Ten-fifteen.
Night.
At a pell-mell
pace, the director of the Mount Palomar Observatory stomped towards the
area where the Hale telescope was housed, muttering under his breath over
having been woken from a well-deserved rest on an equally well-deserved
vacation -the reason? One of the university fellows who was using the big
200-inch telescope thought that he had seen *something*.
Something
new. Something strange. Something...inexplicable. Impossible, of course.
He had studied the heavens too long to believe that there was really anything
inexplicable in the universe. Strange...maybe. But inexplicable -never.
But even as he had reiterated these facts to the nervous teaching fellow,
he had remembered that while there was nothing inexplicable in the heavens,
there were things here on Earth that could explain an odd sighting.
Not the least
of which was mechanical malfunction in the observatory's most powerful
telescope -and *that* was reason enough to jump out of one's warm bed.
Heads turned in his direction at his approach. "All right! What's the problem
-and it had *better* be good!"
"It's the Moon-"
stammered the astronomer-in-training who had called him.
"What! Why
were you using the Hale 'scope to look at something as close as the Moon
in the first place!"
"I-I didn't--
I wasn't--" came the tremulous reply. "The Hale activated itself -I swear
it! But the Moon -you *have* to see this!"
Uttering an
unholy oath at so obvious a lie, the director nonetheless peered through
the eyepiece of the great mechanism -and then recoiled as if he had been
stung.
The Moon, full
and unobscured by the Earth's shadow, was blood-red.
Valentine Kuryakin
shuddered as if an invisible, ice-cold finger had traced his spine -the
fullness of the time of prophecy was upon them. He could feel it, *sense*
it all the more clearly now...in the chill that pervaded the fae-queen
Titania's audience room despite the warmly glowing presence of her kith
and kin...and in a subtle shift in the rhythms of nature itself.
The Moon, ripe
and full, had taken on the color of blood freshly spilled.
Despite the
timely arrival of the great Oberon, the most powerful of all faery-kind,
a being who had been ancient when Valentine himself had been but a child,
the Kindred lord could not be at ease. Sending a then nearly catatonic
Napoleon Solo to the care of the shapeshifting faery queen had not given
rise to the results that he and Alexander had hoped -though Titania
had been able to hide the troubled knight from their enemy's scrying crafts,
she had not been able to tap the latent magical power that the young knight
possessed...and the fact that the First Knight of U.N.C.L.E. had again
collapsed gave Valentine reason to worry. Solo's suffering could mean one
of two things: that his attempt at spellcasting had hurt him far more deeply
What, besides
death, could do *that*?
No. Not that.
*Never* that! Almost anything but the loss of his beloved grandson! Valentine
willed back sanguine tears of frustration and anguish that threatened to
spill -he *had* to believe that his Illya was alive and waiting -in spite
of his doubts. He had trusted in stranger, less likely things as of late;
in the eerie wisdom of Val Waverly who had insisted on being here despite
his fears; in the protective powers of Queen Titania who had spent the
last few years of her sojourn among the humans in the guise of a cross-dressing
man; in the might and wisdom of the great Oberon to-- Valentine grimaced,
momentarily annoyed by the distracting sparkling of the crystals that decorated
Titania's temporary Earthly domain. It was then that Valentine's dark blue
eyes widened, as he suddenly took in the tiny mirror-images reflected a
thousand times over in those glittering stones. Eyes of dark blue became
an angry red. "NO!"
The movement
was lightning-fast.
Before anyone
could react or think, the ancient Kindred lord lunged forward, knocking
the arcane tome flying from Napoleon's hands and rested the semi-conscious
knight from a startled Oberon's careful embrace, dragging him away,
ignoring the gasps of outrage and dismay all around him. "Valentine of
the Kindred!" Titania sputtered, the lovely countenance reddening in
Valentine's
glowering red glance flashed in the direction of the vaguely amused Oberon
who merely stood and watched as the vampire elder carefully set the dazed
First knight aside. "Since when, Lady, does your Lord cast no reflection!?"
The silence
of disbelief was the only answer -from Titania's wordless exclamation of
dismay; to young Val who shook his head in terrified denial as he clutched
the dark tome like a life-preserver; to Waverly, April and Mark who glanced
at each other, seeking answers they didn't have ...to Napoleon, dazed no
longer , who locked eyes with the great fae king who finally...smiled...as
the spell of deception was rescinded, flowing away like quicksilver to
reveal what truly existed beneath. "Ah, Titania, my dear old enemy," the
Great One said with a sigh of grim satisfaction, "you have grown careless
from dwelling so long amongst lesser beings." Long, bony hands swept in
the direction of "Oberon's" entourage -in their place now stood a small
army of halfling demons, their magically-wrought blades and spears at the
ready. "Once, I would never have fooled you with a simple trick of glamour."
The dark, towering being stepped forward. "And now? Now, I bid you give
me the Knight *and* the Grand Grimoire which his kind used to bind my Mother!
*Give* them to me or I will TAKE them!!"
"DESISTE, BELIAL!!"
shimmering, immovable wall of force appeared at the faery queen's command,
separating the would-be combatants. "You will *not* get past me!"
"No? Perhaps
not." The Great One's eyes narrowed, but there was a malevolent smile behind
the dark red glow as he viewed each of his opponents in turn, lingering
the longest on the First Knight before returning to the faery queen. "But
can you stop me from bringing down this sorry edifice?" At once, the old
building began to tremble, plaster showering from the cracks
"STOP!! Please...stop."
Despite his weakness, Napoleon forced himself to stand up, straight and
resolute, his expression unreadable as he turned and pulled the Grand Grimoire
from Val's trembling grasp. He again met the eyes of the one he now knew
as Belial. Waverly moved to stop the young knight, but Valentine forbade
him, aborting the effort with a hand grasping his arm and a silent shake
of the head. Napoleon locked eyes with Valentine, something seeming to
pass between them before he returned the dark ancient's suspicious glare.
"I'll go with you."
The thunderous
shaking stopped...
...the Knight
reached through the shimmering barrier as if it was not there, clasping
a the Great One's cold hand...
...and along
with the dark cadre, disappeared.
Waverly's voice
was tremulous. "Do you know what you *allowed*!"
Valentine flinched
at the note of accusation in his mate's voice and nodded. "I do." The vampire's
hands balled into fists, tightening until the nails drew blood, his mind
focusing on that glance that he and Napoleon had shared. He hoped that
it was enough; that his grandson's mate and guardian had understood the
knowledge he had sent in silence to him alone. Perhaps
Once, Valentine
had planned -now, he had to trust.
The Dark One
called Belial dragged Napoleon Solo by the arm, footsteps echoing hollowly
on the cold floor of his most secret place. He smiled at the scent of freshly
spilled blood. "Illya Nickovetch! Come, my child -I have a gift for you!"
than anyone
had guessed, or... The ancient vampire shuddered again, unwilling to complete
the thought, unable not to. *Or* something was causing the psychic bond
between Solo and his beloved Illya to corrupt and decay.
indignation.
"What madness is this!"
beginning
to appear in the low ceiling. "Or this street?" The earthquake intensified,
stronger than the 4.0 that had been felt before, as thunder rumbled from
the earth that began to surge and buck beneath the splitting asphalt and
concrete. "Or, perhaps, this equally pathetic *city*!"
the only way
to stop their enemy...and save his beloved Illya.