World of Night

A General Source


"I don't like this," Marton repeated, raking his hands through his hair and once more resuming his pacing, "It doesn't feel right."

"And of course you have a better idea?" Dominic asked scornfully, staring at his feet, which were dangling over the armrest of his chair. The pale blue of his shoes bore a stark contrast to the elegant, black leather chair.

"No." Marton stared apprehensively at the door, "But that doesn't mean I have to think that this is a good one."

"You know," Dom closed his eyes, relaxing further into the chair and casually pushing a cushion out of his way, "It would be a shame if you ruined that carpet by pacing a hole into it."

"I'm just trying to think about what we're getting ourselves into!"

"We're about to meet my source." Dominic sighed exasperatedly, You're thinking too much."

"One of the two only sources for a story," Marton spat, briefly ceasing his pacing to rake his fingers through his hair, "And the other source is dead! Blown to pieces!"

"This is life, Grumpy," Dom rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, "Things happen."

Marton's deathly glare finally managed to shut him up. Endless seconds passed while the two men stared at each other in a silent duel, till the door behind them finally opened.


~***~


Sean sighed contentedly as he slowly drifted back into awareness. He could not remember the last time he had slept so well. He was finally home again. Home in his own bed and not in the uncofartable field bed in the silver cage. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his power. Red sparks seemed to dance on the backside of his eyelids as strength rippled through him. Now that he was finally away from the silver his power had fully returned and even though he knew how strong he was, he needed to reassure himself, to make certain once more that he had indeed escaped from the nightmare of his captivity. Finally everything was as it should be. The only thing that could stil pose a problem was the meeting with the elders that had been scheduled for the afternoon, but he hoped that they would be accepting. Hoped that they would accept Viggo into the Nightworld in spite of the scientist's past.

He could sense the familiar hustle of the Nightworld around him, the busy life of the many nocturnal species roaring around him like a storm around a small island. Feets hurried over stony streets, small spells, runes and charms were used to light fires or lift small things and each of them echoed in the air, leaving a aint crackling and sparking of power and reminding him with a jubilant melody that he was indeed finally home.
He smiled as the comfortably warm body next to him stirred, cracking an eye open just in time to see Viggo slowly open his own and stare into two pools of deep sea-green sleepiness.

"Morning," Sean smiled nervously. They had been exhausted when they had retired to bed after Sean had finally convinced Harry and Karl that it was save to leave him alone with the American. A smile curved his lips. Strange how even Karl and Harry found something to agree upon. Neither had liked the fact that Viggo had accompanied them.
He had turned towards Viggo during the night, throwing a possessive arm over the other man and now they were laying face to face, legs entangled and Viggo's hands safely tucked against Sean's chest while the American's forehead rested against his own.

"Mrng..." Viggo yawned, snuggling against Sean's chest, "M'hate waking..." He did not want to get up, he was way too comfortable just laying in Sean's arms, resting safely against the other man and basking in the warmth around him. "Time?" he yawned again.

"It's still early," Sean blew against a strand of Viggo's hair that tickled his nose, "We can stay in bed for another few hours."

Viggo grunted something that sounded like approval.

"If Karl and Harry don't decide to visit us, that is."

This time Sean received a low growl.

"Just sleep, love," Sean chuckled, "I'll keep them outside:"


~***~


Marton forced himself not to shudder or fidget nervously as the man who had answered Dominic's call and brought them to the hotel led them through the house. He did not feel comfortable in houses like these, never had.
Too much luxury surrounded him. All floors were covered in carpets that had obviously been very expensive, oil paintings decorated the wall, though there were not enough of them to make him truly uncomfortable and only a fool would assume that any of the furniture had not cost a fortune, or at least half a fortune. With a sigh he shook his head. He recognized some of the paintings. Gainsborough and William Turner. And no simple copies either, judging by the look of them. Two artists any Galary would pay a fortune to have and he had counted no less than six of their paintings on this single floor. Six! Dominic's contact really seemed to have more than enough money.
And yet the obvious wealth was not what made Marton so nervous. What truly rattled his cage, was the military aspect of it. Everything stood at a precise spot, all pictures hung straight and in spite of the lush decoration nothing seemed warm or welcoming. Swords, pistols and other strange-looking weapons were on display shelves or arranged on wooden plates on the walls. All in all, the whole interior stated that the owner of this house did not take kindly to fools or nonsense.

"He is expecting you in the saloon," the man said, turning to stand before two enormous doors, his face schooled into a mask of indiffernce, "Just go on in."

Slowly Marton followed Dominic through the gaping doors, always staying a few steps behind. His hand was itching, curling and uncurling nervously at his side. He longed for his gun.


~***~


He grumbled sleepily, rolled onto his other side and tried to fall asleep again. Harry sighed, refusing to open his eyes and instead curled his arms tighter around the pillow he was hugging. Somehow it was comforting to hold something close. Craig was always the one to get up first and he had soon developed the habit of unconsciously grabbing for his lover's pillow when the younger man left the bed. He sighed contendedl, inhaling deeply. Craig's scent still lingered in the pillow, enveloping him while his lover was away.
He had no idea what time it was and he was still too lazy to open his eyes. The clock was on his nightstand and he would have to turn around to take a look. The familiar golden light brushed softly against his eyes, dimmed by the walls of his and Craig's house but not entirely shut out. The magical light that lit the caves never faded, there was no such thing as night and day in the Nightworld.

"Harry?"

He grumbled again as soft footsteps approached, coming to a halt in front of the bed.

"Are you awake?"

"No." He still refused to open his eyes. "I'm sleeping."

The mattress sunk under Craig's weight as the younger man sat down. "Hadn't you planned to check up on Sean and Viggo first thing in the morning?" He asked, his voice incredibly cheerful.

Harry just mumbled something unintelligible, snorting briefly in protest as Craig forcefully pried the pillow from his arms.

"Do you really trust Viggo with Sean?"

"Only before noon." Harry mumbled, breath catching as Craig started to place small butterfly kisses all over his stomach.

"Why?" Craig blew a raspberry against the skin of Harry's throat, "D'you think they aren't up yet?"

"I don't think I want to know what they may be up to..." Harry closed his eyes, relaxed deeper into the cushions and surrendered to the caresses Craig bestowed on him.

"But I'd like to know what you might get up..." Craig answered, a self-satisfied smile lighting his face as Harry's eyes flew open again.

"You would, wouldn't you?" Harry growled, slowly pushing Craig back till the younger man was sitting on his lap, "Just wait till I'm awake enough and I'll show you how up I go..."

"Awake enough?" Craig smirked, blue eyes twinkling, "You need time to recover old man?"

"If I feel old it's only because you keep me from sleeping instead of making me feel younger."

"So I'm supposed to be your midlife-crisis?" Craig sat back, blue eyes widened with a mock-pout, "You don't care about me at all!"

Harry sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he fell back into the pillows. "Craig?"

"Yes?" Craig asked innocently, shifting just a little on Harry's lap.

"You're way too complicated for early morning."

"But you love me for it," Craig grinned again, laying down on top of Harry, "And you couldn't live without your midlife-crisis."

"I do not have a midlife-crisis," Harry growled, folding his hands behind Craig's back, "But yes, I love you."

Craig sighed as he rested his head on the taller man's shoulder, a satisfied smile gracing his lips once again. "I thought I was your midlife-crisis."

"Perhaps you aren't after all," Harry's breathing was already starting to become more and more even, "Now let me get my beauty-sleep."

"Think you'll need it, old man?"

"With you around?" Harry snorted. "Always."

"Oldie."

"Crumb."

"Love you, though." Craig whispered, raising his head once more to take a closer look at Harry's face.

"Love you too, crumb."


~***~


The knot of apprehensive tension in Marton's stomach tightened as the heavily-padded door closed behind him. They were locked in now. Locked in a house that was obviously protected by more than just cameras and with people none of them knew. This just didn't feel right.

"Welcome." A smooth, very British voice said, instantly drawing Marton's attention to the man, who had just risen from another one of those heavy leather chairs. He shuddered as the cool, blue gaze raked over him and Dominic.
"Mr Monaghan, I presume," the hawk-nosed man said as his gaze finally settled on Dominic, "And who, if I may ask, is your companion?"

"He is a friend I could not leave behind," Dominic answered evenly, surprising Marton once more, "We had no place to go."

"Do you understand how big a risk I am taking in meeting you in person, Mr Monaghan?" The man had rounded the table and was now standing in front of them. Or rather towering, Marton decided. The man was old, yet still athletic. The house suited him. And that was only one of the small details that made Marton even more nervous.

"I understand." Dominc's eyes flickered briefly to Marton, "This is Marton Csokas." He tried to smile placatingly, "We were working on a story together when," he paused again, "Certain events forced us to disappear for a while."

"Certain events, indeed, Mr Monaghan," the man raised his eyebrows, "Do you know that I saw some very interesting scenes on the tape of a security camera from a subway station you should know?"

Marton frowned as Dominic's eyes widened impossibly. "You know," the small man whispered, "You know."

"If you are refering to the existence of a certain Nightworld, then yes, Mr Monaghan, I know."

Dominic shook his head. "But how? Why? Why did you never do anything? Why are you still here if you know? Why didn't they take you down? Abduct you? kill you? Anything?"

The tall man's chuckle grated on Marton nerves. Something was very wrong. "There's something else I'd like to know," he growled, glaring at the stranger, "Who are you?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly, "I believe stating one's name is common curtesy."

"Of course," the man's chuckle made Marton wince this time, "How remiss of me. Please allow me to introduce myself," Marton scowled as the man executed a bow he could only interpret as mocking, "I'm Christopher Lee, General of the Nightseekers by appointment of her royal majesty the Queen."

"What?"

"Please close your mouth, Mr Csokas," General Lee sighed as he walked back to his chair and sat down with an exasperated sigh, "Your tonsils are an extremely unhandsome sight."

"How?" Marton stared amazed as Dominic almost rushed at the older man, bristling with rage as he threw his questions at the general, "How could you know what they were doing, what they were doing to me and not intervene? How can you allow them to abduct citizens and build an entire city full of freakish creatures right under your feet? Dammit!" He slammed his hands down on the table, "Why aren't you doing anything to stop them?"

"And what do you think these men in the subway were doing?" General Lee asked, folding his fingers and leaning back in his chair, "We have been trying to do something about this Nightworld for a long time. Perhaps you could tel me what exactly we should be doing in your opinion?"

"Stop them?"

"Quite impossible since we're unable to get into their caves." The cool, blue gaze returned to Marton, "Any suggestions, Mr Csokas."

"No." Marton narrowed his eyes, willing the shivers running down his back away, "What happened to Dom's other source? He said he had two."

"I belive you have already had a look around his house."

"We had a look around what was left of it," Marton retorted icily, "Before the police came after us."

"How inconvenient," General Lee smiled softly, "I really must apologise for that, but you should know, Mr Csokas, that inferiors do not always take well to orders."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Marton hissed, fists clenched at his sides again.

"Don't you, Mr Csokas?"

"Marton?" Dom swivelled around, "What does he mean?"

"I don't know," Marton repeated stubbornly, "And he still hasn't told us what happened to your other source."

"What do you think happened?" General Lee shook his head, once more concentrating on Dominic, "You know how you were taken, do you really think that was the only fight?"

"So you fight them." Dominic interjected, puzzled by the strange tension between Marton and the General.

"Yes." No emotion crossed the man's face as he nodded once.

"Are we at war?" Dominic had taken his notebook out and was now searching furiously for a pen.

"In a way."

"What do you mean in a way? Why don't the people know that we're at war?"

"Britain isn't at war with the Nightworld. Why should the population be informed?"

"But you just said..."

"I said in a way, Mr Monaghan," General Lee got up and walked over to the window, "The Nightworld doesn't exist officially. How can we be officially at war with people who don' officially exist?"

"Sou you're some kind of secret army." Dominic summarized, scribbling furiously away in his notebook.

"We are the Nightseekers."

"So this is where the government funds have been disappearing to?"

"Yes. But we mostly finance ourselves."

"How?" Dominic was breathless now.

"That is of no interest to you, Mr Monaghan."

"Stop right there," Marton interjected, forcing his hands to unclench. He was feeling positively ill now. "Why are you giving us all this information?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"We could sell the information and..."

"To whom, Mr Csokas? Who would believe any of this if you tried to go to anyone with this? If you tried to make this
public? You would find yourself in an asylum faster than you could say platoon."

"Stop it." Marton ground out, his face twisted into a mask of rage.

"Stop what, Mr Csokas?" General Lee asked innocently, eyebrows rising once more.

"Stop provoking me!"

"Am I?" General Lee paused, "Provoking you, I mean."

"Marton?"

"Not now, Dominic."

"But..."

"Your friend seems to want to keep a few things to himself, Mr Monaghan." The man's smile was absolutely malicious, "Perhaps you should question him on his motives for following you before you find yourself once more in a position where you can't leave him behind."

"Marton?" Only a slight tremble in his voice belied Dominic's uncertainty, "What is he talking about?"

"I don't know." Marton stared straight at General Lee, not even once glancing at Dominic, "Let's get out of here, he can't help us. He won't give us any really useful information."

"Go?" Dominic repeated incredulously, "Go where, Marton? Have you forgotten that the police are most probably searching for us? And that who ever killed my other source may be looking for us as well?"

"Oh, now you care." Marton spat venomenously, "You didn't seem to concerned with that when you dragged me into the ruins."

"I didn't drag you into anything!" Dominic hissed back, forgetting everything he had wanted to ask the General, "You dragged yourself into all of this when you shacked up with that psycho-boyfriend of yours!"

"He's no psycho! Don't you dare call him that!"

"Boyfriend?" General Lee interrupted with obvious interest, stepping between the two arguing men, "Is that the reason why you quit? Because you got yourself a little boy-toy?"

"Shut up," Marton whispered, his face unaturally flushed, "Just shut up, both of you!" The last part was an angry yell, loud enough to make even Dom wince. "Don't you dare say another word about him!"

"Mr Monaghan," the General stepped back and turned towards the stunned Dominic once more, "As much as I would like to reminiscence about the old times with you, I'm afraid your friend here," he nodded at Marton, "Wants to remove himself from my presence and house."

"You bet I will!" Marton yelled again, glaring angrily at the security man, who had just walked in with a very concerned look on his face. "And I'm sure Dom wants to go as well."

"Go?" Dominic repeated confused, "But... the information..."

"You don't really think he'd give us something we could work with, do you?" Marton asked bitterly, "We can count ourselves lucky if he doesn't kill us for what we know!"

"Your friend is quite right, Mr Monaghan," the General nodded at the security man, "Even without the things I told you, you already knew more than you should."

"But..." Dominic's gaze wandered helplessly between Marton and the General, "What are we supposed to do?"

"That is quite easy," the General's smile was definitely dangerous, "You keep your mouth shut if you want to survive."