Collinsport.. Rhyaad de’Annar, having returned to find his business in disarray and his ‘chide’ wanted for questioning in a homicide, as well as being responsible for the broken jaw of Samantha Brook, has visited Samantha in the middle of the early morning hours to make amends. Now, he begins the mission that he had been given by the head of the Diogenes Club—and so he decides to seek out the special agent assigned to protect Catriona Kaye.

The slowly rhythmic surf of the Atlantic can be heard from the beach as she sits in the dark watching the figure moving across the grounds. He is approaching very, very cautiously—he is very good. And silent. Much too silent – almost supernaturally so, which is why she now holds the 9mm 357 Sig with the silver magazine and has donned her Mark IV visor.

Her eyes almost refuse to blink as stares out the window, standing now angled back and away so as not to be seen. She was up and felt him – rather than heard him. A sense she seemed to have . . . one of the reasons she felt she had been transferred from MI6 to the Diogenes – which not so amazingly occurred straightway after that Temphill affair and the nasty show at the abandoned church in High Street. Catriona had had another of her episodes – which were becoming more frequent it seemed – owing to having jumped the pond and arrived here in Collinsport she no doubt wondered. Several times now she has begun talking about odd things and fantastical locations – and then doesn’t seem to remember them after. At times, it was as if . . . she were two people – her voice even seemed to change inflection. Catriona had awoken with a terrible cry – was sitting in bed, shivering.

Nine and helped her got back to sleep, and then, had sat and watching her as she slept.

Was she becoming infatuated with her?

She was well aware she had begun to think of her as Catriona and not Kaye as she had when she first took on the assignment.

There is now an odd noise from the veranda.

She is aware of the black-clad figure, now having reached the whitewashed terrace, standing nonchalantly as if waiting.

Rhyaad stands quietly on the veranda by the rail, the scent of the sea strong in the night air, the rush of the surf echoing across the grounds as he wonders why such a person is as this Agent, purported to be as good as she is, has thus far ignore his presence.

Perhaps she sleeps?

Agent Nine stands watching the man, waiting for his next move, the finger curled on the 357 Sig’s trigger.

Rhyaad’s head turns slightly to the side, ah, the smallest creak of the wooden floor. She is aware of him. And yet, she does not approach. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, and then lets it out. No perfumery smell. Kaye would probably wear perfume. Must be the Agent: “Are you coming in? Or am I going to have to shoot you through the walls?

He suddenly realizes that there are at least two walls she could be behind.

“I have no weapons. Come out here with me.” He says, hands held so as to reveal he is weaponless.

“Sssssh. I AM out.” And Agent Nine steps out of the shadows, the gun concentrated at his head.

“Ah”, he says. “By the creak of your PVC clothing and the smell of gun oil, that must be you Agent Nine. Please, don’t shoot. You are the person I came to visit, actually.” Rhyaad says, “I did not want to wake Miss Kaye.”

“What do you know about Miss Kaye?” She asks—her voice showing no hint of emotion.

“May I show you my card?”

“Slowly and keep your hands were I can see them and I shan’t tell you again.”

“Of course.” He slowly pulls a card from his robe, a large question mark showing on one side. He holds it up between two fingers. “Apparently now I am an “Extraordinary Member. And what exactly, besides Catronia Kaye’s keeper, are you?”

Agent Nine reaches out and takes the card and flips it over, her visor flicking almost imperceptibly.

“Vanessa Coats gave me that.” He tells her, “She also had some rather disturbing things to say.”

He turns slowly, hands still held benignly. She was tall, slender, and very athletic. Thin lips held tightly. Her hair was a dark red. She wore a tight black PVC jumpsuit. And she stood holding a rather menacing revolver in her hand. She also wore an odd visor. “That some kind of electronic scanner gadget?”

“What did she have to say?” She ignores his question.

“Well, do you know why they assign someone of your caliber to watch Kaye? And what do you think of her . . . condition?”

She held the gun – still aimed at his forehead – steady, “That’s not what I asked you?”

“She told me that Kaye had died. For a minute. And then she arose again.” He tells her evenly, with no hint that he thinks there is anything vaguely odd about what he has just said, “Now, there are several possible explanations for this. A miracle being the only good one.”

“It’s not unheard of, the record I believe is 5 minutes.”

“You could be right. I certainly hope you are. But it’s the other possibilities that motivate Coats to assign you here.”

‘That’s between Coats and myself.”

“Well—apparently she wishes me to watch Kaye as well, just not so literally as you.”

Agent Nine set her teeth, so the old girl was up to her usual tricks. “So the babysitter gets a babysitter,” she mutters. She reflects now on that day in the dimly lit, mahogany-paneled conference room, Vanessa Coats sitting across the table: “I am hoping it will help us determine precisely who and or what we are dealing with.”

Had Coats received new information – and had she sent it with this Rhyaad de’Annar, as his card indicted his name to be.

“I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because of what I am. Or whom I know. Or what I’ve seen. Or the combinations of these things.” He tries to look her directly in the eyes, his glittering strangely for a moment. “Your electronic field is not completely biological. The visor has special functions..”

She does not reply, only hands the hand back to him. Gun still aimed at him.

Rhyaad sighs, so much for any trust the card may bring. “You are aware that necromancy is another one of the possible explanations?”

She sees him trying to look through the visor, “You should be aware that hypnosis doesn’t work on me.”

Agent Nine retains the sharp edge of her tenseness – he is an Extraordinary Agent and based on his stealth, his eyes, the hint of the sharpness of his teeth, what the visor readouts indicates, she knows what he is – and is bloody glad she decided using the 357 Sig with the silver loads.

“I was merely examining your aura. I am not a hypnotist.”

“All vampires maintain some degree of hypnosis, Mr. de’Annar.” Agent Nine says coldly. “And yes necromancy is a possibility.”

“Does the card not pass your test? Do you not believe I have come to . . . work with you somehow? And not against you.” He raises his eyebrow at that. “Is the visor that good? I don’t look like a vampire. How did you know?”

“Not relevant, and your theory of necromancy is flawed.”

“Please explain how. You could have some erroneous ideas yourself, you know. You told me one already.”

“She was resurrected in a hospital with several trusted club members in the room.” Agent Nine informs him, “There would have been wards cast; and long-range necromancy is a difficult task for even powerful beings, and to time it with an almost exact time of death pushes it into the realm of absurdity, don’t you see.”

“So? I know of a spell a necromancer can use to cause herself to arise again as an undead should she die. And there have been several necromancers lurking about here. One of them, perhaps the one who fled, could have possessed her body.” He looks at her fascinated, “Was Dr. Praetorius one of the members present?”

“That’s classified—if Coats wanted you to know, she would have told you.”

‘Was she in a London hospital – or was she transferred to some . . . special facility.” He asks, “You seem to have them everywhere.”

“Sorry—classified.”

“I need to know. Or at least I need to know where it wasn’t. But Simon Orne could be anywhere. And I don’t trust Praetorius.” He says, “What if she were the magician herself? From what I hear, she recently kidnapped you into another dimension. That requires extraordinary powers, wouldn’t you say? Not to mention what she did to me.”

Her visor flickers again, “Not particularly powerful—a simple artifact would suffice. But—what happened to you?”

“Collins Investigations . . . the lot of us . . . were thrown through time and dimension by a device in the Collins house, activated by another device I think. Esther Friedman saw something so terrible I don’t have to guess what it was. Apparently you and Nichole Collins had another experience. Along with Dr P, I might add. And myself, I had an episode similar to Esther’s. Worse, perhaps. And then found myself in a dimension called the Dreamlands with Miss Kaye. I am convinced she is responsible for my arrival there.”

Interesting information—she thinks as she arches a brow, “I didn’t have an experience.”

“Really”, he returns the arched brow.

“None like what you described.”

“Don’t be cagy with me, Miss ‘Agent Nine’, or whatever your name is. I am trying to help, by formulating my own hypothesis. We are supposed to be on the same side. I don’t expect you to like me, but I do expect you to be honest.”

“I am being honest.” She says, “I have never been to Collinwood and I have never seen this device.”

“You had an experience in another dimension. If not via the device, then how?”

“I do not know,” She shrugs, “But there are numerous ways to open gateways.”

“You insult me. I talk in riddles. I withhold. But nothing I tell you is a lie.”

“And that is a weakness Mr. de’Annar, however if it soothes your ravenous conscience, I have been very candid with you tonight – more so than is my inclination.”

“I disagree. Deception makes for poor teamwork. Unless it’s unavoidable. I don’t see what you have to fear from me. As for your extra-dimensional experience, “I do not know” is not a sufficient answer. I want to know your version of what happened. Was it a portal? A bright flash of light?”

“It was nothing.” She tells him evenly, remembering now how she was in the Diogenes Lab’s library one moment and then in a desert wasteland the next, “In “the blink of an eye” as I think you Americans would say.”

“In the blink of an eye?” he looks surprised. “No glowing portals? No machinery? No flashes of light? No magical objects?”

“Nothing Mr. de’Annar. Standing in place one more, in another the next.”

This was not something he had expected, and was very peculiar to say the least, “That is MOST odd. And disturbing. Anyone who can alter your reality at will wields considerable power.”

“She was head of the Diogenes Club,” Agent Nine’s lips form a slight smile, “Are you really that surprised? “

“Honestly yes. I had no idea hairless monkeys were so advanced. And I didn’t even know about that ironically named club until just recently.”

“An organization you seem to be moving up fairly quickly up the ranks, aren’t we?”

“That also is strange, is it not?” He asks. Should I really trust Coats more than Kaye? After all, I’m not exactly prejudiced against the undead. And what Kaye did was actually helping me. She did me a great favor, he thinks looking at the woman with the gun still trained upon him. “I do need to visit her rather soon. I know it is late. But I felt the need to speak to you – perhaps when I see her I will be able to get some ‘vibes’ about what she is.”

“She is a woman.” Agent Nine says – a bit protectively. “An unusual and extraordinary one, but still human.”

“She may be physically human, but she wields some kind of power far beyond normal human capability. Whether you are aware of it or not, even your Club fears her. That’s why they have you here, watching her.”

“My Club – it’s yours now also, Mr. de’Annar.” Agent Nine reminds him – he did take the card after all.
“Her readings are all normal. Any “powers” she may have are all external.”

“Really? Now we’re getting somewhere. So you think her powers come from another?”

“Indeed. Just as your powers to open gateways comes from outside you and my power over you comes from a gun loaded with silver.”

“Only partially. If I had not had an elf mother, I probably couldn’t do it. And I could get all preachy with you and mention how real power comes from the heart, or ask exactly where you think “me” leaves off and the universe begins. But let’s not go there. I just want to figure out what’s going on.”

Agent Nine points the gun at him and murmurs sardonically: “Bang, that’s where you leave off the universe. And as for what is going on? Simple. Something strange happened. And the club is taking precautions. Merely routine.”

“Theatrics don’t impress me much. And Mao was wrong. The ability to destroy is not the ability to control. But again I preach. If some other being is giving her this power, then who?”

“Who said anything about a being?”

“I did, obviously.”

“It could be something simple a device, artifact, even a lump of haggis.”

“Please explain. What ‘simple’ thing raises women from the dead and gives them the power to shift reality? It isn’t haggis.”

Agent Nine’s sarcasm now coming through, “Leave haggis out long enough, it can raise the dead.” Then she returns to deadly seriousness once more, “As for explaining, if I knew I would tell you. I say, what was that film that was made sometime ago? Something about government agents and giant cockroaches—“

“I’d think it more likely to kill people with its stench. And that question is exactly what we both need to determine. Except I don’t assume that it is ‘simple’ nor necessarily a ‘thing.’ It could be a person.”

“Anyway, as the flick stated, quite accurately I might add, that the most powerful awe inspiring things are often the smallest.’

“What film is this?”

“I don’t know something from the 90’s mostly absurd with talking dogs and giant bugs fighting men in suits starred your Will Smith.” Agent Nine tells him, “Doesn’t matter actually. I am aware of your history De’Annar,” the visor starts flicking again, “You have been alive for far longer than you should and as such, I respect your opinion and experience; however, you focus on people not things. Yet another weakness.”

She lowers the gun slightly—still wary of him.

He shrugs again. “The most powerful people in this world are those who control what people believe, and always have been. The Catholic Church. Google. Fox News. That crazy preacher who got a whole crown of people to willingly kill themselves. And if you had my perspective, you’d understand. ‘Things’ don’t do anything. People do.”

“Power corrupts, but power doesn’t come from people.”

“I think you think you know too much about what is strength and what is weakness. And that you enjoy being competitive and so I ask you again to consider that you are supposed to cooperate with me to at least some degree, regardless of your dim opinion of me. But as for power, yes it does come from people, here, point your gun at me again.”

“This is pointless and I have been co-operating.”

“Coward.” He says.

She arches a brow, “You call us primitive.

“You would make a very poor Zen student. All right then: mere words. When you pointed the gun at me you believed it gave you power over me. What if I snatched it away from you and pointed it at you, as I could do in half-a-second. The gun is an object. It has no power. The power is in the wielder, the situation, and the control of it. If you want to find out WHAT Kaye has, you should consider WHO it came from and who she is.”

“Really—I could just put a full clip of silver through that ancient heart and you would not be snatching any bloody thing from anybody. ” She tells him, “You say I am competitive, that that is my weakness – yours Mr. de’Annar, is you seem to have a need to find something to argue about. You came here supposedly on a mission from Coats, and yet you would rather stand here and argue with me about Mao. I am not surprised you did not argue with Coats over the colour of the card.”

“This is pointless.”

“As I said, your weakness – you can’t stand not to argue. I am really surprise in her choice to be blunt. Without that card, I would have dropped you long ago, while you were busy discussing Mao.” She told him, “But—you do have a card. As for me, my assignment is Catriona Kaye, to make sure she doesn’t cause trouble, nothing more and nothing less. I am also here to protect her. Which I will—let me assure you. Even with that card.”

He looks at her, “I am of the opinion that if she really wanted to cause trouble, neither of us could stop her.”

“I am of the opinion that she saved a man’s life the first day here.“

He looks at her, well aware that she’s become fascinated with Kaye – but he wants to know more about this incident, “Tell me about this. I told you she helped me.”

“We came through the portal and Praetorius was being assaulted by a woman with a voodoo doll.”

“What? Why was I not told this before? What woman was assaulting Praetorius with voodoo? Why?”

Agent Nine shrugs, “It was an attractive blond woman—and I am not certain of the reasoning, it seemed to have to do with something that had happened in the past between the three of them. The woman, Kaye and Praetorius.”

“You have a habit of giving your answers in a way designed to be infuriating. Is it natural over-competiveness, or do you simple loathe me?”

“You have a habit of expecting each person you meet to be an walking encyclopedia. I do not know why she was attacking him. I’m a soldier, a guard—not a psychologist.”

“What happened to this woman? Where is she now?”

“I’ll be nattered if I know,” She tells him.

“Somehow, with you being so secret and called ‘Agent Nine’, I foolishly thought you’d be something like a female James Bond and would know all kinds of things.”

She smirks – you want to see James Bond – without that card you’re a couple-of-thousand-year-old corpse, she thinks. She would have put the full clip into him by now. She’s only talking to him because he has that card – which is authentic as her visor had detected the correct hologram seal. “I know many things de’Annar, but what makes you think that you are privy to them?”

For the first time she begins to have suspicions about Coats intentions.

“I had this foolish and desperate notion that you would help me.”

“And I have,” She tells him, “I have answered you’re questions.”

“Somewhat. At least you aren’t going to shoot me, and you may at times deign to grace me with vague answers and those delivered in discontinuous and inconsonant bits.”

“Should you desire more answers, ask more questions.”

“Fine. Where do you think Kaye gets her powers from?”

She shrugs, “The afterlife—heaven, hell, or purgatory, you take your pick.”

“You mean you think she just sort of sucks energy out of another dimension?”

“Possibly.”

“OK, time for the dangerous and vague question . . ..” He paused, considering if he should really ask it.

She arches a brow behind the visor.

“Do you think it is possible that Nyarlathotep could influence a member of the Diogenes club?”

There is no hesitation, “Yes.”

“Yes—you think it possible.”

“You are talking about Nyarlathotep –I assume you know what he is capable of – what he is.” She tells him, “His influence as you say, is corruption and seduction. If he wants to use his powers to do way with you – then there is nothing you bloody can well do about it – but he influences through subterfuge and lies. We are all susceptible to seduction. Mr. de’Annar. To deceit and lies. You just have to find what corrupts a person.”

“So, what if they were corrupted – if they were seduced by his lies.”

“There are always ways of telling—none of which Miss Kaye have exhibited.”

“Well that’s a relief. But tell me these ways. How can you tell if a person is under one of these being’s influence, especially his?”

“Same way you tell if someone is under the influence of a drug. They will have a different signature. A trail if you will.”

“A trail? Please explain. How do you detect this trail? Could you do it with your visor? Could I do it with my aura vision?”

She shrugs, “I do not know how your aura vision works. And yes, I with my visor, I can see the trails of supernatural possession. But, if your concern is Nyarlaothep — he does not posses, he corrupts.”

“Hrm . . . I don’t suppose I could rent you for an evening, could I? You aren’t on duty twenty-four/seven are you?”

“Yes I am.” She tells him, “But, you said your concern was the influence of Nyarlaothep — he does not posses, he corrupts.”

Rhyaad ponders for a second. “Is Miss Kaye allowed to have visitors?”

“That wasn’t mentioned in the parameters.”

“Perhaps I shall call Coats and ask permission. Not that I don’t wish to see Kaye: I do; but it’s YOU I wish to visit most. I would very much like to introduce you to someone who would accompany me. Would you allow that?”

“Me?” She asks, “Why me? And who is this you want me to meet.”

“There is someone I want you to – look at – for me.” He says, although, why hasn’t Coats just ordered her to look at Nikki?

“Who is it? “

“I . . . I am afraid to say. But I must know the truth.”

She curls her lips into a harsh smirk, “And you accuse me of hiding secrets.”

“Touché’. Perhaps we do need to hide some secrets. At this point my path is unclear.” He finally lets out a sigh. “Vanessa Coats told me that someone in this town is under the influence of Nyarlathotep.”

“Who?”

“That is what I am afraid to tell you.” He frowns, “I’m sorry I have annoyed you and wasted your time, Agent 9. I will ask Vanessa Coats for permission to make an official visit with Kaye. Until then, I hope you will remember that we’re supposed to be on the same side. Quel du, Agent Nine.”

“As I said, I can see evidence of possession, but I can not detect his corruption of the soul.”

He looked at her for a moment, and then simply leapt off the balcony like it was hopping down from a one-foot high box, and rapidly disappears into the night.

Cue Music End of Episode