Darkness Visible Revisited

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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