Michael held Amoracchius at guard, its whole length glowing with its own light. His face was set and stern, his eyes fixed on Kitoro. She didn't move. "Stay back, Knight, or he will die."

"You will die immediately after." There was no doubt in his voice.

I couldn't quite see her face from the angle she was holding me at, but the Sword's light suddenly flared, and she winced back, taking my arm with her. I groaned, the shoulder coming very close to separating.

"You cannot feed on me, vampire. God will not allow you to take any of his strength."

Michael's a bit religious. He doesn't even swear. Don't know how the hell – er, heck – he does it.

There was a slight pause, during which my arm didn't get wrenched any further out of its socket. I took that as a good sign. Then, her voice, more human than it had been, "Your word. That you will not follow me."

Michael didn't move a muscle for a second, and, miracle of miracles, I managed to keep my mouth shut. I think even Lash held her breath. Then Michael said, "My word. Release him unharmed, you go free. Tonight."

My arm fell back into place almost instantly, and I heard footsteps running up the street. I rolled over onto my back, trying to see where she went, but she was already veiled and gone. Dammit. I wanted to get up, but my left arm didn't want to cooperate. I lay there, until Michael stepped up to stand over me, Sword over his shoulder.

He smiled down at me, and his stern, monster-hunting face was transformed. For a moment, I was overcome; he looked like he was supposed to. Both his eyes were working. He wasn't limping. He was still holding a Sword.

There weren't quite so many lines on his face, not quite so many grey hairs in his beard. But his voice hadn't changed at all. It was still friendly. It was still powerful. It was still strong and alive. For just a little while, here was another mistake I had made, undone. "Harry."

"Michael. Fancy meeting you here."

He shook his head and offered me his hand. "I was driving by. Had a feeling I should come down the foggy, creepy-looking street."

I took his hand, and he hauled me to me feet with no effort at all. "Glad you did." I shrugged my shoulder, felt something adjust itself, and gasped as the pain spiked, then receded.

"Me, too. It's good to see you, Harry. It's been months."

I looked at him. "It's good to see you, Michael." Good to see you up and moving. Good to see you fighting. Good to see you without a cane. "Your timing, as usual, is impeccable."

He smiled wider. "Can I offer you a lift?"

I looked back over my shoulder. Chasing a vampire on foot was a losing proposition, anyway. "Please." We started back to his truck. I stooped to grab my staff and rod on the way.

"Working a case?"

"Kind of. This one's more like a favour for an old friend."

He smiled again, chuckling, and opened the door of his truck for me. "You do have an eclectic bunch of friends." Smiling, I tossed my staff in the back – when Michael's around, you rarely have to worry about being ambushed – and climbed in.

Harry?

Yes?

Is this not dangerous?

Temporally speaking, yeah, I guess it is. But if you've got a way I can keep Michael in the dark, I'm listening.

There was a pause. Perhaps.

She gave me a few ideas on how to steer the conversation I knew I was about to have. It wasn't like she was giving me a mystical Jedi mind trick, but she understood how Michael and I communicated; she only had to point out a couple things for me to be aware of.

All this happened before Michael clambered in the other side of the truck. I noticed he was in a perfectly legal parking space. The closest space to the corner, too. Like it had been set aside for him. Anyone else and I would have been jealous. I can never find a parking space. But there's something about Michael that makes you want good things for him.

He hopped in the cab and got the engine going in one try. That actually did make me a little jealous. "So," he said. "Your friend has a vampire problem?"

"In a way."

"You heading home?"

"The Amber Inn, actually." I gave him directions and he swung into a convenient opening in the traffic. "Listen, Michael, this is going to sound strange, but I can't talk about the vampire, or even about running into you tonight."

His eyebrows creased as he looked me in the eye. I'd soulgazed him on the day I met him at his insistence. His gaze wasn't hurt or angry, just curious. "This is important?"

"Yes. That wasn't a White Court vampire, Michael. She was Jade Court."

He stiffened, ever so slightly. "The Mind Eaters?"

"You know about them?"

"One of the other Knights mentioned them to me a while ago."

I smiled sadly. I'd known Shiro only briefly, before his death, but he had been one hell of a brave man. Technically, though, I didn't know him yet. "Well, they're worse than he said. They eat memories, not only to survive, but also to protect themselves. It's as much a defence mechanism as a hunger pang. When someone threatens them, they eat the memory that person has of the encounter, maybe even all the memories they have of the Jade Court." I paused, a tad melodramatically. "But they can't eat my memories."

"You're protected?"

"A friend of mine, who'd rather remain nameless, worked a little mojo. I'm safe." I felt a little welling of pride in the back of my mind, and it wasn't mine.

"So why can't you talk about them? You're safe."

"There's the rub. She wants to eat my mind. In most cases, the Jades would rather take memories than kill. She'll only kill me as a last resort." I hope. "If my protection stops working, or something, she'll take my memories, and won't try to kill me, or anyone around me I might be extending protection to. Or, if she thinks my protection has stopped working."

"And you're trying to convince her that your protection is wearing off?"

"Exactly."

"So," he said slowly, getting it, "if we talk about them, forming memories of the conversations, and she sees those memories next time you encounter her, she might realise you're still protected."

I nodded. "And she'll come after me and anyone I spoke to. Better safe than sorry, I guess."

He was quiet a moment, thinking. "How long?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Harry, that was a good try. But I'm afraid I can tell when you're lying. I understand that it's for my own protection, but as I'm sure you know, it's not me I'm worried about. So, how long before you can tell me the whole truth?"

There was no anger in his voice, and no reprimand, either. He simply stated the whole thing as a fact, like he was reading it off a Trivial Pursuit card. I could feel Lash's astonishment, as well. No wonder, she whispered to me. No wonder you hold him in esteem above all others.

Best man I've ever known, I agreed. What the hell – er, heck. "Eight years. Little less, actually."

He simply nodded.

"You're okay with that?"

"You're a good man, Harry. I'll take it on faith that you have your reasons, and leave it at that. If you need my help, you have my number."

I shook my head. "Will Charity mind?" I'd just faced down a vampire, another, younger version of me was about to embark on a werewolf hunt, I was stuck in the middle of a time-travel quagmire, and I was driving, at night, in downtown Chicago.

But Charity actually scared me. Not so much in my own time – we actually get along, now. Or then. Whatever. But in this time… not so much.

Michael's face sobered. "Water must run downhill," he said.

I laughed. We spent the next twenty minutes of the drive talking about his family. He said he was worried that Molly (who today was only 12… or maybe 13) might be afraid of the dark since the light bulbs in her room kept burning out so fast. I bit my cheek. Michael wouldn't know about his daughter's magical tendencies for a few more years, but it seemed her negative effect on technology had started early.

We pulled up to the hotel, and I swung myself out. "Thanks for the lift."

"God go with you, Harry."

I grabbed my staff. "You, too, Michael. I'll talk to you soon."

I slammed the door shut, and he drove off.

I was all the way back up to the room before I realised McCoy had to drop off the Beetle, and I didn't have the room key. I slapped my pockets, like you're supposed to when you forget something, muttered, "Crap," and turned around to head back to the front desk.

I heard the room door open and spun around. Ebenezar stuck his head out the door. "About time, Hoss. You alright?"

I nodded. He had changed his shirt, from white to red. "You drove the Beetle here?"

He snorted. "It's how I got Mouse here. Don't worry. The car's back where it belongs, waiting for the other you. Now get in here, we need to talk."

A little confused, I walked in and got a dog in the gut. "Good to see you, too, boy." Mouse was still limping, but just a little. He'd probably been faking just to get me riled up. He's funny like that.

"Sit down, Hoss."

Not sure why, but I suddenly felt like a school boy caught cheating on his test. I sat at the foot of the bed. McCoy checked the clock, then stood facing me, arms crossed. "You lost her."

"Yes, Sir."

"Don't feel bad. If someone can cause immediate, selective amnesia, they can be hard to follow." He grabbed a chair, pulled it up in front of me, and sat, crossing his legs as well as his arms this time. "Of course, that's not a problem for you, is it?"

I thought I heard Lash hold her breath. "Uh, no Sir, it's not."

He stared at me, stared through me, for a moment longer, then uncrossed himself and leaned forward. His stern tone softened. "Harry, I was too distracted to really listen to what you were saying at the time, but I thought about it on the walk back here," – the strangely quick walk – "and I realised, there is no known way of fighting the Jades' mental powers. No one knows enough about them. Except, apparently, you."

I swallowed. Lash asked, How will he react to my presence?

Not well. Screwing with people's minds is… a touchy subject.

And yet he will do it without compunction.

What do you mean?

You… do not know?

Know what?

Harry, it was not I who stopped you from grabbing Kim.

Well, what do you know? I'll file that under "Ammunition for later."

"Yes, Sir, I've got protection in place."

He arched an eyebrow. "Protection that can't be shared?"

"I didn't exactly cook it up myself, Sir. It's sort of a gift."

"Kind of like the Hellfire you're tapping into?"

I froze. He knew.

Of course he knew. He might have been old, but he had a perfectly good nose, and brimstone had been everywhere during both trips. Best to just play this cool.

"Hellfire only comes from a limited number of sources, Hoss."

I nodded, slowly. "I know, Sir."

"Considering your history, I can probably guess where yours is coming from."

"You'd only be half-right, Sir."

"Your head is a bad place for a Denarian, boy."

"She's been there for over five years, Sir."

He actually looked surprised. "That long?"

"She was on vacation for a bit, but yeah, she's in here, now. She's been a great help."

"That's how they get you to take up the coins, boy."

I shook my head. "Never happen, Sir. She stopped asking. Besides, I've held off this long, haven't I?"

He just stared at me for a long time. Then he shook his head. "You never did have a problem being wilful, did you?"

I smiled. "Never."

He was quiet for a while. "You haven't changed much, you know."

"I'm sorry?"

"In all the time I've known you. Oh, you've grown, become a little angrier, but who hasn't? Overall, though, you've been constant. A rock. Always a good man. Often times, a better man than I. I've kept my secrets, too. Sometimes from you."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.

"Don't argue. We both know the truth, we both know our reasons. What you've been through, what you've seen. What your mother did, before you. I know what kind of a man you are, but I didn't suspect the shadow would come back in your mind. Didn't even consider it until a few hours ago."

"A few hours?" We'd been apart less than an hour, and we'd only known about the Jade Court vampire for half an hour more.

"And yet," he said, ignoring me, "I trust you, Harry. Because you haven't changed. You haven't let anything change you." He looked at the clock again, then nodded. "Besides, if I can't trust you, who the hell can I trust? Your actions have always been right, if occasionally misguided. Even if you are being influenced."

"I am who am, Sir."

"Too true. Hell's bells, we ain't got a lot of time. I have to give you something, Harry. Two somethings, actually, then we have something we need to do."

"I'm a little lost."

"You should be, but pay attention." He pulled the room key out of his pocket and handed it to me. "You'll need this key."

I looked at the heavy iron thing in my hand. "Am I locking up after us?"

"Nope, just you." At my confused expression, he smirked and reached into that damn mystery box of his. "And this," he said, pulling out a small leather pouch on a lanyard, "is another key."

He handed me the pouch. I stowed the room key in a pocket and opened the tiny sack. Inside was a handful of dust.

"Don't spill it."

I cinched it closed. "What is this?"

"The Key to the Black Hall."

"Um… what?"

McCoy sighed, then switched into lecture mode. "The office of the Blackstaff carries with it many responsibilities, but also privileges and tools. The Black Hall is one such tool. It is a protected Way, beneath the border of Seelie and Unseelie territory."

"Beneath the border of Summer and Winter?"

He nodded. "It's a tunnel, with many, many doors along its length. That pouch contains the remains of the Key allowing access to the tunnel. A thousand years or so ago, it turned to dust on contact with human flesh, after being presented to Merlin as a gift from the Fae, allowing him or his chosen successor to always arrive where he needed to be, when he needed to be there."

"When?"

"The Queens can control the flow of time in their territories. The Black Hall is isolated from time, by the combined decree of both Queens Who Are. You can spend hours, or even days in the Hall, and emerge from it the moment you entered. But only if you have the Key. It is closed to all others, even the Queens themselves."

I just stared at my old teacher. "This is..." I struggled for words. "This is a pretty bitchin' tool, Sir."

He smirked again, but it faded fast. "That's how I got back after dropping off your car. I'd have volunteered it earlier, but only one person can use it at a time."

"Why are you giving it to me?" I slipped it over my head and tucked the pouch under my duster.

He stood and looked down at me. I felt very small, and very young. "I'm sending you back, Harry. One more time. Alone."

"One more… but you said - "

"I know what I said, boy. But I have finally realised something: Actions are more important than motives."

"I don't understand."

"You can mean to do something, but if you don't do it, how much is that thought worth? In our situation, the thought is definitely not what counts."

"I'm completely lost, Sir."

"Harry, something came to my attention earlier today. That something is proof to me that, while paradox is possible, sometimes, it's worth the risk."

I just stared at him for a moment. "The risk?"

"Yes. Sometimes you have to do something extreme to get the results you need."

I couldn't help it. "Like when you stopped me from grabbing Kim Delaney?"

He stiffened. "That was a bad risk, Hoss. An obvious one. Yeah, I did it, I stopped you. And I'd do it again. Like it or not, she had to die, and we had to let her."

Anger and frustration fought for dominance in me. I clenched my fists, and shook, just for a minute, staring at a spot on the wall. McCoy watched me, and said nothing. I kept my mouth shut, lest something regrettable slip out. After what felt like several days, I got myself under control.

"You gonna hold together, Hoss?"

I nodded. "I will. But I don't like the fact that I have to."

"Of course you don't. It's one of the reasons I respect you, Harry."

I looked up at him. He'd never said that he respected me before.

"Now, listen to me, you'll understand in a bit, but I need to tell you something else first. While I was in the Hall, I went over some of Peabody's journals again. Hoss, I found one reference to a 'missing tome.' I read a little deeper, and I think the arrogant son of a bitch was talking about one of his journals. He lost one of them. On this trip."

The information was coming quick, but one of the benefits of essentially having two minds in your head is that you figure things out twice as fast.

"She stole it," I said. "Kitoro. She took his journal."

McCoy was nodding. "Probably at the restaurant. She must have seen something in Peabody's mind that made her think the book was important. Knowing how they operate, she probably removed the memory he had of whatever it was he wrote down."

"She hit me with it," I muttered, rubbing the spot on my chest where she'd hit me with her purse.

"We need that book, Hoss. If it was important enough for her to steal, it's important enough for us to steal back."

"But we have no idea where she is, now."

"Which brings us back to me sending you back alone. Neither of us has the juice to power the spell from inside the circle, even with your Hellish companion. And you don't travel if you're outside the circle."

"So you can't send yourself."

"We need to know where she went, and where that journal has gone. If there's a reference to another link in the chain, we have to have it."

I nodded slowly. For the first time, I looked down at the floor, and saw that the sand was already poured out in a circle. I looked back at McCoy.

"Just make sure you clean up, nice and thorough. Now, I want to do this quick. From outside the circle, it's almost impossible to send you back more than a few hours. Need to get you back before that fight in the street. Well, come on, stand up Hoss."

I stepped into the circle of sand, and without thinking, reached down to will it closed. I touched the sand, pictured a wall flying up all around me, and felt the barrier snap into existence, a gentle pressure around me, a slight tightening against my skin.

I looked up at McCoy. "So that's why," he muttered.

"Sir?"

"Just stand there, Hoss." He closed his eyes, and Mouse leaned against him, as he had leaned against me on the last couple trips.

Lash? Do you have any idea what's going on here? He's confusing me.

I may. If everything he has said is taken together… She trailed off.

What? What is it?

Just be ready to push Hellfire.

Push it? Push it where?

Into the circle. It is a creation of your will, not his. You can empower it… Yes! This must be what he was talking about.

You're losing me.

Clear your mind. He has already begun.

Ebenezar indeed was already chanting, and Mouse was giving me a worried doggie look. I gave him one back.

See you soon, boy, I thought. I hope.

I felt the roar in the back of my mind, heard time itself protesting my movement, even though I held very still. I closed my eyes.

The pull felt almost familiar, having experienced it several times now. But it was weak. The power wasn't as focused, wasn't as direct. It was like McCoy was a sniper who had suddenly been transferred to machine gun detail. Plenty more bullets to work with, but the precision he was used to wasn't possible.

It suddenly occurred to me that McCoy hadn't explained how to use the Key to the Black Hall. My eyes snapped open, but my mouth wouldn't. Do not speak, Harry. You could disrupt the spell, catastrophically.

That wouldn't matter. The spell itself was barely working as it was. The pull I felt was waning. McCoy wasn't going to make it work. I could see him struggling; his focus wasn't as strong as it should have been.

But it must work, Harry. I will explain later, but it must succeed!

The panic at the back of my mind, from a voice that I had never heard in panic before, convinced me. I reached in, tapped the Hellfire, and projected it out.

It struck the invisible barrier of my will, and was absorbed and spread out, encircling me and stretching up and down, until I was contained in a cylinder of fire.

The pull of time strengthened along with a surge of volume from Time's Roar, and the heat and stench vanished into darkness, just like me.

*****

When I opened my eyes, I was looking up at Ebenezar. He was wearing a white shirt again. I slowly rotated my head and glanced at the clock. 1:30.

That's when I got it. Lash might have been nudging me along, but I finally understood. The realisation clicked inside my brain, and I understood the conversation I'd just had.

Paradox was possible. But if you understood what you were doing, it wasn't likely. That's why the risk could be taken. There was no guarantee of an outcome. There were just events I hadn't experienced yet, and didn't know how they would play out, but they were overlapping. Going back over and over was dangerous, but it was also necessary. Because it had already happened.

Okay, maybe I'm not explaining it very well. The point is, time travel is more like Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure than Back to the Future.

I knew another version of me was standing out in the hall with Mouse, whose ears had just perked up. Because he'd heard me. Or, this version of me.

Whatever.

"Harry?" McCoy asked quietly.

"Quick question, Sir." I pulled the Key out from under my jacket. "How do I use this?"