The group cleaned up the area around the Arch as best and as quickly as they could. The air lacked the charge of evil energy it had when they had arrived.  Then they piled into the van and headed home. They were battered, bruised, and more than a little bit tired. But they had all survived and that made it a good day. At least one of them was hoping for an even better night.

The van made its way up the long drive and pulled into the garage, and then the battle weary group walked to the main house. The small table on the terrace was set with a bottle of wine and places for two. In the center of the table was a chocolate truffle dessert.

The door to the mansion opened and Raven stepped out, hand in hand with a man.

With a burned and bloody hand, Dren flipped on the nearby light switch with no regard for the pain and discomfort it caused. Staring at the man, Dren's heart sank. His ears filled with fire and his head with blood. Of all the realities that Dren had considered, and all the hells he’d been through - right now, at this moment, he wished  he was sinking in a watery grave… anyone but him. Anyone else and it might have been okay… but…

”Marco Pelayo.” Dren sounded, almost, pleased ”Sorry t’interrupt. We’re jus’ passin’ through.” Leaving a bloodstain on the wall, Dren moved, keeping people between himself and the lovebirds and still trying to sound upbeat. ”I'm a 'uge fan," he said to the man. "Truly an honor.” To the rest, and Raven, Dren simply nodded ”It’s late, I’m gonna turn in.” Right after I shoot myself in the head, he thought. Dren left without a glint of emotion or concern for what happened next.

Marco stood about 5' 9" with dark eyes and black hair that was pulled into a loose ponytail. His blue shirt appeared to be silk and complimented his black pants and boots. "Good evening, I’m Marco Pelayo, pleased to make your acquaintance." There was a hint of an accent, almost Spanish but not quite. He extended his hand in greeting to the nearest person.

"Pleasure to meet 'ya," Johnny said, offering his hand. "Johnny B. Hope."

“Ah yes, Mr. Hope,” Marco said as he gave Johnny’s hand a firm shake. “Raven spoke of you. I understand that you are the doctor of the house, as well as a talented musician. I also play and compose music. Perhaps we could get together sometime and compare notes. I’d love to hear some of your work.”

Iona stepped forward and stuck out her hand and spoke in a controlled and cordial tone. “Pleasure to meet you. I had no idea when Raven played some of your music for me the other day that she actually knew you. What a surprise. I really enjoy your music. As Dren said, it is an honor to meet you.” Iona hoped that the blush to her cheeks would be attributed to the chill of the night air or the flush that one gets when meeting a celebrity, and not its true cause.

Marco took Iona’s hand and gently kissed it. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine. I’m glad you liked the music. Perhaps I can play for you in person sometime, but not tonight. The hour is late and you all appear to have had a busy evening. I won’t intrude on you anymore tonight.”

---

Exhausted, Alex hauled herself up the stairs to the second floor and into the armoury. Sliding down the wall, images flashed across her mind's eye; her 21st birthday, a night out at the local pub, a grab-bag of memories that could only end with one picture - that of the only three people she had truly cared about lying dead on the ground.  Reflexively, her legs curled up and she hugged her knees to her chest, trying to think of something, anything else.  But what else was there?

Had these been a scant few months ago, Sarah, who had an uncanny knack for knowing something was wrong even when she wasn't in the same room, would have burst through the door and thrown her arms around her, somehow able to always find the right thing to say or do when one of her friends needed her.  But Sarah was gone, and there would be no comforting hugs or words from her, not now and not ever again.  No longer able to hold back the feelings she had locked away, Alex buried her face in her hands and wept, spilling tears for her friends and for the void they had left behind.

Episode 1.04:  Aces and Eights

Pieran's condition continued to deteriorate. His left arm had become fully paralyzed and the pain searing through his nervous system was constant. Raven ran into Pieran in the middle of the night as he was trying to leave in the truck, but he was in no condition to drive. She tried to convince him to go back to bed, but he could not be persuaded. “There’s somewhere I must go,” Pieran said, “something I must do now and alone.”

With a look of defeat she said, “Alright, but I’m driving.”

They drove to the lake, or as Pieran called it, “The scene of the crime…” Pieran stood by the edge of the lake and talked about some of the souls he carried within him. “A twenty-two year old Cheyenne native called ‘Stands In The River,’ was murdered by the Whites at the Sand Creek massacre of 1864.  He was an exorcist, healer, and spiritual warrior."

“81 AD.  Flavia Silvanus, twenty-seven: a ‘voice mystic’ whose melodies could charm the birds from the trees.  Her speeches opposing Rome made her a criminal. Titus cut out her tongue and dropped her in the Coliseum where his leopards devoured her.”

“Pieran Thomas Swift, thirty years old; neither a wizard or a doctor, neither a soldier or a priest.  An urn containing - not the cinders, but the souls of heroes and heroines past.

Raven frowned as she took a few tentative steps behind Pieran and began to close the distance between them.  She wasn’t comfortable with the direction his thoughts and words were taking.

“Pieran sought to fuse the souls within him into one voice, one wisdom, one conscience united. But his quest was cut short by a winged demon resembling an angel. Her blade struck his body and her venom poisoned his heart.  With one blow, thirteen eagles fell.”

“Pieran, what are you doing?”  Raven stepped into his view, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

His words came haltingly and with great suffering.  “I should have died on this battlefield. It was my time. I will not live as her crawling decrepit creature.” He shouted at the lake. “Do you hear me, Erinyes?  I decide how I want to live!  And I decide how I will die. And if I should fall into hell for it, then may my teeth be forever at your throat.” Pieran pulled out a Japanese Tanto and gripped it in his hand. “Here now eagles, fly once more.”

“I am not going to stand here and let you kill yourself!”  Raven grabbed Pieran's hand in an attempt to disarm him. As Raven touched the weapon, she was suddenly flooded with images. In her mind, Raven was suddenly experiencing the last few moments in the life of one of Pieran's souls - a young Japanese woman. Raven heard and felt everything, as if it was happening to her.

The woman had just killed a demon, and was trying to escape. Finding herself trapped, the woman pulled out a dagger - the same Japanese Tanto that Pieran now held. The woman was going to plunge the dagger into her own heart. Defeat on her terms was an honorable escape and far better than letting the demon have the satisfaction of killing the warrior. But before she could take her own life, the demon captured the young woman. The monster executed her by calling a bolt of lightning out of the sky to incinerate her. The woman was cheated out of a warrior's death.

The images stopped as abruptly as they had started. Raven's hand was still entangled with Pieran’s as they both gripped the dagger. Pieran pried Raven loose and tossed her aside like a doll. "Pieran, stop!" But then Raven realized, Pieran was no longer the one in control. “I will not let you kill him!  This is his life, not yours!” The Japanese word for lightning screeched from her lips, “Rakurai!”

Pieran froze and looked back over his shoulder, sudden fright filling his eyes.  Then, all at once, whatever had seized him vanished.  His knees buckled as he fell to the ground and the dagger dropped from his hand. Raven rushed to his side. “I am going to find a cure to this hellish poison and you are going to stay alive long enough to let me do it.”  Raven sounded almost angry as she held him in her arms.  “So everyone lurking in that head of yours better be paying attention, because I don’t want anymore trouble out of any of them.  No more noble self-destruction. You people want more opportunities to slay demons?  Then you leave him the hell alone and let me do my work!”

Since Cornerstone was between cases, Iain did a little hunting on his own time. He located a small group of vampires occupying an abandoned warehouse. Iain joined their gathering uninvited, but they didn't see him as a threat, after all he was a vampire too. They were more concerned about having to share their dinner. Two of the three men inside the building protested loudly, but the fourth one, a tall, thin black man dressed as a pastor, replied to their angry comments with a tranquil voice: "You must stop thinking of what you can get, and begin considering what you can give: only then will you be truly strong. Forgive them, brother, and welcome, to my humble house. Please, sit down and feast with us." Three girls, all about fifteen, had been tied to as many chairs; a fourth one, naked from the waist above, had been bound to the four legs of the table. "Matthew. Do not forget the prayer, before you eat..."

Matthew rolled his eyes, and then took a cross from the table, lifting it above the frightened teenager. Well, not exactly a cross: its arms were twisted at unusual angles, and the bottom end was pointed and sharp. He vamped out and began: "Help me, oh Lord, for I'm about to sin. In this second life you donated us, we..."

While the others vamped out and joined in the prayer, Iain slipped a hand inside his coat. One of the vampire's caught the movement and leaned toward Iain to whisper quietly: "Pay attention, bro... This is the best part." Iain whispered something inaudible in return. "What'd you say bro?"

"I said..." Replied Iain, taking his katana out of his coat and decapitating the bald vampire in a single move: "I'm not your bro."

The pastor had a sad look: "You disappoint me greatly, brother."

After dusting the other vamps, Iain pointed the sword at the pastor, who shook his head: "We shouldn't fight amongst us, brother. I can feel your hunger, and I can feel your pain. Let go of human morality, join us in the brilliant darkness, let your true spirit soar high, unimpeded by the weight of your soul. Ah, yes, I can sense your soul... I don't know how that could happen, but I do know that you were not meant to carry such a burden. I can help you, brother, I can make the pain go away."

"Thank you, father..." Replied Iain, "Maybe another time."

"I forgive you..." Breathed the pastor as he went poof, leaving only Iain, with his stake still raised, and four terrified girls.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:53, Thu 30 July 2009.

Alex continued to have dreams of conversations with her dead friend, Sarah...

“You were given a second chance," Sarah said. "One that none of the rest of us were given, and you’re wasting it.”

Alex threw the other woman a sceptical look.  “How do you figure that?”

“Technically you’re now on your third chance, and you’re just doing the same as before.  Trying your hardest to shut everyone else out and go it alone.”

Folding her arms like a petulant toddler receiving a good telling-off, Alex scowled in return.  “I am not.  I’ve made friends here.”

Sarah laughed incredulously.  “What, the dead guy and the dying guy?”

“Sarah!”

“Come on, Lex.  Seriously, take a look.  Pieran’s a safe bet, because you don’t really think he’s going to last much longer –“ she waved off the protest forming in Alex’s mouth before continuing, “so you can go through the motions of a friendship knowing that chances are, you’re not going have to risk any real kind of connection with him.  He’ll die, and you can be content in the knowledge that at least you tried.”

“I like Pieran.”

“And then, of course, there’s Iain.  What’s up with that?”

”He has a soul.”  The Slayer-That-Never-Was protested weakly.

”Yes, yes he does.  Along with fangs, a bumpy forehead and general lack of a pulse.”  Sarah rolled her eyes.  ”Who am I kidding.  What are the chances you’d fall for someone normal, anyway?”

Alex’s eyes widened.  ”Oh, no.  No.”  She said firmly.  ”Its not like that.”

”Why not?”

”Why not?  What do you m - what about the fangs, bumpy forehead and general lack of pulse?”

”You can’t have it both ways, Lex.  Either him being a vampire is a problem or it isn’t.” Alex remained silent as Sarah continued. ”I think that should things go past your comfort zone, you can just play the vampire card, back off, and save yourself any potential heartache.  Someone else you can play at being friends with, without risking actually getting close to them.”

When no further response came from Alex, Sarah sat down next to her, resting her head on the other woman’s shoulder.  ”You’re a mess, Alexis Scarlett Taylor.” Almost on reflex, Alex followed suit and leant her head against Sarah’s. ”We both know that you’re lonely.  I mean, you’re conjuring up imaginary people to talk to!  Go out for dinner with someone, or have a cup of tea with someone other than Pieran for once.  And you’re going to have to decide if Iain being a vampire is really a problem. You don’t want to be leading another guy up the garden path, intentionally or not.”

”I miss you, you know?”  Alex whispered softly, an admission she could barely stand to make, even if it was only to herself.

”I know, sweetie.”  The blonde replied, slipping her arms around Alex’s shoulders and squeezing.  ”But you’ve got a life to live and you’re not betraying any of us by doing that.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:51, Thu 30 July 2009.

The new man in Raven's life was named Marco Pelayo. He was a folk musician from Galicia - a region in the northwest corner of Spain with Celtic and Gaelic origins. He was a successful recording artist of Celtic music with a Spanish influence.

“I first met him shortly after we were brought to Cornerstone," Raven said. "He was shopping in an antique store and he had a couple of questions about a piece that the owner couldn’t answer. I just chimed in to help. He’s in town working on his next CD. There’s an old recording studio here that has unique acoustics that he wanted to experiment with. It turns out that this studio is a short walk from that bookstore that I’ve been visiting everyday. Marco takes his coffee breaks there.” Raven spoke as if she had discovered a rare treasure. “He likes old books.”

“Anyway, I helped him with the translation of a poem and he bought me coffee to say thanks. Before long, having coffee together at the bookstore became a regular thing that we both looked forward to.”

After about three weeks of daily coffees together, Marco and Raven began dating. That was a little over a month ago.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:56, Thu 30 July 2009.

Alex wasn't the only one experiencing vivid images while alseep. Iain dreamed that he and Alex were cuddling. They began kissing passionately. Iain's kiss continued down her cheek, onto her neck... Suddenly Iain's face shifted into vampire mode. Alex's eyes widened as Iain bit her neck and drew the life from her. Iain's fangs glistened with blood as he gazed on Alex's lifeless body in his arms, and smiled.

Iain awoke and sat up on his bed, panting heavily.

"Trouble sleeping, brother?" The vampire priest was sitting on Iain's chair.

"You are dead." Iain stated matter-of-factly.

"Aren't we all?" The priest smiled.

"This is a dream. Just a nightmare inside the nightmare."

"Oh, no, brother, this isn't the nightmare... Your life is. How can you be so blind? You have been blessed with immortality, with freedom, with a chance to do everything you want. And you waste it with these... Sheep."

"They happen to be my friends."

The priest chuckled darkly: "Oh, yes, especially the Irish one."

Doing his best to ignore the ghost of the undead, Iain just replied: "Go to Hell."

"Been there, done that... Nice place, really. A little hot, but then again, so is California..."

"Are we done yet?"

The priest's smile became an evil grin: "We are just getting started, brother."

Iain awoke, for real this time, and noticed something seemed different. I'm not breathing. For the past six years, breathing had somehow remained part of Iain's reflexes. He couldn't be sure if he continued to breathe when he slept, but when he was awake he unconsciously kept the air flowing in and out of his lungs even though it didn't serve any real purpose anymore. Lying in bed at night he used to listen to the sound of his own breath - for lack of a beating heart - until he fell asleep.

That sound wasn't there anymore.

"We are just getting started, brother."

Iain jumped off the bed, turned the light on and looked around for the owner of that voice.

The room was empty.

Raven gave Pieran a finely crafted smoking pipe. It was made of ivory and carved in the shape of a dragon. “I’ve been studying those books we got from Priestess Ninti. The Solerites knew how to infuse items with various enchantments, including healing enchantments. I think I’ve come up with something to counter most of the effects of the poison. It’s not a cure. A cure would require me to remove a curse and… I haven’t figured out how to do that - yet. If you begin and end each day with a smoke of this pipe, the paralysis, the weakness, and any other symptoms you have should diminish to a negligible level in a short time.”

"Will any kinnikinnick do for smokes or do you have some special, wacky tobaccy in mind?” Pieran asked with a boyish wink.

“Technically yes, you can use anything you want. I think your doctor would recommend something herbal and low in carcinogens and addictive substances. As for the wacky tobaccy, probably best to save that for when you’ve stocked up on munchie food and have no plans to operate heavy machinery.” Raven smiled at him.

Thursday November 25, 2004 - Thanksgiving

Despite the way her last "family dinner" had ended, Iona couldn't let Thanksgiving pass without the traditional feast. She invited Raven's new beau to join them, hoping that everyone would behave better in front of company.

While Iona busied herself in the kitchen, Alex joined Pieran in a walk around the mansion's grounds, and Alex confided in him.

"A little while before we all got dragged here, I had a run-in with a demon.  I don't want to go into the gory details, but its enough to say that it died and its blood got mixed with mine.  Since then... she shrugged, again not wanting to entirely elaborate on the matter.  "Strange stuff started happening to me - like the telekinesis."  There was an obvious air of distaste as she spoke the last word, as though she found the very idea of it unpleasant.

"I thought, well, I hoped that was the end of it.  I mean, I couldn't find anything that hinted it would get any worse and things seemed to have plateaued out.  But last month, at the arch..." she shook her head.  "There was another one of those demons there and it could feel the one that I had fought - Kaphious, it called it."  Alex abruptly stopped talking, telling herself that the burning sensation running along the scars on her back was purely psychosomatic.  Frowning, she carried on.  "Who am I kidding.  It called me Kaphious.  It said that we were merged or something, tried to get Kaphious to help him and it nearly did.  I nearly did.  But it wasn't me.  At least, I don't think so..." she trailed off.  There was something in Alex's eyes that said she wasn't really sure of this at all.

"It reminds me of a blood borne viral infection," Pieran said. "I don’t know much about that, Alex, I wish I did."

"Some say changes in our DNA may result from viruses," he continued. "So it isn’t hard to suppose that you may inherit peculiar qualities as a result of exposure to the toxins of demonic blood.  But that is NOT the same thing as saying that you are necessarily becoming a demon. Nor do I believe that you are possessed, if that’s any comfort.  Nor finally do I believe that Kaphious dwells within you.  That his blood mingled with yours is known; my guess is your last foe smelled or sensed that blood within you.  He concluded that an ally of his was present and so, called you Kaphious by name. You are no more a demon than I am a wizard. Now, tell me how I can help you."

"I think you already have." she replied, and it wasn't a lie.  Pieran thought she was still plain old Alex, Slayer-That-Never-Was, and oddly enough that gave her hope, something she hadn't really expected to take away from this conversation.

"This wasn't a part of my plan.  I'm not sure what my plan was, but I do know it didn't involve nearly dying several times, getting weird demon blood infections, being sucked into another dimension and - " having fuzzy feelings for a vampire?  Alex caught herself before she finished the sentence, wincing at the fact she had nearly blurted it out and feeling the colour creeping onto her cheeks at the thought of it.

"You know, I was eighteen when I discovered the big wide world.  And it was a lot to take in after what I'd been used to.  I didn't cope very well.  I don't remember most of it, due to the vast amount of alcohol and er...  other substances I consumed.  Well, that and the burning shame that makes me suppress anything I can remember."  She smiled awkwardly as another blush took hold of her cheeks, showing she really wasn't joking about being ashamed of that particular part of her past.

"There were men.  Far too many of them, actually.  But nothing that ever lasted longer than a night."  Alex frowned, paused and cleared her throat as her embarrassment reached new highs.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that most twelve-year-olds have had a more meaningful relationship with the opposite sex than I have.  Romance is always something that seemed like a nice idea, but I always figured it was something I could never have.  And...  Well, there's a chance of it now and I'm scared silly on so many levels its just not funny."

“I wasn’t born as I am now,” Pieran said after a pregnant silence.  “I had my metanoia when I was twelve.  Talk about a lot to take in and not coping well!  In a metaphorical sense I died and was reborn. I haven’t had a romance….ever!  Too young before twelve; too old, after.  Oh plenty of crushes, sure, and a few one-to-three-night stands which shamefully served more for interrogation than lovemaking.  Today, my mistresses are the horses, the rising sun, the forest, the seas and seasons."

“Have you noticed how gentlemanly I am not to ask you with whom you have this fresh chance of love?”  Pieran smiled to her the devil’s own grin.

"Its..."  She shrugged, not usually so reckless with confessions of her feelings, but she figured that since she was in for a penny, she may as well go in for the whole pound as well.  "Well, its Iain." There, she had said it.  Out loud, and to a person, no less.  At the same time, she felt suddenly liberated and terrified in the same heartbeat. "So, um, yeah.  I seem to be developing a bit of a thing for him."  She was blushing, again.  "I'm just struggling with the whole vampire bit."

Ouch.  “I imagine he is, too,” Pieran said, none too ironic.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:43, Wed 05 Aug 2009.

Before the big Thanksgiving feast, most of the house-mates gathered in the media room to watch the annual football rivalry between the Fighting Irish from the University of Notre Dame versus the University of Southern California's Trojans. Having graduated from USC, Raven rooted for the Trojans while Dren supported his Irish heritage by backing Notre Dame. Raven and Dren apparently had their own rivalry involving the game.



During halftime, Marco received an odd call on his cell phone...



With Marco out of earshot, Johnny confessed to Raven, "Dren and I've been looking into - heck, spying on - Marco's personal affairs, and for some reason he's hiding something from you."

Raven appeared aghast as she looked at Johnny. "You've been what?"

Dren spoke in a hushed voice "I wouldn't call lookin' up a mans driving record, spyin'."

"Oh, would snooping be a more accurate word?" Raven glared at Dren. "I've let it go when you've done this kind of thing in the past. If you want to go digging into the backgrounds of potential clients, like Prince Abdu, that's one thing. My personal life is off limits."

She walked over to Johnny. "Whatever you think Marco may, or may not be keeping from me, is none of your business." She stepped in close and lowered her voice. "Do you think Marco knows everything about me? Like how we came to be at Cornerstone, and what we actually do here? Perhaps you should warn him about the secrets I'm keeping."

"I realize I'm balancing on boundaries here, but I reserve the right to -" Johnny paused a slight moment, looking himself back over the shoulder. "- keep the intelligence updated on people who are invited here on a regular basis, because, well, they aren't quite your personal life anymore."

"So with a trained demon huntress, a skilled combat artist, and a vampire... you thought the musician might be the most dangerous person in the room?" Raven turned once more to Johnny. "You may have a point. But I don't like how this was done behind my back. You should've talked to me first. I think I’m owed that small amount of courtesy and respect."

After Raven left the room to take Marco on a walk around the estate, Alex said, "I think its high time we all stopping sticking our noses into a grown woman's personal life."

"Th'day I start takin' advice from a woman. Y'won't be 'er!" Dren said.

"Of course you don't take advice from women," Alex said. "If you don't respect Raven's wishes, why the hell would you listen to me?" Alex made for the door that would take her into the gardens.

"My God, did y'see tha'? I think th'room actually brighten'd when she left." Dren said to no one in particular.

While walking around the estate, Raven and Marco ran into Pieran and Alex. Pieran had overheard some of Marco's conversation on the phone and expressed concern. Marco confided in them. Apparently the situation involved a man named Enrique Gonzales, better known as Gonzo, the snitch from the club Six Feet Under.

“You say that you know this man? Then maybe you can be of help. My attempts at negotiating with him have not gone well,” Marco said. “He agreed to sell me something, but he suddenly backed out of the arrangement with no explanation. Now he refuses to sell it to me at any price.” Marco looked at Alex. “Do you have any influence with him? Perhaps you could persuade him. Or at least find out what he wants in exchange, since he doesn’t seem to be interested in money anymore.”

"Influence...  Yeah, something like that."  An involuntary shudder shot through Alex at the thought of having to speak to the vileness that was Gonzo again. "It would probably help if we knew what you were trying to buy from him."

“It’s a mirror.” Marco looked at the others and realized he needed to tell them the whole story. “I’ve been looking out for the family of an old band-mate of mine. I promised him on his deathbed that I would take care of his wife and children.” He looked at Raven, “The Consuelos in Chicago, I told you of them.”

“The oldest boy, Hector, he’s 14. He’s a good boy. He just doesn’t always use the best judgment. He and his friends occasionally scavenge the items that are set out for trash collection in the wealthier neighborhoods. They look for things like bikes they can fix and video game machines that they can repair, and then they resell them. Among a box of items that they recently collected was an old mirror. Hector sold it on eBay to your acquaintance, Mr. Gonzales.”

“Shortly after the item was sold, Hector’s family was contacted by people who work for a Mr. Vito Pistone. He owns the Italian Village Restaurants in Chicago. He claims not only that the mirror was his, but that it was stolen. He’s promised to cause trouble for the boy and his family if the mirror is not returned. I contacted Mr. Gonzales and offered to buy the mirror back from him at a sizeable profit for himself, and he agreed. But when I went to collect the mirror, he said that he had changed his mind. Since then, I’ve gotten nowhere trying to reason with him or Pistone’s people. Maria recently had a threatening message left on her answering machine. I fear Mr. Pistone is running out of patience.”

"Could you describe the mirror at all, Marco? Alex asked. "If we can find out its value, we can work out why Gonzo won't part with it."

“I have never seen the mirror itself," Marco answered. "Just a picture the boys used when they posted it on eBay. It is oval shaped, about a foot and a half tall and almost a foot wide, including the frame. It can hang on a wall, but it also has some kind of stand that can be used to set it on a dresser. The frame is golden colored. At the bottom are two winged creatures - dragons perhaps? I’m not really sure. At the top of the frame is a face.”

“Mr. Gonzalez paid just under $200 for it. He agreed to sell it back to me for $500, and then changed his mind. I have since offered him more than five times what he paid but, he says he will not sell it at any price.”

The trio agreed to help Marco by looking into the matter. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this between us, for now," Raven said to Alex and Pieran. "I just don't feel like getting into all of it over dinner." She was still bristling about some of the comments Johnny had made, and didn't want to make any aspect of her personal life a topic for dinner conversation.

Alex wasn't looking forward to dinner.  She only hoped that it would go well, for Iona's sake.  Another ruined mealtime and the scientist might start to develop a complex.

Raven and Marco parted ways with Pieran and Alex, and continued their walk around the estate. Alex hung back as the pair set off, allowing them a head start and some alone time.  It was strange, really; Alex felt oddly protective of the couple's relationship and she couldn't work out why.  Maybe it was for the same reason that she harboured a secret love of Disney.

While Marco and Raven chatted outside with Pieran and Alex, Dren slipped into the kitchen to help Iona with dinner. As he helped save her pies from sliding onto the floor, Iona smiled and thanked him. “My hero,” and then her tone shifted. “Really Dren, some days it seems like you go out of your way to tick people off. And for no good reason, like you just want everybody to hate you. You can be…no… you are a really nice guy. You just want to keep everybody mad at you, to punish them or something.” Iona reached out and gently touched his arm, her eyes softened. “Why do you do that?”

Dren stepped back, "I speak th'truth, if people canna take it - that's their problem, not mine."

“No, it’s your problem. Every cruel thing you say does a lot more harm to you than it does to anyone else. Do you really think Iain cares if you like him or not? Do you think Alex is going loose any sleep over the insults you throw at her? Your comments may sting them for a moment but, then they’ll go on with their lives, barely giving a second thought to you or anything you say. You’ve made yourself not matter, Dren Telarwin, not to Alex or Iain. Keep this up, and soon you won’t matter much to the rest of us either.”

Iona looked out the windows towards the gardens, and the direction Raven and Marco had gone. “You keep pushing people away like this, and eventually you won’t matter to Raven, either. She’s already moving forward with her life, in a direction that doesn’t include you.” Iona turned to face Dren again. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe this dark cloak of meanness that you’ve shrouded yourself in, is what kept Raven and you from getting together?”

Iona shrugged. “Maybe you don’t care about any of that. You certainly don’t care what any of us think of you. But damn it, Dren, don’t you want to matter to somebody someday? You may have missed your chance with Raven but, you can still find happiness for yourself. That’s entirely in your hands. Think about it, does being a bastard to everyone around you really make you happy? Bitter, cruel, friendless and alone - is that really the person that you want to be??”

Dren glanced over his shoulder to see that they were still alone before nodding again and simply telling her ”Yer right.” Well, it wasn’t the most dramatic of epiphanies the world had ever seen but it was certainly the most sincere as he continued ”I’m not th’kind o’guy tha’ people’r friends wit’… I’m th’dog – trained t’attack on command… let’s face it, in this ‘ouse, as in th’rest o’m’life, I’ve been th’tool or th’weapon… no one’s friends wit’ their gun. ‘tis just there should y’need it. You an’ Raven are th’only people in m’life right now who see me as a person – an’I’m jus’ not sharp ‘nough t’understand, Why? So I’m sorry if I push people away… ‘tis easier to make ‘em not care ‘bout you, than ‘tis t’find out they dinna want t’care ‘bout you.” he ended with a shrug, mostly because he wasn’t sure what he’d just said, or if it made sense exactly.

“We’re the only people that you let see you as a person.” Iona started filling the sink up with soapy water so she could wash the bigger pots and pans that wouldn’t fit into the dishwasher. She tossed Dren a towel so he could dry.

“I don’t believe it’s easier. You’re putting a lot of effort and energy into making sure most people don’t get to know the real you. Letting people get close to you isn’t hard. It may be scary because you risk getting hurt but, since when were you the type of person to shy away from a little risk? Haven’t some of the greatest risks you’ve taken in your life also brought you the greatest rewards, like when you decided to become partners with a certain archeologist? What if you had never taken that chance? You would’ve never known Raven. Even if you don’t have the kind of future with her that you hoped for, hasn’t your life been better for having known her?” Iona passed a clean, but dripping wet pot, to Dren.

“You let fear stop you for so long that you may have missed your chance with Raven. Are you going to let it rule the rest of your life and make you miss any future chances at happiness?” She turned to look him in the eyes. “Are you going to let a little thing like fear beat you, Dren? Or are you going to summon the courage to start letting people into here.” She touched a soapy hand to the part of his chest that covered his heart.

"I was thinkin' o'lettin' th'fear win... but since y'put it that way..." Dren grabbed Iona's hand for a moment and thanked her with his eyes and smile before wordlessly returning to the dishes. The game, and the people watching it were now far from his mind, as was his bet - in this moment he was simply going to let himself be Iona's helper... it was easier that way.

Raven returned to the mansion and learned that her team had won the football game. "Looks like another year of Arabian coffee for me. What was the score?"

"41 t' 10. M'Irish all but set up lounge chair t'watch th'game themselves." Dren said somewhat playfully.

Finally, everyone gathered for dinner. “Since it is Thanksgiving," Marco said. "I understand that it is sometimes your custom to say what it is that you are thankful for. If you would indulge me, I would like to be first.” Marco thanked Iona for the dinner and the group for welcoming him into their home, and then he said, “I am most thankful for the beautiful woman seated next to me.” He smiled at Raven. “Your presence has been a blessing in my life.”

Pieran followed suit, thanking Iona, Johnny and Raven in particular for caring for him through his illness, and then he toasted the group. “To the rest of you also go a lion’s share of my deep gratitude for your patience." He hefted his glass high. "You are the wine of my life”

Marco’s words of affection toward Raven stung Dren like a quick jab to the nose – at this point there was nothing to do but shake it off and keep going. Lets get this over with. Dren thought, as he rose from his chair ”I guess I’ll go next.” not sure of what to say he just started talking…

”I’m thankful… mostly fer Raven Cantrell.” he paused as if he’d either said something wrong or was trying not to ”Raven… y'gave me direction when I dinna 'ave any. Guidance when I dinna think I needed any. Friendship when I thought I dinna deserve any an' 'ope when I thought I dinna 'ave any. Y’ve always pushed me t' b'be'ter than who I am, an' y’ve always encouraged me t' live up t' th'potential I’ve never seen in m'self – Thank ya.” not finished he turned to the resident cook ”An' Iona… who gave me trust when I hadn’t earned it, an' for being a true friend – no matter 'ow 'ard I made tha'… y'came through regardless.” turning his eyes to Alex he smiled and added ”But today… especially today, I’m thankful fer Alex, who reminded me tha' – While The Almighty God 'n' Father is forgivin'… we all must ask fer his forgiveness… th'path o'redemption is not a short or easy one, an' while I may slip an' fall, I want… The Lord, t'know I’m on it.” setting his glass down without drinking he glanced back at Alex and silently mouthed, I'm sorry.

Iona was impressed. She really hadn’t been sure that Dren was going to be able to start taking emotional chances. Now if she could just convince herself. She shot a quick look at Pieran. Yeah, Iona, you can talk the talk but, can you walk the walk? All those things she had said to Dren about the biggest risks bringing the greatest rewards. She really did believe that. It was time for her to apply it to her own life. It was time she came clean, not just to Pieran, but to all of them. She needed to take a chance on these people and tell them the truth about her half-demon heritage. Tonight, she thought. I’ll tell Pieran tonight and the rest of them after that.

Looking at the people sitting around the table, Iain raised a glass of wine and announced: "I, uh, I'd like to propose a toast, to something I think you'll agree we can all be grateful for: to friends, old and new."

As the others replied, a well-known voice commented: "What about family, brother? Aren't you thankful for that?" Shocked, Iain looked at the translucent shape of Father Peter behind Marco. He blinked once, and it disappeared -- had it ever been there in the first place?

Just as everyone began to dig into the bountiful meal, they were interrupted by the sudden arrival of Hornsby, who had an announcement of his own. “Ms McLean, there is a matter in one of our field offices that requires a person with your extraordinarily specialized talents. I have made arrangements for you to travel there this evening. It is an urgent matter that needs attending. You should have it cleared up in a couple of weeks, a month at the most.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:36, Mon 24 Aug 2009.

Dinner progressed and a good feast was had by all. Iona didn’t spill any details, and seemed excited about the upcoming trip. At least it did not seem like it was going to be all work and no play.

Dren caught up with Alex after dinner.

"Look, there's n'reason fer me t'not say anything 'bout it... but what I did back there, wasn't 'bout you. I'm not tryin' t' wipe th'slate clean, I dinna want t'try an' start ov'r!" taking a breath he seemed to forge more resolve as he continued "I know I've messed up pretty bad wit'ya - an' I can a'cept tha'. I dinna need you friendship an' I'm not tryin' t'get in yer good graces..." he paused to regather his train of thought, it was becoming clear that he was speaking off the cuff and in constant danger of derailing his train of thought "I dinna even need ya t'forgive me right now, but what I do want ya t'understand is - I meant it. I'm apologizing fer th'ways I may 'ave made ya feel, an' th'various ways I've treate' ya... I just need ya t'know tha'... even if you're not ready to accept it... You deserve it..." seeming to grow frustrated, as if unsure his point was getting across Dren shrugged "D'ya understand any o'this?"

Alex ran her hand through her hair, Dren's frustration mirrored in her. "I think so.  But...  What prompted this?  Why now?  Why at all?"

”T'b' 'onest… fer once.” Dren took a deep breath and look around once more ”Someone special made m'realize tha'I 'ave t'stop makin' people 'ate me, jus' because I’m afraid they won’t like me.” turning back to Alex he sharpened his gaze on her ”Truth is I 'ave t'stop 'ating m'self, before I can expect people t'like me… but I’ve screwed up m'life enough as it is. I’ve given too many people, too many excuses… it’s been my excuse.” with a shrug Dren’s eyes fell to the floor while he added ”Eh… I dinna expect y't'really understand… I’m not sure I really do. I’m just puttin' a lot on faith 'ere.”

Though Alex didn't want to think about it, she and Dren were far more alike than she cared to admit; and perhaps even more so with the revelation that Dren tried his hardest to push people away.  Nothing he had said seemed disingenuous, rather the opposite, from his repeated checks that they were alone and the slightly ruffled demeanour.  So she nodded, not wanting to draw this out any longer than it needed. "I have a vague idea of what you're talking about.  And thank you for the apology."

It seemed there was nothing more to be said on the matter; and with an assenting nod Dren slinked away, leaving Alex to ponder their brief conversation.

After Dren left, Alex ran into Iain, who appeared to be distracted. "New perfume?"

"I, uh...  What does it smell like?" Alex asked, somewhat caught off her footing by the rapid change in subject.

"Uh, sweet, fruity," Iain replied. "You changed your shampoo or something?"

You shouldn't play with your food, brother...

With a willpower effort, Iain didn't turn around to look for the voice.

"I'm probably just smelling Iona's efforts at making dinner," Iain said. "Sorry, I just... I'm not sleeping too well of late. I'm not really in my best shape."

Behind Iain, Father Peter shook his head: That's because you are not eating properly - but I can help you with that. The priest pushed Iain toward Alex...

Iain's left knee gave way and he almost fell, bumping into Alex in the process. Instinctively, he held on to her shoulders, his face just a few inches from her neck. Iain was suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of his favorite food. He took his hands off Alex as if she'd suddenly become hot. "Not in my best shape," he repeated. "Sorry." With that, he turned around and walked away as fast as he could without breaking into a run.

Alex stood in the hall as Iain strode away, her heart pounding, her breathing rapid.  One hand flew up to the side of her neck and clutched at it, covering it protectively.  There had always been a part of Iain that had regarded her as food - but it always seemed so far away and under lock-and-key, guarded by the human soul.  But for a moment there, that's all she had been to him.

She hesitated in the empty corridor for a moment longer, then tore off through and up the mansion. Without so much as a forewarning knock or cleared throat, she flung open the door to his bedroom and stepped inside, slamming the door behind her. "What the hell was that?" she demanded furiously, though she was having problems deciding if it was him or herself she was more angry with. "You're a vampire.  I get that.  I can live with that.  But when you start thinking of me as an after-dinner snack - that's where I draw the line!"

A few steps behind Iain, Father Peter chuckled: Ooh, the morsel is angry. All the better: it'll make her spicy.

Iain's mind finally snapped. He vamped out as he stood up. Grabbing a brass paperweight, Iain spun around and threw it with all his strength at the priest, yelling: "Shut UP!!!"

Of course, the projectile went right through the incorporeal figure, missing the window by inches and making a not-so-small hole in the wall. Father Peter didn't even have the decency to pop out of existence for a few seconds, and just simply continued: Don't scare your dinner, brother. Unless of course you like to mix the tastes...

Looking straight at the wall - or, from his point of view, to the ghost of a vampire priest - Iain growled: "Go to Hell! I'm not going to eat them."

The ghost shrugged: Not today, and perhaps not tomorrow, but I am a patient man.

Iain snarled: "You are not a man." Regaining part of his sanity, Iain turned his head a little, but didn't look directly at Alex as he asked: "You have no idea who I'm talking to, do you?"

Oh great.  Iain is crazy people.  You sure can pick 'em, Alex.  Alex scowled in Iain's direction as the thought ran through her head, not sure whether to fight or run if he decided to start throwing heavy blunt objects in her direction.

"No, I don't." she replied tightly.  "I assume they are responsible for your general weirdness lately?"

"Maybe I should start from the beginning," Iain said. "A few weeks ago, I was patrolling in a bad neighborhood." Iain recounted briefly the events of that fateful night for Alex, the subsequent visits of Father Peter, and the final events of the day.

"So...  You're telling me you're being haunted or something?  And its driving you crazy?"  Alex finally replied. She decided to save the "and just what the hell are you playing at, patrolling on your own, anyway?" argument for another time.

"That's... Yeah, more or less it. First there were the dreams, then the voices, and now... Him." Iain replied with a vague gesture at Father Peter - or, from Alex's point of view, at the empty air.

Alex looked unhappily at Iain.  How, exactly, she was supposed to deal with this situation, she had no idea.  Battling demons was one thing, stopping someone from loosing their mind was another, and completely out of her realm of expertise.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:12, Fri 21 Aug 2009.

Dren caught up with Iona while she was packing. He took her hand and placed his hand forged, silver cross and chain in it. ”I’m not givin’ this t’ya. This was given t’m’Grand Da, by ‘is father, when ’e went off t’fight for his U.S. Citizenship in Korea. It was given t’m’Da who came back from Vietnam – and shortly there after I was born. I believe it’s always kept me alive… just like it has all of them. S’I want it back… but I was always savin’ it fer Raven. I was goin’ t’give it t’er when I told ‘er ‘ow I felt ‘bout ‘er… “ he trailed off, lost somewhere between a thought and a dream turned nightmare.

Iona struggled with how to respond. The same religious beliefs that drove Dren to be so honorable, also generated so much hate for anything demonic. How could she find the words to tell him what she was? But she knew now was not the time, since she was about to leave for parts unknown. She accepted Dren's gesture, folding the cross back up in her hand, and and intended to express what emotion she dared herself to feel at that time when, mercifully, Dren cut her off.

”Dinna say nothin’. It’s not a gift… jus’ a loan… t’ a friend.” Before, he too, could breakdown any further, Dren took a step back and turned to leave her room.

“Dren…” Iona closed the gap between them and gave him a quick, firm hug. “Thank you.”

After Dren left, Pieran wandered into Iona's room. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Pieran…” There was so much she wanted to say but, she couldn’t do that right now. She needed everything to be perfect when she told him the truth about her heritage, and the way she was beginning to feel about him. Her hand reflexively checked to insure the gem was covered. “I… I want you to keep your calendar open when I return. I want to take you out to dinner, just the two of us. We never really got a chance to celebrate your improved health, and I really want to do that. I’d like to spend some time with you and… talk.”

Pieran's voice, tinged with melancholy, remained characteristically soft and sonorous.  "I will be here, waiting for you, if Destiny allows it.  I pray she does."

“I don’t think I’ll have enough room for everything.” She reached over and picked up one of her favorite blue scarves and then placed it in Pieran’s hand. “Maybe you could keep this one for me, something to remind you of me, just until I return.” She didn’t expect to be gone long but, she didn’t want to trust that absence makes the heart grow fonder, either. She wanted to make sure that he’d be thinking of her. Iona leaned in and kissed him softly. She smiled.  “We’ll pick this up when I get back,” she promised.

Pieran bowed his head with a reverent salaam, turned and left.  It was time to smoke.  Now he would discover if his magic dragon would blow away both Erinyes venom and emotional hurts.

Hornsby arrived in a limo and drove off with Iona to the airport.

---

A little later, Raven walked through the bathroom that separated her room from Dren’s and tapped lightly on the open door. Dren didn’t even bother glancing over as he quickly leaned from the chair he was sitting in and closed the fireplace doors masking the activity of the flames within.

“I’m going to miss her," Raven said. "Science fields are still dominated by men. I haven’t met too many women that share my passion for research.” She paused for a moment. “I haven’t known too many women I could call a friend.” She looked at Dren and tried to force a smile. “But, it’s just temporary. She’ll be back soon. Until then, we have email. Or, at least you have email.” Raven stole a glance at the infernal machine on his desk. “Maybe you could put in a word for me now and then, let her know I’m not ignoring her - I’m just technologically challenged.”

Raven was a klutz, yes, but for her to admit that she wasn’t good with machines, when her usual song was the machines hated her, was one of the rare moments that she let herself be all the more vulnerable… or as some would put it, human. It was in these moments that Dren loved her even more. That’s why he had to cheer her up as quickly as possible. ”I’ll d’better than tha’! I’ll even take dictation,” he said with a smile, as he tossed back the rest of his drink.

“Do you have another glass, and a bottle of the good stuff? A little liquid inspiration might serve me well tonight.” The smile left Raven's face as she paused to gather her thoughts. “Marco’s been dragged into the middle of a situation and, I’m hoping that you’ll be able to help.”

Sure and when I’m done with that I can shoot myself in the knee with my own gun! Dren thought. But he realized there were more than Marco’s problems on the table, here. It was clearly something that Raven needed help with too, otherwise she’d just try and deal with it alone. No, he wouldn’t be doing this for Marco at all… he’d be doing it for her. ”Ya know I’ll always cover ya. An’ if ya want me t’cover Marco – ya needn’t hesitate t’ask.”

Raven explained the situation about Gonzo and the mirror.

"I'll talk t'Gonzo."

“Thanks.” She started to leave, but stopped in the doorway. “That was very nice, those things that you said at dinner.” She stared at the floor, as if she suddenly felt very shy. “You know that I’m very grateful for you too, right? You’ve always got my back and, I probably don’t tell you often enough how much that means to me. Anyway, thank you - for everything. I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked out of his room and into her own without so much as a parting word from Dren.

He was stunned that she'd said as much as she did. Raven was not one for being put in the spotlight unless she was in control of all the cards in the game. He waited for her to close her bedroom door completely, and then refilled his glass and opened the fireplace doors to watch the flames once more. "Well, this 'as been a 'ell of a night," he said, toasting the burning contents of the fireplace.

Black Friday, the busiest shopping day of the year. Most of the residents of Cornerstone avoided the crowds and stayed home. Pieran asked Raven to meet him at Cornerstone's stables where he surprised her with an invitation to join him for a ride and picnic lunch. He wanted to thank her for saving him at the lake.

As they rode the horses around the grounds, Pieran asked Raven about her childhood. “School was a miserable existence for me," she answered. "In those days I had little control over my ability to gain insight from objects. That brought about some awkward moments. Soon, not only was I the smart girl with glasses but, I was also the weird kid. I withdrew from people. Books were my salvation.” Raven told how she spent most of her time "flying under the radar", until her English class read the poem The Raven by Poe. "I became the object of everyone’s teasing all over again. One day somebody even left a dead raven hanging in my locker." She took a deep breath and let out a weary sigh. “Ravens remind me of an unhappy time in my life. I have no affection for them. They were never the bird that I was drawn to. For now, ravens just dredge up stuff I’d rather not be reminded of.”

Later on, Pieran asked about how she and Dren had first met. "You two don’t seem to belong to the same circles but, It feels like you’ve known him a long time."

“I was in Bulgaria," Raven answered. "I had just located this ancient tomb. It was full of gold jewelry that must’ve been over 4,000 years old. My team and I planned to return the next day to properly excavate the site but, when we got back to the tomb, it was virtually empty. Thieves had stolen everything of value right out from under us."

“A few weeks later, I recognized some of the stolen pieces at an auction. I felt that my work and credibility had been undermined so, like a woman on a mission, I tracked down the seller and confronted him. I accused him of being a thief and a grave robber. To my surprise, he agreed with me. He told me, in his thick Irish accent, that just because I worked for a big institute didn’t mean that I wasn’t a thief and a grave robber myself, and at least he wasn’t in denial about what it was that he did.”

Pieran laughed aloud as he recognized the frank and bold attitude of their Irish housemate.

“Several months later, I was trying to track down this relic in China. I wasn’t going to let Dren beat me again. It became a race as we separately tracked down the information. Sometimes I’d get to the next clue first, other times he’d beat me. Whenever he would get to the next step before me, he’d leave me these amusingly arrogant notes. Once he even left me a cup of my favorite tea -- It was still warm. He must have known that I was just a few minutes behind him. In the end, I managed to get to the staff first, but just barely. Dren sent flowers and a bottle of wine to my hotel room to congratulate me."

The next time Raven ran into Dren was in Cairo. They were both after a burial mask that was part of a riddle that was supposed to reveal a great treasure, but they weren't the only ones searching for it. A man named Stephen Draghun was also hunting for the treasure. Raven found the mask first. “When I emerged from the underground ruins, I was greeted by a gun shoved in my face. Two of Draghun’s thugs had been following me. Fortunately for me, Dren had been following them. He knocked one out and disarmed the other. The one that was still conscious told Dren that if he helped him get the mask, he’d make him a partner and split the treasure with him. But Dren said he was a thief, not a killer -- and he was not about to beat up women and kids over an opera prop. He offered me a ride back to civilization and we left Draghun’s men stranded in the desert.”

The two of them have been a team ever since. “We never really sat down and discussed forming an official partnership. We just continued to work together. There were no strings. Either one of us could’ve quit at anytime but, we had much greater success together than we had ever had apart. I focus on the details, sometimes to a dangerous fault. He sees the big picture, and Dren never treated me like the girl. Letting me earn my own bruises and scraped knees was probably one of the highest forms of respect he could’ve given me”

Raven seemed quietly contemplative for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded softer. “Dren is one of the few people in my life that has never let me down.”

Dren dropped in on Gonzo at Six Feet Under and asked about the mirror.

“The reason I can’t sell it to anyone is because I don’t have it any more," Gonzo answered. "I gave it away already.”

"Bloody 'ell!" Half amused, Dren leaned back and shook his head. "What s'special 'bout this damned thing anyway?"

“You, my friend, are in the middle of the Highway 55 Feud” Gonzo moved forward to the edge of his seat as he spoke.

“I don’t know which one of those vamps was the first to possess the mirror. It’s been so long, they probably don’t remember themselves. One of them gave it as a gift to the other; they used to be pretty tight. Then they had a big falling out, I think a dame might’ve been involved. Anyway, the one who did not have the mirror stole it from the one who did. A lot of years later, the first one stole it back. They’ve been stealing this thing back and forth for several lifetimes. “

So, Pistone must’ve hired you to steal it back.” Gonzo waved off any concern Dren might have had with his “mission” being stated aloud. “Oh, don’t worry. I have no problem with that, because Chorro and Pistone seem to get off on this little game. But I live here and I have got to stay in Chorro’s good graces, so there’s only so much help I can offer to you.”

"S'ow much 'elp we talkin' 'bout exactly." Dren smiled and added, "An' what's this help gonna cost me."

“This one isn’t gonna cost you one red cent. I will do this as a favor and then one day, you may do me a favor,” Gonzo said, with a slightly wicked smile that left one feeling just a bit slimy.

Gonzo explained that Chorro kept the mirror in the office of his riverboat casino, Aces & Eights. Chorro was going to be hosting a high stakes poker game in one of the casino's private rooms. "I happen to know that the Gorch Brothers suddenly had to drop out of the game, so there are a couple of seats open." Chorro offered to put in a good word to get Dren and a friend into the game. "But, I gotta warn you, this ain’t no kitten poker. This is a serious game with some real dangerous types."

Dren smiled and nodded ”If it weren’t, I’d be disappointed."

“Chorro is not your normal vampire," Gonzo warned. "He has always despised the drinking of one's life blood. I don’t know how he did it, but years ago, he learned how to drain one’s life essence. The victim doesn’t die, but becomes a mindless husk of its former self. Very zombie like, but still technically living.” Gonzo shuddered slightly at the thought.

“Chorro thinks of himself as ‘evolved’. Now any vamp that still drinks blood, he considers lower then himself. Evolved or not, I do not want to become one of his living-dead. I can't be connected to the theft of the mirror, or I will give you up in a heartbeat. It won’t save me, but I will take you with me, understand?”

”Y’just get me in there an’ we can forget we ‘ad this conversation.”

Later that day, Hornsby gathered everyone for a meeting where he informed them, “Ms McLean has safely arrived at her new assignment. She seems to be a perfect fit for the position. However, initial assessments appear to have been a touch short. Ms McLean’s assignment will have to be extended, I’m afraid. There are indications that it could become long term. The situation is volatile at best. Be assured, she is safe, but progress will be slow.”

“Matt Gardiano has been briefed and is aware that you could use some assistance on your current endeavor. To that end, allow me to introduce Mike Gonzalez. Mr. Gonzalez has an extensive background in detective reasoning and procedures that should prove to be most useful."

"Wait, what exactly do you mean by extended assignment?" Raven did not like the way this sounded. "Iona's coming back, right?"

Hornsby nodded his head affirmatively. "Yes, Dr. Cantrell, that is the plan for Ms McLean to eventually return after her assignment, but that timetable is now unsure, extended significantly, at least from our initial estimates."

And just like that, the team had a new house-mate. Mike moved into Iona's old room, the two bedroom suite shared with Alex.

After Hornsby left, Dren informed the group about what he learned from Gonzo. After some discussion, Raven said, “We appear to have a preliminary plan. Pieran and Mike will case the casino. Perhaps while they’re doing that, Johnny can search the internet for information on the boat. Find us a layout, or other pertinent details. Dren can see if he can get anymore specifics about the game itself from Gonzo and start working on some high roller identities for himself and Johnny. Alex and Iain can see what they can dig up about Pistone. I’ll get together with Marco and learn as much as I can about the mirror.” It was pleasantly convenient that Raven’s assignment was going to mean spending time with Marco.

"Since we're going to have two players at the table, one of you should loose early, so that you can steal the mirror," Raven continued. "The other stays at the table and makes sure that Chorro wins enough to stay in the game until we're ready to leave. I’m certain that with our mutual experience with antiques that Pieran and I will be able to come up with a passable fake. The copy could keep his security from noticing it's gone while we're sneaking out with the real one."

That's when the new guy, Mike, made an observation. "You know, it just hit me," he said, as he looked at Pieran. "You look a hell of a lot like this chef we busted once. Rousseau. He worked for Chorro. You like, family of his? Or are you his double from another dimension, or something? Does that sort of thing happen? Sorry, I'm still trying to deal with this alternate reality thing."

“Apparently Johnny is a girl named Jean in this reality," Raven said. "So I suppose anything is possible.”

"Andre Rousseau?" Dren asked. "Gonzo said Chorro’s bringing in a new caterer called Andre Rousseau, to prepare the food."

"If we could intercept this chef and… delay him, detain him… something like that," Raven said. "Then Pieran could take his place, giving us somebody on the inside.”

"I need to know what he sounds like –his voice, his region," Pieran said. " I need to know his mannerisms, his eccentricities. If he’s been hired to cater this affair, then his menu is already in the works, and he has a crew!

Mike shrugged. "I busted him a few times. His crew won't be a problem. He's a real A-hole, can't keep help for more than a few weeks. He'll probably be looking for new people for the new job. In my reality he had some videos out, Cooking Channel kind of stuff. Might help you get a head start on the whole copycat thing but, we got other problems" Mike went on to describe what he knew about the casino's security. "You can turn off the alarm in the surveillance room, but you can't get to the surveillance room without setting off the alarm. And we have to actually control the surveillance room, unless you want Chorro to have color pics of whoever grabs the mirror. Here's the real kicker: you have to be undead to be able to go inside."

Iain sighed: "I guess Mr. Hornsby neglected to mention that detail... We do have an undead on staff."

Dren shook his head "Damn, y' might actually be useful fer somethin'."

"The game's in 10 days," Dren continued. "Raven needs t'start lookin' inna this mirror. Pieran needs t'be watching th'Food Network. Mike needs t'get us a floor plan. Maybe Johnny can find somethin' on th'computer. Fer now, those are th' most important elements. Without these in place, we can't form a plan. My information from Gonzo on the Chef is that he is new, being hired for the first time. Chorro hasn’t met him in this reality s'Peiran's performance dinna need t'be spot on. We could still use some info on 'ow Rousseau plans t'come t'town an' maybe keep tha' from happenin' as well as some information on Vito."

“After Pieran has had a chance to get the basics of this chef down," Raven said. "Maybe he and Mike could pay an advance visit to the casino. Mike could be the chef’s assistant, body guard, agent, or something. It seems to me that it wouldn’t be outrageous for the chef to want to look the kitchen over as well as the room where he’ll be serving. That could give the two of you a chance to case the place."

"I like th'idea," Dren said. "But jus' t'be on th'safe side I think we should Google 'im. Find out about any Mike Gonzalez in this world. Would 'ate t'learn tha' he's a cop who's tried t'bust Chorro before. If it turns out th'Bizzaro Mike is Mall Security then w'got nothin' t'worry 'bout."

"Dare I suggest a Plan B," Johnny said. "Involving showing Mister Pistone the sharper end of a hand-carved oaken stake?"

"Plans 'er a dime a dozen," Dren said. "We can make them tell th' sun comes up - th'trick is making ones that we know will work. If Chorro is as big an' bad as we think, then y'can bet Pistone is as well... Unless y'think Chorro's not a force t'worry about. In which case I'll ask ya once - Ya wanna fight me? Cuz I can assure you, I'm no tougher than a self-evolved, mystery, vampire tha' we know no weakness or level o'power to. But I like th'way y'think - just too early in th'game."

"If Pistone is Chorro's equal, then we need to stay the hell away from him, at least for now," Alex said. "Its bad enough that someone as dangerous as Chorro is in our playground."

"I think we've covered everything we can for now. I want to thank all of you for your willingness to help out in this matter. Both Marco and I appreciate it a great deal." Raven stood up. "I need to go get ready for my dinner date. I'll be sure to ask him for any other details he can provide about the mirror. Again, thank you," she said as she walked out of the conference room.

Dren waited and watched as Raven left the room. "S'much fer th'rule o' not mixin' business wit' pleasure," he mumbled as quiet as it was spiteful, before tossing back the large portion of drink he had remaining.

Over the next couple of days, Johnny set up a couple of telephone lines designed to intercept calls. Mike posed as Chorro's new assistant, Jack Smith, and contacted the real Andre Rousseau. Rousseau was informed that he would be working under Chef Teague of Iron Chef fame. Infuriated and insulted, the real Chef Rousseau declined to work for Chorro under such appalling conditions. A special number was given to Rousseau if he ever needed to call Chorro back. That number, of course, rang at Cornerstone. Mike then contacted the casino boat and established that he was Chef Rousseau’s agent. The casino was also given a phone number that rang at Cornerstone, effectively cutting off any contact between the real Chef Rousseau and Chorro’s establishment.

With Pieran in the guise of Rousseau and Mike posing as Henry, his agent, they dropped by the casino to discuss the menu and check out the security. Alex tagged along playing the roll of the Chef's bodyguard, Madeleine. Chorro didn't seem to recognize her, but he didn't seem to pay much attention to "the help".

They gathered to share what they found out with the group, and devise a strategy. Mike summarized the plan:

"Iain, you have to get that key-card off one of the staff. Dust him if you have to, just don’t be seen. Then you get to the boat early and mingle with the regular crowd. Take some change and hit the slots. Next to arrive should be Pieran, Alex, Raven and me. They will need to set up in the kitchen and in the private game room. I'll help out a bit, but mostly look like I'm making sure everything is in order. I will leave the boat once everything looks right and wait for Raven to show up with the mirror. Then Johnny and Dren arrive to play. The game is set to begin at 10:00 pm. Give the game a couple of hours before we move into action."

"Iain uses the card to get down the employee stairs and takes over the lower command center. Alex makes some excuse to check on something and heads to the smaller Security room on the main deck. There should only be one or two guys in there, but if you take them out, they can’t jump down the stairs to beat on Iain. Iain will disable the tapes and alarms."

"Pieran will be serving but since everyone should be eyes on the table, you are perfect for keeping an eye on the camera. When the red light goes out, you know that Iain has control. Serve your Pole-enta Croissant bloody sausage thingy then. That's the signal for Johnny to clean Dren out. After Dren's wiped out, he'll be sent to the VIP lounge."

"At 12:27, Dren leaves the lounge to use the men's room, but instead sneaks away toward the office. At this time, Raven takes the fake mirror; cloth covered to look like a serving tray, and also makes her way toward the office. Raven touches the keypad and, using her "talent", and gets the code. Dren picks the rest of the locks, and the two of them break in. They switch the mirrors and then Raven makes her way out to the van with the mirror disguised as a serving tray. I swap the mirror with a real tray, and Raven returns to being wait staff at the private party. At 12:47, Iain switches on the alarms and tapes, and then slips away. At first glance, it will look like the security just left their post. It should be a bit before they figure out something is wrong and by then we should all be gone. Piece of cake," he said with a smile.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:40, Fri 28 Aug 2009.

Iain ran into one of the casino's security guards at a dance club. He talked the guy into being Iain's wingman so they could convince a couple of attractive girls to leave with them. The girls had no idea they were leaving with a pair of vampires. Iain continued to hear the voice of Father Peter in his head, encouraging him to feast on the girls. They drove the girls to a secluded spot. Iain was in the backseat with one of the girls. They began to kiss. Iain went down to kiss her neck, and vamped out. He heard Rhonda's gasp as she felt his fangs on her neck. Iain waited for his favorite ghost to comment but, Father Peter failed to appear. Knew he was bluffing, Iain thought to himself.

Iain pulled back so the girl could see his vampire face. She began to scream. He raised his fist. The girl tried to shield herself with her arms, but luckily for her, Iain had other intentions. With a powerful swing aimed at Mark, he punched the other vampire with all his strength, and knocked him out. Iain reverted back to his human face and turned to the girls. "Go, before he wakes up." The girls got out of the car and ran. Iain rummaged through the contents of the glove box and found the security swipe card he was looking for. Just then, Iain's vampire "wingman", Mark,  woke up. After exchanging a punch or two, and maybe a kick, Iain dusted him.

"Now, now, brother..." Commented Father Peter with a saddened expression.

Iain looked at him for a moment, then started laughing.

"Did I say something funny?" The ghost asked with a frown.

Still laughing, Iain ignored him, went back into Mark's car, and started the engine.

"Brother?"

Still chuckling, Iain gave another look at the ghost, shook his head, and drove away.

"Brother!"

---

Pieran, Alex, Raven, and Mike arrived at the casino in a rented catering van. After unloading some supplies, they made their way to the kitchen to prepare the evening’s delectable snacks. Iain was the next to arrive, blending into the crowd like any other patron. Johnny and Dren would arrive last, seemingly by separate means, but at the same time. Invitations supplied by Gonzo in hand, they would be guided to the security room on the main deck, given VIP badges and, after a quick search for weapons, escorted up to the fourth deck.

Dren took a deep breath and focused himself. He called back on skill he hadn't used since his days running numbers in the back alleys of New York. He quickly forgot about Dren Telarwin and became Randall "Randy" Barrows from Dallas, Texas as he flashed back through his notes on everything from the best BBQ in Texas to the price of exotic footwear. "Evenin' mam, Dren said as he approached the bartender in the VIP lounge. "Can I get a glass of JD, no ice?"

Soon, all of the player's for Chorro's private game had arrived:

Clyde Lafeet had a strong bayou accent. He sounded like a mix between a Cajun Johnny Cash and an adult Disney character that Brer Rabbit might have hung out with. Clyde was a vampire.






Count Dracor was in his early fifties, but still in very fit condition. He dressed like he had just walked off the set of some black & white, classic vampire movie. He was human, but claimed that status was "temporary" until he had decided who he wanted to sire him.





Ethan Rayne was also human. He seemed well educated and his accent suggested that he was English.







Sleesta was a demon, and member of the Miquot Clan.







Swel Tore was a large, muscle-bound demon. His red skin radiated heat.







Finally, there was Will Reaver. A human of average build and height, with a forgettable face.







Johnny was using the name Gerhard Mannheim and Dren was playing the part of a Texan named Randy Barrows. Chorro, himself, completed the cast of nine players seated around the table.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:55, Thu 03 Sept 2009.

After everyone had taken their seats around the table, Chorro went over the rules of engagement.

“As all of you know, the buy-in was ten thousand. That will be your starting chips. You may purchase additional chips in one thousand dollar lots, if you have the appropriate capital. Cash or gold bars only please. This isn’t kitten poker, you know.” He slid an accusatory glance in Lafeet’s direction.

“To keep this a friendly game for all, no one can purchase more then an additional ten thousand. It keeps the rich among us from bullying those with more moderate means.” His glance shifted to Sleesta, who shrugged smugly.

“Finally, we play by Hoyle’s rules. Real poker, none of that Texas Hold’em crap. That’s just Bridge for gamblers. Any questions?”

Johnny's smile shut itself much like a ziplock. By poker, it would be generally assumed one meant the kind of poker which had been played in every mainstream tournament since the pope died, not the obscure kind one could see in black 'n white westerns. In professional play, Hoyle's had only the same thing in common with Hold 'em as it had with horse betting - if you haven't got it down, you lose. "I'm glad we have more class than the World Series and their play pretend rules," Johnny said, hearing the insecurity in his own voice.

"Boy, ya best be glad we're kickin' this old-school. That way it don't matter if yer a player or a liar... ya can still be a winner." Randy (also known as Dren) glanced at the gracious host with a playfully challenging smile. Poker was still poker, it was never truly about reading what you had in your hand but about reading the man sitting across the table.

And with that, the games began. There was a minor misunderstanding when Chef  Rousseau (aka Pieran) served something seasoned with garlic chives and the vampire, Lafeet, confused it with real garlic. Lafeet threatened the chef, but Chorro stepped in and calmed everyone down.

Another tense moment came a few hands later...

”Read them and weep boys!” Lafeet said, and then with great flare, he laid down his cards, one at a time. Splayed out before them was a very high straight. Clyde kissed two fingers, and then patted the Queen of Spades affectionately. “This lovely lady was late to the party, but she made quite an entrance.”

As Clyde reached out to scoop up the pile of chips, Chorro grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “Then she really is the death card, because she killed your hand.” He faced Clyde and said with a twisted smile "Hoyle's rules, remember?"

Swel started to laugh uncontrollably.

Randy looked from the cards to the laughing demon and back "Is there ah joke 'round 'ere that I'm missin'?"

Johnny watched nervously whatever was unfolding. He was relieved to be no part of the madness, involving some five-hundred pounds of demon roaring with uncontrollable laughter, because all his years of card-playing told him that Clyde had the winning hand.

"According to Hoyle," Ethan spoke in a friendly, casual tone. "Both straights and flushes are invalid hands, unless otherwise announced before the start of the game.”

Clyde tried to protest, but that only got him ejected from the game with a warning from his host. “Your days of walking this earth are numbered. You should pass this night by while you are still clinging to your undead life.” Clyde was escorted from the premises by Chorro's security.

Johnny tried to not look as if he had just been beamed up by Scotty. Some playful part of his cerebral cortex could not decide if the archaic Hoyle's rule springing out of nowhere, or Dren's winning a good-sized pot with a pair of sevens was the more incredible.

Iain made his way down the stairs to the lowest deck of the boat. He sneaked past the employee break room, until he reached the entrance of the security room. Just before the door, Iain could see the arch that was supposed to keep living beings outside. A quick peek from the small window in the door revealed two people, most likely vampires, relaxing on their chairs and examining the images on the large amount of monitors, each with a big display split in four mini-screens. The entire thing looked like the control room of a nuclear reactor, with a control panel that would fit nicely on an aircraft carrier - or a spaceship. Cameras, doors, fire control, flood control, everything on the boat was monitored and managed from that room. No wonder Chorro had put magical security on it. Iain looked around to find something to entertain his new friends with. The fire axe on the wall looked like an adequate choice...

---

Alex strode past the gaming tables and flashing slot machines that lined the walls of the main deck, looking like a woman with a mission.  Which she was, for all intents and purposes, though not quite the mission that she had been leading people to believe.  Directing a pointed scowl at anyone who got in her way - or looked as though they were thinking about it, she swung open the door to the security office that was exactly one deck above Iain and the control room. It was small inside, with just two people manning the place. "Any problems?" she asked.

“Nah, it just another busy night of stripping people of their hard earned money,” said the tall, blond guard. “That chef you work for seems like he keeps you busy. We had a hell of a time trying to get some of the stuff he requested."

“Hey, I could use a hand down here!” came a call from the control room, below.

The other guard rolled his eyes, and headed down stairs. “He probably wants a snack and can’t figure out the microwave again,” the second guard muttered as he disappeared down the stairs.

Left alone with the only remaining guard in the security office, Alex flirted with him. The sounds of some kind of commotion drifted up the stairway from the control room, and then there was a resounding tone, like metal striking metal. But the guard in the office with Alex was too preoccupied with the pretty girl to pay attention to what might be happening to his fellow guards downstairs. Alex got the guard to drop his defenses and lured him in close, and then slammed a stake into his back.

As Alex watched the ash drift down, the room was suddenly filled with the sounds of the casino as the door behind her was opened. She had no time to turn around before an explosion of pain racked the back of Alex's ribs. The impact knocked her forward into the desk, scattering papers in all directions. Tate, the tag on his jacket clearly displayed his name, was a pit boss for the roulette tables. He had entered the security office to enjoy a bit of banter with his friends but, instead saw one of them meet his demise. “I’m gonna rip you open an’ gut you like a fish,” he growled at Alex.

"I'd rather you didn't - it would ruin my suit," she drawled back, turning and snapping a punch toward him.

Chorro's personal guards tossed Clyde into the elevator and radioed security to have someone meet the elevator and escort Lafeet off the boat. But Alex and Iain were keeping both security offices busy. When the elevator doors opened on the main deck, there was no one there waiting for Clyde. The hot-headed vampire decided to seize the opportunity. He took the elevator back upstairs to the private floor. He ripped a golden plaque off the wall to use as a makeshift weapon. He charged into the poker room, intent on severing Chorro's head. In his rage, Lafeet didn't notice Pieran was bent over the table serving appetizers. Pieran stood just as Lafeet lunged and the two collided, spilling all the food. Pieran had inadvertently saved Chorro.

Chorro ordered that Clyde be killed. Without hesitation, one of the guards pulled a stake from his suit coat and drove it into the heart of Clyde LaFeet, turning him into a pile of dust. Chorro wanted to know how Clyde had gotten away from his escort. When the guards explained that they had neglected to accompany Lafeet on the elevator, Chorro was furious. “When I tell you to do something, I demand that it is done to the letter! No shortcuts.” Chorro locked his eyes on one of the guards, placed his left hand on the guard’s shoulder, and moved his right hand in a way that looked like Chorro was drawing something out of the air between the two vampires. The poor guard began to sweat the blood from his last meal through the pores on his neck and face. He shuddered as if his body was attacked from within. When Chorro stopped, the guard’s eyes seemed to glaze over. His face went slack and he just stood there. “Take him away and put him with the others. If he won’t think on the job, I’ll give him one where he doesn’t need his mind at all.” The guard did as he was told, and lead the shuffling vamp-zombie out of the room.

Downstairs in the casino's office, Alex had dusted the guard, but was surprised from behind by one of the pit bosses. He lunged for her, intending to push her down the stairs, but Alex managed to duck out of the way. The pit boss was the one who went tumbling down the steps. He made it about halfway down the stairs when he suddenly seemed to hit an invisible wall, like a force field. Bluish light and electrical discharges filled the stairwell. Charred flesh rapidly spread from his hands and feet to his body as his face mouthed a silent scream. A few seconds later, he was gone, but the strong smell of ozone and burnt hair remained. Apparently Chorro meant it when he said only undead could enter that level of his security.

Iain finished taking out the guards in the lower security room, and then turned off the cameras upstairs. Pieran watched as the tiny red light went out on the cameras. That was his cue to serve the dish that would signal Dren and Johnny. Dren quickly washed out of the game, and then went to meet Raven near Chorro's office. While Johnny made sure Chorro won enough to stay in the game, Dren and Raven broke into the office and swapped the real mirror for the fake that Pieran had crafted.

The poker game was winding down, and it was time for the members of Cornerstone to make their exit. Dren and Johnny were the first to leave. When they were sure they were in the clear, they met Mike at the van to wait for the others. Pieran was next, with his "bodyguard", Alex, at his side. Iain turned the cameras back on, and then slipped out of the casino like any other patron whose luck had finally run out. Dressed as catering staff, it was Raven's job to sneak the mirror out of the place. She covered the mirror with a cloth, and carried it like it was an empty serving tray. She tried to hurry through the game room, looking down as she walked. Someone grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Outside in the van, the rest of the team waited for Raven to arrive, but she was late. A concerned Dren went back to the casino to find her. He spotted Raven, wandering aimlessly, a few feet away from the slot machines. She had a faraway look in her eyes, like she was awake, but no one was home. The tray was still clutched in her hands in a white-knuckle grip. Dren moved to her, and placed one of his hands on her face, shielding her eyes. “Come back t’ me, Pidge,” he said in a soft voice.

Raven blinked a few times before she finally seemed able to focus and look at him. She told Dren she felt dizzy. Dren gently took the mirror from her hands and slipped it under his arm. He wrapped the other arm around Raven so she could lean on him. “Let's get ya outta 'ere.” He walked Raven across the parking lot and helped her into the van. Once inside the vehicle, Dren explained to the others, “Dinner didn't agree wit' her. Bad pork. She'll be fine after she gets some rest.” Raven closed her eyes and leaned on Dren as Mike drove everyone back to the mansion.

The Summary
Here's all you need to know...

Seven people were saved from certain death by a mysterious corporation and taken to another dimension. They were chosen by a man named Matt Gardiano, who called himself The Lord Guardian Gatekeeper. He appeared to reside in his own dimension and had the power to oversee several alternate universes. In exchange for a second chance at life, the corporation expected these people to work as a team and fight the forces of evil in one of those dimensions. They were sent to live and work together in a posh mansion called Cornerstone in an alternate version of St. Louis, Missouri. An Englishman called Hornsby is their liaison with their mysterious employers.

Iain is a vampire who never lost his soul, thanks to some magic tattoos on his arms. Presumably, if anything were to happen to those tattoos, Iain could become soulless and evil, like every other vampire. A fact that Dren keeps in the forefront of his mind. Due to his Catholic upbringing and a personal tragedy, Dren hates vampires with a passion, including Iain. It has made cohabitation difficult for both of them.

Alex is a potential slayer who received a lot of training by the Watcher's Council, but was never chosen by The Powers That Be to be a slayer. She and Iain appear to be developing some affection for one another, but recent events may have Alex questioning her feelings toward the vampire. Iain has been hearing and seeing images of a vampire priest he killed. Is Iain hallucinating or being haunted? The priest keeps encouraging Iain to give in to his dark side. Alex has the ability to gain insight from people she physically touches, a talent that she gained after being infected by demon blood. She accidentally bumped into Iain while he was having a vision of the priest, and was shocked to discover that Alex reminded Iain of food. That revelation has had a disquieting effect on the former potential slayer.

Speaking of people developing feelings for one another... Dren and Raven had a long history with each other before they were brought to Cornerstone. She was an archaeologist and he was a thief. Together they recovered rare artifacts all over the world. Raven is able to gain insight from the objects she handles, similar to what Alex can do when she touches people. Dren has finally realized that he wants to be more than a friend and business partner to Raven, but he may be too late. Raven has started dating Marco Pelayo, a famous folk musician from Spain. Dren actually likes Marco and has long been a fan of his music, which makes it sting even more.

Pieran is a rather unique character. When he was a boy his grandmother used magic to make him a hero among men, but her spell didn't quite work the way she intended. Instead of gifting Pieran with the qualities of past champions, she trapped inside him the actual souls of a dozen long dead warriors. It has given Pieran an old world sensibility, as well as a slightly schizophrenic personality. He is frequently flooded with the various thoughts and desires of all those other souls that dwell within him. In this dimension, Pieran apparently bears a striking resemblance to a celebrity chef named Andre Rousseau.

Pieran suffered a serious wound at the hands of a demon. The injury appears to be equal parts disease and curse. They have not been able to find a cure, but Raven did discover a treatment that allows him to lead a mostly normal life (at least, as normal as a guy with 12 extra souls can have). Through some ritual magic, Raven was able to enchant an antique pipe. Pieran must smoke it twice a day to keep the symptoms of his illness manageable.

Iona was the scientist of the group. She and Pieran were flirting with the idea of a romance, when she was abruptly sent away on a secretive assignment. She never got the chance to tell any of them that she was a half-demon. A private detective from Chicago, named Mike, was brought in to replace her.

Johnny is a med student and in charge of the team's medical care. He had never encountered the supernatural world before coming to Cornerstone, so dealing with the team's issues have been a bit overwhelming for him - like Alex's uncontrollable telekineses caused by her exposure to demon blood. The demon that infected her also killed Alex's friends. That all happened before she came to Cornerstone, but she continues to be plagued by nightmares about that night.

Before they were brought to Cornerstone, the group was sent to a dimension that was very different from their own. It had once been populated by a peaceful people called Solrites. They weren’t exactly human but, they were humanoid. The population had been wiped out by dozens of vampires. It is unclear where the vampires came from or how they came to be there, but they were not indigenous to that dimension. The vampire leader had desecrated an alter by carving a large C or U-shaped symbol into it. Raven and Alex discovered a similar symbol carved into a picnic table near a lake in St. Louis, in the dimension where they all now live and work. While at the lake, they fought a demon who called upon some unseen entity for help. A deep male voice responded from the darkness, "Thrice I assisted you and thrice you have been thwarted by Cornerstone! You are not worthy and I assist you no more!” They never saw who the booming voice belonged to.

They are not the first to be assigned to this "outpost", as Hornsby calls it. All they know about their predecessor is that he went missing about a year before they arrived. The entire history of Cornerstone was also lost, scrubbed from existence. All electronic and hard copy records were gone.

Their most recent case had them steal a mirror from a powerful vampire named Chorro. He runs a casino boat on the Mississippi. According to Gonzo (a local snitch), the mirror is part of a long standing rivalry between Chorro and a Chicago vampire named Pistone. Gonzo called it the "Highway 55 Feud". Now that they have the mirror, the group must take it to Chicago and return it to Pistone. If they don't, Pistone will carry out his threat to hurt an innocent family that is friends with Raven's boyfriend, Marco.