Napoleon stopped as Illya fell to the ground. Returning to his friend's side he checked for a pulse and stared in horror as he found none!

Waverly quickly led the older woman to the top of the building and climbed on board the waiting helicopter.

Napoleon pulled the younger man into his arms, crushing him to his body.

"No! Please no, don't let this happen." he muttered.

He heard the third part of the group whisper, "Pick him up and get us to the Professor."

The dark haired man held the blonde closer.

"He is dead," he moaned softly.

"No, he is not. See the tear? He can hear, see and understand. You need to get him to the professor. We need to get there soon or he will die."

Napoleon scooped the younger man up and started to run.

The old woman sat straight up and moaned.

"Nyet! Nyet. It is not to be so," she muttered.

She reached for Waverly's hand as she placed hers on the shoulder of the pilot; the older gentleman placed his hand on the co-pilots shoulder. The woman glanced at them.

"Each of you places a hand on the doors that are nearest you," she demanded. "That will seal the circle. Do it now!"

They did and seconds after they saw the world go red and the air shook around them trying to drop them to the ground. The two young pilots squeezed the doors tightly and held on as they flew though what they both thought was blood.

The older woman glanced at Waverly.

"How far away are we?"

He smiled. "We are almost there."

She smiled softly. "Good, they will need our guidance. My poor duska, He must be frightened."

The old man sighed loudly. "They are agents they don't frighten easily." He said.

The plump gray-haired woman stared at him then began to mutter lowly in Russian. Waverly was very glad that he was the only other person on board that understood what she was saying because it left no doubt to what she thought of him or his idea about fear and his agents.

Solo staggered into the glade and gently set his burden down. He stared open-mouthed at what he saw.

"What the hell?" He thought.

"Hell is correct." His third companion answered.

The professor stood tall and straight in the center of a pentagram with the book from Lovecrafts house.

"Dear God, what is he doing?" Napoleon whispered.

"He is attempting to send Cthulu back. If you believe in God now would be a good time to start praying to him." Lovecraft thought to him.

He dropped to the ground and pulled the small blonde on his lap and started to pray silently for both of them. He was unaware of the two who had joined him until the older woman took Illya's hand.

"Oh duska do not be frighten dorogaya; you will be ok if your lyubov is willing to help."

Napoleon smiled at her.

"I will do anything to help him, " he assured her.

She glanced at Waverly.

"You must prove your bond; take away any doubt that Cthulu could ever take Illya from you."

Napoleon stared between the two of them.

"Right Now?"

"Time is of a short commodity." Waverly said dryly.

---

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