Rating: R violence, language advisories

Notes: The characters from "Forever Knight" belong to Sony Tri-Star. The characters from "Xena Warrior Princess" belong to Renaissance Studios and StudiosUSA. The characters from "Mutant X" belong to Tribune and Marvel Studios. The characters from "Smallville" belong to DC and the WB. All other characters and scenarios are of my creation and are fictitious. Please send comments to dante0220@yahoo.com. Thanks also for the comments during this story's 'initial run' from the loyal Clana fans out there. They went into this rewrite. Thanks to Emily for the beta reading.

Spoilers: Mutant X-Season 1 (up to "In the Presence of Mine Enemies"); Smallville: Season 1 and Season 2 (up to Nocturne).

Prologue [Queen's Hut, Amazon Village 82 AD]

Gabrielle, Bard Queen of the Amazons, writes...

The battle between David Dubois and Bertrand du Dijon was over. With the way he won his victory, the prophecy of darkness seemed to be diverted, at least for the time being. However, a familiar enemy brings trouble close to home, introducing us to new allies and foes alike.

For two young people in particular, their first venture into the outside world will be an eye opening experience indeed...

Chapter 1 [Smallville-April 2004]

The Talon bustled with business on that particular Wednesday afternoon. Besides the usual high school and community clientele, an agricultural tool show sent still more folks through the renovated theater's doors, looking for the best cup of coffee in Lowell County. Consequently, the wait staff hustled from table to table, keeping everyone's cups filled and a smile on their faces.

Lana Lang wiped her brow as she start another pot brewing in the coffee maker. While this influx was good for the profits, she started to tire a bit under the pressure. Easing the strands of her dark brown hair from her face, she sighed, "This is something else."

Beside her, a slightly shorter woman with light brown hair, hazel eyes and a toned physique rubbed her shoulder. "Hey, Lana, are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah. Thanks, Miranda," Lana replied. "Just catching my breath is all."

"When it rains, it pours, huh?" Miranda Arighatto queried with a friendly smile. "I think we have everyone taken care of. Why don't you take a break?"

Lana, who happened to be the co-owner and the other woman's boss, chuckled. "And you think that's a good idea?"

"Hey, what's a friend for? Besides, you should listen to your elders once in a while," Miranda teased.

The former cheerleader shook her head and smiled. "Only by a year, Miri. Thanks though. I got this letter and I want to take a look at it."

"Another school? Which one is it this time?"

Lana shrugged. "Arizona. I know it's a long way from here, but Clark and I liked what we saw from the web page to apply. They also thought that our chances at a scholarship were really good."

And that's the key right there-get out of here with Clark. Well, between Nell's harping and Chloe's stewing over your relationship, I can't say I blame you. "I hope it's good news. Open it. Don't keep us waiting."

Lana took out the envelope and opened it. Reading the letter, she squealed with delight. "I got in! They want me to visit before they sign off on things, but I got in! Oh I hope that Clark did too!"

Miranda grinned. "I'm glad for you if that's what you want." I hope that he got in too.

At that moment, another throng of customers came through the door, signaling them to resume the pace.

"Thanks, Miri," Lana expressed.

"No problem. Let's get to it," her friend concurred as they jumped back into the caffeinated fray.

****

[That night-Clark's Fortress of Solitude]

As night fell on the Kansas landscape, the stars twinkled with their faint light and a soft cool wind rustled the grass. After a long winter, spring had finally come to the area, gladdening the farmers who could plant their crops at last.

For Clark Kent, it had been a particularly grueling day. For most people, a day of planting in the fields would prove tiring. Given the fact that he had accomplished the work after a busy day at school with his classes and his work on The Torch, one might think that he would be ready to drop onto his bed in a tired heap. But there was more to the farm boy than readily met the eye. Since arriving on Earth during the catastrophic meteor shower fourteen years earlier, he knew he was different from those around him and tried to keep those differences secret. Accordingly, it was a relief when his parents allowed him to "cut loose" on the farm. In just under two hours, he had plowed and seeded the fields by himself with only an old-fashioned hand plow to help him.

The neighbors must be amazed. Well, let them be. He grinned and chuckled to himself at the thought. Mom and Dad have been so good to me. I'm glad to help them. Plopping onto the old couch, he relaxed and stared up at the beams in the barn's ceiling. Still, I wish they'd let me tell my friends about the Secret, especially Lana. His eyes rested on her picture resting on the table next to him. As long as he could remember, she had been his best friend, confidant, reassuring presence and the love of his life. Even when she still dated Whitney Fordman, they remained close. Finally, after the quarterback left for the Marines, she told Clark how she really felt for him. Despite the mutual commitment to their relationship, the fact that he had to hide his abilities from her strained things to say the least. I know that I could trust her with this secret. She deserves to know.

Beside the picture, an unopened letter rested, waiting for his attention.

I know I should open it. He shook his head, wondering if he could deal with a possible rejection. With high school coming to a close for them both, he suggested that they attend the same college. Together, they selected a short list of universities and applied to them. So far, she had been accepted to all of them while he had about a seventy-five percent acceptance rate.

Still, as she had reassured him, "I'm not going anywhere without you, Clark." That promise was sealed with a kiss.

I should have more faith. For several more minutes, he studied the envelope. Arizona, the school from which this letter had come, was a long shot for them both-him especially. Here goes. Taking his jack knife from his right front pocket, he slit it open and read the letter. A smile spread across his face. "I was accepted! Wait until Lana hears this!"

"Hey, Clark," a familiar voice greeted pleasantly.

His smile grew wider as he saw Lana coming up the stairs with a purse over her left shoulder and carrying a letter in her right hand. "Hey, Lana, how was your shift today?"

"Hectic day. Convention in town, you know?" she replied after the perfunctory hug and kiss. "Thank God that Miranda and Sandra are on the ball."

"I think their boss is also pretty sharp. At least that's what my sources say about her," he chuckled.

She smiled at him, as she blushed a bit. What is it about him? Then she regained her composure and arched her brow at him. "And these sources are reliable?"

"The best," he told her, stealing another kiss from her brow. "I see you have a letter too."

"Yeah from Arizona," she noted. "Did you get yours?"

He nodded, holding it up. "This is it."

"So how did you do?" she wondered, feeling a bit nervous.

"I got in," he revealed.

She smiled at him. "Me too. Do they want you to visit too?"

He reread the letter and nodded. "Uh huh. I guess we finalize the paperwork after a visit. Hey, isn't this the school we read about with the personalized visitation program?"

"I think so," she guessed. "We can check to be sure, but it would be a great experience for us."

"In more ways than one," he agreed, gazing on her in the moonlight and seeing the soft glow lighting up her skin.

"As long as we can behave ourselves, Clark," she teased, her eyes sparkling into his.

He shrugged. "You know me. I'm the perfect gentleman."

"Always. Hey, umm...can we sit and look at the stars for a while? It's a beautiful night out there," she requested.

He smiled and stood next to her, gazing out the loft door toward the night sky. The mysteries of the universe had always intrigued him. Now they would be finding out about the world beyond Kansas in just a few months time.

Little did they know what awaited them out there. When their trip was finished, many things would be different; quite different indeed.

Chapter 2

(Additional notes-This section is adapted from the preceding story in the series called "Step Into My Nightmare" written in November 2001. This chapter and the next few following it are intended to give newcomers to the series a brief intro to my AU universe (and set up the rest of the plot) before Clark and Lana enter it. The "Skellig" is from Lorenna McKennitt's album, "The Book of Secrets" which was released by Quinlan Road and the WB.)

[Istanbul, Turkey-Five weeks later]

The sun set in blood red fire over the ancient city. Despite the end of the day, the buzz picked up around the metropolis. Rumors debated over a cordoned off section of cobblestones down by the Golden Horn. Theories abounded but nobody could say what would happen for sure. Since the police refused to let anyone within five blocks of the area, no sign could be found either.

*******

An hour earlier, a single figure sat in silent meditation within an upstairs room of the hotel. In the background, the soft sound of dervish music wafted throughout the room and the scent of candles permeated the air. For Dave Dubois, life was never simple. While most of his contemporaries worried about their students' grades or exams, the medievalist had more complex worries. For one thing, being an empathic mutant meant controlling his own emotions. His emotional state created a whole other set of concerns as well. Due to years of abuse by his family, the historian's personality split into two halves: his own 'sane' half and that of a dark little boy known only as "the Child". When agitated, Dave's mind often shut down, allowing the darkness to consume him and leading to mayhem in the process.

Given the fact that he was about to fight a five hundred year old Burgundian vampire-Enforcer, it might have been simpler to take some herbs to make his alter ego sleep so that he could fight rationally. But, after giving the matter some thought, he knew that to win this contest, he couldn't go in with one hand tied behind his back. To survive, the Child might-and probably would--have to engage Dijon directly. More than likely, he'll be doing most of the fighting.

"Don't sell yerself short, Bro," the Dark One rasped from the inky blackness, appearing as a negative image surrounded by a bright crimson corona. "Ya've scrapped too, ya know."

"Right. The last time we faced Dijon-you were in charge," the professor protested.

"Hey, ya'll told Mustard Boy off. That took guts," the Other reminded.

"Like I had a choice." Dave shrugged.

"Oh yeah. Run 'way or whup ass like always. That wuss is a pain in the ass, right?" the Child continued.

Dave sat there silently.

"RIGHT??" the Dark One repeated, with increased emphasis.

"I guess so," Dave sighed.

The Child guffawed sarcastically, "Oh, ya guess so. C'mon! That's pathetic!"

Dave glared at his other half. "And I suppose you want to go in, guns blazing, right?"

"Nah," the other presence disagreed. "We whup his ass real quiet like. If ya can't hack that, then Ah'll do it mahself. Ya'll don't remember, but I nearly burned him and some of his goonie boys. Just don't be a wuss, okay?"

"I won't be," the professor promised.

"Good," the Other relented. "'Member, Ah'm here."

"Just stay in line," Dave declared.

"Count on it," the image promised, fading away into the darkness.

The medievalist sat in the darkness by himself for a few minutes thinking on things.

Then the light snapped on, flooding the room with light. Turning, he saw a woman with dark raven-colored hair standing in the doorway dressed in a breast plate with a dark leather halter, a sword strapped to her back and a round metal chakram on her left hip. "What's on your mind, Xena?"

"How are you doing?" the Warrior Princess asked with concern. For the previous two years, she had shared her existence with the professor's wife and noted oncologist, Angela Dubois. Angela's ready to have a fit but he doesn't need to hear that right now.

"I'm hanging in there," he sighed. "Just waiting for my execution and all of that crap."

She arched her eyebrow, feeling her "roommate" panic briefly. Come on, Angela, don't worry. This is David after all. "You aren't gonna die, all right? Just don't do anything stupid in the meantime."

"I won't," he agreed. "And Xena?"

"Yeah?" she replied.

"Thanks for coming by," he stated, a smile forming on his face.

She nodded, marveling at his self-control. Maybe we might get out of this one all right. Then she rubbed his shoulder, "You're welcome. By the way, I think Nicholas wanted to see you."

"Okay," he agreed. "And please let Angie know everything's going okay. I'll talk to her later."

"Right," she noted, watching him walk out of the room. Proceeding about the area, she blew out the candles one by one and shut off the CD player. "Whatever's in this stuff, I'll have to ask Angela to get more of it for him," she noted, examining the jewel case. With that, she left, leaving the room quiet and still in her wake.

***

A few minutes later, Dave stopped in front of a door at the other end of the hall and knocked loudly.

"Dave?" Nick's voice asked. "Come in, please."

The professor opened the door and walked into the area. He noticed Nick sitting at an antique desk, looking at a familiar little box in front of him. His friend, Nicholas Miles, was actually an eight hundred year old Brabantine Crusader and a powerful vampire in his own right. "Xena mentioned that you wanted to see me."

"Yes," the vampire detective agreed. "I wanted to lend you something for tonight." Opening the top, he revealed an old cross of two sticks wrapped in very old twine.

"Jeanne's cross?" the medievalist protested. "Nick, I can't take that!"

"Yes, you can," Nick retorted in a tone that didn't allow for any argument. "Take it. She would want you to carry it with you tonight. It'll remind you to have faith and to be strong."

Dave picked up the ancient artifact and studied it for a long minute. As in the loft several months earlier, the feelings washed across his consciousness. However, this time he saw her charging forth on the battlefield, scattering English and Burgundian soldiers in front of her like so many frightened mice. Behind her, the French surged forward toward their goal. "Right," he agreed, his eyes watering. "Merci beaucoup, Nicolas."

"You're welcome," the detective replied warmly. "So are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Dave indicated nervously. "The bow and shafts are in my room, as is the sword. It won't be long now. If you don't mind, I'll see you later."

"Sure," Nick agreed. "We'll talk later."

"Count on it," the professor assured him while leaving the room.

Nick rose from his chair and stared out the window toward the Golden Horn. Already, he knew the preparations were underway. If all went well, the vampire Community would be a tad bit safer after tonight. And, to himself, he made a silent prayer requesting just that.

****

As the clock struck 11:30, a slender elderly man with white hair rocked nervously in his chair, grasping his Bible closely to his chest. "I wish it were over and done with," Brother Tony complained.

Beside him, a medium built woman with long auburn hair nodded. Eve, the former Messenger of Eli, replied reassuringly, "The time will be here before we know it. Meanwhile, we need to wait. Dave still needs time to prepare. According to Mother, he went to speak with Nick."

Across the room, a blonde woman clad in what looked like a green sports top and a beige skirt. "I'm sure he's giving Dave some strategies," Gabrielle, the Bard-Queen of the Amazons, supposed.

"That's right," Xena agreed, walking into the room. "And David just went back to his room to get his gear. Cybelle will be here soon, so be ready to go."

"What about you, Xena?" the bard-queen asked.

"I'm going to have one last chat with David. Let's go, Gabrielle," she declared.

Picking up her staff, the Potadeian followed her friend out of the room and down the hall. A moment later, they stood in front of the door.

"Xena, Gabrielle, come in," Dave's voice announced as the door creaked open on its own volition.

The two warriors entered the area to see him talking with three other people. One woman stood about five and a half feet tall with shoulder length brown hair, dark eyes and fair skin. Beside her, another woman dressed in a green robe surveyed the newcomers. Her face bore the ritual face paintings of her priestess order. Finally, a wiry yet well-built man with short black hair, fair skin and intense eyes stood closely by his friend's side.

"Looks like quite the party," the Thracian warrior supposed.

"That it is," Karen Alvarez, the first woman, deadpanned, albeit more cavalierly than she felt.

Steve Petersen, the noted FBI agent, paced about the room nervously. "You know, Dave. You still can back out of this."

"No, Steve, I can't. One way or another, this ends tonight. I've been living under this threat for fifteen years. It ends by dawn. No matter what, I've stopped them from coming after my family. In so doing, I've done my duty," Dave argued.

"Well, I can see you're not going to change your mind," Karen realized and embraced him tightly. "Come back safely, okay? I'm not in the mood for a funeral right now."

The historian quipped, "Make up that sundae for me. I'll get it after I'm done."

His former girlfriend's eyes sparkled at that remark. Somehow, she knew he really would take up her on that dessert. "Count on it, Sir," she concluded, kissing his cheek.

"That's goes for me too, Chief," Steve added, jabbing him good-naturedly.

"Okay. I really appreciate it," the medievalist accepted, rubbing his head and messing up his hair.

He straightened his appearance and grinned before walking out of the room.

Xena closed the door to insure their privacy and indicated, "We don't have much longer. I'm letting Angela out to talk with you." Sheathing her sword, she concentrated, triggering a flash of light.

When it had dimmed, another woman with auburn hair yet tanned skin stood in her place. Angie Dubois looked around at her friend and felt their anxiousness. We all think he's nuts. But he's going to go through with this maneuver whether we like it or not. "Dave? How's it going?" she asked, trying to keep upbeat.

"I'm as good as I'm going to get," he replied grimly, slipping the quiver strap over his right shoulder and testing the bow's string. "And you?"

"Other than watching my husband's attempts to commit suicide? Oh, I'm fine," she laughed derisively.

He hugged her tightly, "Now, it's going to be okay. Just a bit more business to take care of. Right?"

She sobbed, "Right...I...I guess. But, what you said to Karen, I'm holding you to it, Buster."

"I'll be there to collect on it," he stated, kissing her passionately. "Count on it."

At that moment, Deirdre, the green clad woman, nodded to Gabrielle and then announced, "It's time, everyone."

"Um, Angela?" Gabrielle asked.

"Gotcha," the doctor realized, drawing her sword.

After another flash, Xena replied, "Thanks, Gabrielle. You ready, David?"

Securing his own sword to his belt, he agreed. "This is a bit bulky, but I'll be fine."

In the distance, he heard the peal of church bells, bringing to mind the familiar lyrics of the "Skelig". For the first time since the Ottoman conquest, the bells ring. Soon, it begins. With that, he heard the song....

O light the candle, John
The daylight's almost gone
The birds have sung their last
The bells call all to mass

Sit here by my side
For the night is very long
There's something I must tell
Before I pass along

I joined the brotherhood
My books were all to me
I scribed the words of God
And much of history

Many a year was I
Perched out upon the sea
The waves would wash my tears
The wind, my memory

I'd hear the ocean breathe
Exhale upon the shore
I knew the tempest's blood
Its wrath I would endure

And so the years went by
Within my rocky cell
With only a mouse or bird
My friend, I loved them well.

And so it came to pass
I'd come here to Romani
And many a year it took
Till I arrived here with thee

On dusty roads, I walked
And over mountains high
Through rivers running deep
Beneath the endless sky.

Beneath the jasmine flowers
Amidst these cypress trees
I give you all my books
And their mysteries

Now take the hourglass
And turn it on its head
For when the sands are still
You'll find me dead.

Even as the song echoed across his consciousness, the bells of Rome's Last Great Wonder, Aya Sophia, continued their siren dirge, calling him to his latest trial even as the song concluded:

O light the candle, John
The daylight is almost gone.
The birds have sung their last.
The bells call all to mass.

"Hey, David," Xena cut in, breaking his reverie.

"Huh? That sounds like our cue," he replied, taking a deep breath.

"Then let's hit the road," the Warrior Princess indicated grimly, entering the portal with the others following closely behind her.

****

[Dawn]

As predicted, Dave changed during the fight, allowing both sides to take their share of pain and credit for the victory.

At the end, the Child glared at the smoldering ashes on the cobblestones in front of him. While the fight between him and Dijon had left him badly hurt, he was alive.

His opponent, Bertrand du Dijon, on the other hand, had just combusted, the early dawn's light burning him to a crisp.

"Damn twit! Now he's whupped!" he growled, glaring at the others through his open left eye. As always, the right one remained closed when he was "out".

Behind him, Xena and Gabrielle looked around anxiously. Sooner or later, the authorities would investigate the scene, bringing them all trouble.

"Let's go," the Warrior Princess advised.

"Awright," the Dark One spat. "Keep yer armor on!" Turning to the priestess beside him, he requested, "Hey. Do that misty thing of yers!"

Deirdre sighed and focused, creating the portal. "Next stop, England."

The Child nodded. "Yer okay, Squirt." With that, he stepped into the mists, vanishing from view.

As they stepped through, Xena and Gabrielle gave anxious looks to their guide.

I should be grateful for small favors. At least, Papa didn't get killed last night. With that, she vanished into the portal, allowing it to dissipate behind her.

****

Unbeknownst to them all, a young man with a digital camera snapped pictures from a concealed vantage point. For much of the night, he had recorded the duel between the professor and the vampire lord, Bertrand du Dijon. Now he had proof that mutants and vampires did exist. This will get everyone's attention! With that, he slipped away for his apartment. There he would upload the information onto the Internet.

Chapter 3 [Hampshire County Jail, Northampton-Three Days Later]

On the western outskirts of town, the county prison stood alone, separated by a good few miles by wide-open spaces. The building's granite walls held minor felons: gang members, thieves, dope dealers among others. For some, it was a permanent stop, a "Hotel California" of sorts. For others, it was a transitory point while awaiting trial and sentencing.

Watching the storm raging outside through the bars of his cell, Stuart Dubois groused angrily at his situation. How could he be here? Didn't he want the best for his kids? Just two weeks ago, he had tried to drill some sense into his daughter, Cybelle, concerning her obligations as a mother and wife. Instead, she mouthed back to him and used her freakish abilities, but he showed her. After he had beat some sense into her, her brother showed up, using his abilities as well. Somehow, he lifted the older man into the air, threw him against the wall, and used some energy to deflect the bullets from his gun. As a final indignity, their FBI friend had him arrested and tossed in here to rot. "This is a fine situation," he groused sarcastically. "I wonder when I'll get out of here."

"Hey, shut your hole over there!" his cellmate, a blond haired wino, complained.

Shaking his head in disgust, Dubois continued to stare out of the window into the darkness of the night outside. Then, he saw something unusual. A pair of headlights approached the facility and drove right through the open gate. "In two weeks, I've never seen that!" he pondered to himself. Still wondering who the visitors were, he sat on his bunk and thought a while.

A half hour later, the door to the prison block swung open, allowing the guard, a rather rude man by the name of McDermott, to proceed on his usual rounds. Usually, he made four or five sweeps per night around the area, making sure that the prisoners behaved themselves. Tonight, however, he stopped in front of this cell and indicated, "Hey, Dubois! Up and at 'em!"

"What?" the confused businessman wondered. "What is it?"

"You must have a fairy godmother or somethin'," the guard shrugged. "Your bail was just posted. Some guys are waitin' for ya." Opening the door, he allowed Dubois to follow him down the corridor and out of the block. Then, after allowing him to change into his regular clothes and regain his possessions, the former prisoner was escorted to the booking area. There, three men in fine brown suits, ties, and overcoats waited.

"Are you Stuart Dubois?" the leader, a sandy haired man, probed almost robotically.

"That's me," he concurred. "Are you the ones who set bail? I owe you my thanks."

"Don't thank us, Mr. Dubois," the second man, a red-haired, bulky fellow, indicated. "Our boss is waiting to see you concerning a couple of unusual occurrences if you catch my meaning. Sanderson?" Without another word, he guided the surprised consultant through the glass doors and into the waiting 4 X 4.

Sanderson, an African American, took off his sunglasses and stared into the officers' eyes. The latter stiffened and fell into a trance. When they awoke, they would have no idea where Dubois went or who he even was. Having accomplished this feat, he walked out casually, got into the vehicle with the others, and indicated, "It's done. Let's go."

The leader nodded and drove them away from the prison. Following Route 9, to Routes 91 and 90, they proceeded quickly toward their goal over the New York state line. Two and a half hours later, they crossed that point and kept heading west. Throughout this journey, nobody had said a word.

"Excuse me?" Dubois asked. "Might I ask where you're taking me?"

Red Hair turned to face him, assuring, "Don't worry, Sir. We'll be there in just a few minutes. Have you heard of Genomex?"

He shook his head. There were lots of companies, which he had never heard of. Why was this one any different? Glancing out of the window, he noticed that the sun was rising on the horizon and recognized the Adirondacks around them.

"It's a great place, Sir. Our employer really cares about society," the leader stated methodically. "But, you'll be meeting him soon enough."

Just ahead, he saw a sprawling concrete facility taking up a slope just ahead. It appeared to be a treatment plant or a research facility of some kind, but, deep down, he knew that it held a deeper purpose. As the vehicle entered the compound, he marveled at the structure's complexity. Whoever ran this place held a great deal of authority, that was for sure.

"Follow me," Sandy Hair directed. With his guest right behind, the two men maneuvered their way through the complex passageways comprising the operational facility, heading for the main office.

****

In the main office, a lone man sat behind his desk, smoothing his bright white hair, and adjusting the ascot he wore around his neck. Mason Eckhart wasn't a man who liked to be kept waiting for anything. Of late, his field operatives, the Genetic Security Agency, or the "GSA", had failed to bring him results. In this case, that meant additional new mutants for study or utilization in the GSA. However, his former associate, Adam Kane, along with his band of mutant outlaws, had made sport of his recent efforts, foiling him at every turn.

Hopefully, Mr. Dubois will have some worthwhile information. At that moment, a buzz came from the intercom. In response, he pressed an orange button on the side of his desk, allowing the door to open.

His visitors walked in. Dubois took a look around, examining every facet of his host's base of operations before focusing his attention on the man seated in front of him. In silent admiration, he nodded, sensing a kindred spirit in the man before him.

"Good Morning, Mr. Dubois," Eckhart greeted. "I'm Mason Eckhart, the director of this facility. I trust your trip was a pleasant one?"

"It was. Thanks to your men, Mr. Eckhart," Dubois replied pleasantly. "And thanks to you as well. You have my appreciation, Sir."

The administrator smiled warmly. At least, the man has a sense of gratitude. This might lead to something provided he can be properly molded. "You're quite welcome, Mr. Dubois. Now, I was wondering if you might share some information with me?"

"Information?" the visitor responded. "That depends upon what you want."

Eckhart frowned. Perhaps, this man might not be such an easy mark after all. Still, he pushed, "I was wondering about a story I heard concerning the circumstances leading to your...unfortunate incarceration. From what I understand, your children beat on you."

The guest tensed angrily. Would everyone taunt him with this information? "Yes, it's true. They ganged up on me."

"Did they do anything unusual?" Eckhart probed, straightening his glasses. Granted, he already suspected that the man's children were mutants, but he wanted to hear it for himself. "Don't worry, we only want to help them."

"Yes," the angry visitor admitted. "They had some sort of freakish powers. My daughter's disappeared, but my son's down in the Southwest. If you can help him, I'd be grateful."

The white haired man nodded reassuringly. "I think we can help him. Don't worry about that, Mr. Dubois. Meanwhile, why don't you go with Mr. Slattery for some food and rest? After a while, I'll let you know if any progress is made."

After his visitor left the room, he entered the computerized database, searching for items concerning the man's son. It seemed that David Dubois, the man in question, was a respected medieval history professor with a healthy vita. However, both he and his wife, Angela, ended up in mysterious circumstances on a regular basis. Scanning news wire services, he was convinced that the academic was indeed a possible mutant.

"Don't worry, Mr. Dubois. I'll send my best after him indeed," Eckhart promised to the spot where his guest had stood. With that, he rose and stared out the observation window toward the activity below. Yes, a new day was starting and already, it was proving constructive.

Chapter 4 [Mutant X Sanctuary, Storm Mountain, Two Hours Earlier]

Within the concealed facility, everything was dark, and the five residents lay asleep, resting for the new day's challenges. For Mutant X, this meant protecting the abnormal offspring of Genomex's genetic experiments. During the past week, the team had foiled two more attempts by Eckhart to capture their cohorts. Now, they were hoping to lie low for a day and collect their thoughts.

Thrashing in her bed, the team's psionic, Emma diLauro, couldn't sleep. For the past week, her mind had been filled with strange dreams linked to a man she didn't know. She had felt his emotions rolling, his anger surging like a gigantic tidal wave. Three nights ago, there had been a fight of some sort with monsters resembling vampires. During that conflict, she saw the man split in two as both light and dark images of him fought the invaders. Then there was this dream. Once again, the mysterious man and his dark twin fought a vampire. Again, she felt the emotional bobbing, but this time, it was much more severe. Something hard fell on him. He was hurting...no wait...there was an inner burning. Then the darkness consumed him and he turned on the other, reducing him to nothing in a furious tantrum of pure spite and fury. When the deed had been done, he screamed, releasing a burst of dark energy in all directions.

"No!" she exclaimed fearfully, sitting up suddenly, her hands and forehead drenched in sweat. Her eyes were bulged open.

From the darkness, a knocking came from the door, a voice calling out, "Emma? Are you all right?"

"Shalimar, I'm sorry." The frightened telepath shuddered, walking over and allowing her teammate into the room. "It happened again."

"The guy with the split personality again, huh?" Shalimar Fox inquired. She also knew of these visions due to the fact that her friend cried in her sleep and that she could hear her through the shared wall. A burst of anger rushed through the feral mutant as she allowed her eyes to flash yellow. Nobody hurt her friends like this.

"Now, he has his mind on someone else, not me. Obviously, he has some issues to deal with," Emma tried to defend the dream-man.

"Obviously," Shalimar muttered low. Just then, a knocking came from the door. "Yeah?"

"Shalimar? Emma?" Adam's voice called through the door. "Is everything all right in there?"

The feral cast her roommate a knowing glace. Sooner or later, she needed to tell him about her visions. "Are you going to tell him?" she asked.

Emma nodded and replied, "Adam, you know those weird reports on Proxy Blue from yesterday? I think I know something, but I'd hate to disturb the guys this early."

"Don't worry," he assured her. "We've all been sitting on pins and needles lately. The sooner we get Eckhart's strategies unraveled, the sooner we can relax for a while. See you two in about 30 minutes."

After he left, the two roommates rose from their beds and headed for the showers. It was going to be another long day.

****

Jesse Kilmartin sat at the table in the midst of the Sanctuary's living area, muddling over reasons why Adam would have roused them so early. The chat boards and email lines had been full of stories lately of weird things happening in Europe and the Middle East, but the satellite hadn't picked up any abnormal activity in the area. "Strange," he wondered, stretching and running his fingers through his dirty blonde colored hair. "This guy must be really good at covering his tracks whoever he is."

"Not that good if you ask me," another male voice countered from the floor above. Brennan Mulwray trudged his way down the stairs. "If he's allowing himself to get noticed like this." Looking at the coffee maker in the corner, he grinned. "You've got the grounds set up, water in the thing, and it isn't going. Let me guess, you want me to start it, right?"

"This is a team effort, right?" his friend responded nonchalantly.

The thin black haired man descended to ground level and shrugged. "You just want me to do the dirty work." Rotating his hands around each other, first sparks and then, full-blown electrical current flowed between them. After building up a sufficient charge, he fired a bolt at his seated friend.

Jesse smiled and concentrated, turning himself intangible.

The blast phased through him, hitting the appliance, and starting the coffee flow.

"Not bad for early morning." Brennan yawned, joining the other at the table. "Still, it would've been nice having the coffee ready for me and the others."

The computer geek sighed.

"Give him a break," Shalimar advised with a saucy smile on her face, for she enjoyed the bantering almost as much as they did. Then, putting on her most serious look, she added, "This is serious, Guys."

"Did Emma have another vision?" the electrical mutant probed, betraying a slight bit of concern.

"Oh yeah. I'd say a full-blown nightmare," she affirmed. "She woke me up with it."

"Sorry about this, everyone," Emma apologized, walking into the room along with a black haired man with similar colored clothes and a focused expression.

"Hey, this isn't your fault," Brennan assured her.

"Adam, what's going on?" Jesse asked.

Their leader turned to the panel behind him. Pushing a few buttons, he brought up a visual of some tests he had been running. "I just ran a diagnostic on Emma. She's okay so that alleviated my first thought. Then, I noticed that the computer had picked up something on the Proxy Blue broadcast last night." Pressing still other buttons, he commanded, "Replay file."

The computer screen turned blue with a pink square in the middle. Within the square, a CGI image of a woman came into focus with fair skin and black hair with a streak of white running through it. As usual, she had a hard frown on her face and recounted, "These days keep getting weirder and weirder, I gotta tell you. Yesterday, we had two items for the record books. First, for no apparent reason, the whole waterfront area of Istanbul, Turkey was cordoned off to visitors until just about three hours ago. An eyewitness who snuck through the barrier recounted a battle taking place between two men for most of the night. At least, they seemed like men at first. According to the witness, one changed into...get this...a vampire and threw a huge chunk of masonry at the other guy, burying him in the rubble. Somehow, the second guy survived and changed as well. He became super enraged, somehow blasted the vampire with his hands repeatedly, driving him into the cobblestones. Then, in an act of barbarity, he staked the other over and over, leaving the sun to finish the defeated vampire off."

The psionic glanced amazedly at the screen, "That's him! The man in my vision!"

"Well, at least, we know something now," Jesse commented, plugging his laptop into the data port next to him. Running his fingers over the keyboard, he enlarged the image of the battle scene from the screen. Simultaneously, he assessed the mutant database and patched the image into it. Thirty seconds of data crunching later, it came up empty.

"Try the regular news board," Adam suggested.

Upon doing so, the computer genius saw a string of files scroll across the screen. "Whoa!" he jumped back.

"Man, that's a bigger rap sheet than mine!" Brennan exclaimed.

The oldest of the group, scratched his chin, watching the files run across the screen. "I actually looked at most of these accounts last night. Most of these stories pertain to defending himself although he has a really bad tendency to attract trouble. The later stories are fuzzy. There's something about the man that I can't put my finger on. But, we cannot let anyone with that combination of ability and rage fall into Eckhart's hands. Speaking of which, Jesse, can you start the recording again?"

The density mutant nodded and let Proxy continue her report.

The image continued, "If things weren't strange enough, it seems that justice isn't getting any better either. Last night, a proven child abuser, Stuart Dubois, disappeared from the Northampton County Jail. While the guards weren't able to remember anything, the security cameras caught three men in suits, overcoats, and shades escorting the prisoner out of the facility. If anyone knows anything, please feel free to call the information hotline. Keep your eyes and ears open. Thanks." With that, the recording ended.

"GSA," Emma muttered. "Terrific."

"So, Adam, where is this David Dubois guy exactly?" Shalimar inquired.

"According to the computer, he lives in Tucson, AZ where he teaches medieval history and also has served as a librarian at the university down there," he replied.

"Tucson?" Jesse asked. "Isn't that where the cellular mutation conference is going on next week? You think you might be able to speak with him at that point?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Adam indicated. "His wife, Angela, is going to be one of my co-panelists. Unfortunately, she's going to be following Eckhart and me at that session. I want us all to be close by the campus in case the GSA tries to grab her. Meantime, let's get ready to head down there. I want to do some more training today."

The others groaned good-naturedly. Those sessions could be harrowing, but, given the forces conspiring against them, necessary for their survival.

Chapter 5 [Tucson Two days later]

The sky over the Sonoran desert was just starting to light up with the first rays of dawn. Inside of the Dubois household, everyone was starting to stir for another day's living. Since their return from England, Dave and Angie had been relaxed. "Hopefully, we can get back to normal now. I've had enough of monsters and angels for quite a while," he muttered.

Then, he felt a pillow whack him in the head, followed by his wife's giggling, "And what about me, tough guy? Had enough of this angel, hmm?"

"Never," he chuckled, kissing her ear, "C'mere!" He playfully wrestled her down to the mattress. "I love you, Dr. Dubois, he stating, kissing her again.

"And I you." She beamed radiantly. "So, how are you going to try and kill yourself this week?"

He shrugged. "I thought we'd take some time off from that kind of stuff."

"Oh really?" she cracked. "My husband's going to play it safe? This I have to see!"

"Hey, I'm still beat from the fight with Dijon," he complained, pointing to his wrapped midsection.

"We have some time yet before we really have to get up." she smiled. "I could take a look at it...."

He grinned and kissed her again. This was the best they had felt in a long, long time.

****

The drive across town to the U of A went really quickly. After dropping Angie off at the UMC, Dave parked by the Main Library and, accompanied by Eve and his cousin, Francesca Alvaro, a noted Dante specialist, headed for that facility.

"What are you going to say to Caitlin?" Eve asked.

"I don't know. I'm going to let her do the talking," he shrugged. "She understands why we went there and what we had to attend to. Period."

"Well, we've got classes to teach," his cousin stated. "If you need to talk later, Dave, we're here."

"Absolutely," the Religion professor indicated. "Please stop by after your classes if you'd like."

"Thanks," he expressed and walked into the library. Walking by the circulation desk and up the stairs, the professor proceeded past his part-time colleagues down to the Dean's office. He walked into the lobby where Sue-Anne McAllister, the red headed receptionist, waved to him.

"David?" the secretary asked. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. The trip was something else, but hey, it's time to get back to the grind." He shrugged good-naturedly.

"Great. Caitlin's waiting to see you if you'd like to talk with her," she indicated.

"Sounds good," he agreed.

She buzzed the intercom. Immediately, the inner door opened and a slender woman with short brown hair and rounded glasses hustled out. "David, I was glad to hear you're back. How are you doing?"

"I survived." he stated.

"And Dijon?"

"A pile of ash scattered across the Middle East," he noted. From his bag, he produced a finely polished pewter urn. "Here are some of them right here." Seeing her nervousness, he apologized, "Sorry, Caitlin, I didn't come here to brag. I just wanted to prove he's gone. He's gone." His eyes began to water.

The dean hugged her associate and soothed, "It's okay. The demon had tried to kill you for fifteen years. You just need to move on. Continue being a great father, professor, librarian, and man. We're all so proud of you, but...."

He squinted at her in confusion. "But what?"

"Your flourish at the end of the battle grabbed some attention. I thought you had indicated that the face-off would be kept away from the cameras," she told him.

He gaped. "According to what I heard, it was supposed to be. What? Who?"

"Somebody snuck through the cordon and gave an account that's been all over the news nets for the past two days. Fortunately, Lydia's been explaining to me and to some other high powered folks around here what she saw," she reported.

He winced and grumbled, "Some security. If the remaining Enforcers weren't on edge already, now they'll really be pushing things. I put that little show on for them to let them know what would happen if they came after me or anyone else that I cared about. I'll need to check with Lydia. By the way, where's the manuscript?"

"In the safe where I promised it would be." She frowned. "David, I wish that you could have a normal life, but these things keep popping up."

"Maybe if the folks from the Orientation Office would call me about helping out with the student tours, I might be able to do something to get my mind off of this mess?" he interjected.

She nodded. Fifteen years earlier, he had been an award winning peer advisor for the freshman tour center on campus. Maybe, he's right.  Perhaps, the items in the folder might be just what the doctor ordered. "Actually, I did get a call from them about you this morning. What would you think about showing a couple of student journalists/potential recruits around for a couple of days? They're from Kansas and get this; their assignment deals with the medical conference coming up in three days. However, they're both into History and the Humanities. When Dean Armas asked me who I felt we should give them to, I recommended you. He agreed. Well?"

"Sure, if they wouldn't mind hearing a couple of my lectures not to mention one apiece from Eve and Francesca. I figure we can get them into the classroom mix, give them a sample of what to expect, and then, take them out for a good meal," he proposed.

"That was what you originally suggested. The administration loves the small town atmosphere in the big time university angle. Then, it's settled. They're coming in on Thursday morning. Would you mind picking them up at the airport?" she confirmed.

"Absolutely. Angie will need the quiet time to prep for her talk. Meantime, I'll pick up..." he started.

"Clark Kent and Lana Lang," she completed his thought, handing him the files.

"Sounds great," he agreed. "Do you need me to do anything?"

"Thanks, but we've already taken care of it. They'll be here at 9:00 on Thursday morning, okay?" Caitlin concluded.

"Sure," he replied pleasantly. "Well, I've got a class coming up in an hour, so I have to run. Thanks again, Caitlin. I appreciate this."

"Anytime," she noted, returning to her work.

He walked out of the door, left the library, and headed for the Social Sciences Building and his class.

****

That night, before Dave went home, he walked out of his office, and headed toward the plaque located just behind the Douglass Building. Once there, he dusted off the metal sheet bearing the name of his mentor and the former's wife, and placed a flower in front of it.

"Hi," he stated. "It's me, David. As I'm sure you know, I took care of business in Istanbul. Dijon will never trouble anybody ever again, but I still feel empty. I miss you two and your guidance. Hopefully, I can be there for other students the way you were for me."

"Nice speech," a heavy-set woman with olive skin and black hair complemented as she approached him.

"Thanks, Lydia," he replied pleasantly. "For that and for helping out with the administration around here."

"Marie Haddad and I are still putting together the facts behind what we saw," the Middle Eastern scholar told him. "I knew about your powers and your other personality. I've seen you unleash him before in class, but never like that."

"That's because I'm sick of being hunted, Lydia," he commented, his expression turning dark. "I sent them a message. Besides, he killed another important person in Pauline. Her murder needed to be accounted for as well."

"If you say so," she sighed in confusion. "Sometime, you'll need to tell me the whole story, okay? Don't worry; your secret's still safe. The administration figures some crackpot put you in the middle of that battle. Well, I need to be getting on to mass. I'll see you soon, huh?"

"Sure." He nodded, waving as she left, leaving him to inspect the memorial and head toward the car across campus.

Chapter 6

Across town at KRAN, a tall, well built man with an aristocratic bearing, intense eyes and a stern expression strolled into the booth and performed a sound check. With his duties as a vampire Elder occupying his time, Lucien LaCroix, formerly the Roman general, Lucius of Pompeii, had neglected his audience over the past ten days. However, after the Istanbul affair, he could return to his affairs at least for the present. Flipping a switch, he started into his monologue.

"Good Evening, Gentle Listeners. It is I, the Nightcrawler, who has returned from a dark sojourn to you all. I trust you were all very observant in my absence. I know I was, and I missed you all, but when duty calls, one must listen. My children needed me to settle a dispute of sorts, and so, I did," he started.

An unpleasant snort came from outside of the booth.

While mortal ears wouldn't have been able to pick up on it, the Elder caught it quite well. Turning, he saw David Dubois standing there, staring intensely at him. Scowling in disgust, he continued, "In fact, it's such a pleasant night outside, why don't you all go outside for a few minutes? I'll be right back. I promise." Muting the microphone, he removed his earphones, and stood to his full height. Opening the door, he asked, "And what do you want?"

"Believe me, it wasn't the displeasure of your company," the professor declared, folding his arms across his chest. "We have a problem."

That statement got LaCroix's attention. "A problem you say? And what pray tell is that?" he baited.

Dubois chuckled darkly. "Didn't my little object lesson register on you at all?" Leaning closely to the vampire's face, he glared right into the other's eyes, and snarled, "You're an annoyance. And with your latest little screw up, you might've endangered us all."

"Latest screw up?" the DJ asked.

"Yes, I thought the duel was supposed to be kept secret, LaCroix," the visitor noted.

"It was."

"So, why has it been all over the Internet chat boards for the past two days then? With images and everything?" Dave pushed, dropping a zip disc on the console in front of his adversary. "Go ahead. Look at it."

LaCroix shook his head derisively. The mortal was pushing his luck badly. Nobody marched into his domain with such impunity. Still, he knew that the medievalist would never show up like this unless he had a good reason. Installing the disc and opening the files, the Proxy Blue playback appeared on his computer screen. For five minutes, the CGI image babbled about the mysterious battle and displayed grainy images of the contest. "Impossible. Yet, here it is."

"Sure is," Dave sighed. "So, what do we do about it? They know about it at the university. You've put the Community at risk."

"As if you care," the DJ scoffed, drinking from the blood wine.

"I do. I care about Janette, Nick, Alyce, and the other immortals under your watch. Now, answer my question, Old Man," the professor insisted.

For a moment, the vampire's eyes went yellow and his fangs descended. "Don't you dare address me in that manner! I don't care who you are, Dubois!"

The mortal laughed and produced a bright orange colored ball. "You should care. As if I would come in here unprepared. As for your tirade, I give it 1 1/2 stars. Now, answer the question!"

"I will have to consult with my colleagues," the DJ commented. "Now, will you get out of my booth?"

"Why not?" Dave shrugged. "Have a good show spreading whatever crap you got up your sleeve tonight." With that, he left the studio and drove away.

For a long minute, LaCroix shook with rage. Nobody talks to him like that! No one. "There will come a time, Dubois," he vowed. Taking another draught from the glass, he watched the program again. While the professor was annoying, he did reveal the security breach. Accordingly, Constantine would receive a stern lecture at the next opportunity concerning this issue.

However, as the program ran on, the vampire DJ noted something else, which his impertinent visitor didn't see. Somehow, his father had escaped prison. "Interesting," the master vampire chuckled. "This could have a great deal of potential. A great deal indeed."

****

Nick pulled the Caddy into a parking spot behind the precinct building. It had been over a week since his last shift. Accordingly, he knew that the police captain, Miguel Ramirez, would have several cases waiting for him as soon as he got to his desk. "Might as well go face the music," he sighed and walked into the bullpen.

As soon as he had cleared the doors, Chris Novak, the desk sergeant, cleared her throat and greeted, "Good evening, Detective."

"Sergeant," he replied pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

"Relax," she smiled. "I was just saying hello. The captain will want to talk with you later, but, as far as I know, everything's okay. Detectives Brown and Schanke held the fort while you were gone."

He grinned in relief and kept heading for his desk. Sure enough, a few folders were waiting for him there. Also glancing at him expectantly, a young blonde-haired woman with blue eyes and a fair complexion twiddled a pencil in the air. "Tracy, how's everything?" he asked.

"Great," she noted. "We solved about three cases while you were traveling. Other than that, life was pretty much the same as always. Has everything been resolved?"

"Dave took care of business," he revealed in a low voice. "But he ticked off LaCroix in the process."

She winced. "That's not healthy."

"Tell me about it," he concurred, shaking his head.

"Well, Vachon and Janette kept everything in order here," she reported, informing him of his fellow immortals' activities. "Nothing stirred due to LaCroix's directive."

"I can imagine," he agreed. From long experience, he knew that defying the Elder meant a painful death. At some point, he would remind his academic friend of that.

At that moment, Ramirez stuck his head out of the office, bellowing, "Brown! Miles! Get down to 36th and Campbell. We just received a tip! Schanke and Dr. LeBeau are both en route."

As one, the partners stood and rushed out to the Caddy. Punching the accelerator, Nick drove them toward the scene.

****

Fifteen minutes later, a woman with rouge colored hair squatted on the pavement next to the homicide victim. From what Natalie LeBeau, Tucson's chief coroner, could tell, the woman, an African-American in her early twenties, was stabbed from behind. In addition, she noticed a fresh scar on the back of her neck along the spinal cord. Something had been there, but had been ripped out in a hurry. Scribbling notes to herself for the autopsy, the coroner took in every detail.

"It seems pretty open and shut, Natalie," a paunchy balding man with small black eyes indicated, looking about the dark alleyway. Despite the fact that the area was bathed in siren lights and surrounded with their colleagues, Don Schanke felt nervous for some reason. Something isn't right here. "What is that along the neck?"

"A scar of some kind, Schank," she replied. "I won't know anything until I can get her back to the lab." She noticed the Caddy's arrival, stating, "Here are your partners now. Maybe, you guys can find something to help me. If you need me, I'll be at the lab."

Schanke studied her face carefully. While he knew that she and Nick were having problems, he didn't know things were so bad that she wanted to get away from him. Despite her earlier protests, he decided to talk with his immortal partner at the first opportunity. "Sure," he agreed.

She nodded, hurrying past the two newly arrived detectives, and silently getting into her car. Driving away, she wanted to put as much distance between her and Nick as possible. Despite her successful relationship with Steve Petersen, being around the vampire detective was proving harder than she initially thought.

***

Back at the scene, Tracy quizzed the others, "What was that about?"

"I'd like to know as well," Schanke chimed in. "Nick?"

"I don't know. She and I are sorting out some details," he shrugged.

" Sorting out some details?" the blonde detective probed. "C'mon, Nick. From the way Natalie just reacted, I'd say she's giving Humpty Dumpty a run for his money right now."

The former Crusader gritted his teeth and turned to his two colleagues. "We're working things out, okay? Leave it alone! Let's focus on the case. Is there anything in the alley of interest?"

His mortal partners relented, sensing that he was getting too testy at the moment.

Schanke started, "We're still doing a sweep of the area. Forensics has nada so far."

Nick nodded, focusing on his surroundings. Scanning the alley with his enhanced senses, he spied something at the area's far end. "Be right back." Rushing to the spot, he stooped over a storm grate. After looking about to insure that nobody was watching, he pried it loose and looked below. There, he found a bloody blade, a torn, bloody leather glove, and a half of a black plastic disk resembling a small hockey puck. "Best bag this stuff for later," he decided. After securing the materials, he rejoined the others.

"Find anything?" Tracy probed.

"Maybe," he indicated, holding up the bagged materials. "Hopefully, Nat can get a match on this knife and the glove. The plastic thing was with it. I bagged it just in case."

"Careful, Pardner," Schanke chuckled both over the clue and the departed coroner. Until recently, they had engaged in an on-again, off-again relationship that vacillated between friendship and love.

Nick frowned noticeably cutting off any further discussion. "I didn't find anything else down there, so let's get this evidence back to the precinct."

His associates nodded, following him back out of the alley toward the Caddy and Schanke's parked station wagon.

Although it looked like another slashing, this case bothered Nick for some reason. Given everything else, which had happened lately, he knew better than to ignore his instincts. "So much for a quiet shift back," he sighed as he and Tracy pulled away from the scene.

Onto the next part