When we last saw Illya . . .

>>The vampire turned, rubine eyes taking in the horrific grin of Sir John Raleigh.<<

Or rather, the thing which had been posing as the head of UNCLE North America for the past week or more.  Illya wondered how badly the New York headquarters had been compromised, and why he hadn't noticed any others.  Too late he realized his error; the office doors boomed shut, locking him inside.

"I don't suppose," the thing asked, continuing to grin maliciously, "you'd consider joining our ranks?  It would almost certainly be of benefit to both of us."

"How?"  Illya wasn't truly interested; he simply needed time to come up with a way out of his dilemma.

"You're well-respected among your kind -- the Heir to one of the oldest and most revered Clans.  Many would follow you if you chose to forget the Covenant."

"I would quickly lose both position and prestige if I foreswore my oaths to clan and Kindred.  There are others who would do as well as myself as Heir; most are far older and better placed to inherit.  Immaterial in any case, as The Prince of Clan Kiev shows no sign of infirmity, and will probably rule for another millenium at least."

"Valentine Kuryakin is as prone to -- shall we say, 'accident' -- as any other of his kind," the thing replied, moving closer to Illya, "as are those who might be better placed to inherit his position as clan head," it was now close enough for Illya to feel its fetid breath against the skin of his neck, "or his place as Leader of the Camarilla Clans.  We could help you achieve that.  I would consider it an honor to make you one of us."

The Russian shuddered, knowing well what joining the Lilim would involve -- not only drinking each other's bloood, but a surrendering of his body for the sexual gratification of the creature who currently wore Sir John Raleigh's form.  He knew also such a surrender would bind him to the thing's will as long as the creature existed.

Illya did the only thing he could, heedless of the price.  He quickly turned and delivered a blow to the thing's larynx, stunning it for a moment and allowing him time to dive across the desk for what he hoped hadn't yet been removed from Sir John's corpse -- the knives he, like Napoleon and every other member of UNCLE, kept in forearm sheaths.

If the knives were gone he was as good as dead.

He ignored the smell and feel of decaying flesh to check for the weapons.

There were no blades.

Illya rolled over to meet his fate face-to-face.

Only to find his opponent's face melting away to its original form.  A solid wood bolt, its point fire-hardened, stuck out of the thing's chest, having been driven through its torso by a heavy-duty double crossbow wielded by an elderly man standing near a newly-opened secret entrance.  A younger assistant stepped forward and finished off the thing with a swift beheading stroke from a battleaxe.

"Mr. Kuryakin, I presume?" the old man inquired.  "I'm Sir Alexander Waverly, at your service."

"I'm Illya Kuryakin, yes," the Russian replied, "and most grateful to you for saving my life by your timely arrival and swift action."  A polite nod of the head accompanied the words.  "I am at your service as well."

Introductions were interrupted by the whistle of Waverly's communicator.  The UNCLE agent quickly opened the device and spoke.  "Open Channel F.  Waverly here; report."

"Headquarters is secure, sir," a young but business-like voice replied.  "We've discovered, however, there may be a group of infiltrators attacking a building housing UNCLE field operatives."

"Understood," Waverly said.  "Our allies will take care of it. How many infiltrators did you locate, and are any still alive?"

"Counting the one you killed," the voice answered, "the number is 10 -- that's one-zero -- 3 of which are sstill with us."

The senior agent thanked his underling and ended the transmission.  "Ten here -- that should mean three at the apartment building."  He turned to Kuryakin.  "You might want to warn Mr. Solo to expect company."

While the vampire made contact with his partner, Number One Section One of UNCLE listened to a report from his counterpart among the Kindred -- and eavesdropped along with that woorthy on the conversation, breaking in to let Solo know Section One was aware of the infiltration of UNCLE, and to reassure him.

"They nearly succeeded in making an unbridgeable breech between our peoples," Kuryakin told Waverly.

"Yes," the old man said soberly, "along with removing the best of both our organizations.  You were wrong, however, about you and Mr. Solo making history.  There have been pairbonds between Human and Kindred as long as there has been a Covenant -- though the fact was always kept one of the most closely-guarded secrets of both species."

"There are other bonded pairs of humans and kindred?" Kuryakin asked.  "Who?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Waverly asked in return.  "How do you think we knew something had happened to Sir John?  We choose Section One heads from among our Bonded, as your people choose clan leaders from among your own."

The Russian's jaw dropped.  "Then you're --"

"Bonded?  Yes, to Valentine Kuryakin -- who's currently rescuing your Mr. Solo and a couple of others."
 

He dove into the room, decapitating Mark's attacker before it even noticed him.  The remaining Lilim broke off its attack on April to slash at the ancient vampire, to no effect. It backed away hissing as it realized it was trapped and outnumbered.

"You may think you have won," it said, "but you're wrong. We are many, and our numbers are growing each night. The Great One will rule the world, and will reward the faithful."  Its blade sliced a final time --

severing its own neck.