Cold.

The moss-covered walls of the forgotten delapitated ancient castle were cold  and dark, gusts of wintry wind whistling through numerous cracks worn into
blocks of granite and through layers of rotted mortar ravaged by time and pollution-corrupted rain. But he didn't feel it. It had been a long time since the undead being who had claimed the title "Dark Prince" had felt warmth in the foul fluid that coursed through his cadaverous body ...and an even longer time since he had noticed or given a damn.

The ripped cloth of a dead monk's stolen robes rustled as he made his way down pitted stone steps, descending into caverns so deep that no natural light could penetrate the gloom -not that he needed light to see.

But there *was* light, dark and murky, up ahead -the feeble flickering of black candles set before an altar shrouded by the thick, choking haze of odoriferous smoke rolling off sticks of burning incense. He stopped and knelt on one knee. "Great One...I have succeeded."

Masses of living shadow coalesced until a tall, darkly robed form stood before the obeisant vampire. The dark prince trembled in the presence of the firstborn of Lilith as he felt the tiny black box he had stolen from the Knighthood's proving grounds snatched from his outstretched hands. Slits of poisonous red narrowed. "So, my darkling prince...you have brought the key from the place of the Templars and UNCLE."

"Yes, my Lord! It was not difficult -they invited us in as they had been bidden and even when they realized who we were, they had not time to reconstruct the sacred spells to protect their sanctuary or divine our real purpose. The Templars and UNCLE had long forgotten the key's existence and value!"

"And you claim 'success'..."

For the first time in a long time, the dark prince felt a fear in the presence of the firstborn of Lilith; a dread that went deeper than the awe he usually felt in the Great One's dark presence. "Y-yes, my Lord..."

"Tell me..." The Great One's voice remained deadly calm. "Do the Knights and the Kindred look upon each other with hatred and a hunger for revenge?"

"Well, I mean, no, my Lord..."

"Has the Covenant been sundered by the blood spilled in their battles with each other?"

"N-no, but-"

"THEN YOU HAVE *NOT* BEEN SUCCESSFUL!!!"

The dark prince recoiled in the face of his dreadful lord's rage. "B-but you have the key-"

"Yes...the key." A steely calm returned to the Great One's countenance, his echoing voice low. The hinged lid of the box swung open to reveal a hand-crafted key of ancient design, even older runes etched into gold so dark that it was almost the color of dried blood. "The key is but one part of the great equation, *underling*. For She-Who-Gave-Us-Life to be free to rule this world, the Covenant must be BROKEN!"

"But the betrayal by one the Knighthood's own against one of the Kindred--"

"--is not enough. The murder of a vampire of no real note by a knight of little worth -no. As it was prophesied in the days before written word, the 'First Chosen Son of the Night' must destroy the 'First Chosen Son of the Day' -I know that now. Only when the Knights who call themselves UNCLE and the children of the Kindred are blinded by the thirst for revenge, only when the streets run red with their blood, only *then* will this key free the Mother-of-Us-All to enter the world."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Now go." The dark, towering figure turned towards the altar once more. "I must beg of the Mother a gift of power to see that this happens."
 

The spirit of the wind had been as good as its word.

Better perhaps.

By the time that Napoleon and Illya had arrived back at the U.N.C.L.E's New York headquarters, the battle had been fought...and won. Having found the Knights of UNCLE already engaged in a fierce battle with the hordes of the Lilim, elemental had contacted elemental until they were able to locate allies. UNCLE's associates, the alpha male garou -Mark Slate- and his garou mate, April Dancer, had heeded the call and had brought reinforcements in the form of their pack...and for the fist time in known secret history, human and werewolf had fought side by side.

The raging undead legion had been routed...

...even as a city slept.

In the morning, the local police would say that a federal building had been attacked by anarchists who had easily been defeated and taken into custody -it helped to have friends in the right places. That the Chief of Police and many of his men and women were allies of the Knighthood did not hurt either.

A battle won.

But not the war.

Illya Kuryakin allowed the worn cover of the grimoire of the Kindred to fall shut. *Not* the war. There was more to come -that much he knew. Few were the ways in which his talents exceeded those of his ancient prince, but the Russian vampire's gift for languages was one...and the forgotten text had finally revealed what he had wanted to know.

The destruction of the Covenant would mean far more than a war between humanity and Kindred -if legend spoke true, the dissolution of the Covenant would make way for the worst of possibilities: the return of the mother of horrors...she who had once allowed herself to be worshipped as the many-armed vampire-goddess of war, Shiva...she who was Lilith.

But...

But the Lilim had not yet triumphed -the Covenant was still sound. The Knighthood and the Kindred remained wary allies. Not the murders that had started this affair, not even Kowalski's betrayal had changed that. What thing, what *act* then could be so awful to both peoples that it would finally force the Knight of UNCLE and the Kindred to renounce their pledge to each other?

"I thought I'd find you here."

Illya felt the warmth of Napoleon's hands penetrate the layers of cloth covering his shoulders. So good...it felt so good. Did the human realize the effect he had on him? Did Napoleon sense through their bond the longings that this vampire was hard-pressed to deny? Illya finally summoned his voice -there were things of greater importance here than  one lovestruck vampire's hidden feelings. "Yes...I suppose that you would, but there is something that I must tell-"

"Shhh..." Napoleon leaned in closer, the warmth of his breath and then, the sudden touch of his lips against Illya's neck sent tendrils of pleasure down the small vampire's body. "Napoleon! What are you-"

There was a low, deep laugh. "Does this bother you?"

"No... I mean, yes! I mean..." Something about this didn't seem right and yet, Illya found himself less and less inclined to fight the delightful assault on his senses. A delicious sense of lassitude had settled upon the vampire's body and mind -what *was* it that he had wanted to tell his partner? Couldn't seem to remember. But... "We...we shouldn't..."

"Why not?" The dark brown eyes twinkled with amusement. "We are enjoying another lull...Valentine and Waverly are over seeing the reconsecration of the building...and we have a little time to ourselves. You *want* this...don 't you?"

"I don't..."

"You *need* this, don't you?" The kindred's fading objections were silenced with a kiss. "Then let me love you, my Illyusha."

"Da..."

A smile lit the handsome countenance of the Knight of UNCLE as he gathered the featherweight form into his arms and carried him past the floor-length mirror to the couch which opened into a bed.

The child of the Kindred did not see that the Knight had no reflection.