provoke that feeling from Baby even before she claimed Charlotte and became the Queen. He held his little daughter close and couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere down the line, he'd missed his chance to save Charlotte and just maybe save Baby in the process.

Rex welcomed his brother back to Rue Royale happily and if he was concerned that Jean had freed the Queen's Pet and Companion, he kept his own counsel. He saw them all into the parlor and sent for food and coffee. He didn't seem to realize that he was following one of his hated mother's rules: guests are always offered refreshments first.

"Cute kid," he said coldly and nodded at the little girl the Queen's Companion held so defensively. Jack knew exactly what Rex's opinion of him was. Faint flecks of gold swam through his green eyes. Any of the minions in the Queen's household would have known immediately to back off but Rex simply continued to stare at Jack's daughter.

"Thank you," Charlotte said softly and hugged her little Johnny close. She was wary and uncomfortable in this house even though all she'd heard since she came to this world was how kind and decent Jean Claude DuValliere was. She knew they used to call him Saint Jean before he became the Master. Jack had told her a few things though he became very sad whenever he spoke of the Master so she seldom asked. "Her name is Grace."

Her consort's duplicate, the other Jack, blinked. "Grace? You and that other me named that poor child Grace!"

His wife took his hand in her own. "I sort of like it," she said softly and Jack immediately wanted to kick himself. It hadn't registered when he'd heard the older daughter's name but now it did. Sarah and Grace - of course, Charlotte and that spineless excuse for a duplicate hadn't named the children; the Queen had. That other Baby had named the girls for her own daughters, dead nearly fifty years. The Queen really was mad; these babies were her replacements for what she had lost so long ago. He sent his wife his deep apology and love through their link.

Charlotte shivered and her partner said nothing though his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Of course this Baby liked the name; her alter-ego had selected it. The Deva's Jack was aware this wasn't his cruel Queen but at one point they had been the same woman. And he was afraid it showed. Any further thoughts he might have had on the subject disappeared when Ren� reappeared in the doorway. Peeping over the Cajun's shoulder, big green eyes happy, bright, and just a little concerned, was the most beautiful sight Jack had ever seen.

"Sarah," he breathed and transferred Grace to one arm so he could pluck his other daughter from Ren�'s broad back. Her warmth, the sound of her steady heartbeat, and the clean smell of her unmanned him and he sank down on his knees as he held both his daughters close and wept without shame. His consort's hand shook violently as she ran it over dark gold curls. With a cry she joined them on the floor and Jack tried his best to hold all of them at once.

Baby turned away and strode out of the room. Her husbands both rose to follow her but Jean placed a restraining hand on their chests. "Non, mon amours. I think this is something I need to deal with. Care for Charlie for me, yes?"

Jack nodded. Ren� had already draped a long arm around Charlie's shoulder. The Master stared after the Prince and frowned before following at a slight distance.

Jean found Baby standing in the garden looking up as the clouds broke and began to scuttle away. "It's still daylight. The sun may come out," he said softly. "You shouldn't stand there, cher. This oak isn't as healthy looking as yours; the leaves are kind of scraggly. You might get a bad sunburn, n'cest pas?"

"Kind of a dramatic statement, don't you think? More Ren�'s style than yours, yes?" Jean said.

She looked up at the hints of blue she could see through the leaves and clouds. It reminded her of Spike's eyes. "It might be best for everyone."

Jean put his hands in his pockets and strolled out to stand beside her. It had been more than a decade since he'd needed to fear the sun the least bit. "Aside from the fact that Ren� and Jack would mourn you forever?"

"They'd be alright. You and I both know that people eventually get over things."

He nodded. "True. I'm not afraid Ren� will die without you anymore. I think he's over that. But do you know I'm not so sure about Jack?"

She turned her eyes from the sky to the garden. "Jack's very strong. He'd be all right. He might be better off in a world without me."

He smiled as he noticed flowers all around the garden forming bud and bloom before his eyes. A happy deva was a glorious thing to have about. Jean knew that, as they had for many years, he and Baby would not discuss Charlie. It wasn't the time. Jean doubted if it would ever be. Still he couldn't be as angry at Baby about his wife as he once was. Once he'd wanted to kill her himself but now.... "Well, I don't think I'd like it much."

"Wouldn't you? Seriously, Jean, wouldn't you be happier without me around?" She touched a delicate white rosebud, watching it open and spread its petals before she crushed it in her fist.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "Maybe not." He looked up at the rapidly clearing sky. "I'll admit I thought so for a while. It hurt to finally admit that you're...well...a sociopath."

She nodded. "Yeah. You always saw the truth, Jean. You don't hide it from yourself. I always respected that about you."

He looked at the pale petals lying at her feet. "Maman." He waited but she didn't move. Finally, he reached out and turned her to face him. "I was wrong about Spike. And I was wrong about Ren�."

She tilted her head and waited for him to explain. "I thought you should stay with Papa. But you should have left long before you did. Spike just somehow enables whatever it is in you that wants to hurt people. I don't know why, but he does. And Ren�, well, I thought you needed to stay away from him. But I think it's better what you've been doing. He may be a little disillusioned from time to time but he has what he wants. And he's working his way free."

Baby nodded. "Ren� tends to build up fantasies, especially of what he can't have. As long as I was an ideal in his head, he'd never move on."

Jean smiled a bit. "Jo. You were right about her. She's been very good for him. They're cute together. Sort of like you and Jack." He took a deep breath. "Come inside, Maman. I don't want you dead." He tilted her chin up so he could look into golden eyes that had been a part of his life for forty years. "I really don't." He smiled a bit more. "I know what you're afraid of and no, I can't promise that you want turn into something just as awful as this Queen. That evil does live inside you. But I can say that you haven't turned into her so far." The smile twisted. "And yes, I know you're more afraid of being as crazy as she is than you are of being as evil as she is. I don't have any illusions about you, Maman."

Her answering smile was lopsided and sardonic. "You never really did, sweetheart."

Jean's smile straightened and turned genuine. "Yes, I did; I outgrew them. But you're right; I know what you really are." He leaned down. "You're cold, manipulative, controlling, murderous, and uncaring of almost everyone and everything." He brushed his lips across hers. "But I love you anyway." He slid his hand down her arm and clasped her fingers. "Now come in out of the sun."

Jean smiled softly at his duplicate as he led his mother into the house. He knew the other man had heard the entire conversation. He'd known the Master had followed them and stood on the porch watching and waiting. Jean ignored the Master's frown and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come, fr�re. There is much to plan. The Queen will be coming soon. She'll want what we've taken from her, oh yes! And we want to be ready," he said as he led his twin into the parlor where the others waited.

The hostility in the Master's drawing room was a tangible entity. Rex frowned as he watched the Queen's deva trying to open a bottle of water. The poor woman's hands were shaking so badly she could hardly hold it. Why didn't that worthless piece of shit who'd kept her pregnant half her life help her? But no, Jack just sat there staring at those poor babies and didn't even offer to open the bottle for the girl. His anger at the Queen's Jack tensed Rex's muscles and made his fingers ache to curl into fists and pound against that arrogant face. Well if Jack wouldn't help her, Rex would! He stalked up to her and reached for the bottle with a somewhat peremptory "Give it here."

Charlotte looked up, recognizing the huge vampire towering over her. Rex Lawson, the Crown Prince, was behind the failed assassination attempt that had left a scar on her shoulder where an arrow had pierced her flesh completely, pinning her to Jack as the vampire had drawn her into a protective bear-hug, sheilding her with his own body. A fainter corresponding scar adorned Jack's chest, the only scar that had formed on him since he had been turned. Deeper arrow wounds in his back hadn't left scars. They hadn't been contaminated with her blood. Poisonous to any vampire but her Keeper, Charlotte's blood should have killed Jack and she had thought him dying as he held her and gasped, clenching his teeth against the burning pain of the death that flowed in her veins.

But Jack hadn't died. He'd not only survived; he'd thrived and become her true Keeper, the father of her children, and the only person she trusted. Charlotte looked up into the angry eyes of the Crown Prince. His rage and hatred towards Jack was palpable, a blind person would have seen it. He wanted to kill Jack and almost certainly wanted to kill her! Charlotte uttered a tiny sound of fright and the plastic bottle slipped from her fingers.

The water bottle bounced off the polished oak floor before landing on a priceless amber Turkistan carpet and rolling under a Queen Anne couch. Jack's head jerked up from watching his precious daughters playing at his feet. His wife's freezing burst of terror was an icy spear in his heart, tinting his joy at seeing Sarah alive with instant apprehension.

"Charlotte! Come here," he snapped in concern as he tried to send her reassurance. "I'll protect you," he whispered in her mind. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Come to me. Hurry." She scurried to the safety of his side and looked back at Rex with frightened pansy-brown eyes. Jack stood and one long arm sneaked out to shield her.

"Hey! Don't talk to her that way!" Rex growled. He glared at the petite Deva's blond Keeper. The man needed to understand right now that Rex would not put up with him treating the Deva like she was a possession. She was a free woman now. There'd be none of that leash crap around Rex. How dare Jack Niemczyk order her around like she was still his pet! Rex wouldn't stand for it. He'd protect the tiny thing from this monster if he had to rip Jack's head right off his shoulders. "She doesn't belong to you anymore."

"Jack!" Charlotte's voice trembled in Jack's mind; her terror was nearly blinding. Jack and their children were all she had in this unfamiliar new world she found herself in. She had nothing but them and the clothes on her back. What if this vampire tried to separate her from Jack? He'd tried to have Jack assassinated several times. What if he didn't want to help Jack but wanted to hurt him? What if this was all a trick? The Master might just want her children for himself. The Crown Prince might want to kill Jack and try to make Charlotte his own irregardless that such a thing wasn't possible. No one seemed to believe that part of the legend; other vampires in the Queen's household continually tried to take Charlotte from her Keepers. The Queen and Jack killed them but there were still challenges from time to time. What if the Crown Prince wanted to claim her for himself or his brother? How could they possibly defeat him? He was so huge and Jack was exhausted and weak, newly healed from the awful beating the Queen had inflicted on him. Charlotte wasn't sure he was strong enough to fight this giant. Her fear grew. She was so tired herself, so drained. She hadn't slept since the Queen had taken Sarah and chained Jack to a wall. She'd suffered with Jack as he was beaten to the edge of death and then she'd expended what strength she had left healing him. Now they were faced with this! She was afraid she wasn't strong enough to give Jack any sort of useful support. "Please God, help us! Let Jack be strong enough to keep me." Her fingers dug into his upper arm and her mind called to him, "Don't let him take me away from you!" Neither of them could survive that separation.

"Never," Jack mentally assured her. He glared at Rex and said aloud, "She belongs to me forever. No one is ever taking Charlotte away from me again." He'd die before he let anyone hurt Charlotte. He'd stand between her and danger for the rest of his life. He was through watching her be hurt and abused and humiliated. He'd made that mistake already. He'd stood by without acting far too often. He'd been a coward long enough. Yellow fire played across his eyes. The electricity of impending violence crackled in the air.

Sarah grabbed her brother's baby carrier and dragged it with one hand while she pulled Grace along with the other. She led them under the nearest table and huddled with her siblings while she looked out at the adult threat, ready to bolt if she needed to. She'd learned shortly after she was old enough to walk to hide when there were challenges and fights. She shushed Grace when her sister whimpered. She'd also learned to be silent.

"Charlotte's mine," her father repeated, snarling, his eyes glowing demon bright. "You're not taking her anywhere."

"Whoa," Ren� said forcefully. He'd been deep in conversation with his own version of Jack, Baby, and the two Jeans about how to prepare for the attack. It was only when the other Jack stood and spoke with that defensive growl in his voice that he realized there was a problem. Ren� didn't like the frightened, pale face of the Deva clinging to Jack's arm or the sight of Sarah's scared little face. "Ain't nobody trying to make nobody go nowhere that they don't want to go. Calm down."

Rex pointed to the Queen's Companion, loathing lifting the corners of his upper lip. "He is not going to treat her like a piece of meat in this house. She's not his slave anymore."

"Slave?" The Deva's grip on her consort's arm would have been painful if he'd been a human. "I'm not Jack's slave. He's never treated me..."

Rex shook his head violently, his braids swaying slightly. "You don't have to lie anymore. No one is going to punish you for telling the truth. It's all right. I've seen how he treats you. Leading you around on a leash. Forcing himself on you." He visibly shuddered in revulsion. "The whole city knows what he is and what he's done. Why do you think he never goes out without bodyguards? Half the town wants him dead. We all know he's a deviant monster. You don't have to be afraid of him or ashamed of what he did to you; you didn't do anything wrong. I know you're just another one of his victims." He tried to convey how very sorry he was for all that had happened to her. "I know what he's put you through, how he's abused and raped you repeatedly over the years."

Deviant monster. No, that wasn't true. "I...NEVER!" his mind roared. He wasn't the monster. He stopped the monsters. He'd always stopped the monsters. That was his job, his calling. It always had been. How dare this so-called prince dare to judge? Rex hadn't been there and had no idea the sort of life Jack and Charlotte had faced.

A memory of Charlotte's frightened eyes and her whispered, "Please Jack," on that long ago night played across his consciousness. The unsaid "don't" had bothered him so much he'd shushed her, kissing her unwilling lips so she wouldn't protest aloud. That had been the only time Charlotte hadn't wanted his kiss. Every time he'd touched her since, she'd welcomed his kisses and given herself to his touch so completely-emotionally as well as physically-that it had become impossible to compare her to his more casual partners and not find them lacking. As he'd found himself further separated from his well-loved sire and her insidious madness, his bond with his Carrier had kept Jack grounded and help soothed the deep wounds of that loss. Their love was the only solace the two of them had and this assassin dared to categorize it as something ugly and debased! Inside his head Jack screamed incoherently, a loud wild noise that had nothing to do with natural speech.

Charlotte was shaking her head, horrified at Rex's words. How could he say such things about Jack? Jack carried enough guilt; he blamed himself for so many of the horrors that had happened to her. He hadn't stopped them so he felt he was ultimately responsible. He loved her yet he'd let her be treated so awfully. But he was the only one who made her feel like she had any reason to even wake up each day. The Crown Prince had no understanding of their life.

"That--is not--true!" Charlotte's crystal voice was chilly enough to freeze undead backbone. The Master frowned as he looked up from his conversation with his visitors, wondering what could cause the quite little deva to sound so. He could have sworn the air in the room grew colder with her scowling displeasure towards his younger brother. "You weren't there, you don't know what happened, and you're yammering about things you can't understand!"

Rex kept a careful poker expression as he watched Charlotte sidle closer against her Keeper. The tender intimacy of her body easing against her tall consort enraged the other vampire.

"I understand rape," Rex declared sullenly. "I understand Helsinki Syndrome. I understand criminals." Hate burned in his eyes, ready to pin and torture Jack Niemczyk on the spot.

"Which one were you," the Deva asked angrily, "when you and your precious Master caused all of this?" Her rich dark brown eyes glittered contemptuously back at Rex.

"What do you mean?" The Master of New Orleans whispered his question tightly. He didn't know whether to be appalled or angry by her accusation.

Charlotte's jetty curls whipped against her consort's shoulder and arm as her head jerked to the left to face the handsome Jean Claude Du Valliere.

"I mean that bitch would never have given me to Jack in the first place if she hadn't known he was capable of tolerating Red Gold!" Snapping brown eyes flicked angrily at Baby for just a moment then returned to the Master. "She didn't know that until your crack-brained killers shot an arrow right through me into him! You shot my blood into Jack!" Her voice rose to a nearly hysterical screech and she glared balefully as horrified comprehension began to transform the confusion in the Master's face. Across the room, Charlie, her other self, whimpered sympathetically and her husband, the other Prince, folded her in comforting arms. They understood what happened even before Charlotte said it. "Baby knew what we felt--the both of us--oh God, she knew!" Angry tears glistened on ebony silk lashes before dropping on her face.

Baby stood frozen, dumbfounded. She knew perfectly well what the Queen had done, and why. She would have kept Jack near Charlie, guarding her maybe, constantly within reach of that sweet-smelling blood beating through her, smelling her, wanting her, sensing the reciprocated want the girl could not control. By the time the Queen offered her Pet to him, Jack must have been dizzy with hunger.

Baby understood perfectly. She might have done the same thing herself. She cast a guilty furtive glance towards Charlie. Jean hovered over his wife, lovingly protective. The Crown Prince had enjoyed over two decades of human warmth and the human life he so longed for because of his union with Charlie. Baby dismissed her guilt. Jean was good for Charlie and Charlie was good for Jean. The fact that she, Baby, had threatened Charlie to coerce Jean into marrying her and fulfilling their bond didn't matter.

The feelings radiating from Baby's Jack did though. "No!" he breathed in horror. "No. Not that. Baby would never ask me to...." He couldn't even say the word. He'd seen that abomination once, with his own eyes. He'd watched helpless to interfere as an evil version of himself beat and then raped Charlie. He'd been given the opportunity to assure the assault never happened in reality and so he'd made sure Charlie was sealed and wed to Jean where she'd be safe and loved. Jack didn't want to believe that such an assault had happened again but he could actually feel the guilt from his wife. Baby's thoughts were plain in his mind. She was firmly convinced that her duplicate had done exactly what Rex claimed. "No, please."

His daughter clung to him much the way her duplicate clung to her Jack. Her own sound of denial was as heartfelt as her father's. Jack was her protector, her sanctuary. He tended her, dressed her, cleaned her, and cared for her in a way no one but Jean approached. There was not an inch of her body that Jack hadn't touched but each time it had been with the tenderness of a father not the passion of a lover or a.... She couldn't even think the word. To have Jack actually penetrate her body in an act of sex was unfathomable to her. She'd faced a twisted version of her father who had wanted to be her Keeper. He'd done little more than kiss her but nausea arose whenever she remembered his lips against hers. He was one of the reasons she'd become sealed with Jean. Jack insisted she be protected, married to Jean so she'd be safe from that other Jack forever. Now, she didn't know if she could face the knowledge that in yet another world, Jack had taken her by force. She held tightly to her father, willing him make this nightmare stop. She looked at the woman whose life might but for the grace of whatever power protected devas have been hers and shivered. The other deva was holding her Keeper, anxiety washing the color from her cheeks and fear darkening her eyes.

Charlie had no doubt Charlotte had every right to be anxious; Charlotte's Jack had gone as pale as Charlie had ever seen her father. He was breathing in great rasping gulps and his heartbeat thundered in her ears. "I wanted her--more than anything I'd ever wanted since I came into this life. My sire offered her to me, told me to keep her. And I did and it was the best choice I ever made." His voice was hoarse with suppressed emotion. "Do you expect me to say I'm sorry?"

Ren� turned his head away. He'd said those exact words to Rachel. "Je suis si d�sol�," he'd told her, apologizing for the pain and horror he'd visited on her. The knowledge that he was capable of the rape of an innocent woman had sent him straight to a bottle in a fit of self-loathing as great as any he'd ever experienced. He kept Rachel in his house now, a well-loved daughter, to try and atone as best he could for his cruelty and to serve as a reminder that he could never let that monster free again. Rex could seethe in righteous anger but Ren� didn't have that luxury. He couldn't in any honesty condemn Jack regardless of whatever he'd done, not when he'd done just as bad, if not worse. He felt his brother's hand on his arm and leaned against that mental support. Jean had seen Ren�'s apology. Jean knew how awful Ren� could be...and loved him anyway.

Jean wrapped his arms about Ren� and thought of the ragged scar on his wife's throat and her screams the night he'd put it there. Ren� and Jack weren't the only ones with a touch of monster in them. Charlie's scream echoed in his memory and he wasn't sure if he hated Jack or sympathized with him. The powerful attraction of a deva's blood and body could drive a vampire half-insane with longing and make a man do things he'd never believed himself capable of. He thought of the Queen and amended his thought - it could make anyone, man or woman, do things no one would have believed them capable of. He leaned his head against Ren�'s shoulder and closed his eyes so he didn't see the desolation in his mother's eyes.

Baby had zeroed in on the pertinent part of the conversation. "My sire offered her to me, told me to keep her. And I did." She wrapped her arms around herself. Well of course, he did. He could deny it as much as he wanted but she knew that Jack did whatever she told him to. He always had. And Jack would never take a lover without her approval. The culprit here wasn't Jack. Jack, as ever, was what she had made him.

Charlotte struggled to break though the crushing anger that encased her Keeper. He looked down at her and ran a trembling hand over her face, a soft gesture that matched his tired, determined expression. Then the lines in his face hardened when he looked back at Rex and repeated, "She's mine. She'll always be mine and no one, not you, not the Queen, will ever take her from me again." He lifted smoldering eyes. "Back off."

"Not when you abuse and assault innocent women," Rex said. "And you're never going to get the chance to do it again." The wooden knife in his hand was beautifully carved and polished to a deadly sharp point. "I'll see to it that you never touch another woman."

"No!" Charlotte's voice was a high, sharp squeak and the lightning that struck Rex was little more than a bad static charge but it was enough to cause Rex to drop the knife as her Keeper assumed a defensive posture between his Carrier and the world.

Rex held his stung wrist and snarled. "You claimed her against her will! She didn't have a choice!"

"Don't let him take me away," Charlotte screamed in Jack's mind. Aloud it was little more than a breath.

"But it's too late to worry about that now." Steel as strong and deadly as any of Rex's swords rang in Jack's voice. "I won't let you take her from me." She was the only beautiful thing in the world he had, the only peace. Nothing felt so good as the bond he had with her, nothing. And when SHE would punish Charlotte...the smell of heat and hunger and grief and suffering grew like virulent fungus inside him until he wanted to scream when he heard Charlotte weeping. He could feel that same pain now, tainting the edges of her scent and her mind. By God, she would NEVER go through that again. No matter what he'd done, she wouldn't suffer for it. He could feel her need for him even now. "You can't have her." His deva closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his hard arm, exhausted and so afraid for him. "You'll die first."

Charlie moved and Jean left Ren�'s side to hover over his wife anxiously as she set a gentle hand on the fist this alter-Jack had clenched so tightly that his knuckles were paper white. "No one will make you leave her," she whispered softly. "You never have to leave her, not ever."

Charlie looked at Rex and ran her hand over the ugly scarred mark on the side of her neck. "This is what happens when you separate a Keeper from their Red Gold Carrier," she explained. "You get insanity and good men driven to do things they never even dreamed of. And you get a bond that nothing and no one can break. The need to hold that bond is...." She glanced regretfully towards Jean and the Master of New Orleans suddenly thought he saw the solution to the puzzle of how Jean DuValliere might have mauled his wife's delicate throat. "Irresistible." She indicated her duplicate and the Keeper whose fist was slowly relaxing and opening under her touch. "Neither of them have any choice. They can no more live apart than you can cut your heart out and not turn to dust. In fact, you have a better chance of walking around without your heart than they do of existing without each other." She reached behind her with her free hand and found Jean's fingers unerringly. "I spent years in Hell because I believed I couldn't have a place in Jean's home or heart. I nearly died, literally starved to the brink of death for nothing more than the touch of his hand." Thunder rumbled across the clearing sky and Charlie's eyes darkened. Lightning flashed in the garden and a statue Charlie had always considered rather ugly exploded. "Jack won't have to kill you if you try to separate them again. I'll do it."

The Master himself had escorted Jack and Charlotte to a guestroom. He'd decided it was best to separate them from Rex for the time being. His brother was still in a volatile mood and the Master was certain Charlie DuValliere was not joking when she offered her duplicate and her family her not inconsiderable protection. He closed the door behind himself and stood for a moment in the hallway unsure what to do next or if he should even do anything. Sometimes the mantle of kingship sat heavy on his shoulders and he wasn't sure he wouldn't crumble under the weight. He felt Ren�'s hand on his arm and the tension seemed to just flowed away. "You need to rest," Ren� said. "I'm gonna put you to bed before I help settle those babies. Don't argue. You let me take care of things for a while. You been doing too much. Time someone took care of you for a change."

It has been so long since the Master had someone he felt could share his burdens. Ren�'s offer was so tempting. It would feel so good to just rest for a little while. Jean felt tired of the simple act of getting through each day. Maybe Ren� was right. "Yes, I'd like that. I really would."

New Orleans, Louisiana
Jean Claude's Rue Royal
Wednesday, 11:40 pm
July 10, 2041

Baby felt Jack's arms slip around her waist and his welcome bulk against her back. "They'll be alright," he whispered against her ear. He looked at the pair sleeping curled around each other, their hands gripping each other tightly. It was as if even in sleep, Charlotte and her Jack feared being separated. Somehow, the sight of himself holding so desperately to a woman his mind insisted was Charlie wasn't as nauseating as he'd feared it would be. Instead he felt protective. "We'll take care of them." He reached past Baby and pulled the door silently shut. "Ren� and Jean have the babies all tucked in, they're asleep, too. So is the Master."

Jack didn't like seeing her this subdued. "Not just yet. We have some time." He brushed her hair out of her face. Those red locks always seemed to have a mind of their own and were forever disordered and falling across her eyes. "Let me take care of you for a few minutes, okay? Let me do what I do best."

"You're doing wonderfully, Charlotte," the Queen said. "Just one more push, sweetie; his head's already out. Just one more push, Charlotte."

Charlotte gripped her female Keeper's hand tightly as she delivered her son into the obstetrician's hands. The baby began to cry with no prompting from the doctor, who laid the infant on his mother's stomach as he went about the task of clamping off and cutting the umbilical cord. Baby petted Charlotte and told her what a good girl she was as the nurse cleared the baby's airways and took over to weigh and clean the tiny boy. Smiling at Charlotte, the nurse lifted the baby from the scales and moved toward the Deva's bedside. Charlotte held out her arms expectantly, anxious to hold her son.

Baby took the child from the nurse and smiled benignly at Charlotte. "Such a pretty little boy! You did very well, Charlotte. I'll see you get a nice reward." She cooed down at the little boy. "Do you want to go meet your daddy? Do you?" She paused at the door and looked back at her Deva. "I'm really very pleased with you, Charlotte. You did so well. Why don't we have another one next year? You make such pretty babies for me." She either didn't see or ignored the Devastation on Charlotte's face as she turned and carried the baby away before the Deva ever had the chance to touch or hold him.

Charlotte woke with a gasp. Jack slept beside her exhausted and still healing from the beating he had received. The argument with Rex and the following emotional upheaval had drained him completely. Charlotte felt much the same but she hadn't slept in a strange bed in nearly eighteen years and couldn't seem to find rest. She slipped from the bed and padded to the adjoining room where her children slept. Grace and Sarah were tumbled together like kittens, limbs all in a tangle. Charlie smiled and covered them as best she could without draping the quilt over their faces. It felt so good to have them this near. There was a dreamlike quality to it: Jack sleeping in her bed, their children next door. It was the sweetest dream Morpheus had ever been kind enough to send her.

She didn't scream. Charlotte had long ago learned the futility of screaming; people only laughed and did things to make you scream harder. But there was no mistaking the frantic plea in her voice when she shook her consort, dragging him from deepest slumber to tell him their son was missing.

Jack reached out with every sense he had. There were too many people moving about the house for him to separate out his son's heartbeat but he could smell him. He followed the scent downstairs, Charlotte clinging to his belt. As they approached the kitchen, he felt his consort shudder at the sound of Baby's voice. "Shh, we'll get him back," he assured her. "We just have to be careful; we can't risk her hurting John." They eased silently around a corner where they could see into the kitchen without leaving the deep shadows themselves.

"Have you slept at all, honey?" his duplicate was asking Baby-Baby, who was clad in a loose nightgown of simple cut and a pale rose shade Jack hadn't ever seen her wear and who cradled Johnny with her left arm while she held his bottle in her right hand. The sight of it chilled Jack and terrified Charlotte. The other Jack was leaning against the polished side of an old pie safe, shirtless, his gray pajama bottoms hanging loosely on his hips. "You've been up two full days now that I know of. I realize you don't normally sleep till the sun's up but we may not get another chance. Once the Queen realizes that baby and his family are missing there won't be any time for resting."

"I know, sugar," Baby said. "But he was hungry. I couldn't sleep anyway and I heard him fussing." She smiled softly. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Jack shrugged. "You know I can't sleep if you're not in the bed." He moved so he was beside her, propping his hip against the counter. He looked down at the little boy happily sucking on his bottle. "He looks like Kevin did when he was that age," Jack commented.

Baby laughed gently. "He looks like you." She looked up and smiled and the Sun Lord wondered what sort of imposter this was. Baby had never, ever looked at him that way. Her Jack placed one large hand on the fluffy blanket, the dusty blue matching the barely-seen veins beneath his pale skin. Something wistful and sad settled over him.

A faint frown marred Baby's snowy forehead and creased one dark copper brow. "Jackie? What's wrong?"

Her husband continued to stare at his twin's son. "You know I'm not into that whole fatherhood thing. I'm not any good at it and it's just not my gig but sometimes...." He paused and took a deep breath before transferring his attention from the child to Baby. "Sometimes I wish our baby had lived. I wonder what he would have looked like. Would he have had red hair and your eyes or would he have looked like this little guy?" He ran a gentle thumb across her cheek as his fingers settled into her hair, his palm cupping her jaw line. "I'd have liked to have seen someone who was half me and half you. I can't think of any better combination."

Baby's eyes gleamed with unshed tears as she leaned into his touch. His name was torn from deep inside her, barely heard, a whisper louder than any shout would have been.

"It'd been cute," Ren� said gently as he stepped into the light. "You got company." He indicated Jack and Charlotte with a slight jerk of his head.

The resentment that had stiffened Jack's body relaxed and he nodded to Ren� before greeting his twin and the deva pressed so close to his side. "The baby was hungry," he said. "We're just feeding it. You probably want to do that yourself since you're up."

Charlotte didn't question the opportunity but rushed to take the child from Baby. If there was a hint of reluctance in the transfer, it was quickly covered. "Thank you," the goddess whispered and hurried back to the safety of her Keeper. With little more than a perplexed frown, the Sun Lord followed his Carrier from the room. There was much here that intrigued him but his body was too exhausted to support his mind's curiosity. As he left he heard Ren� ask carefully, "I didn't know you and B�b� had lost a petite. What happened?"

"Yeah." There was a pause that lasted so long Jack wondered if Ren� would say anything else. "Well, we'll find Philip one day, Jack. And then me and you, we'll make him pay for what he did to our babies, yeah?"

Jean frowned as the electric guitar wailed and assaulted the night. Ren� nodded. "Yeah, really pissed off." He grinned at Jean. "Jack only plays metal when he's pissed off."

"I didn't know Jack could play at all!" Jean wrapped his arms around Ren�. He couldn't seem to bear having the other man where he couldn't touch him. How was he going to live when Ren� returned to his own world?

Ren� kissed him. "It's something Jack did when he was just a petite. Maman, she likes for him to do what makes him feel good, so she tell him to play again if he wanted to. I reckon he wanted to." He returned Jean's embrace. "Just enjoy the music. Jack plays pretty good. Especially when he's pissed off."

Jack was indeed pissed off. His wife was unhappy, deeply, guiltily unhappy and he didn't like it one bit. He wanted this whole thing over with. Seeing himself and Charlie together gave him such conflicted feelings he wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or just kill something. He wanted them out of his sight forever but he also wanted them in his house where he could protect them himself. He decided he'd cast his other self into a sibling role. Maybe that was best. If he thought of his alter-ego as his brother he might not go crazy.

What was concerning him at the moment though was his wife. Baby was having problems dealing with the Master's hostility. She and her Jean had been estranged for so long and only in recent years had they begun to find some of the closeness they'd lost. Now she was back to wondering and thinking about being alone and how deeply she'd disappointed Jean over the years. Jack wasn't sure who made him angrier: the Master because he couldn't seem to separate Jack's Abby from his Queen or the Queen herself for screwing this all up somehow. Most of all, he was furious at that other Jack. He had to have messed up somewhere. Somehow, he was sure this was his fault. He switched to Metallica's "Unforgiven" because now, on top of the anger, he was depressed.

Ren� smiled wryly as he watched Dionne dance a series of slowly executed steps. Graceful arms and swaying hands accompanied by dainty little steps, some on tiptoe, others flat, and low kicks. It was sensuous, not blatantly erotic, just a beautiful exhibition of a woman's body. The mild exercise felt good to Dionne; Ren� vaguely felt her pleasure and comfort through Jean. Her muscles and bones worked in fluid isolations, abdominals contracting to lift her ribcage and push it out, then her chest glided smoothly back while her hips undulated outward. Sarah Roxton stood beside her "Twin Mama" and tried to imitate her, a thoughtful frown on her childish beauty.

Outside the day remained thickly cloudy but Ren� sensed the delicate progression in the changing climate outside the house. He could almost hear the roots of the dormant plants twittering in excitement as they stretched and prepared to break into blooming fresh foliage as the soil nurturing them grew more hospitable when excess moisture evaporated into misty humidity. Sparrows chatted hesitantly on the sudden change of fortune and a pair of cooing doves settled down to repair their sodden nest. A round concrete table, habitually gray from the rain, and its curved companion benches were blanching dryly.

"This dance takes practice, honey bunch," Dionne explained kindly. "Your muscles have to stretch and be very flexible."

"But I stretch all the time at ballerina class!" the little girl protested. "I'm all stretched out!" she added dramatically. "I just don't stick out. Here." She gestured with both hands in front of her chest to indicate an invisible bust line she had yet to grow into.

Dionne stopped in mid-movement, one arm lifted halfway, parallel to her face, and her other arm reaching outward as though to hug someone. Her left leg was lifted and bent at the knee, as if she was preparing to climb something. Or someone.

Ren� smiled when both devas burst into laughter at the little girl's precocious comment. Sarah just beamed while her Mama and her "Twin Mama" hugged her and fussed over her. Dionne kissed her and said she would travel to her beautiful house in Egypt one day and she would see girls not much older than herself dancing far more skillfully than Dionne did and they didn't "stick out" either.

"C'mon, chere," Ren� called his sister, genuinely cheerful. "Company's almost at the door."

His words seemed to crush the other deva. Charlotte's arms tightened upon her little girl and tears clouded her eyes as she pressed desperate kisses on the golden-brown ringlets.

Hard swift footsteps bounded up the stairs in wild leaps too large to be human as soon as her mate sensed her panic. Sarah shrank against her mother, her rosebud mouth turning down unhappily. Grace stirred restlessly from her nap, then started to cry when she sensed something amiss.

The Jack of this world brushed past Ren�, who had the sense to draw Dionne to his side to clear the way for the worried vampire. Jean followed closely on his heels. Both men sensed the Deva's trepidation.

Jack drew Charlotte into his arms and held her tightly. He buried his face in her curls, delighting in the luxury to allow his affection to spill over her so openly without hidden gestures or glances over his shoulder to make certain his sire wasn't offended. She burrowed against him and Jean stiffened, circling his own Deva with one arm, subconsciously offering comfort for what the other woman felt.

Charlie turned around, genuinely surprised the Master had also rushed to them at the scent of the Deva's fear. His eyes met hers, dark and beautifully warm, and she couldn't help smiling at him. He was still so full of compassion for others despite the cruelty this life had visited upon him. His eyes were pure brown, Jean's true eyes before her blood had polluted him. Her husband kissed her temple and whispered softly in her head. "You shame me, amante, to think such a thing."

"It will be all right." Jack's entire attention was focused on his dark-haired consort. "You're mine, only mine, always." A note of tears threatened to break his slow steady voice. "She won't take you away. No one will ever take you away from me ever again." He cupped her face in his hands and smiled, surprisingly confident. "We'll always be together." His mouth came down on hers tenderly to seal the promise.

"We'll always be together." Jean's fingers brushed a crystalline tear from his wife's cheek. Ren� held her from the other side, a tender closeness that assured her of her place with them.

Further away, but still warm and close, was her father's openly-loving reassurance that she belonged with them. The joy he felt from her affection in his life was radiantly beautiful. He was slightly irate that she carried any doubts after all they'd been through in the past. "My daughter, my child, always love you. Always."

The company Ren� spoke of so flippantly was Wesley and Drusilla, gliding up the hallway as leisurely as if they were attending a dinner party. That broke up the delicious infusion of love and affection that rolled through the room, soft and soothing as a delicious concerto through their souls.

"The roses are getting rosier," Drusilla observed calmly. Wesley patted her fragile lily hand where it rested on his arm. She looked directly at Charlie and her eyebrows rose prettily. "I'm so very glad you wore it! I knew that color would suit you!" Her voice was gay and girlish, as lighthearted as if her husband was escorting her to tea, unconcerned that a murderous riot stared them in the face perhaps only minutes away.

Charlie smiled gamely. "Thank you, Aunt," she replied politely. "It's a lovely dress." The Oriental style gown with its Mandarin collar and long side slits did suit her wonderfully. It was made of rich lavender China silk, fabric so thin and fine its silvery sheen whispered against the soft curves of her figure. The fabric was embroidered with a silk jacquard pattern in dyed-to-match silk thread, dragonflies flitting and soaring among roses. The pretty ebony chopsticks holding the front of her hair away from her face were hand-enameled with silver in a filigree and capped on the top with a glimmering silver ornament, one a dragonfly, the other a blooming rose.

Drusilla strolled lightly towards her and smiled at the Goddess's sudden wariness. She cupped Charlie's cheek in her hand for a moment and whispered in an octave lower than her natural voice.

"Who is this mad Aurelian Queen anyway?" she asked. "Compared to Andromache's line itself?" Her eyes narrowed and she added firmly, "That woman is not your mother."

Jean felt surprise punch his wife in the stomach and she clung tighter to her husband's hand. He frowned speculatively at his great-aunt. She always confused him a little and there was no way to know what her comment meant. Charlie's confusion mixed with a hint of dread, but she drew herself up proudly.

"I'm ready." She lifted her mouth to kiss Jean's lips gently, and soothing calmness flowed into her. As they parted she smiled into his eyes. "Tomorrow, I will make your breakfast myself," she told him.

"While you're in the kitchen, Dionne, maybe you're up to bakin' them chocolate chip dream bars," Ren� added slyly. She burst into real laughter when Sarah glanced up with interested wide green eyes.

"Of course!" She hugged her brother tightly. "I might be up to that." She smiled brightly. "Let's go. I don't like to keep my father waiting."

Charlie's enthusiasm aside, there was little the Pride could do until the Queen decided to make her move. Their tactics had been settled on before they ever agreed that Charlie would dance at The Jesuit. All of the Master's people knew their part in the coming battle and were in place and as ready as they could be. Rex burned off his excess worry by constantly checking positions and monitoring the spies, both organic and mechanical, that they had on the Queen and her people. The return of the Mage and the Prophet set new rumors rushing about the city and boosted morale. General good feelings aside though, when Wesley asked to see Baby alone, Jack planted himself firmly in the doorway to her old office and informed the Mage staunchly, "Not gonna happen."

The arched eyebrow that had sent entire villages in Mongolia into hiding only made Jack cross his arms and glower. The action earned Jack a rich chuckle from the magician. "You do know that stubbornness and an overly protective nature can be considered major character flaws, don't you?"

Jack lifted one corner of his mouth and growled slightly. A small hand touched his jaw fleetingly, silencing the rumble deep in his chest. "Jack." Baby would have stepped around her husband but Jack shifted so his body stayed between her and the mage. An almost-smile brightened her eyes. "Hello, Wesley," she said and allowed Jack to position himself more securely in front of her.

Wesley didn't answer immediately. He cocked his head slightly to one side, considering the redhead while Drusilla stepped daintily to his side, humming softly. When Wesley shifted to place himself between Dru and the other two vampires in a move very like Jack's, Baby couldn't help grinning. Drusilla laughed aloud. "Gallant knights. Even when their armor is all black with tarnish and dirty as a sweep their tokens are bright as new shillings." She looked slyly at Jack's duplicate, his arm tight about his deva. "The sons of the Morrighan all have a heart, sister."

Jack's frown deepened. He was half-Irish and knew very well who Drusilla spoke of: Morrighan, part of the triple Goddess-head of the Celts. She was the Crone aspect of the Great Goddess, Queen of the Faeries, War, Phantoms, and Death. She was Morgan Le Fey, Morgan the Mad, the Traitor Queen. He didn't like the comparison at all.

Wesley smiled. "Indeed we do, my forever-love. Hello, Baby." Clear blue eyes sparked for an instant and a touch of surprise widened his irises. "How odd. It seems that, after all, I've missed you. It is good to see you again, Mother." He turned and led Dru away abruptly.

Jack looked to his twin with a perplexed scowl. The other Jack shrugged carelessly but there was regretful melancholy in his answer. "We all missed Mother, Jack. Dru was right earlier. That woman who's coming after my consort and children is not our mother. I don't know when it happened exactly but somewhere down the line our mother disappeared and a monster took her place. So yes, Wes is right; it is good to see our real mother again." He nodded quickly to Baby before leading Charlotte away. Jack growled and frowned after them both as he wrapped his arms around Baby. The longer this took the more he wanted it over with. He wanted to be back in his own house. He wanted Baby where he could take care of her properly.

Royal Street was eerily empty. The silver orb of the moon, waxing rapidly to full, shone down on the wrought iron balconies and set the faint river mist aglow. Water gushed and gurgled in the gutters but the roadway showed dry patches, the asphalt gray instead of glistening black. Humidity curled from the day-warm pavement to join the pale eddies. In the trail of a true deva's dancing feet, summer had returned to Louisiana.

No one moved on the street or the avenues nearby. The Master had ordered them closed. Many of the houses were dark and shuttered, empty, their occupants fled at a warning from the Lord of Louisiana. Jean would accept no chance of collateral damage in the upcoming battle.

The clean night air, washed of the usual smells of decay and refuse by the Deva's grief, was still, the only sound the wailing of an electric guitar. Stevie Ray Vaughn played by someone who cared echoed from the old bricks and set the iron balconies humming. Those among the approaching listeners with preternatural hearing caught the barely audible vocals as the guitarist sang softly to himself.

The sky is cryin'....
Can't you see the tears roll down the street?
The sky is cryin'....
Can't you see the tears roll down the street?
I've been looking for my baby.
And I wonder where can she be?

I saw my baby early one morning....
She was walking on down the street.
I saw my baby early this morning....
She was walking on down the street.
You know it hurt me, hurt me so bad,
Made my poor heart skip a beat.

Her minions crawled and clambered over the balconies opposite the Master's house, a Meches demon clinging to the wall to stare at the musician with huge eyes that caught the moonlight and reflected it back with green brilliance.

I've got a real, real, real, real bad feelin',
That my baby she don't love me no more.
I've got a real, real bad feelin',
That my baby don't love me no more.
You know the sky, the sky's been cryin'.
Can you see the tears roll down my nose?

The Queen stood below her rabble, the rushing water in the gutter opposite Rue Royale swirling angrily where it brushed her boot heels. "Jack," she said, a mixture of disbelief, anger, and astonishment coloring her voice and making it hoarse.

With a last ringing chord, Jack looked down at her though he didn't acknowledge her or even uncross his booted feet where they rested on the balcony rail. He glanced pointedly at the shimmering onyx dial of his Piaget watch. "Nine-fifteen," he said with evident satisfaction. He held out his hand, palm up.

Jean DuValliere sighed as he stepped up beside his friend and lover. "Merde, you win. Again."

Jack grinned, a flash of even, white teeth in the moonlight. "Told you. In cases of behavior, never bet against the profiler. You owe me a double sawbuck and a weekend alone." He rubbed his forefinger and thumb together, the twenty-thousand-dollar watch on his wrist gleaming as he waited for Jean to turn over his twenty-dollar bet. "I knew she'd be here about two hours after sunset." He looked down at the Queen in cold amusement. "You're right on time."

The Queen was looking at him oddly. "I didn't know you could play. You know I love music. Why didn't you tell me you could play?"

Jack set the guitar aside, frost edging the willow of his eyes. "You never cared enough to ask."

His adopted daughter sought her husband's hand. Her tone was as icy as Jack's eyes as she addressed the Queen. "Of course she didn't." Charlie stepped closer to the rail and the Queen could see her clearly. Sapphire eyes looked down on the assemblage.

The Queen gasped just the tiniest bit. "Blue eyes!" Her smile was broad and calculating. "You're not Charlotte; you're the blue-eyed goddess."

The kiss Jean bestowed on Charlie's temple was tender and loving. "Indeed she is. Elle est mon belle le bleu a examin� la d�esse."

Queen Baby didn't know what to make of that. His beautiful blue-eyed goddess, indeed. And he'd said it in clear, ringing French! She wasn't sure what was more shocking: the sight, finally, of her longed-for blue-eyed deva or Jean speaking Cajun French again after all these years. Everyone in the city knew he'd sworn to never indulge his Cajun heritage. He had originally done so to please Ren� and without his brother the sound of soft French words hurt Jean's soul. His accent had disappeared the minute he closed the door on Ren�'s tomb, sealing his husband's ashes away. But now, not only did he speak in French, but even his English words carried that faint, elegant slur they'd lacked for so many years. "Yours?" she said with the arch of an auburn brow.

Jean's brown eyes began to glow, softly at first then stronger and stronger until they blazed electric blue in the night. "Yes. MINE."

Mutters ran through the demons, vampires, and humans in the Queen's forces. "Look! His eyes!" "The prophecy!" "He's the one." And finally, "The Sun Lord."

Paul glanced about him covertly, apprehensive. The Queen's forces were impressive in number, and many of them were slavishly devoted to ancient demonic practices and customs such as the very ones that brought them here. But now a hesitancy swept among them, and those who were armed lowered their weapons. The very presence of the demigod and her consort impressed them, and they were reluctant to fire at the pair. Ancient laws forbade it and many demon races worshipped the Deva, too. Already, the lycanthropes were moving slightly backwards, discussing the situation with various hand gestures and lupine vocality.

Charlie's expression was utterly dispassionate as she looked down at the Queen, yet her voice contained every trace of contempt it was possible to place in human speech. "Yes, the Sun Lord! See the proof of Jean Claude DuValliere's pure immortality and divine ancestry. I have a Sun Lord and I have made him the Living God in Egypt!" Her voice cut like a machete hacking sugar cane. "He is the Beloved of All the People...." A faint smirk curled the very edges of her mouth as she focused grimly upon the Queen.

"As your Queen will never be." Jack's words danced in the mist as he finished Charlie's thought, his mind perfectly in sync with his daughter's.

The Queen snarled and stepped out into the street only to pause as the strains of a soft Cajun fiddle sang out. The violin was plaintive and mournful, a nearly living wail eliciting chills and wary glances from the gathering. They could almost hear the fiddle crying in a traditional Cajun lament, "Hey Yie, Oh Ee Yie..."

The Queen began to shiver. She'd know the tones of that fiddle and the touch of the violinist anywhere. "Ren�," she whispered.

Jack looked down at her with hard and knowing eyes. "He always was mostly useless, but he can fiddle."

Tendrils of music snaked from the house to twine about her. She could see them, night-dark as Ren�'s hair had been. Longing and want rose up in her and she wanted to run along the path they marked and find the musician, but they twined about her feet and waist, holding her in place, silent and immobile.

He had to act quickly, Paul thought. The certain victory he had expected that would eliminate the failed experiment of redemption in vampires was fast turning to a pipe-dream. His liege was still as a statue and her eyes were blank as the windows of the deserted houses. Her smile was disturbing. Too much of a grimace, it reminded him of the rigors of a death's head mask.

"We have no quarrel with you, Living Isis," he intoned in a deep bass. "We are only here with a complaint on behalf of my sovereign Queen." He gestured towards the maniacally grinning Baby. "She is the Keeper of another deva, one of your own kinswomen probably, and the Master has removed her...." He stressed his words, voice booming out in a harsh reminder. "Illegally removed a truly bonded Deva from her Lady's care!"

The Queen's Majordomo smiled tightly as some of the demons stopped fidgeting and tightened their grip on their weapons as they recalled the important points of the issue. They murmured angrily at the idea of the sacrilege: a stolen deva. Master vampires had been brutally tortured to death for attempting to steal the bond-mate Carrier of a lesser child or minion. Red Gold, the precious blood elixir in a deva, was thought to grant true immortality to the one vampire lucky enough to claim one. It could not be shared, or stolen. A carrier was sacred and was not considered an acceptable target even within vampire clan rivalry. It was already known the Crown Prince had attempted to murder the Queen's Carrier and now he had kidnapped her and held her and the Queen's Companion as hostages! The Pride had overstepped itself and outlasted its usefulness!

Charlie glared towards him and Paul suddenly felt his breath quicken. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow over her and her eyes were large and dense dark blue, the shade of the sky when the sun hadn't set enough to take all the blue away.

"I know you in another world, Paul. We're not friends there, either. You gave me good advice, though. I went to Egypt and discovered the secret of Paradise." She smiled coldly when the vampire noticeably blanched. "The rest of you...." Charlie's arm swept over the collection of the Queen's minor chiefs and major followers. "Are dismissed. Get out. This is an issue between ourselves and your Queen."

"We don't like DuValliere," one vampire snarled. "We support the Queen and her adoption of the old traditions."

"Get out," Charlie repeated coldly. "Or I'll open sunlight right here, over this street, and all of you will burn to cinders."

Paul's mind raced and he did his best to suppress any outward sign of concern. Why didn't the Queen move? He needed her support now. He faced a living goddess fully aware of her power. The Deva made it plain they weren't friends. He wondered why that would happen. He rarely antagonized people; his nature was one of subservience despite his education and ability to lead.

"She can," he admitted tightly. For the first time in centuries he felt a genuine tremor of fear for his life. It was every bit as terrifying and exciting as the days of the Roman conquest in Egypt where he'd met a deva kinswoman to Aurelius. "Almost certainly."

"This is a public negotiation!" the other vampire objected. "The Master has illegally taken the Queen's carrier! You yourself know that is forbidden by ancient laws, Goddess!"

"The captive deva, her true consort and their children were rescued from the Queen's household." Charlie pronounced the word queen as though it was the filthiest title she could offer another being. "The Queen tortured and abused them fiercely and threatened their precious children. All of you, particularly those of you who live in death, know the value of these children to your kind. There are laws about how they may be claimed and kept. Jack Niemczyk is Charlotte Jolivette's true Consort and Keeper." The Goddess's voice quavered but she recovered quickly as she continued, "You all know only one suitor can claim Red Gold. It is the law! It is an abomination to keep them separate, to refuse them their joy in each other. It affects their fertility. It affects your basic ecology. Your Queen has done this repeatedly to make them suffer. I have had to travel a long way to help correct this problem." She allowed genuine anger to slither into her words as she recalled that she really wasn't happy with that situation.

"The Deva belongs to the Queen!" Another vampiric vassal declared, but his voice lacked conviction.

Paul flinched. In the blood-spattered pages of ancient history, no one had ever heard of a deva having two keepers. Yet everyone knew Jack Niemczyk had sustained the Pet's blood when it should have poisoned him. Everyone knew he was the father of her children. Yet the Deva knelt at the Queen's feet and shared her bed and the Queen's mark covered her. Paul could almost hear the speculative thoughts of the various creatures working in civil alliance with the Queen. What if the Deva had poisoned the Queen during that marking, and not actually killed her? Perhaps the toxic blood in the young deva had caused the Queen's madness...

"If you don't turn around and leave the way you came right now, I'll open the sun right over your head," Charlie replied forcefully. "I can do this. I can do worse. I can order the sun to surround this planet so that darkness never touches the earth again." Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "I might do it anyway, out of sheer boredom."

A wave of whispering broke out among the mob and not all of it was sympathetic to the Goddess. Charlie watched them carefully and she felt Jean's tension beside her, his readiness to sweep her away should someone attempt to fire a weapon at her.

Jack shuddered at his daughter's cold manner and harsh words. She didn't show him this side of herself, wanting his affection and approval, but he knew it was there. This was the Dread Queen who'd flayed a rogue vampire alive when he threatened her territories and ordered his skin made into gauntlets for her falconers. This was a vengeful goddess.

"I think you ought to listen to her," he heard himself say quietly. "She means what she's saying."

"Paul," she repeated quietly. "Stand down. The rest of you...." She gestured towards the streets, and up the buildings, and her eyes even traveled up to the rooftops before she continued more loudly, "Go home. This issue doesn't concern you." Moonlight gleamed on her silk gown and pronounced shadows revealed her body's loveliness to the crowd.

She smiled in sardonic amusement when Paul's thick brow rose with surprise as many of the human and demonic gangs and lesser vassals slowly obeyed. The loups-garou segregated themselves from the rest of the Queen's forces. They would not fight against the Goddess. It wasn't easy to get the jump on a millennia-old vampire and it amused Charlie. Many of the retreating parties were not vampires and would suffer no ill effects from the threatened sun exposure, but they were leery of crossing a creature that could make good on such a threat. After all the hurricane-force gusts and flooding as well as the unnatural temperatures that had been afflicting the city, no one wanted to risk offending the person responsible for ending it. She might just as easily bring it back.

Paul looked to his Queen, but she still remained immobile. Had he not known she was a vampire he'd have thought her no more than a propped-up corpse.

Jack watched their retreating foes before focusing his attention once more on the Queen. His grin turned the mist to snow. Ren�'s fiddle wailed and cried - a soul lost in the night. "He's really, really unhappy with you," he whispered, knowing she'd hear him plainly. "We're both really fond of Jo."

His words splintered the bonds that held her. "Where is he?" she demanded softly. "I can't see him! Where is he?"

Jack finally stood. "Where do you think he is?" Jack's utter contempt for her burned brightly inside him and bled from his eyes. "You should know. You're the one that murdered him." He looked at Jean. "I can't look at her anymore." He moved with casual surety into the house.

The casual air Jack had maintained outside disappeared the instant he crossed the threshold. He flung the guitar onto the bed and stalked purposefully toward where his wife stood with her hand resting between Ren�'s shoulder blades while the Cajun played. Wordlessly, Jack pulled her from Ren�'s side and kissed her with a desperation that brought frowns to the faces of the Master and Jack's duplicate and his deva. Ren� smiled, though. He could feel Jack's confusion and aggravation and anger. Jack was burying himself in his bond with Baby, assuring himself that his sire and wife was not that creature standing out in the street. The woman he spent his days and nights with was not the same as the monster that had ordered his twin to rape and impregnate Charlie. She wasn't the one demanding Charlie be returned to that exploitative environment. And Jack wasn't the same Jack that had blindly followed the Queen and helped create that hell. Ren� felt a hint of that conflict himself but he'd dealt with his own alter-ego and even merged with the monster, so he was handling the situation probably better than any of the parties involved. He understood in ways none of the others could how easy it was to find yourself on the road to perdition. Ren� had long ago dealt with his demons and put them to rest. For once, he was in a position to know more than Jack...And to help.

Jack stared incredulously into sympathetic aqua eyes. He couldn't believe the emotions and soft whispers he was receiving from Ren�. Even more implausible was how comforting Jack found those gentle mental murmurs and that sense of support and understanding. Ren� winked as his fiddle cried its mournful song. "When this is all over, we'll go away for a little while, me, you, and Maman. You gonna need it and well, I can help," he said.

Ren�'s words were much louder in Jack's mind than they were on the Cajun's lips. Jack considered the offer for the briefest instant. "Yes. I think that's a good idea," he said. His hand fell briefly on Ren�'s shoulder.

Ren� smiled at the barely-felt squeeze Jack gave his shoulder. It didn't fade as Jack left the room, his arm around their wife as the blond went downstairs to take his place for the impending battle. Ren� sent Baby a telepathic kiss and an injunction not to worry; he'd be watching Jack's back. She wouldn't lose either of her husbands, not tonight.

Charlie glared down upon the confused Queen. The woman repelled and fascinated her at the same time. If she looked carefully enough she saw hints of the person she thought she knew but she couldn't believe Baby could be this Queen, that she could abuse and wreck and destroy. "You aren't the Queen of New Orleans." She heard Jean's swift intake of breath beside her. The cold emptiness in her voice chilled him. "You aren't Queen of anything! You've got nothing worth anything! You loved Spike and you killed him. You loved Ren� and you killed him. You loved Jack and you did all you could to ruin him!" Hot anger entered her voice then, when she thought of the loyalty of her father's love and how dear it was. "You aren't a queen at all. You're just a wrecker. You destroy everything you touch!"

As Charlie's words hung in the damp air, René's music ended with an abrupt screech.

At the sound of René's voice, the Queen visibly shuddered. "Where is he? I want him!" she wailed. She still couldn't see him anywhere but she caught the barest whiff of his scent.

"No," she breathed in denial even as Paul reached to steady her. He couldn't have his liege deconstruct in front of her remaining followers.

"I don't love you." René's tone was final. It was the judgment of a ruling master, not to be disputed. "I can't forgive what you done. You won't hear from me no more."

No one was exactly sure what happened next. Jean jerked Charlie into the house as the Queen's shout galvanized her followers to attack. The next several minutes were pandemonium. Demons and vampires climbed the wrought iron to reach the upper stories of the house while others assaulted the carriageway gate. Wards held many back but the front door was breached and the battle moved into the house.

The Queen was at the fore of the assault, trying to find that scent she'd had such an elusive taste of in the street. Inside, it was strong. So was the smell of her Companion, her Carrier, and their children. She grabbed Paul's arm. "I want those babies and I want René! If they get hurt I'm going to be really unhappy!"

Paul nodded. "I'll see that all know your wishes, liege." He watched her move away in a futile search for a man that had been truly dead for twenty years. "And I'll take Grace for myself and run if I find them first," he thought. It was plain now that what sanity his Queen had possessed was gone. René was dead and no magic they'd been able to employ had brought him back. Had she been sane, Paul was sure his monarch would have seen through the Master's transparent trick. As it was...Well, Paul saw now that his own existence was at stake. He'd find Grace and seal the child as best he could, being considerate of her tender years, and run. She was about to become an orphan anyway, Paul was sure. She'd be better off with him in any case; he'd be a much kinder Keeper than the Queen. Soulless ancient evil that he was, he would be much more humane.

Charlotte gripped her stake tightly. She had once been a Slayer; surely she remembered some of what she'd been taught. She didn't expect to win but if she could hold off the Queen long enough, help would arrive. So long as that help arrived in time to save her babies, she didn't care about herself.

The Queen's smile was soft and benign; the one that always scared Charlotte the most. If the Queen was that happy it meant someone was about to suffer frightfully. "Are you going to fight me, baby girl?" The Queen's voice was full of pleased laughter. "Are you actually going to try to fight me, sweetheart?" Her smile bloomed. "That's so cute. Don't you remember what happened the last you tried to fight me, Charlotte? Hm? Do you? My poor little goddess learned a hard lesson." She smacked her lips as she relished the memory.

Charlotte shivered slightly and remembered pain blossomed deep inside her. She remembered that agony and everything that accompanied it with brutal clarity. It was the one time she'd ever tried to escape. She remembered being dragged back and thrown so hard on the bed she heard springs snap and Baby's hard hands and harder, angry words. "You don't think you're really mine, sugar baby? You need proof you belong to me? Does this prove it?" Her own screams had been heart-wrenching and hurt her ears. Baby had smiled down benignly at her, a gruesome façade of tenderness. "My poor baby goddess." She'd ordered Paul to bathe her afterwards and strip the bed before Jack came home.

Charlotte tried to stand a bit taller. "Well, since you can't very well take my virginity again, I don't have that to worry about, do I?"

"There are other things I can take, dearest. Don't doubt that I can think of something." The Queen lunged and Charlotte barely avoided the claws that could have eviscerated her. The Queen licked one bloody talon and looked at the scratch on Charlotte's upper arm. "Very pretty. You bleed pretty, Charlotte." The smile was cold now, calculating. Charlotte doubted she'd survive the next attack. "I want my babies back."

"They aren't yours," Charlotte snarled, anger at everything that that had been taken from her for so long deepening her girlish voice. For once, she sounded adult. "They're MINE. They've always been mine. They aren't yours! I'm not yours," she screamed. She was ready when the Queen leapt for her this time but she didn't have years of training and fighting to help her counter the attack. She landed a good punch and a solid kick but didn't injure the Queen. Her stake grazed a harmless red line across one of Baby's pale shoulders but the blood that dripped from the wound wasn't enough to slow the vampiress' assault. One strong hand held Charlotte's wrist forcing it up into the air, the stake far from its intended target. Another wrapped about Charlotte's slender throat, squeezing slowly.

The hands that locked around Baby's wrists were large and stronger than any vampire's in the city. The crushing force of their hold brought twisting pain to the Queen's face and numbness to her fingers. They plucked the Queen easily from Charlotte and tossed the vampiress in an arc that ended when her body impacted solidly against a wall.

Charlotte had never seen anyone or anything more beautiful than her consort as he growled, "No. MINE. Never touch her again." Jack's long fangs were fully extended and his eyes blazed so hot and bright Charlotte thought she could feel scorching heat coming from them.

The Queen rose lithely, her Madonna-like smile chilling Charlotte even with the comforting warmth of Jack's claim ringing deep inside her. "Now, Jackie, you know better than that." There was a tint of silver-cold frost in her words. "I've let you share sweet little Charlotte because you've always been a good boy. Don't make me take her away now."

"Never," Jack hissed, the muscles around his mouth twitching. Charlotte had never felt such anger as that bleeding through their link. Jack's fury tainted the air around them crimson and turned the breath in her throat bitter. "You'll never take her from me. No one will ever take her from me. She's MINE."

Charlotte flinched at the blow she heard more than saw. The impact snapped the Queen's head to one side and brought bright blood to her lips and surprise to her eyes. But the surprise didn't weaken the Queen's knee when it was driven with injuring force into Jack's abdomen. Charlotte heard the crack of his ribs as two were separated from his sternum by the blow that rapidly followed. He sagged to his knees, gagging and retching. Charlotte winced at his cry of pain but it was the whine of a bullet passing so closely to her ear that it ruffled her hair that set up her own cry. The gun in the Queen's hand brought back the warning she had given Charlotte with terrifying force. "If I can't have them, no one will." She rushed to shield the door that led to her children's hiding place. She would not turn her babies over to the Queen and she wouldn't let them be hurt. Not ever again.

"You've forced me to kill you, Charlotte." The gun loomed large in Charlotte's vision and she could see the Queen's finger tightening on the trigger. "Oh well, Grace will just have to take your place."

Charlotte was swept to one side as the bullet buried itself in the plaster. Her consort's duplicate placed his comforting bulk between her and the pistol's danger. Charlotte looked at the deep hole in the wall. Even without the other Jack's rescue, the bullet would have missed. Her consort, her Jack, had grabbed the Queen at the last moment, locking his arms in hers, his body pressed tightly against her back. Even with his great strength he could barely hold the Queen's twisting, hissing form.

The Master, following in Jack's wake, grabbed up Charlotte's fallen stake and pressed it against the smooth white flesh of his mother's breast.

Jean looked into the Queen's feral face and saw the depths of her madness. "She's not responsible any more," he said softly. "She's barely sentient."

Baby's hand closed over his. He looked into the face of what his mother might have become had she never tasted Red Gold. The duplicate Baby, the sane one smiled with sad gentleness. "She's completely mad. But Jean, my darling Jean, you know I'd never want to live like that." Jean jerked when she drove the stake into the Queen's heart, his hand still entwined with hers around the deadly wood.

Charlotte felt the man holding her shiver as the Queen screamed in fury and defeat. He turned his face away but she met golden eyes and watched carefully as they shattered into dry dust and ashes.

Baby didn't release her hold on the Master's hand. She hauled him across the room, unresisting and still shocked from the Queen's death. "Jack, no one gets near those babies," she ordered her husband and grabbed Charlotte's arm. "Hurry! The Queen's dead but her people still outnumber us and there's plenty of them willing to take her place!" She nearly bumped her nose on the Deva's husband's injured chest when she turned to find him directly behind her. He didn't move when she made to sweep him from her path. Golden eyes locked with Charlotte's consort's determined ones. "Are you coming with us or are you going to just stand in my way?" she demanded.

Jack was reeling slightly from the effects of his sire's death and his chest hurt from her blows. He suspected his spleen was ruptured and one of his ribs had punctured his lung. He could feel bleeding and pain deep inside. But he'd be damned if this aspect of Baby, Queen or not, was taking Charlotte out of his sight.

This time the blond Sun Lord nodded and moved from her intended route. He took his consort's hand as Baby tugged Charlotte along.

In the hall, the other Jean DuValliere was rapidly dispatching any attacker that dared come near his wife, René Beaumont at his side. Baby released the deva and joined the fray, issuing orders as she slew opponents. "Jean! I need you in there with Jack. René, you and Charlie with me. Don't growl at me, Jean! René and I will keep Charlie safe but I need you out of sight. Now."

The upper hallway clear, she led her small entourage to the staircase. The clash of weapons and bodies impacting other bodies mixed with the screams of the wounded and dying. The scents of blood and torn flesh, entrails and dust filled the house. Baby paused halfway down the stairs and growled at the combatants below. Anger and disgust played across her face before she uttered a roar that nearly knocked Jack to his knees. Beside her René's eye's glowed, his roar blending with hers. Jack could hear his own duplicate and Prince Jean join their consorts in that primeval yowl. With a hand gripping Jack's arm tightly, the Master roared. From somewhere deep in the house, Prince Rex and the Aurelius Mage replied, their deep voices and Drusilla's higher register adding to the cacophony. Jean's deva threw back her head and shrieked, high pitched and piercing, the sound every bit as primal as the vampires' roar.

A memory from long ago, the night of Jack's first kill, rose up. He'd never forgotten the feeling of the family joined across thousands of miles roaring together to celebrate his addition to the family. This was similar but instead of joy, domination and control rang out. The alpha members of the clan were demanding obedience and submission from all the lesser vampires and demons around them. Jack watched amazed as many of the combatants fell to the floor and covered their heads. The others all paused, weapons upraised, fangs and talons, claws and spikes frozen in mid attack.

As the sound of the Pride's roar still echoed through the house, Baby snarled. "This battle is over! This war is finished!"

Paul was among those fighting near the foot of the stairs. He looked up in surprise. "My Queen?"

Baby looked down at him, warning in every line of her body. Jack could tell Paul recognized her as someone other than his mad queen. "You once swore yourself to my service, Paul. Where do you stand now?"

Jack watched the ancient vampire's eyes widen as he realized who she actually was. His gaze flicked to the crossbow Baby had taken from René. Her message was as obvious to Paul as it was to Jack: "Support me. Keep my secret or die."

"I am and ever have been your man, my liege." The old vampire bowed his head deferentially.

"M...Mother?" one of Baby's younger children stammered. "I...We felt you die, Mother."

Baby looked down at the young man, turned for his blond beauty, and Jack saw the barest flash of regret on her face. "You felt the death of my madness," she answered in ringing tones. The entry way and the parlors around it were filling as the warriors for both sides gathered to hear the Queen's words. Rex, Wesley, and Dru pushed their way through the crowd to replace those vampires who backed away from the group on the staircase. Baby waited just a moment to allow the forces from both sides to settle in so they could hear her. "I am cured; my insanity is gone." She raised Charlotte's hand to her lips and Jack tightened his grip on his consort's fingers as Charlotte shivered. "My Carrier and my Companion are safe," Baby declared. "Their children are safe." She looked at Jean for just an instant before bowing her head to him. "I offer my allegiance to the Master of New Orleans and swear myself to his service."

Gasps and small cries of denial ran through the crowd. Mutters of discontent sounded from the Queen's allies until one demon was brave enough to shout out, "Traitorous bitch! You've sold us out to...." Baby leapt the stair rail and broke the protestor's neck, twisting so viciously his head was torn from his body. She held it aloft with a snarl before tossing it against the wall.

"Just because I bow to Jean Claude DuValliere does not mean I'll put up with disrespect from any of you." She sneered at them all. "I'm still the Queen of New Orleans."

Jean landed gracefully beside her and took her white hand in his pale one, moonlight on snow. "Indeed you are and always will be." He raised it to his lips then faced his people and those that would have destroyed them. "My mother is restored to me. The Pride is whole again!" He smiled as Wesley and Drusilla moved to flank Baby. Blue fire danced about Wesley's fingers and blood in varying hues dripped from Drusilla's slim hands. Rex, a huge gore-stained sword in his hand, moved to his brother's side. The ornamental roses that rested in tubs about the walls grew and twined. They seemed to reach out and caress the Queen before the eyes of the multitude, blooming lavish scarlet around her. The blue-eyed Goddess smiled down at her mother.

"Are there any of you that would dare challenge us?" Jean demanded, his smiled gone cold and deadly. "Say so now."

Baby leaned over as if caressing him. "You're so very smart, Paul," she whispered. "You always know which side of your bread has the butter."

She straightened and Jack suddenly realized this Baby was far more dangerous than the Queen had ever been. He shivered at the implications of a clear-headed Baby Roxton turning her manipulative skills loose on the city.

"Bow! Kneel before the Master of New Orleans!" she ordered. "Jean DuValliere rules here." She scanned the faces of the Pride and those of her children who dared not defy her. "Kill anyone that won't swear allegiance to Jean. Paul, see that's it's done."

Jack heard Charlie DuValliere take a deep, shocked breath. Her voice rang out too loudly, "But Mama...."

He heard René, just out of sight of the multitude shush her protests as he pulled her up the stairs. "Let me borrow you a minute, cher. Ain't nice to interrupt Maman when she's working." He heard their steps fade slightly as René drew her away, to the arms of her husband Jack imagined. His own consort clung to his side, her eyes wide, as the roses in such riotous bloom about Baby shattered, their blooms raining about her to fall and pool like blood about her feet.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment and let exhaustion wash over him. Baby was right; the war was over and the Master ruled all New Orleans again even if Master Jean frowned at his mother, his distaste for her methods of armistice plain on his handsome face.

The Master looked up from his prayers to find Jack watching him. It took Jean only a moment to recognize that this was "his" Jack, not the visitor from that apparently happier dimension. He had thought the second sun lord was resting after the battle. Jean had finally found a moment to offer up his gratitude for end of the horror that had taken so much from his life and to pray for his mother's soul. He wasn't sure he could ever forgive the Queen himself but he had to try. And seeing the depth of her madness had somehow given him comfort; it gave her horrible acts some sort of reason. And you couldn't blame the mad for their acts could you? He kept telling himself that even though the sane version of his mother, the one who'd forced a stake into the Queen's black heart said it wasn't so. He took a deep breath and tried not to remember her words. "She was an evil spiteful creature, Jean. She deserves to be in Hell and I have no doubt that's where she is." He couldn't actually wish that on anyone, could he? So he would pray for God's forgiveness for her soul and pray that one day he could forgive her as well.

"Did you come to join me, Jack?" he asked. He could understand perfectly if that was the case. Prayer was one of the few comforts this world had to offer and the little chapel he'd had created in the smallest parlor of Rue Royal was very comforting. Consecrated and holy it was one of the very few places Jean found any peace.

Jack's head moved slowly, his denial regretful. "I can't. I...I'm not able to," he said. "I just came to thank you. I realized I never really got the chance to say so with everything that's been going on."

Jean rose smoothly. "You told me so back at the Queen's palace. You don't need to thank me for helping your children." The twist to his smile was ironic. "It's what I do, isn't it? Help people?"

Jack stepped a bit closer though he avoided looking directly at the cross on the little altar. "This is isn't about the kids though 'thank you' will never be sufficient for that." He tried to meet Jean's eyes but at the last instant his gaze slid away, embarrassed. He found he could no more look straight into the eyes of the man he'd once loved than he could look directly at the symbol of the god he'd once worshiped. "I want to thank you for believing me when I first called you. You could just as easily have sent me away. I could have been lying; it could have been a trap. But you accepted my word when I gave it to you. And I thank you for that."

Jean smiled wanly. "I could always tell when you were lying to me, Jack." He reached out and took Jack's hand. "That hasn't changed." He frowned when Jack blanched and would have pulled away. Suddenly Jack's hand tightened almost painfully around Jean's and a sound akin to a sob escaped from the Sun Lord's lips. "Jack? What is it?"

Strangled and hoarse, Jack's tongue stumbled before he managed to croak out, "The rosary."

Jean looked down at their still-clasped hands. His everyday rosary, simple carnelian and gold, was entwined about their hands and pressed between their palms. "What is it? Does it hurt?" he said in concern.

Jack's laugh was closer to crying. "No. No, it doesn't hurt at all. Oh God! It doesn't hurt."

Jack looked at the crucifix above the altar and his knees sagged. Jean caught his old friend though Jack ended kneeling on before him. Jack's hold on Jean's hand had never lessened. "I thought I'd lost it, Jean," Jack said so softly Jean wouldn't have heard him had he not been vampire. Clear green eyes looked up and met his for the first time. "My redemption. I thought I had lost it. I mean, with everything I've done, how could I still be forgiven? All the things I did to the family and you...I thought God had turned away from me. He had every right to." He dropped his head and his hand slid from Jean's.

"Oh Jack!" Jean placed his hand, rosary still tangled about it, on Jack's blond hair - a caress and a benediction. "No, Jack. God didn't turn away from you. And neither did I." He bent and pressed his lips to silky hair he'd not touched in twenty years. He reached down and took Jack's hand again, wrapping his rosary tightly about it. "Here, keep this. Let it be a reminder that I'll never turn my back on you. Nor will God. Now come. Pray with me. Like we used to."

"Lapin-Gallois!" Jean exclaimed in pleasure when Charlie presented the dish of fragrant French bread toasted to perfect crispness right before it was smothered in a rich mixture of port, cheddar and Lancashire cheeses, and freshly snipped herbs from the newly restored herb garden in the Master's private courtyard. Charlie cooked the cheese mixture until it was smooth and bubbly then poured it over the toast and carried it out immediately to her husband.

"As good as your grandmere's?" She set the plate in front of him as he casually set the ham and poached eggs on the side of the table. She kissed his temple. "I promised I'd make your breakfast myself today," she reminded him softly.

René sampled one of the strawberries from a selection of fruit in the milk-glass bowl on the table and wrinkled his nose. "This ain't ripe enough for the bébés," he complained. To Charlotte's confusion René handed the entire bowl to Charlie and with a charming purr in his voice plead, "Fix it, cher?"

Charlie took the bowl from him with a smile and perched on Jean's knees. She snuggled her husband for a moment and sighed happily. "Mmm, that should make it perfect," she said contentedly.

René took the bowl back with a smile and tasted the remaining bit of the strawberry. His eyes twinkled. "It always does." He transferred the bit of fruit from his mouth to baby Grace's.

Charlie slipped a blushing raspberry between her lips, holding it loosely for her husband to kiss and nibble it away from her. "Is it good, darling?" she whispered. "Do you want some more?"

Jack took one of the berries himself and gasped when the taste of sun-ripened perfection exploded on his tongue. He looked at his wife in shock. "Charlotte! Can you actually do something like that?"

"How'd you do that?" Sarah asked, fascinated by the way the berries had darkened to red perfection and the peaches had bloomed with a rosy blush.

Charlie leaned slightly forward and whispered very seriously. "Because I love Jean," she answered. "And where I love, all things flower and fruit."

The Prince chuckled richly. "Jack, take this, mon ami." He plucked a peach that hadn't received Charlie's attention from his twin's plate and handed it to his fellow sun lord. It was hard and half green. "Charlotte? Put your hand on the peach. Good. Now kiss Jack." With a bemused frown, Charlotte did as he asked and Jean smiled. "Taste the peach now, Jack." Even across the table, Jean could smell the fragrance of the deliciously ripe peach.

"It's perfect!" Jack looked at his consort in wonder. "Honey! Taste what you did!" He held the peach out to her.

Jean smiled. "Your powers were meant to bring plenty to the land, Charlotte. You are the inheritor of a joyful legacy. Don't be afraid or ashamed of what you are. It is a wonderful thing, n'cest pas?" He smiled at the little girl looking at her parents, her brow wrinkled in confusion. "See, Sarah? Your mama and papa love each other very much. With such love, anything is possible."

Charlie's pride and love for Jean shown brightly and she kissed her husband longingly, her ardor and need for him pulsing in the room.

"I can have breakfast sent to your bedroom from now on if you like," the Master offered. Charlie's head tilted towards him and she smiled.

"But if you did that, how could I make the strawberries good for Gracie?" she pointed out.

Jean's hand crept up along Charlie's hip to rest nonchalantly on her ribs. "Honey!" She drew the wandering hand away. "There are young people here."

"Not in front of small children, Jean," Baby warned mildly. It was her only other sexual taboo.

"Oui, Maman," Jean said with a laugh. Warm contentment shown in his dark eyes. "I will behave. See, Charlotte? There is much my Charlie can teach you, yes?"

René nodded. "It won't be hard to learn. Dionne's been doing it forever. When we get home, you can learn all sorts of things." He gave the baby another bit of fruit. "Speaking of, why are we still here?" René asked as he spooned a bit more butter into Grace's little bowl of grits. "How come the damned Powers That Be ain't sent us a portal yet?" He tested the grits with the tip of his tongue to make sure they weren't too hot for the toddler. "It's been over a week. We done what they wanted."

"Did you?" Wesley sipped his coffee, slim fingers twitching slightly with barely restrained energy against the delicate china. "Tell me again what the Powers That Be said. Their exact message this time."

Jean shrugged and stirred a dash more milk into his own coffee and offered a sip to his wife. "Prince of the Redeemed, the dark Queen would rule all. The children cannot remain in her keeping. Eliminate their threat," he quoted. "The Queen is dead; the children are here. Everyone's safe. René's right. I don't know what else they want us to do."

Wesley's smile embodied every bitter and painful event fate had dealt him. "Of course," he said with a significant look at Drusilla.

His consort nodded and made faces at the baby Charlotte held. "Eliminate their threat; you haven't done that. They're afraid of the princess, they are! She can rain down worlds and worlds and worlds on their heads. They want her to sleep forever."

Jack lifted his head from his contemplation of Baby's wedding rings. He'd been aware of the conversation at the other end of the table but had no wish to watch his duplicate kissing Charlotte. He still got a bit icked every time he saw that. He would rather spend his breakfast time in silent communion with his wife but even half-buried in her thoughts, he had monitored what was going on in the room. He had to be able to deflect any danger that might threaten her. He followed Wesley's train of thought and was half sure he understood what Dru was talking about. The Powers wanted them to kill the children not protect them. "Not going to happen," he said firmly.

His twin pulled Sarah from her chair and handed her to Charlotte, his lips a grim line. "I'll kill anyone who tries." He reached for Grace.

The Master held up his hand. "I'm sure no one here intends your children any harm." He couldn't keep his gaze from straying to where his mother sat at the end of the table. "At least, I hope they don't."

Abby's Jack pushed back from the table and stood with fire sparking from his eyes and his heart. He was tired of the constant innuendo and accusations still being leveled at his wife even after she'd helped the Master kill the Queen. Baby squeezed his hand and pulled him down until she could caress his cheek with her free hand. She kissed him and urged him gently back into his chair before she addressed the Master. "If the Powers That Be want me to hurt those babies they can go fuck themselves," she said conversationally. "I know you don't believe it, Jean, but even I have my limits." She looked at the other Jack Niemczyk. "It's alright, son. Give Grace back to René. If you'll remember he is especially protective of children." She smiled at her dark-haired husband who grinned brightly.

The golden Sun Lord was grimly silent, eyeing the woman seated at the foot of the table suspiciously. Charlotte clung to Sarah and Johnny until Charlie rose and came around to her chair. "Mom's right. We came here to save these children, not hurt them. Everything's going to be all right." She smiled at her husband. "Besides, I'm not overly impressed with the Powers That Be. They may be divine and all that but so am I." Her blue eyes deepened for a moment. "And so are you. If they wish to hurt anyone here, they can appear in person and try." Her expression and tone stated plainly that the Powers would not succeed. She placed a gentle hand on Charlotte's arm. "Look, I guess you could say these kids are my nieces and nephew." Her father nodded his agreement. "They're family and the Pride protects family." There was a general murmur of agreement from said family. René took Grace back into his lap and placed a spoonful of grits in her mouth. Jean soothed the other Sun Lord back into his chair before Charlie handed Jack his son. "It will be all right. We'll figure out something. We always do."

Saying they'd figure out something was easy enough; actually figuring it out was something else. In the week that had passed, the Master and the Pride had barely begun to settle the city. The weather had returned to normal and there was general thanksgiving and relief about that but the aftermath of the flooding had left the city father's with a massive amount of clean up and Charlotte with an equal amount of guilt. She'd never meant to harm anyone and to know that she'd rendered many families homeless deeply troubled her.

The Master and Baby were more concerned about governance. The demons and darker denizens of the city weren't all accepting of the new regime. Rex spent a great deal of his time and strength explaining, often physically, that Jean DuValliere was Master of all of New Orleans again. And it wasn't only the more evil half of the population that weren't happy. Many of Jean's loyal followers, even many of the family, were very unhappy with Jack Niemczyk's presence in Jean's household. They felt the Queen's Companion should be tried for crimes against the family and executed; there were other family members besides Rex's daughters who had died at Jack's hands. Many felt he should face justice for his treatment of Charlotte. There had been at least two attempts on his life in as many days. It was obvious that Jack would not be safe anywhere in Pride territory and yet he dared not leave because his wife and children would be safe nowhere else. Oddly, it was Jack's twin who suggested Charlotte, Jack, and their children change dimensions and return with the Pride to their world. The Master was surprised at the alacrity with which the other Jack accepted the offer. On further thought, he realized he should not have been surprised; who had better reasons for wishing to begin a new life where they weren't known than Jack and Charlotte? Jack's stated reason was that his children would never be safe in this New Orleans or anywhere else in this world. They were too well known. Jean and Charlie had told him how their own children were safe and unmolested and lived fairly normal lives. He wanted that for his children, desperately. The Master couldn't say it was a bad decision. It was probably best for all concerned. Still how any of them would return remained unclear.

Drusilla's kittenish smile didn't dim the shrewd gleam in her midnight eyes. "The Sun Lord isn't supposed to be all gold. He makes golden babies and it scares them. It wasn't just the nasty priests with their nasty crosses that made all the devas go cold and squishy. Too dangerous for THEM." The dark vampiress laughed. Her sharp gaze rested on Prince Jean. "My white Prince doesn't scare them though they don't know! Sillies! They can't see the dance because they're too busy looking at the figures."

Charlie's mouth quirked into a smile even as she eyed her husband warily. If the alleged Powers meant harm or injury to him she would cast the world into a dark never-ending winter that would make Demeter's weeping for Persephone look like a Swiss Alps skiing vacation.

Drusilla met Charlie's eyes appraisingly. "And they know that, Little Isis. That's why you scare them so much." Charlie sighed. She was half-used to Dru reading her mind. Still it gave her a shiver when Drusilla giggled. "Now the devas return to the world and with them their sun lords. Eyes like rainbows! Green and gray and blue. Brown like chocolate and coffee and toffee." She laughed and pointed at René. "Beaumont blue! But not for you! And golden as a lioness. Little gods and goddesses all making us the same until they won't know which is which. The Powers That Be tremble in their beds and pull the covers up over their heads!"

Baby pinched the bridge of her nose. "Remind me to knock the shit out of Angelus for making her nuts. Just once--just once--I'd like a prophecy or message or whatever that wasn't in cryptic crazy-speech." She frowned at her sister. "And don't snarl at me, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. I am still your sire."

René grinned. "Be careful, Wes. She used your whole name. You are in big trouble!" he sing-songed.

"René, behave," his wife chastised off-handedly. "Wesley, do you have any idea how to translate that gobbledygook into something useful?"

Wesley smiled. It seemed he'd forgotten how the Pride carried on. After so many somber years it seemed odd to laugh and joke in the midst of serious conversations. "Actually, I believe I have an idea. Worlds did you say, dearest?" He kissed Dru's fingers.

She purred under his touch. "Worlds without end. Her grandmother crossed the gate but she locked it behind her. The princess can unlock it. She can unlock all of them and trip through the garden whenever she wants."

Jack wasn't about to let Sarah that close to the Mage without him beside her. He handed Johnny to his mother before he carried his daughter carefully to his brother. To his relief, Wesley didn't even touch Sarah but simply looked deep into the child's eyes while holding Dru's hand tightly. "Hmmm, yes....I could use Tara's help but I believe your little Sarah has a very special talent." The Mage leaned back in his chair. "Completely undeveloped, of course, but for our purposes I can guide that talent. She'll need to be trained carefully as she grows."

"Forgive me, Mother. I was thinking aloud." He grinned at his gathered family. "Sarah has the latent ability to open trans-dimensional portals. It's a rare talent but not unheard of. I can use my own magic to channel her gift and send you all home."

Jack held Sarah closely. Even back in his seat with Charlotte's hand resting on his thigh, Wesley's words frightened him. He didn't want Sarah to have any sort of cosmic powers. He wanted her to be a normal little girl. He wanted Grace and John to be simply children. Powers and gifts brought danger and enslavement. If Charlotte had been just another girl, she could have lived a happy life not the hell he'd helped put her through. Now, despite all his efforts, it was going to happen to his children.

"Stop," Charlotte's voice said in his head. "We won't let that happen. We're finally free. We have to keep telling ourselves that."

His duplicate spoke from the end of the table where he held his red queen's hand. "Don't worry. Nothings going to happen to your kids." The look in his eyes said it all. You may have fucked up but I won't.

Wesley ignored the exchange. "Give me a few days to research this, but I believe I can assure you that you'll all be home before another week passes," Wesley said.

The Master watched as René played with Sarah and Grace on the rug of his parlor. The sight was somewhat surreal; a master vampire who had by his own admission killed hundreds for no greater reason than to try to erase his own pain allowing the tiny girls to pounce and pummel him. René, of course, had put those days of rage and killing long behind him and was as great a champion of the Redeemed as he'd ever been. Still it was an odd sight. Even had René been human, he hardly looked the type to cavort with small children. His flamboyant, somewhat egotistical, and sexually charged image didn't lead people to think René would be happy rolling about on the floor begging little Grace not to hit him so hard.

Jean knew René had longed for fatherhood and losing baby Nina had devastated him but Jean had never really been able to picture René as a father. René was a loving but neglectful sire. His vampire children all loved him dearly but they turned to Sam for the more pragmatic aspects of life. Jean had actually always thought René would make a terrible father. It seemed he'd been wrong. René had spoken to Jean with glowing contentment of his human children. His pride in Nina and his grandchildren was clear and Jean could understand that. He'd seen much the same in his René before his death sent Nina fleeing into hiding with her husband and Devereau. It was the fact that René had other children and actively participated in their lives and was very much a full-time father that surprised the Master. That René was good at being a parent was even more shocking but even Jack could find no fault with the way René raised Jack's grandchildren except that René was sometimes too lenient and indulged the children far more than Jo did. René's pride in his younger sons and daughter was as great as that he felt for Nina. Still, Jean found the thought of René with a house full of young teenagers somewhat frightening.

Grace squealed and attacked René's long ebony hair. "You have excellent taste, little one," Jean thought. He longed to wrap those inky strands around his hand, comb them with his fingers, just feel the cool silk of them. He hated to admit it but he begrudged the children this time with René. Wesley's research was going amazingly well and the Mage thought the Pride would be able to return home within hours rather than days.

Jean was conflicted. It was wonderful that so happy a conclusion had been reached for all involved but he couldn't suppress the heartache he felt at the thought of René leaving. A small part of him had hoped that his visitors wouldn't find a way to return to their own world and René would stay with him forever. But knowing René had a family and children waiting for him made it impossible for Jean to even ask the other man to consider remaining.

With a final tumble and tickle, René scooped up a child in each arm and declared it snack time. The invitation for the Master to join them declined, the beautiful brunette carried the girls off with a wink at Jean and a promise of bread pudding and milk for his "petite belles".

Jean sighed. He knew he was brooding but he couldn't decide which hurt more: being alone or watching René knowing he was on the verge of leaving.

Jean became aware of an itch between his shoulder blades that told him he was being watched. He looked up to find Charlie DuValliere looking at him intently. He'd been so focused on René he'd forgotten she sat across the room reading. It was now apparent she'd also been watching him.

"I know how much you loved him," she said slowly. "How much you love him still. But even in my world that love isn't perfect, Jean," she insisted softly. "I don't believe it's ever been...returned in full."

"I know that. Our mother was always there." He smiled grimly. "Even when she wasn't physically there, she was still between us." He sighed and thought of what had been niggling at the back of his mind for days now. "Maybe when I die, we can finally be together." The Queen was never forgiven and even Baby believed her bent soul had been sent to Hell. Jean knew René was Redeemed; his brother had already visited Heaven once and he'd died trying to save Jo. Jean didn't doubt that René awaited him in Heaven...alone. It was Jean's only comfort these days. "I'll just have to wait for that time to come, won't I?"

Anne Bridger uttered a soft protest at Wesley's suggestion and Baby suddenly found her shoes to be of intense interest. "I owe all the Queen's children something. I can't just abandon the others," Baby said. "The Queen turned them. She killed them against their wills and made them vampires. Because she did it, I have a link to them. I can feel them in the back of my head." She lifted her head, refusing to be ashamed. "They are souled. They deserve a chance."

Anne shook her head. She would never be comfortable with Baby. She knew too much of what was inside the vampiress and she didn't like it. She hadn't like Baby before she became the Queen and she didn't trust her now. Besides, she knew Spike was alive in this Baby's world and she didn't want him to see her like this. In that other world, the human Anne was with Spike and the vampire Anne liked to think of that. It made her feel warm in a way that she hadn't felt since the Queen had drained her life and forced her into living death.

Still, this Baby had some decency left, Anne decided. She'd told Anne how happy her human duplicate was with Spike and how happy Spike was with Anne. "Thank you for the offer but I'm happy here with Jean."

Baby didn't argue. She had made the offer but she couldn't say her heart was in it. She didn't really want any more children. Wesley wasn't really her child, not the way Jack was. And Jack was really the only child she wanted. She loved Remy but not the way she loved and wanted Jack. She didn't really want Anne at all. She didn't want the Queen's sons any more than she wanted the daughter. Still they were souled and they deserved a shot at redemption. If they didn't achieve it, well, at least she could teach them what they needed to know to survive and stay out of a slayer's radar. Not all of Spike's descendants found a place among the redeemed. And turned and trained the way the Queen's children had been for the few years of their lives, they'd have a harder time than most.

Luckily the Queen had made few children, preferring to make minions. She had only three sons. Bret and Troy would follow Baby into a new world because she ordered it. They were so used to following the Queen's orders they had no idea how to think for themselves any more. They mindlessly followed wherever she led. The other, Alan, well, the young Cracker actually wanted to go. He was afraid of Paul. And while he was more afraid of Baby, he figured she would be more likely to keep him around, for a doormat if nothing else. He was sure Paul planned to kill all of the Queen's offspring. He couldn't explain it. It was just a feeling he had. "I'll come with you, Mother. I think it's best for me," he said with surety.

Jack looked from his deva consort to his young brother. Alan had never been treated like a child rather more of a glorified minion but Baby was right, he did have a soul and he deserved a chance as much as Jack himself did. Alan hadn't been the Queen's enforcer like Jack was after all, just an errand boy. He wasn't as sure Bret and Troy deserved the same opportunity. They had killed and ravaged as the Queen ordered...As Jack ordered. They had been conditioned to follow Jack's commands from the instant they were turned. They had never dared to challenge his place in the Queen's household and Jack had no doubt he could take either or even both of them together. Still he didn't trust them.

And Jack had Grace to think of. His tiny daughter was a deva and all of this world knew it. "Nothing personal but I don't want any of them near my consort or my kids."

Alan shrugged. "I can understand that, man. No big deal." Jack had a tendency to knock people around and Alan wasn't about to disagree with him or make himself the least bit threatening to the lanky sun lord. Alan just wanted out. Maybe it would be better on the other side. It already seemed better; so far, this version of the Queen hadn't hit him even once. Perhaps that was in the minds of his other two brothers when they nodded their agreement.

The leader of the Loup-Garou's straightened. "You have nothing to fear, Sun Lord. We are free now to act as true guardians of the Deva Charlotte and your children. The Queen would never allow us to do so and we had no way of knowing she was a false Keeper. But now, now we can act as we should. The entire clan has sworn itself to your service. It is what we were born for."

Jack knew the statement wasn't completely true. A dozen or so of the clan had opted to stay behind. They were young, rebellious, and glorying in their freedom from the Queen. Jack figured they'd begin their own clan. The Master had promised them his protection as long as they didn't disobey any of his laws. Jack wasn't sure about having the clan along but the other deva, Charlie, insisted that Charlotte and the children could have not greater protectors than the werewolves save Jack himself. For some reason, Jack trusted her. She radiated something, some aura that told him she was truthful. She swore her own Loup-Garou's were one of her greatest comforts and that only Jack and Jean were more scrupulous about her safety. On her recommendation, Jack accepted the werewolves' oath to him. He decided he'd just wait. In the mean time, he made sure all the bullets in his gun were tipped in silver.

"Wesley? Mon ami, we really should get started. I, for one, want to go home," Prince Jean said firmly.

"I understand your feeling, Deva, but Baby is not the Queen and Sarah will come to no harm," Wes assured her. "We've discussed this. Mother is from neither this universe nor the one you are attempting to return to. She is also genetically unrelated to the child. For you or the other deva to hold Sarah while I attempt this spell could skew my efforts considerably. You are both far too strong magically. And you are both too rooted in the environments you control. Baby is the only one here who is 'neutral' magically."

Sarah tugged at Charlotte's hand. "It's okay, Mommy. I like the good Queen. She doesn't want to killed me."

Baby shuddered and both Jacks cursed, though for different reasons. Sarah took Baby's unresisting hand. "See? It's okay."

"Just hurry up and do it, Wes," Baby's Jack ordered. He squeezed Baby's hand briefly before he stepped out of the complex magical circle Wes had created leaving her with the mage. Drusilla took Sarah's other hand while Wes joined hands with her and Baby completing the four cardinal points.

Wes took Jack's order to heart and immediately began an incantation that allowed him to tap and focus Sarah's undeveloped talent for opening doorways. With Baby acting as a solid anchor, he merged it with Drusilla's ability to see multiple realities. The tangled, split, and rewoven framework of time was familiar to him. As Drusilla's consort he'd seen it hundreds of time. It took him only moments to locate the correct reality and point it out to Sarah. "See, dear? That's your new home. We just need to open the door," he said mentally.

"I don't know how," Sarah answered and Baby sent her a mental assurance that it was all right not to know the answer.

"Let me show you." Wesley gently tugged and pulled at the gossamer veils of power which hung about the child that only he could see. All four of them felt the gentle pull and a surge of resistance then acceptance as the portal opened. It was like standing waist deep in the ocean as waves pulled and ebbed about them.

The portal began to form, a shimmering in the air like a sheet of water. Jack and René stood side by side, tense and ready for whatever might come. The Queen's Companion looked at his duplicate and the man who'd once been his greatest rival and saw the same longing on their faces. Could he ever feel that way? Could he ever want to be somewhere as much as they wanted this portal to open? Were their lives really that good?

The Queen's Jack gripped his consort's hand tightly as he summoned up the bravery to look through the mystic doorway. "Oh God. It is Remy." He couldn't be sure if the young man next to his lost brother was Devereau or not but he was certainly beautiful enough to have once been the child Jack remembered.

The clear curtain began to cloud and a misty face appeared. "You can't go through," it stated.

Amid the noise of surprise and protest, René's voice cut through the disquiet. "What you doing here, old woman? I thought the Powers kept you tied to your swamp."

"Why are you here, Conduit?" Prince Jean demanded. "That's our world. That's where we belong."

"You ain't done what you was told to do," the smoky figure of the Conduit said. "When you finish what you was supposed to do then you can go home."

"We've done as much as we intend to," Jack said angrily. "We're not hurting these kids."

"You can't go through," the Conduit said again, her ancient face creased in displeasure. "You mind how you speak to me, vampire! You may be Prince of the Redeemed but you ain't higher than me. The Powers That Be...."

"Don't mean shit to me. Open the God damned portal or I'll make your worst nightmares real," Baby said.

The blond sun lord blinked and looked at the image of his fallen sire. He had no idea what was going on. He just knew that no one, not even the Powers That Be were going to hurt Charlotte or his children as long as he was alive. He felt a brush of air and saw the loup-garous moving to encircle his family, some changing to wolf form, others drawing weapons. Their leader planted himself beside Jack. "That thing will not touch the Goddess or her children while I live, my lord," he said.

"I'm not kidding around," Baby said. "Your Powers That Be thought the Queen was threat? They ain't seen nothing yet." Her smiled frightened Jack so much the Sun Lord nearly breached the magic circle to snatch his daughter away from her. "So let us through or I'll make the Powers That Be regret ever sending us here."

The Conduit laughed. "I think they already do that, Voice. But they still your masters and you can't fight them."

"The hell I can't," Baby said with a grin. "Spike and I aren't bound to each other any more. René separated our souls. Have I thanked you for that, my darling?" The grin was turned on her dark husband before she looked again to the portal. "My sins are my own and what I do doesn't condemn him. They can get out of my face or I'll make them sorry." Golden eyes glowing, she grinned at the disbelieving Conduit. "Don't think I can do it? The Queen was a poor, insane thing that didn't have her act even half-way together. She screwed up so bad it isn't even funny. I think maybe Anne is right and that first drink of Charlie's blood drove her nuts. Or maybe it was taking Charlie by force and becoming what she always hated. I don't know. But she was stupid. I'd have done much better."

Baby's grin chilled even her husbands. Jack leaned against the power of Wesley's magic circle wanting to reach his wife. He could feel how very hard this was for Baby. René's hand settled on Jack's arm and he felt the Cajun's thoughts, gentle and supportive in Baby's mind. For once, Jack was glad René was there.

"Oh yeah," she said in answer to the Conduit's question and her voice changed. Soft and appealing, it sent a shiver through Jack. "Oh Spike, I'm so sorry, honey. I don't know what's happened to me. I just...I just wanted to be more human for you. I wanted to walk in the sunlight with you. Spike, please help me?" She laughed. "Do you think for one minute that Spike wouldn't have fallen right into my arms and helped me keep Charlotte?" She didn't look at anyone but the Conduit and Jack sent out every bit of support he could. "And it wouldn't have been just Spike. Jean, Jean, help me please. I want Charlotte to be happy here. I was so mean to her. Help me make her happy." She snarled. "Of course, that's where she really messed up. She should have made the little deva happy. I don't know what the hell she was thinking. She should have made her little goddess feel warm and welcome. Charlie's never been afraid of me. I could have done the same with Charlotte." Her eyes narrowed. "I'd have protected her and her children. I'd have made them safe and happy. And ruled the world doing it. I still might." Her smile was every bit as malicious as any the Sun Lord had ever seen from the Queen. "Only I won't be alone. I'll bring the Pride with me. Don't think I can't do it."

Her husband folded his arms. "She'll have me, I know that. I know my wife." He smiled at Baby. "I'll go where you lead, honey."

Beside him, René nodded. "Oui. I don't like being a puppet and I don't like seeing my wife be made one neither." He snarled at the Conduit. "I don't hold with killing babies and I NEVER did. Jean, Charlie? Would you stand with me?"

The Prince nodded. He was as aware of what Baby was doing as René. The depth of their bonds had grown and little happened to one that the other wasn't aware of. "Always, frère. I agree. I've come to believe the Powers That Be are no different than the Powers of Darkness. It's all a game to them and I won't be a pawn."

Charlie wrapped her arms around one of his thick biceps. "I won't be a slave. I swore that a long time ago." She grinned at her family. "I think Mama could do anything she wanted to with a goddess beside her."

Charlotte stood regally erect. "Two goddesses, sister. Those are my children this thing wants to kill."

Her consort nodded. He didn't trust Baby but she at least had reasons for keeping them alive. The Powers wanted his babies dead. "Open the portal or I swear to you, I'll help the new Queen. Think of what I've done unwillingly. Imagine what I can be like if I want to fight you. And I'm telling you right now, me teamed with this Queen should scare you more than the old one ever did."

Baby's Mona Lisa smile was perhaps more frightening than her grin. "And don't think I'll stop there. I think the Master isn't very happy with you. I think he might be willing to join the rest of his family in this."

The Master nodded. "My twin is correct. Less and less do I see any difference between the Powers That Be and the other side. Both are out just to get what they want and the lives of men or demons don't mean anything to them."

Baby nodded and addressed her fellow servant of the Powers That Be. "So, are you willing to lose the Redeemed? Willing to let me take over? Because I will. If I need to do it to protect these children, I'll rule this entire world."

The Conduit shook here head. "They ain't gonna be happy with you, girl. They don't like it when one of us breaks our chains. You ain't gonna like it when they decide it's time to put their collar back on you. They say you win this round but it's a long war and they got time." She faded away, leaving the gateway clear and shimmering like moonlit waters.

René blew out a long breath. "I don't want to do that again." He clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Let's go home!" With a bright wave, he bounded through the portal. He was clearly visible on the other side, embracing Remy and Dev."

Jack shook his head. "If you need anyone to just blindly leap through something, point René at it. It's amazing my grandchildren have any intellect at all with his genes in their make-up." He winked at Baby. "Don't take too long, honey."

"I won't," she promised. "Sarah and I have to come last." He nodded his understanding and stepped through to await her on the other side.

Jean followed coaxing a much more reluctant Jack and Charlotte with him. "Come, ami. The faster we are all across, the faster Maman and Sarah may join us." Charlie held Charlotte's hand as she led her "sister" to her new life. The wolf clan followed without hesitation. Baby's sons followed at her signal.

He shook his head. "There's nothing to say, Maman," he said. "Just thank you." He gave her a little push and she ran for the gate. He wasn't sure how long Wesley could hold the gate open once the circle was broken and he didn't want her stuck here.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Jack and Baby's Garden District House
Sunday, 1:39 am
July 21 2041

Charlotte's eyes gleamed with tears as Jack held her close, his heart beating against hers, fingers threaded in her curls. She sighed contentedly and listened to his even breathing as he slept. Today there had been no hurried kisses and desperately tight hugs before he had to slip away. He could sleep beside her and hold her all day if he wanted to. And he could do the same tomorrow and the day after that and forever if that's what Charlotte wanted. And it was very much what Charlotte wanted.

She silently praised her consort's twin. That other Jack seemed to sense that she wasn't--couldn't--be comfortable in the same house with the Queen's duplicate and had settled them in his guest house. Here they could be alone, blessedly, blissfully alone. It wasn't a big house but it was perfect for Charlotte's current needs. They had a large bedroom all their own with an adjoining bedroom where their children were napping peacefully even now. There was a nanny to help with the children but she slept downstairs, away from Charlotte's family. There were no "keepers" standing hateful watch over her babies now. There were guards but they were outside and deferred to Charlotte's requests rather than held her prisoner. It was nearly more than she could comprehend.

And Jack, that other Jack, had promised that they could settle wherever they wanted though he strongly urged that they stay in the Pride's territories where no vampire or demon would dare threaten a member of the family. And he assured them that she and her Jack were considered members of the family. Baby had publicly claimed Charlotte's consort as her son while making it very clear that Charlotte's Jack was not her Companion or her Lover. The vampiress had later, privately, given Jack and Charlotte papers that established them legally as John and Charlotte Jolivette. She could think of him as John, had already begun to do so. It was his real name after all and she knew he desperately wanted to leave Lord Jack Niemczyk behind him. She didn't think she could go back to being Charlie. Charlie had died a long, long time ago. Charlotte had lived and in the living she'd learned to survive. Charlotte had learned the two weren't always the same thing. So she was quite happy to be Mrs. John Jolivette. She didn't need any other titles.

There were birth certificates and social security cards for the whole family. There was also an amazingly generous trust-fund completely under their control. The money, a really staggering amount of money, could be transferred into any account the Jolivette's wanted. It was theirs free and clear. Charlotte wondered how much of the gesture was a way to assure John and Charlotte they were under no form of coercion or bondage to the Pride and how much was Baby trying to ease her conscience. She decided it didn't matter. She'd already hidden away a substantial bit in an account that only she and John knew about. If they ever needed to run, they'd have the means to run.

She ran her hand across John's silky hair and felt him relax further, his dreams turning soft and comforting. He already looked younger. She smiled, soon the lines that marked his eyes would smooth and his few gray hairs would turn dark gold. Her twin assured her that now that they could experience their bond without interference, all John's physical weaknesses would be eliminated. He'd look like a man in his prime. The Egyptian Goddess had said her Jean had changed little since he was turned at his peak but John would probably look as little younger. John was a sun lord though he'd probably not have Jean's power. Charlotte doubted John wanted it. He had no interest in ruling. He'd seen how the urge to dominate had destroyed his sire and nearly destroyed everyone around her. He abhorred the thought of ruling anything and Charlotte didn't blame him. She had no interest in being worshipped as a goddess. In fact, she hated the thought of it. If she hadn't been a demigod, the Queen would never have wanted her.

Charlotte decided she was perfectly content to have a house somewhere away from most of the world where she could be nothing more than a mother to her children and a wife to her John. She smiled at that thought and snuggled a little closer to her consort. His arms instinctively tightened about her and she sighed in contentment. Even if it didn't last, for today at least, she intended to enjoy having the man she loved all to herself. She smiled at the feel of his warm breath on her cheek and didn't realize that her earlier tears had never fallen. For the first time in years, Charlotte Jolivette fell asleep having spent her entire day without crying.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Jack and Baby's Garden District House
Sunday, 1:47 am
July 21 2041

Jack turned from staring out at his garden and looked at Baby. "I don't know what happened, where it went wrong back there but I do know that somewhere down the line, my duplicate fucked up big time." He couldn't accept his duplicate's answer when confronted point blank. "How could you do it? How could you bed Charlie...Charlotte, have kids with her, and then not even defend them from the Queen?"

His twin, that other Jack had just shrugged and said, "I always do what SHE says, don't you?"

Jack had wanted to strangle him. There was more. There had to be more. He'd let Jo die! Jack had kept Baby from killing more than once. He'd curbed her homicidal impulses completely for over ten years while she wore a human body and this other him couldn't keep the Queen from killing his own daughter? What the Hell was wrong with the man? There had to be more. Something somewhere had gone wrong. Well, Jack was determined it wouldn't happen here. He wouldn't make the mistakes that other him had made.

Baby could feel his turmoil. She had realized the situation with the Queen was terribly upsetting to him but this was worse than she'd known. Jack had submerged his strongest feelings until they were home and everything was settled and calm. Now he was freaking out in a big way. "Jack. He's not you and things happened there that didn't happen here."

"No," Jack said with a tiny, violent shake of his head. "He is me and that was you and I screwed up somewhere." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not supposed to be with Charlie. I'm supposed to be with you. Anything else is just wrong."

"Jack, I know you don't want Charlie. Stop beating yourself up." Baby reached for him and he gladly enfolded her in his long arms. "And this isn't about Charlie. What's this really about, Jackie?"

He rubbed his chin across the top of her head before resting his cheek against the silky mop. There was truth in some of what his duplicate said though. "You noticed that it didn't matter, didn't you?" Jack said.

"How evil you were, that other you? How awful she was to everyone?" He licked his lips nervously. "I knew intellectually she wasn't you but I...I just couldn't kill her. Hell, I couldn't even watch!" He shuddered at the remembered sound of the Queen's death wail. "I couldn't help but feel that somehow she WAS you and I couldn't hurt you. I...." He clenched his fists. "I felt her die. In the back of my mind, I felt her die and it was like...." He couldn't finish. He shifted to a connected line of thought. "I've been lying to myself. I do understand how that other me let it happen. I understand how he let it all get so out of control," he said barely above a whisper. It was as if he were afraid to say the words too loudly. "What I don't understand is how he could hold you and let Jean drive a stake through your heart!"

"Oh sweetie." She rested her hand against his cheek. "She needed to die. She was awful, Jackie. She was just awful."

"I don't care. I don't care how awful she was. I'm supposed to take care of you. That's what I do. He was supposed to keep you safe and keep you sane. He fucked up somewhere and you died because he didn't do his job. You died because I screwed up!" The way he kept mixing his pronouns wasn't lost on Baby.

"I'm not dead, Jack," she said and pulled back enough to look up at him. "And you didn't screw up anything. I'm right here and you do take care of me and you do keep me sane. I don't want to rule the world. I'm more comfortable here in this house with you than I am anywhere else on Earth. Don't doubt that and don't doubt yourself."

He kissed her smooth forehead. "It's just that I don't know what I'd do without you," he said. "I know there are all these stories and legends about how you're meant to be with Spike or you're meant to be with Beaumont. Well, you're not. Not Beaumont, not Spike. Me. You're meant to be with me. And I'm meant to be with you. Regardless."

"No, if this trip taught me anything, it's that awful things happen if what I have with you gets screwed up." He smoothed back the errant strands of hair that lay across her face. "I know that other me keeps whining about the Queen making him her slave. Well, he's nuts. She didn't make him anything. He volunteered. Just like I did. I wanted to belong to you. I wanted to be enslaved. And I'm still yours." He quickly silenced her objection. "It's okay. That's the way I want it. Regardless. Good or evil. Human or vampire. I'm yours. I think maybe I was born to be yours."

"No. I have to belong to you. It's what makes me whole." He kissed her temple. "You know it's true." He fell silent and simply held her for several long minutes before he spoke again. When he did, there was need ringing in his voice and across the steel cables of their link. "Say it. Please. You haven't said it since you found out about the Queen. It's like you're afraid of it ever since you heard what she was like." He brushed his lips across her eye lids. "I'm not afraid of it. I've never been afraid of it. I'm afraid of NOT hearing it. I'm afraid of never hearing you say it again. But I have to know I belong to you. Say it. I need to hear it."

Baby blinked back tears. She knew what he wanted. "My Jackie." She swallowed a sob that mixed terror, regret, and joy. "Mine." In a stronger voice she repeated. "Mine."

He sighed and buried his face in her hair, content with his place in her life and hers in his. "Yours. Always."

The wolves prowled silently outside the house. Jean was impressed by their stealth. They had a talent for camouflaging themselves in shadows and moving silently. More of them were "on duty" tonight than usual. They were disturbed by the recent disappearance of their deva and her sun lord and carried on with additional guards as though that could stop an extra-dimensional portal from opening up beneath Charlie. Occasionally a furry head with eerily glowing eyes lifted towards his silhouette on the balcony, sniffed slightly, then dropped as the loup-garou continued prowling, satisfied that none of the family were in danger.

Jean Claude DuValliere gazed down upon the lush grounds and gardens surrounding Egypte. He'd grown accustomed to the daylight in the past two decades, yet he was still moved by the ethereal nighttime beauty of his home. The moon was dark, but his keen vision caught the delicately budding fruit on the little citrus grove just west of the fountain courtyard. Limes and oranges sent the barest trace of sharp sweetness through the humid evening breezes.

Closer to the house, Jean could also distinguish the plants, herbs, and flowers adorning the beds around the gazebo and the goldfish pond: magnolia, crepe myrtle, gardenia, pansies, peppermint, lavender, rosemary, soft ferns, and Queen Anne's lace. Closer still, small white tea roses accompanied by delicate green vines climbed the lattice panels adorning the veranda and the upstairs balconies.

Jean fingered one of the perfectly round white flowers with its glossy dark green foliage and inhaled its light, sweet fragrance. They were called "Summer Snow" and he had chosen them instinctively when he and René had taken on the project of building a replica of the gorgeous family plantation home Charlie had left behind in her natural world. The tender flowers were remarkably hardy, not unlike the woman he'd chosen them for. Just like the woman, Jean had grown to love them.

Jean heard her in the small study that connected to their bedroom. Charlie's old-fashioned fountain pen scratched furiously against the fine linen texture of her stationery as she scribbled a letter to their son, Alexander. Alex had not returned her telephone calls or Jean's e-mails. Jean felt an undignified urge to take the next flight to Yale and haul Alexander out of his class to reprimand him. Not that it would do much good, Jean thought regretfully. Their eldest seemed determined to have as little to do with the Pride, even his own family, as he could. Pierce, his twin sister, had officially declared Alex a putz.

Pierce had gone off like a wild pistol shot when she'd heard her father's voice on the telephone and she'd wanted to drive to New Orleans that night, but her parents urged her not to. Her summer finals would be completed by midweek and she needed preparation time. Jean assured her they were only staying in New Orleans long enough to pay their respects to Spike and take Gabriel home with them to Egypte. They would meet for dinner in Baton Rouge tomorrow.

Gabriel himself was sound asleep and Jean's heart swelled with love for his youngest, most sweet-tempered child as he listened to his relaxed, steady breaths. The boy had hugged and carried on over his parents with an utter lack of the pre-teen boy's typical disgust for "mushy" hugs and kisses. Gentle and charming, he'd squeezed next to Baby on her loveseat and asked her to come to Egypte with them since she'd been gone over a week and he'd missed her for Sunday dinner. Baby's eyes had watered and she had to swallow before promising him they'd have an extra Sunday dinner next Saturday to make up for it.

René and Jo had been the first to leave Rue Royal after briefly reporting to Spike. Jean and Charlie had entreated them to join them for the trip to Egypte but they had casually refused. Jo didn't sleep well in strange beds and René wanted to see and touch his consort. Strangely enough, Jean hadn't been hurt. He understood. Perfectly.

"It's a beautiful night." Charlie said it softly and Jean's heart echoed hers in its silent delight at being home together. Their feelings suffused their bedroom with serenity. "Leave the French doors open?" She liked the aroma of the fresh roses and greenery blending into the lavender their turned-down sheets were washed in.

Jean stepped back into the bedroom, brushing past the sheer lace panels, and watched the pretty play of his wife's hands as she slipped a silver styling comb out of her hair, allowing a waterfall of tight crimpy ringlets to spill down her graceful back. She set the comb on her vanity table, then began unfastening the ribbon ties of her peignoir.

Jean was behind her in a moment and she sighed softly as his hands covered hers to gently pull the thin satin ribbons loose, unknotting them. She sighed again when his fingertips brushed her shoulders as he drew the filmy garment away and dropped it on a chair.

"I love you so," she whispered, barely audible. Slowly, she turned around and reached up to tenderly caress the side of his face. "I've missed this. Us. Here."

"There's something I want you to know." He scooped her up easily and turned towards bed, gliding down to sit on the edge. He settled her slowly, his arms reluctant to part with her flesh, and watched her smile curiously up at him as she sank into the featherbed.

Softly curved brows knit in confusion and the blooming rosebud of her mouth formed the word "What?" though no sound came out.

"I mean you need to know it," he explained calmly, bending over her petite body to kiss her cheek. "I want you with me. At first it was because of your blood and our bond. You were dear to me and I cared for you, but it was horrible to make you suffer! All I wanted was the chance to make you happy so I could make it up to you for keeping you here." He kissed her trembling lip as he continued. "I'm not sorry I kept you. I want to be sorry, I feel like I should be sorry, but I'm not. If I had to do it again tomorrow I'd still take you."

"It's all true. Every bit of it is true. I love you, I love the way you taste and the way you feel. I love holding you when you let me. I love the babies you've brought to me and I want to make more with you when you're ready. I think I even love those annoying dogs you brought home with you." Jean kissed her forehead, a lingering warm kiss. "I wish I was sorry I put that mark on you and made you stay with me, but I'm not."

Charlie clung to him and he pulled her against him, lifting her higher as she sighed, her head rolling to one side to offer him her throat. His fangs punctured the old injury, sliding in easily, gently, and his eyes watered at his consort's cry of joy.

Outside, the "Summer Snow" roses blossomed and bloomed into fragrant beauty. The wolves on duty watched the miracle, entranced for a moment, before returning to their watches. Yes, the goddess was home safe and all was well.

Jean sat at his father's elegantly carved desk and smiled down at the photograph of his other self and that Jean's lovely wife and their children: dogs, a kitten...a perfectly beautiful family. He'd actually stolen it, taken it from her wallet when she wasn't looking. It was the first thing in his life that he'd ever stolen. He didn't feel the least guilty about it. Charlie DuValliere would not miss it and it made him feel a little warmer, proof that somewhere life had turned out decently for Jean Claude DuValliere after all.

He drew another picture from his wallet, so worn the colors were fading and its edges were frayed. It already looked ancient. René's lanky cool-eyed beauty grinned at him from decades past. He hadn't stolen it; it had been given to him, lovingly, laughingly given to him. "Cher, you pull that out when you miss me, yeah? That's how I feel around you, m' Jean. You always make me feel like grinning." There was his perfectly beautiful family, the only family Jean had ever really wanted to have. But that family was gone, consumed in fire and all Jean had left were pictures and memories. The pictures were already fading and he knew there would come a time in centuries to come that no matter how carefully he preserved them, all of René's photos would be gone, faded and destroyed by time. Then he'd only have memories and regrets. He'd have nothing but an aching loneliness that no one could fill and an abiding grief that could never be eased. Even the celestial Mrs. DuValliere's family photo couldn't chase away the cold that had settled in his heart when he watched René walk through that portal and Jean had realized he was alone again. He set René's photo beside that of the DuValliere family.

There was another object in his pocket, a hardened crystal phial capped in pewter. The blood inside was dark red and had a peculiar opalescent quality to it. It danced and glimmered in the lamplight as he set it on the deep red leather of his desk blotter. They were nearly the same color.

Charlotte Jolivette wouldn't miss that, either. And he hadn't stolen it. Anne Bridger had given it to him just before he'd kissed her hand and watched her walk out into Spike's garden to embrace the noon-day sun. Spike's rosary, proof of her Redemption and her ability to join Spike in the afterlife, had been wrapped around that fair hand. She'd smiled at Jean through the flames that ate at her and opened her arms wide as she softly spoke his father's name.

"Jean?" Rex stood in the doorway, waiting a respectful distance away from Jean, not wanting to disturb his brother's memories. Not wanting to disturb his loneliness. In truth, Jean realized, he didn't want his loneliness disturbed. It was all he had left.

"I just need to be alone for a while, frère," Jean said quietly. "I want to think a bit about what to do next. Maybe have a drink." He fingered the phial.

"I'm sure, Rex." He smiled at his brother. "Don't worry; you'll make a fine Master, probably better than I am."

Rex shook his head. "No one could be better than you." He turned, unable to look at Jean any longer, but he paused before leaving, his hand gripping the doorframe so harshly the imprint of his fingers was left deep in the wood. "I love you, Jean. I'll see you're put with René and Papa."

Jean's smile was soft and gentle as he listened to his brother's steps pound up the staircase and heard Rex's bedroom door slam firmly shut. "That's all I've ever wanted, Rex. I just want to be with René." He pulled his will from his desk drawer and placed it next to the photos before popping the pewter stopper from the phial of blood with his thumb. The little rose frozen in soft silver metal rocked gently before it settled to rest. Anne had assured him that the effects were almost instantaneous. He wouldn't have long to suffer; he didn't want to put Rex through that.

He raised the crystal in salute to René's photo and whispered, "I pray God that I see you soon, frère du coeur." He gulped down the one poison guaranteed to kill any vampire other than Jack Niemczyk and gasped as divine fire ran through his veins, destroying him from within. Just as he thought the agony would consume his mind, a slim hand, strong and beautifully shaped touched his face and the pain cooled and fled. He looked up into eyes the color of a tropical ocean, formed from the depths of the star-strewn sky. Jean felt the love he'd missed for so long flood his mind as soft moonlight lips touched his and locks of purest night fell around his face.

Upstairs, his hands clenched so tightly even human nails bit deep into his palms and blood dripped onto his carpet, Rex felt his brother's joy and heard Jean Claude's last words breathed gently onto the evening air.