Napoleon Solo had no idea how long he'd stood on the spot where the vampire had disappeared into the shadows, closed his eyes,  and prayed to whatever God might listen for his safe return.  **Easy, Napoleon, old son.  We're talking about someone who is several hundred years old and you're worried!?**, whispered his inner self.

"Yes, damn it, I'm worried!", he shouted back to the empty room.  "These killings....."

**Killings or feelings?**

"Feelings?"  That got Napoleon's attention.  "Yes, dear Lord!  The jealousy I felt when I thought he had another male lover; the bond we've had since the beginning; the values we share.....  No wonder the old stereotypes are dying out......"

"Good evening, Napoleon", came the soft real voice, this time in front of him.

A thrill ran the length of the American's body as he opened his eyes and stared into crystal blue ones.  "Hi!", he whispered, entranced by the vampire's beauty.  "I...uh..."  He paused trying to organize his thoughts into words.  "I'm glad you're all right", he said, finally finding his voice.

Illya moved closer to the human.  "Yes, I heard your verbal concern."

Napoleon blushed but his gaze never faltered.  "I wanted to apologize for yelling at you in the presence of your family.  I..uh...think I've finally figured it out."

Illya moved closer until mere inches separated them.  "And what conclusion have you come to, Napoleon?"

Napoleon's heart beat an Italian tarantella within his chest at the blonde's nearness. **Christ!  He's magnificent!**  "The rumors.  They were talking about us, weren't they?"

"Yes.  Does it disturb you?"

"Not at all", Napoleon replied, not surprised by the calmness in his voice.  "I just hoped it didn't cause you any trouble."\

"I am in no danger but I am well aware of the need for caution."

"Good.  Silence.  "Illya, if you don't mind me asking, who is he?"

"My grandfather, in a sense."

"He's a Kuryakin?"

Illya laughed.  "Honorary Kuryakin.  Legend has it he saved the life of the first Kuryakin, minor royalty of the Steppes.  The man turned out to be an Ancient whose people were not only long dead, the civilization was, as well.  None of us knows how old he exactly is.  The Prince, Illya by name, adopted him into the family.   In the coming years it was agreed that the son best suited would inherit....."

A loud crash interrupted the Russian's story.  Once more the men embraced each other for protection.

"Illya Nikovetch!", a deep voice called out from the living room..

"Illya Nikovetch!!", another voice called out, this time from the bedroom balcony.

Illya tightened his embrace on the human.  "Stay very close to me, Napoleon", he commanded.

Napoleon snorted.  "Do I have a choice?  Any closer and we'd merge", he quipped.

"I appreciate your attempt at humor, Napoleon, but these are not friends."

"Send him out, Illya Nikovetch, and we shall enjoy him!", called out a third voice, once again from the bedroom balcony.

"A Prince of the Blood should not have to soil himself with inferiors!", a fourth said.

"Who are these bozos?", Napoleon hissed.

"Prime suspects and, possibly, our worst nightmare."