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  Darkness Visible Revisited 
 by Martha Wilson  
 


 Author's note:  I originally thought I could do this as a "missing
scenes" story. But while I enjoyed this episode I realized I did want to
fix a number of things about it, including Hercules and Iolaus wandering
through the snow bare-chested, camping in a field of impaled dead guys,
the blatant rip-off of the movie Blade etc. So I rewrote almost the whole
darn thing. Thanks to Liz Sharpe and Carolyn Golledge. We came up with
this concept together and did an outline at MediaWest 2000, very late one
night shortly after evicting a glow-in-the-dark skeleton from the room. 

 *** 

   As night closed in on the snowy mountain pass, the gray clouds
thickened and mist obscured the distant crag-perched castle that marked
their goal. Balanced up on a rock to observe the trail ahead, Iolaus
glanced back down to where the others were making camp. Hercules was
moving around securing the hide tents by pushing the wooden stakes into
the frozen ground. Despite his own mostly frozen condition, Iolaus smiled
to himself. One of those times having a demigod around comes in handy. 

 Iolaus pushed to his feet, scrambling down the icy rock, and jumped to
land in a snow drift. Galen, the half-Greek strygoi-hunter, was trying to
get a fire started while Vlad's chamberlain Mattias dug into the supply
packs for dinner. Iolaus grimaced at the thought of another meal of dried
frostbitten meat. Dacia wasn't a frozen wasteland like Norseland; even in
this rocky mountain pass the slopes were covered with pines and
winter-bare trees, with streams trickling down the rocks. But they had
seen no game except for a few straggly crows not much bigger than a
mouthful or two. If it took much longer to reach Vlad's fortress, the
gnomes they saw occasionally -- peering red-eyed at them from tree stumps
or clumps of bracken -- were going to need to watch their furry little
backs. There has to be something somewhere, Iolaus thought glumly,
stamping through the snow toward their tent. It was as if the animals had
fled the strygoi just as the humans had. Though every evening as the sun
set they heard wolves howling in the distance. 

 Iolaus plopped down beside Hercules, who had taken a seat at the front of
their tent to study the map they had picked up back at the port of Varna.
Mattias, of course, knew the way, but there was something about the guy
that wasn't quite right. And after Sumeria, they were both ultra-sensitive
to Not-Quite-Right people who wanted them to go on mysterious errands. But
this is different, Iolaus reminded himself. Vlad Tepes was an old friend
and word of the strygoi plague had been all over the port. The deserted
villages they had passed on the way here had told their own tale. Nobody
was lying about that, at least. "My ass is freezing," Iolaus commented. 

 "Uh huh." Since most of their conversations lately had started out that
way, Hercules just nodded. 

 Iolaus rolled his eyes. Hercules had a demigodly resistance to cold and
wore only a fur-trimmed leather coat over his normal clothes. Iolaus wore
a wool shirt, a sheepskin jacket, and gloves and he was still freezing. He
leaned over to look at the map. "Where are we?" 

 "Right around here." Hercules flattened the square of bleached leather
against his knee, pointing to a spot among the mountains drawn in brown
and black ink. He squinted, translating the squiggly writing above it.
"The Borgo Pass." 

 "Huh." Iolaus glanced up. His gaze crossed Mattias' where the other man
sat on the far side of the clearing beside the fire. The chamberlain
stared at them, his scarred face somber, as if the sight of the two Greek
warriors with their heads together over the map was somehow menacing. He
met Iolaus' eyes, then looked away without changing expression. Galen, who
had made it plain he was here only to kill strygoi and search for his
missing sister, might be a loud-mouth, but Iolaus liked his company
better. He nudged Hercules with an elbow, calling attention to Mattias,
and asked softly, "Did you get anything more out of him about...what we
found yesterday? 

 Hercules shook his head, his eyes lifting to thoughtfully study the other
man. Mattias turned back to the supplies as Galen made some sneering
comment to him. Mattias and the strygoi-hunter hadn't gotten along since
Galen had joined them in Varna, but relations hadn't exactly improved
after the strygoi had killed Galen's friend Darius yesterday. It was where
Darius had been killed that Iolaus wanted to know more about. 

 The muddy snowfield filled with impaled corpses was more like something
you would see in the Horde's wake. It had been rank with the smell of
death despite the cold; Mattias's claim that Vlad was responsible had made
Iolaus even colder. 

 They had come upon the place close to nightfall and had pushed on past it
as far as they could before the darkness forced them to stop. Even though
Dacians didn't believe they had to be properly buried for their souls to
reach the afterlife, Iolaus still thought such a scene of violent death
had to be lousy with angry shades. Since Iolaus had been a shade himself
for a while this wasn't as nervous a prospect as it would have been a few
years ago, but strygoi tended to frequent the same spots. That had been
demonstrated last night, when Darius had had guard duty and been caught by
a hunting strygoi. 

 Hercules folded up the map, his face troubled. "He still says that Vlad
did it and that those men were border raiders." 

 Iolaus lifted his brows. "And do we believe that?" 

 "That's not the Vlad we know." Hercules glanced at him. "Let's say I'm
looking forward to hearing his side of it." 

 "Yeah." If Vlad had changed that much.... Iolaus shook his head. He still
couldn't see it. Not honorable, fun-loving, gung-ho, Vlad "Romans! I spit
on Romans!" Tepes. Not wanting to think about it anymore, he turned and
ducked under the flap of the low tent. Wrestling with the hide groundcover
and the fur blankets piled inside, he said, "I'm going to sleep until it's
time for my watch." 

 Hercules leaned down to look in, brows quirking. "Don't you want me to
wake you for dinner?" Iolaus' opinions on their food supply were well
known. 

 "Very funny." Iolaus managed to get the groundcover unrolled and
stretched out on it. Pulling his pack around for a pillow and wriggling to
get comfortable, he said, "If we don't reach the castle tomorrow, how do
you like your gnome, roasted or boiled?" 

 Turning around, Hercules chuckled, then thought about it for a moment and
peered back inside the tent. "You're kidding, right? Iolaus?" 

 *** 

 By sunset the next day they had reached the foot of a broad wagon track.
It curved further up the mountain to where the shape of the castle was
silhouetted against the reddening sky. Mattias said it was only another
couple of hours walk, so they pushed on after dark. 

 Travelling at night in strygoi territory was tense enough and the rocky
trail was icy and dangerous. Mattias carried the torch and they picked
their way along, wary of the deep shadows among the boulders and the
looming dead trees. Iolaus was relieved when they made their way around a
curve in the trail and he saw the flicker of firelight limning the walls
of the castle, the lamps in the windows hanging in the dark like stars. 

 The road got wider, the snow stamped down into mud by the passage of many
feet. The torches along the crenelations provided just enough light for
Iolaus to tell the man-made stones from the natural ones. The fortress was
woven in with the rocks, its walls augmented by sheer cliffs and its
sentry towers perched on crags. 

 Passing under the first tower, Iolaus stopped, staring up at it. It was a
little octagonal structure only about twenty feet above their heads and
the torches inside threw yellow light up onto the carved gargoyles
clinging to the conical slate roof. Hercules stopped beside him and they
exchanged a puzzled look, though both could barely see each other's
features in the dark. 

 Breathing hard from the climb, Galen stopped beside them. "What?" he
demanded. 

 "Nobody's inside," Iolaus answered, still staring suspiciously up at the
little tower. Hercules turned, looking toward the other watch towers set
higher in the cliffs above them. All were torchlit but no curious faces
peered out, nobody called down to them. The first layer of the castle's
defenses was deserted. 

 Galen looked accusingly at Mattias as the chamberlain joined them.
"What's the deal with this?" he asked. "Where is everybody?" 

 Mattias shrugged and stamped past them, his eyes on the gates ahead.
"They're inside." 

 All three men stared after him. "Okay," Hercules said under his breath.
He glanced down at Iolaus and gave that slight shrug that meant that this
didn't make sense but there was no help for it now, then started after
Mattias. 

 "Yeah," Iolaus agreed glumly and followed. 

 Behind him Galen sighed and muttered, "I got a bad feeling about this." 

 *** 

 "So, where is everybody?" Iolaus asked for about the twentieth time. 

 "Yeah," Galen seconded, setting his wine cup down and glaring at Mattias.
"Where's the villagers? Where's my sister? Where's the freaking army, for
that matter?" 

 They were seated at a heavy plank table in one of the rooms above the
main hall, in what was supposed to be the family apartments. In spite of a
fire in the giant hearth and candles in the wall sconces, the room was
cold and gloomy. All the furniture was dark and heavy and the tapestries
half-glimpsed in the shadows seemed to depict bloody losing battles or
noble death scenes. The food -- spiced chicken and black bread -- had been
brought by two silent elderly men. Knowing Vlad, Iolaus would have
expected the staff to be young, female and very friendly. 

 When they had arrived at the castle he had greeted them just like the old
Vlad, with the same warmth and the usual disarray caused by the fact that
Dacian warriors kissed hello and Greeks didn't. It had almost been enough
to make Iolaus think everything was all right, except for those unanswered
questions. 

 Disturbingly, they had seen no sign of other servants or courtiers or
guards. Mattias seemed to accept this situation as perfectly normal but
Iolaus just couldn't buy it; the palace at Corinth hadn't felt this
deserted when Perseus had gotten most of the inhabitants turned to stone.
Hercules was talking to Vlad in the other room and Iolaus just hoped he
could get some answers out of their old friend. 

 Mattias took a bite of chicken and shrugged. "It's late. They're asleep."


 Galen snorted with disbelief and looked at Iolaus, who rolled his eyes. 

 On the way up to this room they had passed through tall echoing corridors
that led to tall echoing rooms, sparsely lit by torches in wall brackets.
The chill air held the acrid taint of pitch and the musty-foul odor of
bats. The corbelled arches and balconies overhead were cloaked in shadow,
wonderful places for ambush by strygoi or anything else; it made the back
of Iolaus' neck itch. The whole place was creepy and cold. He had expected
the cold, but not the creepiness. When he and Hercules had fought with
Vlad's forces the Dacian camp had always been full of life; he hadn't
imagined any of the warriors he had met there to be living like this, in a
great dark cave. 

 The door opened and Hercules and Vlad came back into the room. Vlad was
smiling and so was Hercules, but it was the demigod's reserved,
noncommittal smile rather than his real one. He didn't like what he heard,
Iolaus thought, worried, and concentrated on wolfing down the last of his
dinner in case the situation deteriorated. 

 "Where's my sister?" Galen demanded, shoving to his feet. 

 "She is with the other refugees, in the lower part of the fortress," Vlad
said, clapping a hand on Galen's shoulder. Vlad Tepes was a big man even
for a Dacian, and he stood eye to eye with Hercules. He gave Galen a
friendly shake that probably rattled the shorter man's teeth and said,
"You will join her soon, I swear it." 

 Looking up at him, even Galen decided not to argue. Frowning in
frustration, he stepped back. 

 Iolaus pushed his plate aside and stood, deciding he might as well jump
in with both feet. He grinned up at Vlad. "So when are we going after the
strygoi?" 

 Vlad shot a glance at Hercules, who assumed an expression of polite
curiosity. Vlad said, "Ah, it will be easier to find their nest in the
daylight. I've been able to make a few forays into the valley and I think
I can locate it with a little help." He slung an arm around Iolaus'
shoulders, half-lifting him off his feet, and grinned at Hercules. "In the
meantime, let us talk over old times. I have some plum brandy for you to
sample." 

 "No, I'm a little tired, I'd just like to turn in," Hercules said, giving
Vlad that absent, company smile again. 

 Distracted, Iolaus planted an elbow in Vlad's ribs to free himself from
the affectionate stranglehold, saying in surprise, "You're never tired."
Hercules stared pointedly at him. Iolaus normally ignored it whenever
Hercules did that, but the situation was just uncertain enough that he
decided to make an exception. He added, "But, yeah, that was a long walk
up here." 

 A flicker of something crossed Vlad's face, there and gone before Iolaus
could read it. The Prince shrugged. "Of course. I'll summon a servant to
show you to your rooms." 

 *** 

 One of the two silent servants, who didn't respond to Greek or Latin or
anything else they tried and seemed vaguely terrified by their attempts to
communicate, led them to the guest quarters on the floor above. 

 In their room, Iolaus shrugged off his coat, dropping it onto the
stone-flagged floor with his pack, and stood his sword against the wall.
"I really love what Vlad's done with the place," he remarked, looking
around with his brows lifted dubiously. Hanging above the bed was what had
to be the most grotesque tapestry he had ever seen in his life. In ugly
colors and rough lines, it showed a figure either feeding a monster or
possibly killing it by driving something down its throat. The fire in the
hearth was welcoming, but the cornices of the high-ceilinged room were
decorated with carved gargoyles that stared down out of the shadows with
flat hungry eyes. "I don't know if I can sleep with those things looking
at me." 

 "Don't worry, you won't be getting much sleep tonight," Hercules said,
dumping his pack and coat in the corner. 

 Iolaus shrugged and sat down on the big bed, bouncing to try out the
feather-stuffed mattress. "I thought you said you were tired." 

 Hercules, pacing in front of the fire, paused to give Iolaus a quelling
look. "We're going to search this place from top to bottom." 

 "Oh." Iolaus frowned thoughtfully, trying to get his brain back on track.
"So what did Vlad say?" 

 Hercules grimaced, as if the story he was about to repeat left a bad
taste in his mouth. "A few months ago, he was at the Navari border fort
when he got an urgent message from his father. He only brought a few men
with him so he could travel faster, but when he got here he found the
countryside covered with strygoi and the castle full of people from the
surrounding villages looking for shelter." 

 "Full of people?" Iolaus repeated skeptically. "This place?" 

 "Uh huh." Hercules' expression said he didn't think much of that either.
"He said that not long after he returned, a strygoi made it inside and
killed his father. He's been fighting a losing battle against them ever
since." He pushed a frustrated hand through his hair, pacing again. "But I
know he's not telling me the whole story. He's hiding something. Something
besides all the refugees." 

 "Huh." Iolaus thought about it, not liking the way it was all adding up.
He knew Vlad's father had been called Vlad Dracul. Years ago he had been
wounded in battle and had to give up the generalship of the Dacian armies
to his son. He had lived in honorable retirement ever since. Thinking of a
number of drunken confidences during post-battle celebrations at Antioch,
Iolaus said slowly, "Vlad never liked his father." 

 Hercules sat beside him, his weight making the mattress sink even more.
"No, he didn't," he agreed, his brow furrowed. 

 Iolaus shook his head, knowing they were both thinking the same thing. If
it was true, Vlad could be in a lot of trouble. Even if the Dacian gods
didn't consider patricide the worst possible crime, it was unlikely that
they would look on it favorably. "I still don't get it. Even if he wanted
the strygoi to kill his father, even if he let them into the castle to do
it, why would he help them afterward?" 

 "I know. I don't see what possible benefit there could be for him -- for
anyone. Strygoi are worse than bacchae, they can't be controlled or
directed by a mortal." Hercules paused, staring absently at the wall, lost
in thought. "At least...." His brows lifted. "As far as I know." 

 Iolaus shifted uneasily. He could tell what his partner's thoughts were
from the worried speculation written on his face. "What, you think Vlad's
found some way to make the strygoi obey him? But why would he need that?
He's the Prince and Warlord of Dacia; he doesn't need an army of the
undead, he's already got a real live army. One that can attack in
daylight." 

 Hercules let his breath out in annoyance. "It doesn't make sense. There's
something we're missing." 

 The door flung open suddenly. Hercules shot to his feet and reached for
the nearest weapon, which happened to be the bedpost. Iolaus rolled off
the bed, grabbing for his sword. 

 "So?" Galen demanded, planting himself belligerently in the middle of the
door. "Are we going to search this place or what?" 

 *** 

 They decided to split up, at least while searching the upper part of the
castle. Hercules was reluctant to let them separate, but if the place was
full of strygoi, they had to find the surviving refugees and get out as
soon as possible. 

 They paused in a junction near the guest chambers, where one set of
stairs led up and another down, and several corridors stretched off toward
other parts of the castle where torches flickered in the darkness.
"Remember," Galen said before splitting off to search the area near the
outer wall. "You can only kill a strygoi by beheading, or shoving one of
these through their hearts." He thrust one of the heavy wooden stakes he
carried under Hercules' nose for emphasis. 

 "I got news for you, Galen," Iolaus told him, adjusting the set of the
scabbarded sword on his shoulder, "You can kill just about anything by
shoving one of those through its heart." 

 Hercules eyed the strygoi-hunter with annoyance, but took the stake,
tucking it into his belt. "Just yell if you find anything. Don't try to
take on a strygoi nest alone." 

 Galen grunted an acknowledgement that left Hercules in no doubt that he
would not follow those instructions and headed off down the dark corridor.


 Hercules sighed and turned to Iolaus. "You take the upper levels." 

 "What?" Iolaus lifted his brows. "There's not going to be anything up
there except bats." 

 "Then you can finish quickly, find me, and we'll tackle the lower part
together." 

 Iolaus still looked skeptical. Hercules pointed out, "This is our escape
route. We have to make sure there's nothing up here to stop us on our way
out." 

 "Okay, okay," Iolaus conceded reluctantly. 

 Hercules clasped his shoulder, tempted to dispense a lot of unneeded
advice about taking care. Iolaus just stood there, looking up at him with
that expression that said he was prepared to receive the unneeded advice
with varying degrees of bored annoyance and ridicule. Finally they just
smiled at each other and went their separate ways. 

 After an hour or so of searching Hercules made his way down a spiral
stair. The only thing he had discovered so far was that the place was a
dark warren of corridors and shadowy chambers, empty and silent.
Except.... I know I'm being watched, he thought grimly, pausing to glance
into another unused room. The feeling had been growing ever since he had
entered this part of the castle. He knew it with such certainty that if
they were back in Greece he would have been certain a god was spying on
him. 

 He looked into the next chamber and saw a fire burned in the hearth. A
shadow passed over his vision and he blinked, falling back a step. Now a
dark figure stood at the end of the room, framed by the ruddy light of the
fire. 

 Uh oh. Hercules stepped forward slowly, every sense alert, and every
sense telling him that something was badly wrong. "Vlad?" But as the man
turned he saw it wasn't Vlad. This man was just as tall, similarly built,
but there was gray streaking his dark hair and mustache. His face was much
older, seamed and weatherbeaten. "Who are you?" 

 "I'm your host," the man said. As he moved the firelight caught the side
of his face. He had sharp white canine teeth and his eyes were flat black,
red-rimmed and wicked. "So glad you answered my summons, Hercules." 

 *** 

 As he had predicted, Iolaus hadn't found anything on the upper levels of
the living quarters but bats and more cold, empty rooms. 

 The last place he searched was the highest in the octagonal tower. It had
better tapestries and wall paintings, lacking in the blood and gore of the
others below, and the subjects were taken from Dacian stories and songs.
The chambers were more open and airy, the windows larger, but everything
was softened by a layer of dust and the furniture was pushed to the walls
and covered with drapes. It was chill enough that Iolaus wished he had
brought his coat. The noblewomen's quarters, he decided, lifting the torch
he had taken from a wall bracket to light his way. So where are they?
There should be mothers, sisters, wives, spinster cousins living here with
their friends, servants and children. He knew Vlad had a big family and
the size and number of the rooms suggested they were meant for many
people. Funny it hadn't been used in so long. Funny that the "honorable
retirement" of Vlad's father hadn't included the company of any female
relatives. 

 It had an air of sadness and neglect rather than the somber gloominess of
the other unused areas. Iolaus remembered Vlad saying that his mother had
taken her own life by throwing herself from the window of one of the
family's castles. Shaking himself to throw off the sense of melancholy,
Iolaus turned and headed for the stairs, ready to find Hercules and get on
with it. 

 He went back down to the occupied level of the living quarters, in case
Hercules had finished his search and returned there. He doused the torch
and tossed it into a wood stack near a hearth. If he met one of the
servants, he didn't know how he was going to explain strolling through the
castle with his sword slung over his shoulder, but considering the place
was under siege by strygoi, maybe an explanation wouldn't be necessary. 

 As he passed one of the chambers off the main hall, looking for a way
down to the next level, he thought he heard Hercules' voice. He ducked
inside. "Herc?" The fire in the big hearth was lit but the wall sconces
were all out, leaving most of the large chamber in shadow. There was a
long trestle table, a few fur rugs, and tapestries that were just gleams
of red and gold in the darkness. Halfway up the back wall was the
balustrade of a musicians' balcony, dark draperies concealing any other
detail. Though he couldn't see much of the room, it felt unoccupied. He
took a few cautious steps forward, trying to see if there was a door in
the opposite wall. 

 A great crash immediately behind him made Iolaus dive forward, hitting
the floor and shoulder-rolling to his feet. He landed in a fighting
crouch, facing toward the sound. 

 The crash had been the heavy wooden panel door slamming shut. Vlad
stepped out of the shadows next to it, smiling. "Sorry to startle you,
Iolaus." 

 "You didn't," Iolaus said, returning a lie for a lie. He straightened
slowly, eyeing Vlad suspiciously. Whatever else was going on, it was
unbelievable that there were strygoi in the castle and Vlad somehow
ignorant of the fact. 

 "You were looking for Hercules?" Vlad said, moving forward slowly. Though
the words were meant to sound casual there was an undertone of
anticipatory tension that made Iolaus' scalp prickle. "I thought you had
both retired to bed." 

 Iolaus shrugged, falling back a couple of steps to keep the same distance
between them. "He felt like taking a walk." 

 Vlad's brows lifted and he smiled in a way Iolaus didn't like. "And you
were also taking a walk?" 

 "Sure." Iolaus circled back toward the door, making it look casual though
he didn't think Vlad was fooled in the least. 

 Vlad shifted to keep facing him, watching Iolaus with concentrated
intent. Stalking wolves looked at you that way. Oh yeah, I'm definitely in
trouble here, Iolaus thought. Apparently moved only by idle curiosity,
Vlad said, "I heard a rumor that you were dead, Iolaus." 

 "Yeah, I heard that rumor too." Iolaus backed to the door, reaching to
tug on the handle. It didn't budge. Uh huh, I knew this wasn't going to be
that easy. He demanded, "What game are you playing?" 

 Vlad shrugged. "Not a very complex one. It is only that the situation
changed since I sent for you." He stepped to the hearth, holding his hands
to the warmth and flexing them thoughtfully. "By now, Hercules is having a
similar conversation with my father." 

 Hoping it was an unfunny joke, Iolaus said, "Your father's dead, Vlad.
You said the strygoi killed him." 

 "Ah, so Hercules told you of that." Vlad glanced up with a faint smile.
"I confess I did not tell him all the story. My father did become a
strygoi and I did attempt to destroy him. The part I left out was that
I...was not successful." 

 A big lump of the puzzle suddenly fell into place, and Iolaus felt his
insides turn cold. He said, "When you invited us here for a strygoi hunt,
you might have mentioned that the strygoi would be hunting us." He reached
up, sliding his sword free of its scabbard. "And that you were one of
them." 

 "That would have ruined the surprise," Vlad said, sounding almost like
himself for an instant. 

 Iolaus wasn't fooled. "I hate surprises," he muttered, taking a firmer
grip on his sword and bracing himself to move. 

 Vlad stepped toward him deliberately and Iolaus shifted along the wall,
not wanting to be cornered against the door. "The simple truth is that
this was never my father's home, it was his prison. Did you ever wonder
how strygoi were first created?" 

 "No," Iolaus replied honestly. If he had ever thought about it, he would
have assumed they had been created by a god, either from malicious purpose
or pure accident, like all the other monsters. At the moment he really
didn't care. 

 "Surely you are more curious than that." Vlad smiled, and this time
Iolaus saw the fangs, white and sharp against the other man's lips. "Every
so often a man is born so evil, so corrupt, he becomes strygoi by his own
foul nature and not by infection from another creature. But he does not
take his full power until his death. When I and my brothers and the other
nobles realized what my father was, we imprisoned him here, but we could
not kill him because he was still Dacian and royal." Vlad's expression
sobered and he paced another step forward. "I was on the border when I
received a message that he was dying. I came as quickly as I could, to
make sure it was a true death and that he did not rise again, but I was
too late." He eyed him speculatively. "Now my father wishes to control
Hercules. And as everyone knows, the first step to that is-- You." He
lurched forward suddenly, catching up a candlestand and swinging it at
Iolaus. 

 "Why can't these guys come up with a different plan," Iolaus said under
his breath, deflecting the swing of the heavy iron stand and twisting out
of arm's reach. 

 The stand clanged heavily against his sword as Iolaus blocked two more
blows. He ducked under the next, the iron whistling past his ears as he
made it out into the wider part of the room. Vlad snarled, abandoning the
stand and leaning down to grab a massive wooden chair by one leg. Iolaus'
eyes widened as Vlad lifted it effortlessly, one-handed. Realizing
belatedly where the chair was heading, he swore, dodging backward as Vlad
flung it at him. 

 He almost made it clear but the heavy back struck him in the leg as it
landed and he went down. He rolled back to see Vlad almost on top of him.
Desperate, he twisted, pushing himself up on his knees, and slammed the
sword into Vlad's chest. 

 Vlad stopped, staring down at the hilt protruding from his body. Iolaus
shoved to his feet, breathing hard. For an instant he forgot about the
strygoi, forgot about everything except that he had just driven his sword
through the heart of a man who had once been his friend. 

 Then Vlad reached down, his fingers curling around the blade, and pulled
out the sword. 

 Iolaus took an involuntary step back. "Uh oh," he breathed. 

 *** 

 And here's the missing piece, Hercules thought, regarding the stranger
warily. The family resemblance, his presence here, all added up to one
thing, and he was sure he could put a name to the man standing before the
hearth, though it didn't make sense. "Your summons?" he said, stepping
further into the room. The firelight threw leaping shadows onto walls
covered with martial paintings, giving the fighting, dying figures the
illusion of movement. 

 "Yes." The fangs, so unexpected and animal-like in that stern face,
gleamed a little. "I am the Master here." 

 Hercules took a cautious step closer. There was a statue on a table
nearby, a heavy-looking stone griffin, nicely shaped and situated for a
blunt club, and he wanted to get it within arm's reach. He said, "I
thought your son controlled this castle." 

 Dracul lifted a brow. "Ah, then you know who I am. Very good." He paced
away from the fire, further into the shadow. His expression was hidden but
his voice sounded amused as he said, "No, my son controls nothing. Not
anymore. I permitted him to send for you because it suited my purpose." 

 Oh, no, Hercules thought, suddenly seeing the whole picture. Vlad wasn't
so taken by family pride that he would have hidden this from them, not
when he had summoned them for help. Not unless he couldn't tell them. "You
turned your own son into a strygoi," he said, his voice rough with anger
and the sick certainty it was the truth. 

 Dracul inclined his head, as if conceding the point. "You're quick, for a
Greek barbarian." 

 Ignoring the insult as an attempt to distract him, Hercules demanded,
"Why did you send for me?" 

 "I must build an army of strygoi, to defeat my son's forces. Already his
nobles grow restless that he has not returned to them, and send messages
demanding answers. Soon they will come themselves and I must be ready."
Dracul smiled, barring his pointed canines. "There are those among them
who will know what we are and no masquerade will suffice." 

 "What does that have to do with me?" 

 "You will make a very powerful strygoi, under my control." 

 Oh, great. I should have known. Hercules smiled grimly. "You might not
find it as easy as you think." 

 "Even now, my son is explaining these matters to your companion--" 

 This is a trap. The thought was barely formed as Hercules grabbed the
statue, stepping forward to slam it into Dracul. Expecting an impact, he
almost slammed himself into the stones of the hearth when the statue
passed through empty air. Staggering, Hercules caught himself, looking
wildly around. The only sign he could see of Dracul was a mist vanishing
down through the flagstone floor. 

 Swearing, he pushed away from the wall and ran. 

 He reached the end of the corridor when he caught a flash of brown out of
the corner of his eye. He ducked, reaching up to boost whatever was
leaping at him over his head and across the corridor into the wall. 

 He slid to a halt, braced for another attack. He stopped in shock when he
recognized the man staggering to his feet. 

 "Galen!" Hercules stared, feeling sick. There was no mistaking what Galen
was: the man's eyes had already reddened, the pupils elongated like an
animal's. 

 Galen fell back against the wall, sliding away along it. "I can't stop
myself, Hercules, that's how it works," he said through gritted teeth. "I
can hear them in my head, telling me what to do." He stared, for a moment
his eyes fading back to their normal color. "Kill me!" 

 Hercules hesitated, the appeal so desperate he was half-tempted to
comply. But there had to be another way. And he had to get to Iolaus.
"Galen, just hold on, I'll--" 

 Galen's eyes reddened again and he bolted back down the corridor.
Hercules shook his head mutely and turned for the stairs. 

 *** 

 Damn, he hits like the Sovereign, Iolaus thought, dazed and reeling from
the last blow. Vlad's reach was longer and whenever Iolaus got close
enough to land a punch or a kick, the return hit augmented by supernatural
strygoi-strength knocked him sideways. He slammed into a table, grabbed
the silver platter off it and swung it up just in time to deflect a punch
to his head. Vlad yelled in pain, retreating a step. 

 Breathing hard, Iolaus pushed away from the table, circling toward the
open part of the room. There was only one escape route that he could see
and he was almost in position to try it. 

 Watching him intently, rubbing his hand as if the silver had burned him,
Vlad said, "I would tell you that there is no point in resistance, that
soon you will welcome this, but we both know that isn't true." 

 "Thanks for being honest," Iolaus snarled. He flung the platter into
Vlad's face and broke past him, vaulting atop the long table. Knowing he
would only have one chance, he took a couple of running steps and jumped
for the bottom edge of the balcony balustrade. He caught the stone lip of
it, his fingers digging into the carving. Before he could pull himself up
something struck him in the back, knocking him free of his precarious
hold. 

 Iolaus slammed down into the table, fell off and landed hard on the stone
floor. Stunned, he tasted the coppery tang of his own blood. He flailed
one arm and grabbed the bench, half dragging himself to his feet, but Vlad
suddenly loomed over him. Iolaus tried to fling himself away but he caught
just a glimpse of a fist coming at him before the world went black. 

 Barely clinging to consciousness, his head pounding, Iolaus realized he
had collapsed over the table. Wake up, wake up or die, a voice chanted in
his head. He felt Vlad lift his legs and dump him face first onto the
wooden surface. With a desperate yelp, Iolaus managed to roll over, trying
to get his eyes open, trying to push himself up. 

 Suddenly his head was slammed back into the heavy planks and a weight
pinned him down on his back, flattening the last gasp of air from his
lungs. His arms were effortlessly pinned above his head. 

 Iolaus managed to open his eyes but all he could see was a blur. Now one
large hand pinioned both his wrists and a painful grip on his hair twisted
his head to the side. The fangs stabbing into his flesh snapped him back
to full awareness. Shock and pain forced a cry out of him; it felt like
his throat was being ripped out in slow motion. He twisted, struggling
blindly, but the grip on his wrists just tightened. He worked a leg free
and managed to drive his heel into Vlad's side with a desperate force that
should have broken bone, but the strygoi ignored it. 

 Hercules, Iolaus thought in despair, willing the demigod to get here,
though it might only be in time to avenge his death. Despite the heat of
the struggle and the heavy body pinning him, he could feel a chill
creeping over him. His vision went hazy and he didn't even have the
strength to spit one last curse. 

 The terrible pressure lifted abruptly and with almost his last effort
Iolaus took advantage of the respite to roll off the table. He landed on
his hands and knees, barely able to keep himself from collapsing. Pain
pounded through his entire body, emanating from the wound in his neck,
increasing with every labored heartbeat. Gasping, he touched it gingerly,
squinting at the blood on his fingers. If his throat really had been torn
out, then there would surely be more blood than that. 

 From the balcony somewhere above his head he heard Vlad's voice say,
"You're too late, Hercules. I've taken enough blood to turn him." His
laughter was richly amused. "Better watch your back. He'll have to feed to
survive the day." 

 Iolaus tried to stand but his head swam and his legs refused to support
him. Blinking at the fog clouding his vision, he saw Hercules drop to his
knees in front of him. The demigod grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting
him up. The enormity of what had happened was just beginning to sink in.
He wasn't dead but he had been bitten -- infected -- by a strygoi. Iolaus
gasped, "You'll have to kill me." 

 Pain shot through his head suddenly and Iolaus reeled over with a yell.
Hercules tried to steady him but he pulled away, pounding a fist on the
floor. The new agony receded to a throbbing ache, joining the counterpoint
formed by the pain coursing through his body. It was enough to let him get
a breath and he collapsed against the table leg. It felt like something
had erupted right through the roof of his mouth. Oh, no.... 

  He lifted a trembling hand and carefully felt his teeth. Something had
erupted from the roof of his mouth: two new fangs. "Oh, this is
disgusting." He looked up helplessly, barely able to see Hercules leaning
over him. "How could somebody want to become a strygoi voluntarily? It
freaking hurts." One of the new teeth stabbed him in the lip and he swore.
"You'd have to be nuts." 

 Things got fuzzy after that. Hercules hauled him up and slung him over
his shoulder, an action Iolaus protested with a faint yelp. As darkness
came and went he kept forgetting who had him and making feeble attempts to
escape. He heard Vlad's voice whispering through his thoughts, like blood
drizzled through water. It was telling Iolaus to come to the others, or
some other damn stupid thing. Great, Iolaus thought coherently, if sourly,
like I need that too. It didn't matter how weak and confused he was, part
of his mind knew just what to do. Concentrating, he locked the intrusive
voice out of his head. The effort of it made the world black out again. 

 *** 

 Drifting, Iolaus came back to cold hard reality when he was deposited on
a stone floor. Shivering with weakness and blood loss, he lifted his head
and watched the room swim in and out of focus. His shirt had been torn
open in the struggle and remembering that his amulet had been tucked
inside it, he felt for it to make sure it was still there. 

 Finally he managed to make his eyes work. He was in a corner of a small
room lit only by one torch jammed into an iron wall sconce. It threw
shadows over a dusty tapestry, a few pieces of bulky dark furniture and
the stuffed head of an antlered animal that looked as if it was probably
carnivorous. Iolaus pushed himself into a sitting position and saw
Hercules kneeling before the hearth, trying to get a fire started. He sank
back against the wall in relief. Then he stabbed his lip with his new
teeth again and remembered just how bad things were. 

 The little fire leapt to life though as far as Iolaus could tell it had
no effect on the numbing chill in the air. Hercules stood, looking around
the room as if assessing it for something. He nodded to himself and
muttered, "Right." 

 "You're taking this awfully well," Iolaus ventured, trying to make
conversation. Hercules looked down at him but before Iolaus could make out
his expression a spasm in the gut doubled him over. He curled up around
the agony, gritting his teeth. 

 The spasm faded and Iolaus fell back against the wall, panting. It was
hunger, so intense it was crippling. Maybe that was why fledgling strygoi
attacked their first victim, but Iolaus couldn't imagine how they managed
it. All he wanted to do was curl up in a foetal position and moan. He
blinked pain tears out of his eyes, seeing that Hercules was facing away
from him. He couldn't remember if Hercules had said why they had come to
this room. He tried to speak, had to clear his throat, and finally
managed, "Why are we here?" 

 "I didn't want Vlad or any of the others finding us while I'm doing
this." 

 Oh, yeah, gotta kill me. Right. "How long were you planning to take with
it?" Iolaus asked worriedly. He braced himself against the wall, trying to
lever himself up enough to see what Hercules was doing. "I was thinking
something really quick." His thoughts were going in circles and the room
kept tilting to the right, making him slide down the wall. "What happens
when you die here? Never mind, I want to be horrified -- I mean surprised.
Did I say that out loud?" Another hunger spasm hit, hunching him over
again. When he managed to lift his head, Hercules was sitting in front of
him. 

 Iolaus found himself pressing back against the wall. While his brain knew
how necessary this was, his body was obviously not convinced. He could at
least act a little upset, Iolaus thought, looking at Hercules' calm
expression and beginning to feel a little pique mixed in with the
confusion and misery. Or say goodbye, or something. He had the idea he
should say something, maybe an apology, but it was so hard to think. He
tried anyway. "Hey, about killing me--" 

 Hercules interrupted, "Iolaus, can you hear Vlad?" 

 Iolaus looked around wildly, startled. "What, he's here?" 

 "No." Hercules caught his shoulders, turning Iolaus back to face him. "In
your head. I found Galen -- he was bitten too -- he said he could hear the
strygoi in his thoughts." 

 "Oh yeah, that, at first. Blah, blah, blah, whatever. I just..." Iolaus
hesitated. It was hard to put into words, especially when it was so
difficult to stay coherent. "...made it stop. He's not strong, like Dahak,
he's just annoying." He blinked up at Hercules, realizing he couldn't hold
himself up anymore. Things were starting to slide back into the dark
again. Iolaus had one clear thought that this might be the last time. 

 Somebody grabbed him by the back of the neck. Everything blurred as panic
hit and the instinct to fight overrode everything else. He broke the hold
with a twist and a forearm smash, the strength he hadn't had a moment ago
returning in a rush. Something grabbed him again and an instinct took
over; he smelled bare living flesh and sank his teeth into it. 

 Iolaus came back to himself as the room spun in slow circles. He realized
Hercules was supporting him with an arm around his chest and for a moment
he couldn't remember what they were doing. Then he realized that coppery
tang he could taste wasn't his own blood. Shocked, he said, "I bit you." 

 "I know. I'm sorry," Hercules said, sounding a little shaky himself. "How
do you feel?" 

 Iolaus pulled away, sagging back against the wall, gagging. The room
stopped swinging around as his dizziness faded and his pounding heart
slowed. He took a full breath without pain and blinked, trying to sit up.
He couldn't figure out why Hercules was apologizing to him. Sick with
guilt, he asked, "Where did I get you?" 

 "The wrist. It's nothing." Hercules leaned over him anxiously. "You look
a little better. How do you feel?" 

 He took off his gauntlet. He deliberately let me-- Iolaus shook his head,
running a shaking hand through his hair. The numbing chill that had sapped
his strength was draining away, leaving him shaky but able to hold himself
upright. His head was clearing, too. He looked at Hercules, appalled. "Are
you out of your mind?" he gasped, caught between relief that he wasn't
dead and outrage at the method Hercules had used to save him. "You could
have told me what you were doing--" 

 "You were dying and I didn't have time to argue with you about it,"
Hercules said with a calm assurance that at the moment Iolaus found damn
irritating. 

 "You didn't know what could have happened--" he sputtered, his voice
gaining strength "I could have killed you! Or-- Or turned you into one of
these things too--" 

 "No, you didn't take that much." 

 "You didn't know I'd stop!" Iolaus couldn't believe Hercules had taken
the chance. At close quarters, with Hercules trying not to hurt him, it
would have been impossible to control him even with the demigod's
strength. "It was a stupid thing to do!" 

 Hercules sat back, shaking his head. "I'm not going to discuss it." 

 "I didn't ask for this!" 

 Hercules pressed his lips together, glaring at him, then gestured
helplessly. "You asked me to kill you. How do you think that makes me
feel?" 

 "Under the circumstances--" Iolaus began determinedly. He had no idea how
to finish the sentence but he knew he wanted to argue. 

 Hercules shook his head, holding up an admonitory hand. "I don't want to
discuss it." 

 This left Iolaus sputtering again. "Well, I'm not going to apologize to
you--" 

 "I'm not going to apologize to you," Hercules said in annoyance,
apparently forgetting that he already had. 

 "Fine!" Iolaus snarled, throwing his hands in the air. He hated giving up
on an argument even when he wasn't sure what it was about. Hercules picked
up his gauntlet and Iolaus grabbed his arm before he could put the leather
back on, turning it to look at the bite mark. The twin wounds were tiny
but that didn't make him feel any better about it. "Does it hurt?" he
asked worriedly. 

 "No." Hercules fitted his gauntlet back on and looked closely at the
livid mark on Iolaus' neck. He winced. "Vlad must have bigger teeth." 

 "These feel huge," Iolaus grumbled, investigating his own set. Probing
too carelessly, he pricked his thumb again. "Dammit!" 

 Doing the buckles on his gauntlet one-handed, Hercules looked up,
alarmed. "What?" 

 Iolaus shook his head. "Never mind." 

 I can't believe I let this happen, Hercules thought, looking down and
keeping a tight rein on his own emotions. In Sumeria he had walked blindly
into the trap, despite the warnings of his own nightmares. This time he
had known something was wrong, he had been cautious and suspicious and it
still hadn't helped. Iolaus was right to lose faith in him. 

 He was going to kill Vlad Tepes. 

 If Vlad hadn't leapt to the balcony as Hercules broke down the door, he
would be dead already. Beheading killed strygoi just has surely as the
wooden stakes Galen used and at that moment Hercules had been ready and
willing to do it bare-handed. 

 With effort, he put that thought aside for now. At least Iolaus didn't
look as bad as he had a few moments ago: he wasn't as deathly pale and
though the bruises on his face were livid they didn't stand out as much as
his skin took on a more normal tone. The bite mark on his neck still
looked inflamed and painful. 

 It seemed incredible that Iolaus had gone through everything, Dahak, the
Paths of the Dead, his painful return to life, just to end up a victim of
strygoi. He's not dead, that's the important thing. As long as he wasn't
dead, being a strygoi was a temporary condition. Hercules said, "Galen and
Darius both said that everyone who was bitten would turn back to normal if
the Strygoi Master was killed." 

 Iolaus just looked glum. Hercules had to admit that since Darius had been
eaten and Galen turned it tended to throw doubt on their strygoi
expertise. But Galen had also told them that the Strygoi Master would be
able to change shape as long as the sun was down, turning himself into
mist or smoke, and Hercules had witnessed that. He said, "There's only one
likely candidate for the Strygoi Master and that's Dracul, Vlad's father."


 Iolaus sat up suddenly, alert. "It is him." 

 Hercules nodded as Iolaus repeated what Vlad had told him. "That settles
it," he said, getting to his feet. In one way, nothing had changed. They
still had to find the refugees and destroy Dracul, even if it meant
killing all the strygoi in the castle. Well, Hercules reflected, looking
down at Iolaus, almost all. "We need to find someplace for you to stay
while I go after Dracul. This is too close to the living quarters, they
could--" 

 "What do you mean?" Iolaus surged to his feet. "I'm going with you." 

 Hercules hesitated. He looks like Iolaus, except for the teeth. He sounds
like Iolaus. He acts like Iolaus. "Are you sure you feel up to it?" 

 "I'm fine." Iolaus eyed him suspiciously. "Stop staring at my teeth." 

 "Sorry." Remembering there hadn't been any sign of what Vlad had become,
even at close quarters, he added, "Vlad was able to hide his." 

 "I'm sorry, I must have missed the orientation lecture," Iolaus said
tightly. 

 "That wasn't a criticism, I--" Hercules contemplated the ceiling for a
few moments, regaining his calm. "All right, never mind." 

 "You can trust me," Iolaus said. His voice was determined but his eyes
were pleading. 

 "I know that," Hercules said, then thought, Yes, I do know that. If
Iolaus could resist Dahak for so long, then he could handle this. Hercules
was willing to bet his life on it. He put a hand on Iolaus' shoulder and
said, "Let's go." 

 ***  
    

 They went back to the stair Hercules had found earlier, the one that led
down into the lower parts of the castle. 

 "Why did Mattias agree to bring us here?" Iolaus wondered as they worked
their way down the dark spiral. Dust hung in the cold air and the light
from the torch Hercules carried reflected off damp stained stone. "He's
not a strygoi but he must have known what had happened." They had seen
Mattias travel in daylight, something that strygoi couldn't do. 

 Hercules nodded. "He's under Dracul's control, somehow. Or maybe Dracul
still had mortal supporters and Mattias is one of them." 

 Iolaus shook his head, amazed at the chamberlain's blind, misguided
loyalty. I can't believe this, he thought, torn between embarrassment that
he was in this situation and the strong desire to murder Vlad and every
other strygoi he could catch. His throat still hurt, though he didn't feel
as stiff and achey from the fight as he should have. There was a strange
core of heat inside his chest; it banished the cold but made him realize
that there were still changes going on in his body. It scared the Tartarus
out of him. But I'm still me, he told himself stubbornly. If Dracul
escaped them, or if the legend about the death of the Strygoi Master
restoring all the victims was just that, a legend.... What'll you do, stay
in Dacia and find a cave to haunt? Yeah, right. He sighed and it came out
more as a groan. 

 Hercules stopped, looking back up at him with a worried frown. "What?" 

 "Nothing," Iolaus told him hastily. 

 The stairs ended in a well with three high-ceilinged corridors branching
off, their upper portions lost in shadow. It was easy to see this part of
the castle had been unoccupied for a time; cobwebs clung to the stone
carvings of gargoyles and snarling gryphons and the place smelled dusty
and unused. 

 Hercules headed for the corridor that led deeper into the mountain but
Iolaus paused, his attention caught by something up the other darkened
passage. He squinted, realizing he wasn't looking down into unrelieved
darkness: he could see doorways and a branching corridor further down, and
a gallery looking down on it from above, all outlined in stark gray. There
must be windows at the end of the passage, looking out into the moonlit
night. There was also a strygoi down there somewhere, watching them.
Stalking them. 

 How do I know that? Iolaus wondered. Not sight, not sound, not smell,
either. Hercules had already started down the other corridor and Iolaus
called to him, "Hey, I've got to check something out. Just keep going,
I'll catch up with you." 

 "Right." Lifting the torch to look into a room he had found, Hercules
nodded, distracted. An instant later he processed what his partner had
said. "Wait, no, Iolaus!" He spun to make a wild grab, but Iolaus had
vanished. Hurriedly he looked down the other corridors but there was no
sign of him anywhere. 

 Aghast at how quickly the disaster had occurred, Hercules swore, then
pressed his lips together. It was entirely possible that Iolaus was
planning to come back. Hercules let his breath out, pushed a hand through
his hair, and turned to continue up the corridor. "This is just great," he
muttered. 

 *** 

 Iolaus moved soundlessly down the passage, so absorbed he didn't even
hear Hercules calling for him. He reached one of the pillars supporting
the gallery at the end, found handholds in the carved rock, and climbed it
to perch on the balustrade. He hesitated, looking for the windows which
provided the muted light that allowed him to see shapes and objects but
not colors. There weren't any and he smacked himself in the forehead in
realization: he could see in the dark. 

 At least that'll come in handy, unlike the damn teeth. He slipped off the
balustrade and ghosted silently along the gallery. It crossed the passage
and turned into another corridor, parallelling the one Hercules had chosen
to search. Iolaus paused to take down an old javelin from a set that was
making up part of an elaborate wall decoration. He could still sense the
strygoi somewhere ahead. Unaware of Iolaus, it was focused on hunting the
demigod, trying to get ahead of him. 

 Iolaus caught up to the creature just as it reached a balcony that
overlooked the lower corridor. Suddenly aware of his presence, it turned
with a soundless growl. Iolaus had time to notice it was an undead
Strygoi, even more horrific than the one that had killed Darius. Its hair
was a ragged mane, its clothes and leather armor just tattered filthy
remnants, and this close it stunk like a decaying corpse. Baring fangs,
its face twisted into a snarl. 

 It leapt at him and Iolaus swung the javelin, snapping it across the
strygoi's head. He blocked a wild blow as it staggered into the wall, then
slammed the broken end into its chest. 

 It didn't go easily. Gurgling, its eyes glowing with fury, it clawed at
him, the rigid nails on its hands tearing at his shirt and scratching his
arms as he grimly forced the javelin further in. It slid down the wall,
finally going limp. 

 Breathing hard more from exhilaration than effort, Iolaus stepped back,
shaking his hair out of his eyes. That's one, he thought with
satisfaction, nudging the limp creature with his boot. Out of who knows
how many. It was a start, anyway. 

 He leaned down to pick up the other half of the broken javelin and froze,
staring at his extended hand. 

 He had claws. 

 With a soft curse he straightened up, staring at his hands. Unlike the
appearance of his teeth, it hadn't hurt a bit. 

 Iolaus flexed his fingers thoughtfully, watching the claws appear and
withdraw. He lifted a brow. Huh. Well that could come in handy too. 

 *** 

 Continuing the search, Hercules half-expected Iolaus to reappear by
dropping off one of the shadowy balconies onto his head. He paused,
peering warily down a dark cross-corridor. 

 "Hey, you know what's funny? I--" 

 Hercules flinched violently. Iolaus was standing at his elbow. 

 "What's with you?" Iolaus demanded, looking him over suspiciously. 

 "Nothing," Hercules managed. "Where...." He trailed off, studying Iolaus
closely. Something was different. 

 Noticing the scrutiny, Iolaus said, "Oh, I figured out how to make my
teeth go back in." He stepped forward, pulling up his upper lip. "Want to
see?" 

 "Not really." With a hand on his shoulder, Hercules eased him back a
step. "What were you saying?" 

 "Oh, right. I can tell where the strygoi are, at least the undead ones." 

 Hercules frowned, not understanding. "What do you mean, tell where they
are? How?" 

 "I don't know." Iolaus shrugged. "It's like I could just tell that one
was nearby, hunting us." 

 "Huh. That could come in handy," Hercules admitted. "Is it still there?" 

 "Yeah, but it's more dead than undead." Iolaus scratched his chest
absently, then flexed his fingers. "Oh yeah. There's something else I
wanted to mention." 

 *** 

 The strygoi charged and Hercules reversed the heavy spear, catching the
creature with the broken end. He pinned it to the wall, waiting grimly
until its struggles ceased. Stepping back, he turned as another strygoi
fled by him, then hastily jumped aside as Iolaus shot past, yelling, "That
one's mine!" 

 "Right." Used to this behavior by now, Hercules looked around the dark
chamber, wondering why the undead strygoi had decided to congregate here.
This wasn't even an actual room, just a wider spot in the passage where it
formed an outer corner of the bastion. If the strygoi had been planning an
ambush, they had done a lousy job of it, allowing their quarry to catch
them completely by surprise. 

 There was a window in the far wall but boards had been hammered into the
wooden frame, completely covering it. Hercules pulled them out, revealing
a night time view out over the snow-covered mountains and the river valley
below. The perpetual cloudcover had finally parted and the full moon was
shining brightly. Hercules studied the sky, not certain how much longer
they had until morning. The nights were long here. Too long, he thought,
pressing his lips together. After a couple of hours of searching they had
found several undead strygoi but no sign of Dracul, Vlad or any of the
others who had to be here somewhere. At least he knew that all the
strygoi, dead and undead, would sleep during the day. If they could just
locate the nest, killing Dracul then should be relatively easy. Should be.
But it's never easy. 

 "There's no strygoi out there," Iolaus said, suddenly appearing at his
elbow and bristling with impatience. Like the demigod, Iolaus had several
broken pieces of boar spears and javelins tucked into his belt for use on
the strygoi. "Come on." 

 Hercules eyed him thoughtfully. He was getting used to Iolaus' sudden
appearances and disappearances. The only thing that was still a little
disconcerting was that Iolaus didn't seem to realize he was moving in
complete silence. Something else occurred to him and he asked, "The undead
Strygoi.... They don't have blood, do they?" 

 "No." Iolaus spat into the dust. "They're useless." 

 Hercules let out his breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wasn't
sure how long Iolaus could go without more blood. I'm not going to let him
die, he thought stubbornly. 

 The more he had seen, the more sure he was that Iolaus just wasn't like
the other strygoi. When Hercules had seen Galen, his eyes had been red,
the pupils elongated like an animal's; Iolaus' eyes were the right shape
and still the same familiar blue. And except for a single-minded
determination to kill strygoi that amounted almost to a monomania, he was
behaving consistently like himself. "Hey, let me see your hands." Hercules
had avoided closely examining Iolaus' physical changes. But he didn't have
to steel himself nearly as much as he would have expected to look at
Iolaus' new set of claws. 

 With an impatient snort, Iolaus held out both hands. Hercules took one,
examining it thoughtfully. It felt the same; the thick layer of callous
over the palm that came from using a sword all his life, the tiny burn
scars from his days as a blacksmith. Then he pressed Iolaus' fingertip and
a good half-inch of claw protruded. 

 "Hey!" Indignant, Iolaus yanked his hand back. "That feels weird." 

 "Sorry. I'm just trying to figure out.... You don't seem very much like
the other strygoi." 

 "So...." Iolaus shifted uncertainly. "What am I?" 

 Hercules shook his head, wishing that was one question he could answer.
"I don't know. But I have the feeling Dracul and Vlad didn't plan on it." 

 Iolaus let out his breath, running a hand through his hair impatiently.
"I don't want to be an undead anything--" 

 "You're not dead," Hercules said pointedly. "You're breathing, your heart
is beating--" 

 Frustrated, Iolaus threw his arms in the air. "I have to drink blood to
survive--" 

 "Well, there are obviously ways to deal with that." Hercules realized
that having this conversation over the moldering corpses of strygoi
probably wasn't the best idea. "Come on, let's go down this way. That
window was covered so the strygoi could pass through here during the day.
There could be dozens of them right around the corner." 

 Iolaus snorted. "Stop trying to cheer me up." 

 *** 

 After they had gone only a short distance down the corridor, Iolaus could
see that Hercules was right. The dust that should be coating the flat
flagstones of the floor had been recently disturbed by large numbers of
feet. Suddenly he paused, one hand on the damp stone wall. "I smell
blood." 

 As Hercules gave him a sideways look Iolaus realized that was probably
not a reassuring statement to make, especially under the circumstances.
Hercules asked mildly, "More strygoi?" 

 "No, people. Live people." Iolaus wrinkled his nose and moved further
down the corridor, trying to follow the coppery scent drifting on the cold
air. He wasn't sure how he could tell it was fresh blood. Probably the
same way he could sense the undead strygoi when they ventured too close,
or the blood moving through Hercules' veins. 

 Iolaus stopped, frowning. Inexplicably, the odor was coming out of the
wall, from the cracks in the mortar between the stones. Wondering if he
was officially crazy now, Iolaus ran his hands over it. No, not crazy; he
could feel a tiny drafts against his fingers. "Herc...." 

 "Uh huh." Hercules had halted to make his own investigation. He lifted
his torch and Iolaus saw he had found a distinct gap between the stones,
running from the floor up to vanish in the shadows near the ceilings. The
stream of air issuing from it made the torch flutter. 

 "Great. Knock it down." Iolaus stepped back, gesturing impatiently toward
the wall. 

 Hercules lifted a brow, giving him one of those "I think not" looks.
"I'll just do this." He took hold of the empty candle sconce to the side
of the gap and twisted it. 

 A faint groan issued from the wall and the stones shivered. A section
half the height of the tall corridor and nearly as wide across began to
lift up, all in one piece. Invisible gears and chains moaned with the
effort. Iolaus exchanged a look with Hercules, both moving to the side so
as not to be directly in front of the opening about to be revealed.
Hercules stuck the torch into a handy bracket, freeing his hands in case
anything charged out at them. 

 As the wall lifted away Iolaus saw a broad torchlit stairwell, spiraling
down into the depths of the mountain. A stream of cold air flowed up and
out, carrying with it a prison stink of blood, urine and unwashed bodies.
With a grim expression Hercules started down the stairs and Iolaus plunged
after him. 

 Two turns down Iolaus sensed strygoi and pushed ahead. He could hear
people now too, moving, whispering, a woman crying out weakly in alarm. 

 They were both pelting down the steps now and the strygoi were sure to
hear but Iolaus didn't find that a compelling enough reason to slow down.
Another turn and he burst through an archway into a large cave-like
chamber. One wild look around told him it was full of people,
roughly-dressed Dacian peasants. Most of them lay in huddled bundles,
chained to the walls or the supporting pillars. A strygoi was just
standing up from the prone body of a woman. 

 Iolaus hit it in a flying tackle, knocking it sprawling across the stone
floor. 

 Rolling away, it caught him in the chest with one foot, shoving him back.
It leapt up and made an abortive dart towards the stairs, but Hercules
shifted to block its way. Iolaus came to his feet in one smooth motion,
kneecapped it with a kick, then landed on its chest, poised to drive the
javelin through its heart. 

 It was at that point he realized it wasn't undead. The man was still
breathing, his heart still beating. His clothes weren't the moldering
grave rags that the other strygoi wore, but well-made leather armor, with
the seal of the Dacian Royal Guard on the breast. He snarled up at Iolaus,
nothing left of the man he had been behind his eyes. 

 Behind him Hercules shouted, "Iolaus, no! We talked about this." 

 Damn, I was hoping he'd forget about that. Hercules had resolved not to
kill the living strygoi, the ones who could still be restored to normal,
unless it was unavoidable. In a weak moment Iolaus had agreed to it. He
said through gritted teeth, "I've had a really, really bad day." 

 "I know," Hercules said more softly. "But...no." 

 Trembling with the effort of restraint, Iolaus stared down into the
creature's empty eyes and thought that's going to be you if you're not
lucky. All the more reason to kill it. He swore and slammed the strygoi's
head back into the stone floor, knocking it unconscious. 

 He held on to the creature as Hercules found a spare set of chains, then
they got it locked securely to a pillar on the far side of the chamber.
After that Iolaus had to lean against the wall, his head down, breathing
hard and trying to hold on to his self-control. I really, really hate
those things. Hercules paused a moment to rest a hand on his back, then
turned away to go to the imprisoned refugees. 

 After a time Iolaus shook himself and went back across the chamber to
find Hercules snapping chains to free the prisoners. Most of them were
barely conscious, too confused to realize they were being released. They
all had multiple bite wounds in the neck, their arms. The strygoi hadn't
wanted to turn these people; they were here as a food supply, as cattle to
provide the other strygoi with blood. Iolaus knew he should help Hercules,
but the smell of all the fresh blood.... He didn't feel out of control, as
if he was going to attack anybody -- that murderous impulse seemed to be
reserved for other strygoi -- but he turned away, passing a hand over his
face to conceal his expression. 

 He could get used to the claws and seeing in the dark, he could get used
to the extra stamina, he could even get used to the frigging teeth if he
tried hard enough, but he couldn't get used to the blood-drinking part. I
don't want to get used to it. If his stomach started to growl-- 

 He sensed Hercules step up behind him, just before the demigod rested his
hands on Iolaus' shoulders. "You all right?" he asked. 

 "Yeah, just...having a moment." He shook his head, turning around. "What
are we doing?" 

 "I found Galen's sister." 

 *** 

 "I was travelling to Varna to meet my brother," Vela explained, speaking
Greek with an accent. Galen's sister had dark eyes, long dark hair and
creamy white skin, marred only by bruises and the bite wounds on her arms.


 They were sitting in the archway at the bottom of the stairs, where they
could listen for any approaching strygoi. Hercules sat on the steps next
to her but Iolaus perched on the rocks a few feet away. Being around
Hercules already gave him enough issues; the combination of blood scent
and beautiful woman was almost too much for his concentration. Vela
continued, "I was staying at the inn at Bistritz when the strygoi attacks
started. I fled with the others to the fortress, but as you see, it was a
trap." 

 She rubbed her arms and shivered, looking over at the other Dacians.
Hercules had found a small well near the far wall and the prisoners who
were able to walk were carrying water to those still too weak to move. It
would help, but it wouldn't be enough. These people needed food, blankets,
healers. These were the farmers and artisans whose labor supplied the
nobility's castles and whose sons filled the ranks of the Dacian armies.
And in return they had been tricked into coming here for shelter and been
betrayed to the strygoi. 

 After one brief glance Iolaus looked away. They had to realize what he
was; perhaps they were so glad to be free of the chains that they didn't
care who had rescued them. 

 Vela turned back to Hercules and said, "When they locked the others in
here I managed to slip away in the confusion, but the way up into the rest
of the castle was guarded and I couldn't get out." She absently picked at
a bite wound on her arm. "My brother had told me that strygoi slept during
the day and I thought if I could find them, kill Dracul while he was
helpless...." 

 "It was a good thought," Hercules said, watching her. It was, in fact,
what they had planned to do themselves. "I take it it didn't work out that
way?" 

 She shook her head, her mouth twisting ruefully. "They slept, but they
weren't helpless." 

 There goes plan alpha, Iolaus thought, exchanging a troubled look with
Hercules. 

 She said, "I found a large cave on the lowest level. It looked like a
dungeon, but there were war banners hung on the walls and a chair like a
throne, as if it was an audience hall. No one was there, but a passage led
off from it to the crypts, so I went down it." 

 Hercules flicked a glance at Iolaus, who answered with a half-lifted
brow. Guts and stubborn impetuousness obviously ran in Galen's family. 

 "I found Dracul sleeping in a crypt but when I tried to drive the stake
through his heart he woke." Vela shivered at some memory her story had too
vividly conjured. "He threw me against a wall and knocked me out. When I
came back to myself two of the others were dragging me back here." 

 "Can you tell us where that room was?" Hercules asked. 

 She nodded. "Of course." 

 Hercules looked thoughtful and Iolaus rolled his eyes. He knew what that
look meant. "Herc," he said deliberately. "Can we talk?" 

 "Hmm?" Hercules glanced up, distracted. "Oh." He smiled reassuringly at a
puzzled Vela and stood. 

 They retreated a few steps away to the far side of a pillar. Iolaus said,
"You can't walk in there. They'll be waiting for that!" 

 "I know." Hercules nodded with calm determination. "We walked into his
trap once, we're not going to do it again." He planted his hands on his
hips, a speculative frown on his face. "We need to make him come to us. If
I could--" 

 Iolaus' brows lifted. "Let me do it. It's perfect. They think I'm one of
them." In case there was any doubt, he added, "Which I'm not." 

 Hercules grimaced. "I know that, but--" 

 "But what?" Iolaus asked. Almost against his will, he found himself
adding, "Don't you trust me?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer
to that one. Hercules had said he knew he could trust him, but that was
before the claws and being able to smell human blood in the air. 

 Hercules squeezed his shoulder. "It's not you that I'm worried about." 

 Somewhat reassured, Iolaus persisted, "Look, they did this to me to get
to you. I've got a right to do this." 

 Hercules glared at him, but it was the expression he usually got when he
couldn't think of a better argument. Finally he let his breath out in
resignation. "All right." He gestured helplessly. "Just--" 

 "I know." Iolaus nodded with grim resolve. "Believe me, I know." 

 Hercules left Vela in charge of the refugees with instructions to block
the door after he and Iolaus departed. If enough time passed where she
thought it must be morning and they still hadn't returned, she was to lead
the others out of the castle and try to make for the nearest town. One man
had demanded, "Why? Why should we do this? Why not leave now?" 

 Already on edge, Iolaus had looked at him and snarled, "Because he said
so." 

 There hadn't been any other objections. 

 *** 

 Iolaus set out while Hercules was still working on his part of the trap,
but the timing was tight. There had to be enough remaining of the night
that the strygoi would be willing to venture up into the higher parts of
the fortress, but not too much, or he and Hercules would just end up
handing themselves to Dracul on a platter. 

 Following Vela's directions, Iolaus found the stairs down to the lowest
depth of the fortress and the long straight passage that led toward the
crypts. 

 It ended in a big dim chamber, lit by dozens of candles. The pillars were
all carved into forbidding figures that could only be different Dacian
representations of Death. This has got to be the place, Iolaus thought as
he paused at the entrance. The flickering light seemed to sink into the
walls and curved ceiling of rough natural stone, throwing back no
reflections. He could hear the undead, moving in the shadows like rats.
The floor had been covered with dark polished tile and the dead strygoi
Iolaus dragged along by one foot slid across it easily. It and two others
had been guarding the top of the passage and he had decided this was as
good a way to announce his appearance as any. 

 As he moved further in he saw the man seated in the elaborately carved
wooden chair at the far end of the room. Dracul. Vlad was standing at his
right hand and Iolaus felt a snarl building in his throat. The throne was
framed by the archway that must lead to the crypts; cold air heavy with
the scent of old death streamed from it, making the candles flicker and
the warbanners gently ripple. 

 He counted seven men with the symbols of the Dacian Royal Guard on their
leather armor gathered around the throne; they must be all that remained
of those who had accompanied Vlad here from Navari. Like the one they had
found with the refugees, these men were strygoi but not undead. Galen was
standing with them. His face had a greenish cast and he didn't look well,
as if he was still trying to resist the strygoi infection. All right, for
his sister's sake, I'll try not to kill him. Everybody else definitely had
to go. Mattias, now a strygoi too, stood near the throne. There was no
telling if his current condition was reward or punishment. 

 Iolaus halted, dumping the dead strygoi. He had everyone's attention. 

 Dracul broke the silence, saying, "You said he was dead." 

 "I thought he was," Vlad replied, studying Iolaus with a faint puzzled
expression. "I couldn't reach him." 

 "I heard you," Iolaus told him, truthfully enough. "I just didn't feel
like listening." Stifling his urge to fling himself at Vlad's throat took
up a terrible amount of his self-control. 

 Dracul ignored him, slanting a heavy-lidded glance at his son. "You did
not tell me he was this strong." 

 Iolaus rolled his eyes and folded his arms, looking away with pretend
indifference. All these strygoi, so close, were setting his nerves on
fire. Gods, this is driving me nuts. I just want to kill something. His
teeth and claws were fully extended and he couldn't have retracted them to
save his life. "When you're done discussing it, I'll be right here." 

 Dracul pushed to his feet, pacing slowly towards Iolaus. He was big,
Vlad's size, and though there was gray in his hair and beard, he moved
with an arrogant animal grace. As if only casually interested in the
answer, he asked, "You escaped from Hercules?" 

 Iolaus flicked a glance at Vlad, not sure how much he had seen from the
balcony. While it would be entertaining to weave a story about how he had
overpowered Hercules and escaped, it was better to stay on the safe side.
"He let me go. He's sentimental that way." 

 Dracul stopped a bare pace away, staring down at him with speculative
interest. There was something in there besides a wicked old man, Iolaus
could smell it. Something ageless and hungry and evil. He didn't want to
think about how evil a man had to be, to turn into a strygoi simply by
force of personality. Iolaus lifted his chin, baring his teeth in a
challenging grin. 

 Dracul moved suddenly, grabbing a handful of Iolaus' hair and yanking him
forward, half-lifting him off his feet. Iolaus snarled and flexed his
claws but didn't struggle, though it stretched his already strained
self-control to the limit. If Dracul wasn't interested in what he had to
say, he knew he was dead. 

 "You've fed," Dracul said, still in the same thoughtful tone. "On whom?" 

 "I didn't get his name," Iolaus said through gritted teeth. 

 "Answer me." 

 The grip on his hair tightened, pulling his head back further and putting
painful pressure on his neck, but the smartass remark had given him a
chance to think. "Some peasant. He'd been bitten before and he had chains
on his wrists, like he was locked up somewhere." 

 The flicker in Dracul's eyes told Iolaus the old man accepted the answer.
"You are different," Dracul said, still studying him. "A fledgling strygoi
should be weak, easily manipulated. Unaccustomed to this new state of
being." 

 Iolaus tried not to take that personally. "Maybe I've had practice with
new states of being." 

 From behind Dracul, Vlad said slowly, "There was a rumor...he was killed
and Hercules had him restored to life." 

 Dracul acknowledged that with a lifted brow. He said to Iolaus, "So
you've come to join us. Why?" 

 "I don't have a choice. What else am I going to do?" The genuine bitter
resentment Iolaus felt gave that the ring of truth, though he mentally
added, Except kill you. 

 "Don't trust him." It was Galen, speaking as if the words had been choked
out of him. 

 That's it, you're dead too, Galen, Iolaus thought. Before anybody could
think too much about that, he said, "I know where Hercules is. I can lead
you to him." 

 The greedy light in Dracul's eyes betrayed him. Whatever was in there,
Iolaus had figured it would be greedy. And greedy things, whatever they
were, became incautious when what they wanted seemed to be within their
reach. "Very well." He released Iolaus, stepping back to address the
others. "Everything is exactly as I planned. Soon our ranks will swell by
the hundreds, the thousands. But first, I will destroy Hercules." 

 The other strygoi raised a cheer. Iolaus just smiled, thinking, I've
heard that before. 

 *** 

 Leading Dracul and the others back up through the fortress made Iolaus
wish he was in the middle of a battle. Troy, maybe, with a burning wooden
horse about to fall on him. There were too many things that could go
wrong, too many moments for Dracul to realize this was a trap. 

 As they reached the corridor where the hidden stair was, Iolaus' nerves
jumped in earnest. There was no way to avoid it; this was the only way
into the upper part of the fortress. He had a long list of Things That
Could Go Wrong at this point, anywhere from Vela not being able to keep
some idiot from trying to leave, to the strygoi deciding to stop for a
snack, to Dracul somehow sensing that the stair mechanism had been
temporarily jammed with a few yards of chain. 

 As they neared the entrance, Iolaus couldn't stand the tension anymore
and had to relieve it. He said to Vlad, "Why did you really bring us here?
What did you want from Hercules?" 

 Vlad pressed his lips together and flicked an expressionless glance at
his father. Behind them, one of the other strygoi hissed, but Iolaus
ignored it. Without looking at them, Dracul lifted a brow and replied, "A
demigod's blood will be powerful. No strygoi has ever tasted such before."


 "Oh." They were safely past the entrance to the concealed stairway, but
now Iolaus had something else to worry about. Never, huh? Well, just the
once. Dammit, I knew it was a bad idea. 

 He noticed Vlad was still eyeing him and glared. Unperturbed, Vlad said,
"It's difficult to believe you would betray Hercules. Even as a strygoi." 

 "It was difficult to believe you betrayed me," Iolaus retorted. "But you
did." 

 His face still closed and enigmatic, Vlad looked at Dracul again,
striding ahead of them. He said to Iolaus, "I turned you; you should be
under my control. How did you resist my compulsion?" 

 Iolaus stared at him, wondering if there was anything behind the
question. If Vlad did have some access to his thoughts, this plan was
toast and he and Hercules were both worse than dead. But he just didn't
think there was anybody in his head but him. Watching Vlad cautiously, he
said, "I just had to want it hard enough." 

 Dracul looked back then and Iolaus decided to keep his mouth shut for a
while. 

 They were nearing the spot, a place where the corridor narrowed just
before it opened into a large round tower room. A stairwell into the upper
part of the fortress lay just beyond it. 

 "It's near dawn," Vlad said suddenly, making Iolaus jump. "If we--" 

 "Silence," Dracul ordered. "There are no windows in this tower so we can
pass without trouble--" He paused suddenly. "He's there, not far ahead."
He glanced back at Iolaus, lifting a brow. "You will be rewarded." 

 "That's what I'm aiming for," Iolaus assured him. But not by you. 

 Dracul strode forward swiftly down the passage. 

 Iolaus followed with Vlad and just as they stepped within the narrow
passage he heard Hercules shout. Iolaus turned and slammed into Vlad with
his shoulder, knocking the larger man out of the passage and back into the
wider corridor. They rammed into Galen and another confused strygoi,
knocking them aside. As they hit the ground stone and broken beams crashed
down in a cloud of dust. 

 *** 

 The fall of stone had neatly sealed the small passage, locking the other
strygoi out and Dracul in. Hercules, from a ledge halfway up the wall of
the high tower room, had knocked out the prop that was all that supported
the ceiling of the passage; the architectural rearrangements had taken him
the rest of the night to make. As the dust settled, he leapt down from the
ledge, landing several paces away from Dracul. The other doorway was
blocked with a few heavy stones he had carried in from outside. 

 Dracul stared at the blocked doorways, then turned slowly, smiling. "You
think this will help you?" He barred his fangs, the confident smile
becoming a predatory grin. "You should have left when you had the
opportunity." 

 Hercules hefted the boar spear he held. It was the best one he had found
up in the living quarters, with a long blade on a heavy wooden shaft. He
had chosen it for the quality of the wood rather than the steel. He said,
"I'll be leaving soon enough. I just have to do something first." 

 Dracul stalked forward. "Give in, Hercules. You can't possibly destroy
me." 

 Hercules allowed himself a grim smile. He swung the spear, driving Dracul
back a pace as he stepped to the curved outer wall. "I've heard that
before." 

 Dracul made an abortive movement, then hesitated. Hercules correctly read
the flicker of startled anger that crossed his face and nodded in
satisfaction. "Galen was right. You can't change shape after daylight." He
turned and slammed a punch into the wall behind him. Stone exploded
outward and as the dust cleared the graying sky was visible, the first
gold light of dawn just touching the mountain peaks. 

 *** 

 Iolaus rolled over, shaking the dust out of his hair, and saw Vlad
crouched against the opposite wall staring blankly at the blocked passage.
He looked at Iolaus, saying in shock, "You--" 

 Iolaus grinned at him. "Surprise." 

 Vlad started to push to his feet. "And I thought you disliked surprises."


 "Not when they're on you." 

 Vlad lunged forward and Iolaus caught him in the chin with a kick,
sending him falling back. Iolaus leapt up, moving back into the wider part
of the corridor as Vlad regained his feet and came for him. 

 Vlad halted suddenly and Iolaus bounced impatiently on his heels, waiting
for the next attack. The others were starting to stagger upright and much
as Iolaus would have liked to stay and see how many of them he could take,
he wanted to get to Hercules. Vlad suddenly reeled away, falling against
the wall. "Go," he grated, his face white with effort. 

 Iolaus eyed him, wary of a trick. "What?" 

 "Go," Vlad repeated. "I'll hold them back. I--" He shook his head,
wincing, but couldn't seem to say more than that. With a growl, he pushed
away from the wall, shoving an approaching strygoi back. 

 Iolaus stared, then decided whether it was real or not, he couldn't
afford not to take advantage of it. As he turned, Mattias stumbled to his
feet and charged him. Iolaus slammed a punch into him, then darted down
the passage and skidded around a corner into a side hall. 

 There was a window at the end of it and he tore the dusty drapes aside
and stepped up onto the sill. Cold wind tore at his hair as he paused,
getting his bearings. The sky was gray with the faint radiance of the dawn
and golden light outlined the peaks of the distant mountains. The curve of
the tower hung out over the cliff here and directly below him a chasm
opened, plunging away down into darkness. There was no ledge but Iolaus
turned, working his claws into the gaps between the stones and swinging
out into empty space. He found toeholds with the tips of his boots and
pulled himself up, shaking the hair out of his eyes. With a tight grin, he
thought, So far so good.... 

 He worked his way along as quickly as he could, buffeted by the cold
wind. As he made it around the curve, he was relieved to see the large
jagged hole in the wall ahead. He could hear fighting inside, thumps,
crashes. Then Galen was right. If Dracul could still change shape, he
would have been long gone by now. 

 As he climbed determinedly toward the opening, Iolaus felt a burning
sensation down his back that grew steadily more intense. Uh oh. He froze
suddenly as the realization hit. Strygoi. Sunlight. The tower above him
was turning gold with dawn light. 

 He recklessly swung the last few feet, his claws slipping in the cracks
and his boots skidding on the stone. 

 Iolaus flung himself through the opening into the tower room, hitting the
floor and rolling. Smoke puffed up from his clothes but he didn't feel too
charred. Looking around wildly, he saw Hercules facing Dracul over by the
far wall. 

 "Iolaus, that's cutting it a little close," Hercules shouted, swinging
the spear as Dracul ducked away. 

 "You're telling me!" Iolaus scrambled to his feet. 

 Dracul faced them, his strong features twisted into a snarl, gray hair
flying, sharp teeth gleaming, more like an animal than anything human. 

 "How's it going?" Iolaus asked Hercules. It didn't look so good. 

 "Not so good," Hercules admitted as Dracul charged. 

 They fought across the small room as the sun crept nearer the opening.
Even if he couldn't turn into a puff of smoke, Dracul moved with blinding
speed, and as a human he had been a vicious, experienced fighter. Now as a
strygoi, he was nearly unstoppable. Hercules couldn't get a grip on him to
use his strength and while Iolaus was fast, every time he got close enough
to try to slow Dracul down, he got knocked nearly senseless. 

 Then Dracul's claws slashed Hercules across the chest and the demigod
managed to catch his arm, flinging him back against the wall. Iolaus went
for the legs, miscalculated, and took a kick in the stomach that sent him
flying across the room. 

 Iolaus bounced off the wall and hit the floor. Shaking his head dazedly
as he pushed himself up, he knew the force of that blow would have killed
him if he had still been completely human. He looked up in time to see
Hercules force Dracul back against the gaping hole in the wall. Past him
Iolaus could see the lightening sky. In a few moments the dawn light would
reach the opening. 

 Dracul must have felt it too. With a growl of effort he twisted suddenly,
turning and pulling Hercules off balance. Losing his grip on the spear,
Hercules had to grab the stone at the edge of the gap to catch himself. As
Iolaus shoved to his feet, Dracul smashed Hercules across the face,
knocking him into the side of the opening. Suddenly the loosened stones
gave way and the demigod fell back and out. 

 Iolaus yelled in fury and fear and flung himself forward. With that
inhuman speed Dracul moved, snatching up the spear and slamming the shaft
across Iolaus' knees. He hit the ground, rolled over, and Dracul was right
on top of him. 

 The blade slammed down into Iolaus' chest and he curled up around it
helplessly, instinctively grabbing the metal. 

 For a heartbeat time seemed to freeze. He knew what being stabbed felt
like -- the punch and the pressure, then the delayed rush of agony as air
reached the torn flesh. But the pain didn't come; all he could feel was
the force of the blade pushing into his body. The metal can't kill me, he
realized abruptly. Dracul was forcing the blade through to the wooden
handle. That was when the agony would start. Time jolted back into
movement, rushing headlong as Iolaus sunk his claws into the blade,
desperate to force it back out. 

 Dracul was just too strong, towering over him, bearing down on the shaft.
Snarling, Iolaus fought frantically, kicking at Dracul, his claws scored
the metal as it slipped through his grip. 

 Barring his teeth as he smiled down at him, Dracul said, "You're
fortunate. The sun rises, so I won't be able to prolong your death." 

 Iolaus could see the light glowing against the far wall, turning the
stone gold. The first edge of the wood shaft shoved past his skin and he
didn't have the air for a last curse. It was like being stabbed with a red
hot iron bar. 

 He saw Hercules and thought it was a hallucination. Until the demigod
seized Dracul and threw him against the wall, no more than ten paces from
the pool of sunlight. Nearly blinded by pain, Iolaus managed to get a grip
on the shaft, trying to push it out; it seemed lodged in his body. Dimly
he saw Hercules lean over him and grab the spear. With one quick jerk he
pulled it free. 

 Iolaus collapsed on the stone, panting, shaking from shock, as weak as an
unstrung puppet. He saw Dracul push to his feet and lunge toward Hercules,
but he couldn't do more than gasp a warning. 

 With an expression of grim concentration, Hercules flipped the spear and
rammed the blade into Dracul's chest. He moved forward, driving the metal
blade through his body and shoving the strygoi back against the stone
wall. Iolaus struggled to stand, wanting to help, but he only managed to
roll awkwardly to his knees. Dracul's growl turned into a shriek and he
clawed for the demigod. Hercules shifted his weight and drove the blade
into the wall. 

 Dracul was pinned between the stone and the wooden shaft. He looked down,
then up at Hercules, his lips drawing back in a rictus grin. "You missed
the heart," he said, his voice grating. 

 Hercules looked him in the eye. "I meant to." 

 Dracul stared at him, then at the line of sunlight creeping slowly nearer
as the sun cleared the mountain peaks. 

 Iolaus gasped, the laugh turning into an outcry as his abraded lungs
burned. Hercules had deliberately missed Dracul's heart to give Iolaus
time to heal. If Dracul had been killed then, Iolaus would have turned
back into a human with a hole in his chest and died instantly. One of
those times having a demigod -- a smart demigod -- around comes in handy,
he thought, slumping back down and abandoning his attempt to stand. 

 Dracul fought to push away from the wall, his growl scaling up to a howl
of rage. Hercules ducked away from the clawing hands, still grimly holding
the jerking shaft in place. "How're you doing, buddy?" he said through
gritted teeth. 

 "Fine," Iolaus told him faintly. He knew the demigod hadn't heard him but
he didn't seem to have the air to make his voice louder. He looked down at
the wound in his chest, unwillingly fascinated. The bloodless hole was
slowly closing. He slid down, squinting painfully at the sunlight as it
moved inexorably toward them. Strangely the room seemed darker as the sun
filled it. Then as his head sunk to the floor he realized it was his
vision that was going dark. He saw the edge of light touch Dracul's wildly
flailing figure. Smoke and flame flared up, just before the blackness
closed in. 

 *** 

 Iolaus came to fighting with somebody and after a few frenzied moments
realized the large person he had just kicked in the gut was Hercules.
"What in Tartarus are you trying to do?" he demanded, shoving the
demigod's arm away indignantly as he sat up. 

 "I was looking at your teeth," Hercules said, sounding harassed. 

 "Huh?" Oh right, I'm a strygoi, Iolaus remembered. He couldn't remember
much else, like how they had gotten here or what they were doing. Or where
here was. It was a dark dank cold corridor, lit by a few torches, the
walls banded with elaborate carvings but grimed with dust. He saw two
doorways, sealed with mortared blocks. We're down in the crypts? That
didn't seem like a particularly good place to be. He didn't feel dead, but
his chest ached and his stomach was trying to crawl up his throat. He was
covered in a cold sweat and had that feeling of standing just to one side
of reality that a bad fever could cause. "What's going on?" 

 "Nothing, just stay here." Hercules pulled a heavy wool cloak up over
Iolaus' shoulders and pushed him back down. 

 Ignoring this nonsensical statement, Iolaus sat up on an elbow and
squinted at him. Hercules looked like Iolaus felt. His shirt and arms were
scorched and stained with smoke and his chest scored with livid clawmarks
and dried blood. Iolaus knew there had been a battle but he couldn't
remember if they had won it or not. "What's going on?" he demanded. Hadn't
he said that before? 

 "Nothing," Hercules repeated grimly, "Stay here." The demigod pushed him
back down against the wall. 

 Unable to put up an effective resistance, Iolaus folded up and pretended
to pass out again. Hercules stood over him a moment and Iolaus could
practically feel skeptical eyes boring into him. Then he heard Hercules
walk softly up the corridor. 

 Iolaus sat up, bewildered and irritated and woozy. He shrugged off the
cloak and pushed himself up, using the carving like a ladder to haul
himself to his feet. Leaning heavily on the wall, he made his way slowly
down the corridor in the direction Hercules had gone. 

 He came to an open doorway with square blocks stacked neatly nearby,
ready to be mortared into place. He paused, weaving slightly. The muted
voices inside were familiar, but he couldn't quite place who they belonged
to. He braced himself against the cold stone and peered in, squinting
until his eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior. 

 It was a tomb, the walls covered with smoke-stained paintings of Dacian
warriors, shifting and fluid in the light of a few candles. There were
other people there but he focused on Hercules, who was just lowering
something down onto the central plinth. 

 It was Dracul's body, charred black from the sunlight, the cut-off spear
shaft still protruding from its chest. Hercules took a step back, wiping
his hands off on his pants. "All right, what's next?" His voice was hard
with distaste. 

 Galen swayed forward out of the shadows to lean weakly against the
plinth, saying, "Cut his head off and stuff his mouth with garlic." 

 Hercules stared at him from under lowered brows. "You're kidding," he
said flatly. His tone suggested Galen had better not be kidding. 

 "What kind of sick bastard would make that up?" Galen countered wearily. 

 Fascinated, Iolaus slid down the stone and stumbled off a step, barely
catching himself before he tumbled headlong into the crypt. At the slight
sound Hercules spun, spotted him, and had him by the arm, propelling him
back down the corridor before he knew what had happened. He tried to drag
his heels and grab a doorframe to slow their progress but it was useless.
"What's going on?" he tried again. 

 Hercules shoved him back down, pulling the cloak over him. "I'll explain
later." 

 Iolaus tried to sit up, but the brief exertion had sapped most of his
strength. Frustrated, he demanded, "Am I alive, am I dead, am I next?" 

 "No!" Exasperated, Hercules shook his head. "Just stay there." 

 Someone else loomed into view behind the demigod and Iolaus was shocked
to recognize Vlad. 

 "Is he all right?" Vlad asked, glancing worriedly at Hercules. 

 This gave Iolaus the energy to throw off the cloak and sit up, shouting,
"You bit me, you son of a bitch!" He looked pointedly at Hercules. "Why is
he alive?" 

 Hercules inexorably shoved him back down. "I'll explain it to you later."


 Iolaus tried to sit up again but a wave of dizziness dropped him back to
the floor without Hercules having to help. He knew he was fading out, but
he still persisted, "When?" 

 "When you're conscious." 

 *** 

 Iolaus was dreaming of the crypts under the castle, of being trapped in
those dark echoing passages. He kept finding doors but they were all
filled in with heavy stone blocks. He blundered in the dark, the air
growing hotter and thinner with each breath. Part of him knew that even
airless these chambers deep under the castle would be cold; he knew he was
confusing Dacia and Sumeria, but knowing it didn't help. 

 He woke, flailing wildly. "Hey, hey. Take it easy, it's over." Hercules
caught his shoulders and pushed him back down onto the bed. 

 "Huh?" Iolaus stared at him, then tried to push his hands away and sit up
but Hercules didn't budge. The dream still the most vivid image in his
head, he said in confusion, "But I'm not dead." 

 "I know," Hercules agreed reassuringly. "I was hoping you'd notice," he
added, like it was a joke he expected Iolaus to get. 

 "What?" Iolaus stared at him, still reflexively struggling to sit up. 

 "Everything's all right," Hercules said, slowly and plainly. 

 "Oh." Iolaus subsided. They were in the guest chamber up in the castle's
living quarters; Iolaus recognized the awful tapestry and leering
gargoyles. Seeing him calm again, Hercules ruffled his hair and got up
from the bed. 

 Listening to Hercules move around the room, Iolaus lay there in the nest
of fur blankets, memories of the recent past coming back in bits and
pieces. He still felt dizzy and somewhat distanced from reality, but the
various aches and pains he remembered had faded. He rubbed his chest where
Dracul had skewered him with the spear shaft. There wasn't even a scar,
though his shirt was torn and bloody. Finally the need for more
information overrode the urge to sink back into sleep. He rolled onto his
side and propped his head on his arm, clearing his throat. "I had some
weird dream that we were down in the crypts. Something about garlic...." 

 "That was true." Hercules was kneeling at the hearth, feeding more wood
into the fire. "According to Galen, it keeps strygoi from rising again." 

 "Oh." Iolaus frowned. The decapitation part he could understand, but....
"Garlic?" 

 "I have no idea, but it seemed to do the trick." 

 Iolaus lay there a moment, trying to force his fuzzy brain to work. The
room was cold despite the fire and the candles left shadowy corners he
couldn't see into. His stomach was complaining about lack of food, but not
seriously enough to worry him. Then all those things plus the realization
that he couldn't sense the blood running through Hercules' veins suddenly
came together. He sat bolt upright. "I'm human again!" 

 Hercules glanced over at him, smiling faintly. "Uh huh." 

 Iolaus swore and flopped back on the pillows, overcome by relief. 

 Hercules nodded agreement. "That's what I said." He tossed the last log
in and dusted off his hands. "It took a while for you to turn back. The
others all recovered much more quickly. Galen thought it might have been
because you used up most of your strength healing yourself right before
Dracul died but," Hercules smiled wryly, getting to his feet, "I told him
you always have to do things the hard way." 

 "Funny," Iolaus muttered. He gingerly felt his teeth, then flexed his
hands, trying to believe it. No claws, and no sign of any ever being
there. He sat up again, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Hercules was
standing at a table, looking at the contents of a couple steaming
earthenware pots with a critical expression. Iolaus supposed that was
dinner, or maybe breakfast. Whatever it was, he hoped it didn't have
garlic in it. Still trying to catch up on events, he asked, "So...what
about Vlad?" 

 Hercules eyed him a moment, then came back to sit on the edge of the bed.
He admitted reluctantly, "He apologized and said that his life is yours." 

 "He would, the bastard," Iolaus said sourly. After all that, it was
terribly unfair of Vlad to head off Iolaus' just desire for vengeance by
apologizing. Typical. He drew his knees up and propped his folded arms on
them. "I'm glad Vlad wants to kiss and make up, but I think this is going
to affect our future relationship." He peered suspiciously at Hercules,
who was staring off at the ugly tapestry with a somber preoccupied
expression. Something was wrong. Iolaus could tell. He couldn't think what
it was; Hercules wouldn't have any reason to be depressed about what had
happened. Some moments had looked pretty dark, but Dracul had been evil to
the bone and killing him was a service the Dacians would be thankful for
for generations. Not to mention saving Vlad, damn him anyway, and Galen
and Vela and all the others. "What's wrong with you?" 

 Hercules hesitated, then shook his head in agitation and said, "You told
me to kill you because you didn't trust me to get you out of this." 

 Iolaus stared at him. "What?" 

 "You heard me." 

 Exasperated, Iolaus flung his arms in the air. "I told you to kill me
because I didn't want somebody using me against you -- again! It didn't
have anything to do with not trusting you." 

 "Well, that's how I took it," Hercules said with some asperity, but
Iolaus could tell he was more relieved than annoyed at the indignant
denial. 

 "All right, fine. I swear never to ask you to kill me again." 

 Hercules stared at the ceiling as if asking it for patience. "Fine." 

 "Okay." With the initial burst of defensiveness out of the way, Iolaus
shifted uncomfortably. Now that he thought about it, he could see how
Hercules might have taken it the wrong way. He said simply, "I'm sorry.
That's not what it was about." 

 "I know. I--" Hercules hesitated. Iolaus could see he was hovering on the
edge of an apology. In Persia Iolaus had demanded Hercules limit his
apologies to no more than one per day, and he was pretty sure the demigod
had already used up his quota. He narrowed his eyes. Hercules gave him a
mock glare back, and finished, "I know." 

 *** 

 Galen had practically been standing in the courtyard with his pack in one
hand and Vela in the other for the last day and a half, he was so ready to
leave. Hercules couldn't have agreed more wholeheartedly. The castle felt
more normal now; with people moving about it and the heavy window
coverings pulled aside to let in the daylight, much of the oppressive
atmosphere was gone. But when Iolaus insisted he was completely recovered
and ready for the journey, Hercules was more than ready to see the last of
the place. 

 Vlad accompanied them down to the entrance hall and the leave-taking was
a little strained on Iolaus' part. Hercules knew Iolaus would forgive
their old friend eventually but it wasn't going to be overnight and he was
glad Vlad seemed to realize that. 

 The main doors to the big hall were open and dust motes floated on the
bright morning sunlight as Hercules stopped to exchange a last arm-clasp
with Vlad. The refugees had left earlier, equipped with food and blankets
from the fortress' supplies and escorted by a troop of Dacian cavalry Vlad
had sent for. The soldiers would make certain their villages had not been
taken over by bandits in their owners' absence and report back if more
help was needed. 

 "I don't know how I can thank you, my friends, my comrades," Vlad said. 

 He had said this at least three or four times, but that was the old Vlad
talking and Hercules was glad to hear it. Iolaus, standing with his arms
folded over his scabbarded sword, just snorted derisively. "What are you
going to do now?" Hercules asked Vlad, ignoring the editorial comment from
his partner. 

 Vlad gestured around, taking in the whole castle. "I'm going to abandon
this fortress. I will mine the walls so it can't be used against me and
leave it. Too many bad memories." He shook his head. "The dead can have
it." 

 "Still no sign of Mattias?" Hercules asked, not hopefully. If the
chamberlain who had disappeared in the confusion of Dracul's death had
been found, they surely would have heard. 

 "None." Vlad spat in disgust. "If that filthy traitor wants to remain in
this cursed place, he shall have his wish. But if I find him," he added
cheerfully, "I'll shall cut off his head and send it to you." 

 "You do that," Iolaus grunted. 

 Leaving Vlad, they joined Vela and an impatiently grumbling Galen and
went outside. Iolaus squinted up at the morning sun and took a deep breath
in relief. The wind was brisk but the sun gleaned brightly off the drifted
snow and the sky was a limitless blue; it would be a good day for
travelling. As they started down the stone steps to the courtyard, he
asked Hercules, "Why do these things keep happening to us?" 

 Hercules gave a resigned shrug. It had been a hard couple of days and the
deep philosophical questions were a little beyond him at the moment. "I
don't know. Just another useless experience, I guess." 

 Galen snorted. "You two should talk. At least I had a reason to come
here, you guys just walked into it." 

 "It's our job to walk into it," Hercules told him pointedly. 

 "Yeah," Iolaus added forcefully. It was a little early in the morning for
him to muster a better come back than that, but Hercules was happy with
it. 

 "Yes, Galen." Vela gave her brother a fondly annoyed glance. "Just shut
up." 

 Galen bridled but grudgingly obeyed. "That's going to make the trip a
little easier," Iolaus commented with a grin, settling his pack more
comfortably on his shoulder. 

 "Uh huh," Hercules agreed, smiling gratefully at Vela, his mood already
improving. Iolaus isn't dead or undead or any state between, we're leaving
Dacia, and we have someone with us who can keep Galen quiet without
punching him. Life is good. 

 end 

  
   
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