Nightfall Part Seven
Tony leaned back on the ruined stone dais and sighed. Out of the corner of his eye he could just make out the fallen pillars and crumbling statues that made up the remains of the ancient stone temple. The building had obviously fallen apart some time ago, for the ground around it had turned into a sprawling meadow, choked with wildflowers and grass that stood waist-high. The whole place had a lazy, tired atmosphere, the effect of which made Tony want to glance at his watch, pointless though that may have been. He couldn’t, anyway; like always, it seemed that he had manifested without it.
He looked up, shading his eyes with one hand against the brightness of the sun in the sky. The warm rays beat down on him just enough to keep him from getting too hot, and the light was bright enough to fight off most of the temple’s shadows but not make him squint. Yet another little detail that was off about this little dreamscape, even once you ignored the obvious factual error in that he wasn’t bursting into flames. If he had really been able to go out into the sun like this, after spending over a year in the dark, he most likely would have been blinded.
It was forgivable, however, as an error of convenience.
The faint breeze blew past, causing the grass to rustle ever so slightly. Tony closed his eyes and lay back, feeling the smoothness of cool stone beneath him. Even knowing it wasn’t real, it never stopped him from enjoying it while he was here. After all, when else was he going to get a chance to relax in the sun?
“Resting your eyes even in dreams, I see. I had no idea you could be so lazy.”
“I was wondering when you’d finally show up,” Tony opened his eyes, turning his head so as to look at the figure now standing near what had one been the entrance to the ruined temple. Cassidy was clad in a long dress the silver-purple-gray color of lilacs. The folds and creases in the fabric made it look like something worn by a noblewoman in a gladiator movie.
Tony got the feeling that it might have very well once been worn by a noblewoman on her way to see a gladiator fight, but not any that had ever been shown on the silver screen.
“Were you now?” Cassidy said smoothly. She moved closer to him, slowly and deliberately picking her way around the rubble on the ground with an elegant feline grace. Tony sat up, shifting in position so that he sat on the edge of the dais with his legs dangling over the sides.
“Couldn’t wait until night to talk to me, huh?” He muttered, looking at the ground. “Either you were feeling impatient, or really mad.” He couldn’t quite hide the shake in his voice that indicated which one he thought it was.
“Oh, ‘mad’ is too strong a word,” Cassidy replied. She sounded bemused. “Let us settle for ‘mildly vexed’.” Tony looked up again. The older vampire was leaning one arm casually against what looked to once have been a statue of a goddess.
One of these days, Tony reminded himself, he was going to have to ask her if this setting she preferred for their little dream-world tête à têtes was an actual place somewhere or something she had just conjured up. He wondered what that would say about her personality if it was the second rather scenario rather than the first.
“If we’re not here so you can yell at me, then why are we?” Tony asked her curiously.
“Mainly to test the waters. To see if you’ve learned anything,” Cassidy told him casually, moving away from the statue.
“Oh,” Tony made a face. “That.” He watched her carefully from under half-lidded eyes. All she did was continue her path, past him and across the length of the temple with her hands folded behind her back. She was very pointedly not looking at him, choosing instead to glance around with a careless eye, like she was just taking in the details of their surroundings for the first time. Tony grimaced. Obviously, she wanted him to start.
“I get it,” he sighed miserably. “I was really, really dumb. I’m not going to do it again.” Cassidy remained silent. “Oh come on, Mama Cass,” Tony whined. “For once, couldn’t you just chew me out yourself instead of making me list out all of my mistakes?”
“Now, Antony, you know that’s not my style,” Cassidy said offhandedly, the barest hint of a smile playing around her expression. She stopped walking, but remained so that she was mostly turned away from him and looking at him only out of the corner of her eye.
“Of course it’s not,” Tony mumbled tiredly. He sighed again and then continued in a normal voice, rolling his eyes heavenward. “I was careless. And cocky. And, again, just generally really stupid.” He paused.
“Go on,” Cassidy prompted. She had actually turned to face him, at least. Now her arms were crossed in front of her chest, but she unfolded one to wave a hand through the air encouragingly.
“I shouldn’t have let Razor and the others talk me into feeding out in the open like that. I should have laid low for awhile after I was seen,” Tony paused, absently running his tongue along the edge of his teeth and brushing over the point of a fang. “I really, definitely, should have told you that the people that saw me were my old NCIS coworkers,” he concluded softly, not meeting his blood-mother’s intense yellow gaze.
“Ah, yes,” Cassidy said dryly, walking over to him. “And now do we come to our current and most obvious of problems.”
“I’m really, really, really, really sorry,” Tony said weakly, still not daring to look at her.
“Oh, don’t apologize to me,” Cassidy reminded him bluntly. “I’m not the one that really has to worry about them, now am I?”
“No,” Tony muttered, “you’re not.” He turned his left hand over and ran a thumb across where the crucifix had burned him. The burn was still there even in the dream, either Cassidy’s way of trying to teach him a lesson or merely a sign of her strict attention to detail. Considering his entire palm had been one charred blackened mass of third degree burns when the injury had originally occurred, it wasn’t too bad now. It was red, raw, and very sore, mind you, but now it just looked like he’d grabbed the handle of a pot that had been sitting on the stove and held on too long. You couldn’t even see the cross’s outline unless you really looked hard.
“I don’t think it will scar,” Cassidy observed, and Tony looked up enough to realize she was now standing beside him, looking down at his hand. “Lucky for you. Our kind has enough of a tendency to collect such scars without being given them before we have been in the world for more than a year.” Tony didn’t say anything, slowly raising his head to look her in her the eyes.
“What are you going to do?” he finally asked.
“That’s my point exactly,” Cassidy explained to him. “I am going to do nothing.” Tony just stared at her, confused. “I am not going to clean up your mess, Antony,” she continued pointedly, and his face fell in horror as he finally understood what she meant. “I am not going to get rid of them for you. I am not going to wipe their minds so that they do not remember seeing you.” She shook her head faintly. “As long as they do not become a significant threat to us, I really don’t care what you choose to do. But you must do something.”
“Cassidy, please…” Tony begged desperately. “I can’t deal with them. I can’t.”
“Oh yes, you will,” Cassidy declared, her face darkening into a scowl. “There would not even be a problem if not for your mistakes,” she snapped as he visibly shrank under her gaze, “and so it is you who is going to fix it. And that is final.” Her eyes narrowed into furious slits. “Is that clear to you?”
“Yes, Cassidy,” he said softly, eyes shut with a look like he had been slapped. “I understand.”
“Good,” she concluded, anger draining away in favor of her typical indifferent demeanor. She turned away from him, flicking her fingers dismissively in his direction. Tony felt himself start to fade and dissolve, on his way back to his own mind and his own distant corner of slumber-land. “Rest well, Antony. I will see you when the sun goes down.”
_________
Waking up lying on the floor on his back with a headache and no immediate memory of what the hell had happened the night before was not exactly an unfamiliar situation for Gibbs. Long nights habitually spent drinking Jack Daniels and working on a boat in your basement until you up and passed out had a tendency to do that to you.
Not to mention, of course, how the key signaling factor in all of his marriages that the situation had deteriorated well past the “the magic is gone” point tended to be his current wife coming after him with a blunt object of some kind.
All the same however, when Gibbs awoke this time he instantly and instinctively knew that something was terribly wrong.
“Jethro, there you are,” Ducky’s familiar voice spoke out to him. Gibbs opened his eyes and was immediately greeted by the sight of a whirling smudge of color that slowly formed into the bespectacled face of his coroner. “We were all getting a bit concerned, I must say.”
“We?” Gibbs repeated, the word coming out in a groggy mumble. Ducky turned his head to exchange a worried glance with someone out of Gibbs’ immediate line of sight.
“Um…” McGee. That was McGee’s voice. “Do you…remember what happened last night, Gibbs?”
“I…” Gibbs winced his eyes closed and tried to remember. They were working on the case in Boston that was turning out to be linked to the Maine Vampire. It was their fourth night of surveillance. Nothing was turning up, until they got the call from Kate. She had said that…that…
Bright, vivid flashes went through Gibbs’ mind. The parking garage. Sergeant Holcomb. A gun. Screaming. Someone was on fire. The sound of a neck being snapped. A sudden flash of gold. The lights flickering. A tall woman standing over Kate’s unconscious body. A voice telling him to sleep. Fangs and bright red eyes.
Oh God. Dinozzo.
“What the hell happened?” Gibbs sat up way too fast, his anger keeping him from fully registering the way the world spun dangerously out of control for a moment. “What did that…that thing do to us? That woman?”
“Hypnotized us, I think,” Abby spoke up. The three men turned to look at her. She was sitting about two feet away on the ground, her legs crossed Indian-style. She looked several degrees far too calm for the situation at hand. “Or some other kind of vampire mind trick.”
“Abby,” McGee winced, looking like he was going to be sick, “can we please not say that word?”
“What word?”
“You know…the ‘v’ word.”
“Um, McGee?” Abby raised an eyebrow at him. “Please don’t tell me that you haven’t realized what we’re obviously dealing with here.”
“I know, but…” McGee looked away, shaking his head. “I just don’t want to talk about it.” He looked overwhelmed. Gibbs was right there with him.
“Anyway, after she put the whammy on us, she must have brought us back here,” Abby continued.
“Where’s ‘here’?” Gibbs demanded.
“Her current abode, if I’m not mistaken,” Ducky told him. “As for where we are geographically speaking, I’m afraid your guess is as good as mine.”
“We haven’t exactly moved around yet,” Abby expanded. “We were waiting for you to wake up.”
“Now if you don’t mind, Jethro,” Ducky moved closer to him and pulled out a miniature flashlight from his pocket, “I’d really like to look you over and make sure you haven’t got a concussion.”
“Where’s Kate?” Gibbs asked, holding still so Ducky could examine him but otherwise ignoring the doctor.
“I’m right here,” Kate answered in a shaky voice. Gibbs tried to look at her but was stopped by Ducky grabbing the side of his face and shining a light in his eye.
“Are you all right?” Gibbs impatiently waited for Ducky to finish with him.
“I…” Kate gave a very short, semi-hysterical laugh. “I’m alive, Gibbs. I’m not hurt. But other than that, I don’t think I’m doing too well.” Ducky finally let go, and Gibbs turned to look. Kate sat curled up in the corner with her knees drawn up to her chin and hugging her legs. It looked like she was shaking faintly.
“Did you check her for a concussion?” Gibbs muttered aside to Ducky.
“Of course I did,” Ducky looked affronted. “She’s just had a very bad shock.” He looked very grave of all sudden. “Indeed, I daresay we all have.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” McGee declared, looking a little green around the edges.
“What else happened while I was out?” Gibbs demanded. Vampires or not, he would be damned if he lost any more control of the situation than he already had. “Has there been any sign of…the woman?” He, like McGee, was far from comfortable with using “the ‘v’ word”. “Or Dinozzo?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ducky shook his head.
“Well, that’s not really surprising if you think about it,” Abby put in. “According to my watch, it’s the middle of the day. These guys aren’t called creatures of the night for nothing, after all. Both the she-vamp and Tony are probably asleep.”
“That’s not Tony,” Kate suddenly spoke up, causing the others to look at her. Their immediate reaction was to exchange looks of concern. McGee nervously cleared his throat.
“Uh, Kate…”
“It’s not Tony,” Kate snapped, giving them all an intense, vehement glare. “Tony wasn’t a monster. Tony was a living, breathing human being, and that…that dead, disgusting, unholy thing…” She shook her head hard. “It may look like him and talk like him, but it isn’t him. It can’t be.” There was a moment of nervous silence.
“Is she onto anything here, Abby?” Gibbs helplessly asked his resident Goth. As far as vampires went, he only knew as much as was considered general knowledge; to be specific, that vampires were undead, blood drinking, and found only on a black-and-white movie screen or between the pages of a horror novel.
Well, okay…scratch that last part, obviously.
“Depends on who you ask,” Abby bit her lip, thinking. “It differs from variation to variation. I mean, I’ve read some books where the vampires don’t even remember their human lives at all.”
“That, at least, doesn’t seem to be true here,” McGee pointed out timidly. “He knew who we were.”
“He also killed a woman to drink her blood and snapped someone’s neck with his bare hands, McGee,” Kate spat. “Maybe that thing has Tony’s memories, but that doesn’t make it Tony.” She huddled herself up even tighter. “There’s more to a person that that.”
“You mean a soul,” Gibbs inferred.
“Yes, I mean a soul,” Kate raised her eyes again and gazed at him intently. “Gibbs, I’m not going to start preaching to you about your beliefs or mine, but can you honestly tell me that there’s no such thing as a soul? That there isn’t something, some…presence, some energy deep down inside, that makes us who we are? Something beyond thought, beyond feeling that just…is?” Gibbs didn’t say anything. “Something that he doesn’t have anymore,” Kate finished quietly.
“And how can you tell that?” Gibbs asked her softly.
“A soul is a gift from God,” Kate declared. “All of His creatures have it. And Tony…is obviously not a creature of God anymore.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “Or did you miss what happened when he touched my crucifix?”
“No,” Gibbs muttered, kneading the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh, “I saw.”
“It was kind of hard to miss the whole catching on fire part,” McGee said distantly.
“He actually caught on fire?” Abby exclaimed. McGee blinked at her enthusiasm, startled.
“Well, not entirely,” he elaborated hesitantly. “I mean, it was just his hand…”
“Oh man. I wish I could have been there to see it!” She shook her head, disappointed. “It would have been so cool.”
“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too lightly, Abby?” McGee asked her, facial expression caught halfway somewhere between disbelieving and disgusted.
“Don’t get me wrong; I’m scared,” Abby quickly clarified. “I mean, I’m really, really scared. But still, I can’t help but get all excited about this. I mean, concrete proof that vampires really exist! We’re in a vampire’s house right now. Now seriously, how cool is that?”
“Not cool,” Gibbs said coldly. “We’re on their turf. In their world, stuck playing by their rules.”
“Gibbs, sometimes I really do worry about your ability to suck the fun out of everything,” Abby sulked. McGee paled.
“Suck. Also not a word I really want to hear right now.”
“Admittedly, they are fascinating creatures, vampires,” Ducky straightened his glasses as he spoke. “Though I never actually imagined that they ever existed outside of the world of fiction. That fact alone makes it all the more disconcerting when you realize that, despite the plethora of material available on the subject, there really isn’t that much that can be determined about them concretely. The portrayal of the vampire has gone through many incarnations and is derived from a multitude of mythologies; virtually every account of them tends to disagree with the others on the details, about everything from weaknesses to identifying characteristics.
“Indeed, the modern visual of a vampire most commonly identified with today couldn’t be further from its counterpart in early folklore tradition. The first accounts of the vampire are of the Slavic oper or the Romanian strigoi, and the creature described in these early myths has very little in common with the Hollywood vampire beyond the fact that both feed upon the blood of the living. For example, the vampire most people imagine based on the cinematic portrayals is a seductive, debonair figure, whereas the vampire of ancient legend has an appearance so abhorrently vile as to make it barely recognizable as a former human.”
“Duck, I really hope this has a point somewhere,” Gibbs said sharply. “Because I am very much not in the mood for this now.”
“If it’s any consolation, Jethro, the ways to dispose of a vampire are far more universally agreed upon,” Ducky told him with a faint shrug. “Exposure to daylight or holy artifacts, annihilation of the heart, decapitation…generally, anything that destroys the body as a whole supposedly works, as well.” He began gesturing with his hands. “The truly thorough method preferred by the vampire hunters of legend, of course, would be to run a stake through the heart, chop off the head, stuff the mouth with garlic, burn the body, and then scatter the ashes over a river.”
“Very hardcore,” Abby chimed in.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Gibbs frowned. “We’re not sure we want to kill any vampires just yet.”
“We’re not?” McGee gave him a look of astonishment.
“Does it count as killing if they’re already dead?” Kate’s tone was downright acidic.
“I’m not making any promises for the woman, but I want to at least talk to Dinozzo first,” Gibbs insisted stubbornly, deciding to ignore Kate and her open invitation to moral debate for the moment. Definitely not making any promises for the woman, he added silently to himself. The bitch had pulled some kind of massive mind job over on both him and his entire team and then proceeded to kidnap them. She had taken control out of Gibbs’ hands and forced him into a situation entirely at her command, and that was not something he tended to look too kindly upon.
And it definitely didn’t help that she was, from what little he had already seen of her, frankly, one very scary piece of work.
“Burning the body,” McGee said suddenly out loud, a look on his face like a light had suddenly come on.
“McGee, what did I just say?” Gibbs turned on him, irritated.
“No, I mean…” McGee turned to him, eyes wide. “If you burn a vampire’s body, they’re not supposed to be able to come back. Tony was cremated. So then how does that work?” There was a moment of silence.
“I guess we can scratch that one off the list, huh?” Abby concluded.
“Abby, if you can’t kill them by burning them to ashes, I don’t see how you could possibly do it at all!” McGee exclaimed, looking terrified by the realization.
“So he wasn’t cremated,” Gibbs suddenly announced.
“With all due respect boss, I’m pretty sure he was,” McGee protested.
“Yes, don’t tell me you’ve somehow managed to forget the rather extraordinary fuss the Dinozzos threw when they found out that their son’s body had been burned without their consent,” Ducky looked taken aback. “They threatened to sue, if my memory still serves well.”
“Don’t you get it?” Gibbs snapped impatiently. “If you’re going to play dead and then disappear, you want to make sure no one notices your body’s gone.” He got to his feet and started to pace. “A convenient paper mix-up resulting in a murdered agent’s body being cremated before it can even be autopsied.” He shook his head in angry disgust. “I can’t believe I let that one slip past me.”
“So the cremation was faked,” McGee said, nodding slowly. “It all fits.”
“Well, except for the whole ‘playing dead’ part,” Abby found it necessary to point out. “Tony wasn’t playing.” She shrugged. “Still isn’t, actually. If you want to get really technical.”
“Abby, please,” McGee rolled his eyes heavenward, as if pleading for assistance. “Could we really not talk about this any more than necessary?”
“We’re currently in the vampire’s house, McGee,” Kate grumbled. “I don’t see how we can exactly avoid the subject.”
“Speaking of which,” Gibbs straightened his coat and began walking purposely towards the nearest door. “I’d say it’s about time we had ourselves a look around.”
“Oh, yeay!” Abby got up and followed him, eyes sparkling. “This is so awesome.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea, Gibbs?” McGee asked nervously. “I mean, just wandering around this place?”
“Not really,” Gibbs admitted calmly. “But there’s not a whole lot of options at this point.” McGee swallowed, but came after him as well.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Kate insisted. “The thought of looking around this place makes me sick.”
“I’ll stay here as well,” Ducky said, giving Kate a sympathetic look. She was in the same position as before, staring determinedly at the floor with a haunted look in her eyes. “Someone has to keep Caitlin company.”
“Oh, this is not a good idea,” McGee said, paling dramatically as he stared into space. “I’ve seen this movie. We split up, and then the next thing you know we’re off wandering around in circles by ourselves, slowly getting killed off one by one.”
“Get a hold of yourself, McGee,” Gibbs said impatiently, one hand already poised on the doorknob. “If it bothers you that much, you can wait here with the others.” He didn’t wait for his agent to reply before turning the knob and going through the door. Abby pressed close behind him, hands gripping his forearm as she giggled nervously like a high school kid on her way into a funhouse.
The door led into what was, at first glance, pitch darkness. After a minute, Gibbs’ eyes adjusted enough to the gloom that he could make out the faint outlines of objects in the darkness, and the general impression of a large, empty space. Gibbs carefully stepped forward, Abby moving with him. He sensed the presence of another body close by them in the dark.
“Glad to see you decided to join us, McGee,” Gibbs said quietly, and managed to achieve a small amount of satisfaction from the way the outline of the other man jumped.
“Jesus Christ, Gibbs!”
“Shhh!” Despite not being able to see her, somehow Gibbs just knew Abby was pressing a finger to her lips. “Keep it down, you guys.”
“Why?” McGee sounded puzzled.
“Atmosphere?” Gibbs suggested sarcastically.
“Well, that,” Abby launched into her best “spooky” voice, and if he squinted hard enough Gibbs could just make out her waggling her eyebrows at them, “and you never know what might be lurking nearby.”
“Oh, thanks,” McGee squeaked. He huddled in close to Gibbs’ other side. The older agent debated ordering him to back up a bit, but decided to just let it go. Footsteps echoing loudly, the three of them moved slowly forward, peering intently into the darkness.
“Are there no lights in this place, or what?” Gibbs asked in irritation.
“Well, maybe they don’t need any,” Abby guessed. “I mean, they’re supposed to have great night vision. You know, v-”
“Abby!”
“Them. Those thingies,” Abby obediently amended at McGee’s protesting hiss.
“Yeah well, I thought you said ‘those thingies’ were asleep right now,” Gibbs muttered.
“They should be,” Abby sounded thoughtful. “Unless they’re day-walkers. You know, vamp…things…that can come out during the day.”
“Of course,” Gibbs said dryly.
“Terrific,” McGee mumbled, his voice cracking. Suddenly, there was a faint electric humming noise that emanated from the room around them. McGee yelled wildly and threw himself facedown on the floor. Gibbs froze, and Abby clutched his arm even tighter as she gave a faint half-shriek of fright. The room was flooded in light, blinding them for a moment until their eyes had a chance to readjust.
“Wow,” Abby breathed, eyes wide as she released her death-grip on Gibbs’ upper arm and slowly stepped forward, head turning as she took in the room around them. It was a big, square room, about the size of a school gymnasium. The floors were dark, hardwood, and highly polished. The wooden runners around the edge of the floor were just as dark, but in a different shade. Gibbs suspected black walnut for the floor and mahogany for the runners, himself.
The walls were painted a silver-gray color, uncovered by any artwork or light fixtures. In the exact center of the room was an indent of about three steps, which led to an area covered in cushy gray carpet that was about three times the size of the average living room. Set up in this area were four white couches and four black armchairs, all upholstered in rich leather with gray throw pillows, and arranged into a rectangle along the edges of the carpet so that they were facing each other. The ceiling was obviously set much higher up than the average ceiling, covered in the same dark wood as the floor and broken only by the presence of several round light fixtures that had been placed into a pattern that spiraled in on itself. The overall effect of the room was a very impressive one, giving off a picture of abundant wealth without being garish or overwhelming.
“Not exactly Dracula’s castle,” Gibbs observed, looking around with raised eyebrows, “but it’s no Batcave, either.”
“Gosh, do you think the rest of the house is like this?” Abby appeared mesmerized by the image in front of her. “I mean, decorating this room alone must have cost…”
“A fortune,” Gibbs finished for her. “I’m starting to get the impression that these people have a lot of money to throw around.”
“Well, if you’re going to be around for hundreds of years, you’ve got plenty of time to play the stock exchange,” Abby pointed out.
“Um, guys?” McGee slowly got to his feet, looking impressed by his surroundings but still fearful. “Who turned on the lights?” Abby and Gibbs quickly scanned the room.
“We weren’t near the walls,” Gibbs frowned suspiciously, “and I don’t see a light switch anywhere.”
“Wait!” Abby’s eyes lit up. She quickly turned and scurried back towards the door they came from, poising herself so that she was standing only about two feet into the room. “Come here,” she gestured impatiently to the others, staring upward at the lights high above her. Gibbs and McGee exchanged a glance, but she didn’t offer any explanation. With a faint shrug, they followed her command.
The instant they were all standing on the same line, the room was plunged back into darkness.
“Automatic lights!” Abby concluded happily, bounding back towards the center of the room and causing them to be switched on again with the same humming sound as before. “Looks like Bill Gates isn’t the only one who has them anymore.”
“Impressive,” McGee admitted begrudgingly, looking up at the light fixture spiral. Gibbs didn’t say anything, carefully looking around the room. There were only three entrances that he could see, including the door that they had originally come through (also mahogany, he noted). The other two were a large set of square wooden double doors, intricately carved and darkly lathered, that took up a central position in the one wall, and a doorframe over which hung a black velvet curtain at the opposite wall. Gibbs tested the double doors and found them unlocked. Glancing through them, he could see a short hallway that led to another large room in which stood a grand staircase leading to an upper level. Deciding to leave that for later, he then went over to the curtain and brushed it inside.
Gibbs found himself in a room about the size of a walk-in closet. A much smaller staircase stood before him, curving down into the ground and out of sight. The area behind the curtain was much cooler and lit only by soft lights set into iron-wrought sconces set into the walls. Everything here was a dark gray color, and made entirely of marble. Like the larger room he had just left, there were no windows.
“What’d you find?” Abby poked her head through the curtain curiously.
“Take a look,” Gibbs jerked his head towards the staircase. Abby came through the curtain, a reluctant McGee trailing close behind her.
“Where do you suppose that leads?” McGee gulped, looking at where the staircase spiraled out of sight.
“I dunno,” Abby smiled at him. “Wanna find out?”
“N-not really,” McGee said in an oddly high voice.
“Too bad,” Gibbs said flatly, starting his way down the stairs without bothering to glance back.
“See, that’s what I like about you, Gibbs,” Abby followed after him happily. “You’re a man of action.” She made a sort of “gung-ho” motion with her arm. “Fearless in the face of danger.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” McGee was saying out loud to himself in a stunned, horrified voice as he came down the steps after Abby. “I’m going down the stairs leading to the basement of a vam…bad guy’s house. Where they probably keep the bodies, or the man-eating leeches, or God knows what else…” There was another curtain at the bottom of the stairs, and Gibbs walked through it without pause. He found himself standing at the top of another set of stone steps, leading down a few feet into a room.
It was a large, rectangular room made entirely out of gray marble. The floors were tiled in large, flat squares. The sconces were fewer on the walls here, so that the light was much dimmer. The ceiling was just as low as that of an average room, which in this great rectangle of space gave it the appearance of being very close and dark. Stretching across the center of the room lengthwise was an even row of rectangular marble slabs about the size and shape of a dining room table, standing about three feet off of the ground.
Sitting atop two of the slabs, near the center of the row, was a pair of coffins.
“Oh God,” McGee moaned softly, he and Abby crossing over the curtain to come and stand beside Gibbs. “Are those what I think they are?”
“So,” Abby gave an appraising look around, also talking in a hushed voice, “this is their bedchamber.”
“You mean their crypt,” Gibbs corrected sternly. Neither of his underlings had anything to say to that. The three of them stood there for a moment, completely silent as they took in the sight below.
“Now what do we do?” McGee finally broke the silence to ask timidly.
“You two,” Gibbs let out a deep, slow breath, “go back upstairs with Ducky and Kate.”
“And…you?” Abby exchanged a nervous look with McGee.
“I’m staying here,” Gibbs started down the stairs leading into the tomb.
“Gibbs, are you crazy?” McGee blurted, forgetting to stop and consider the implications of asking his boss such a question.
“No way,” Abby protested at the same time. “We’re not just going to-”
“I said go!” Gibbs’ voice rose up a few levels on the last word, and Abby and McGee cringed at the way it echoed from the marbled walls and ceiling. They stared at him disconcertedly for a minute, but when Gibbs neither stopped nor looked back, they finally gave up and slowly made their way through the curtain and back up the stairs. Gibbs kept walking until he stood right beside the coffins, and then he stopped, looking at them closely.
Gibbs didn’t exactly know a lot about caskets, but he was willing to bet these two were top-of-the-line. The one closest to him looked like the kind of caskets he was used to seeing at funerals; a sleek gray rectangle with a curving top and silver handles. The second one was obviously older, seemingly made out of actual dark brown wood and narrowing towards the bottom in a mimic of the body’s shape. It wasn’t hard to guess who was in which coffin. Gibbs stepped forward and threw open the lid of the gray one.
He honestly wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see. The typical contents of a coffin that he saw with his life and line of work were either a body laid out in its Sunday best or a set of decaying remains. Neither of those was present in this case.
Dinozzo lay inside, eyes shut tight and face set into a relaxed blank. He was still wearing the same clothes from earlier, though his jacket and sunglasses were missing. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. His skin was deathly pale. Yet, he didn’t look like any cadaver Gibbs had ever seen. He looked…at ease. Instead of the usual clasped-across-the-chest position the hands of most bodies were set into during funeral preparations, Dinozzo’s hands were in more of a sleeper’s position, one folded lightly across his waist and the other lying beside him with fingers slightly curled.
It was all Gibbs could do to stand there and stare. He didn’t know what he was feeling. He didn’t seem to be feeling much of anything at the moment, actually. It was like a great void of numbness had just opened up inside of him. Somewhere far away, beyond that numbness, there was emotion; he could feel just enough of it to know that it was there without actually being able to determine what it was. But he didn’t quite feel up to finding out what it was, just yet. He had a feeling it was going to be something very bad.
Bad like…sorrow. Anguish. Grief. Failure.
He shut the coffin lid gently but firmly, unable to take any more of the sight of Dinozzo looking like some impossible combination of sleeper and corpse. Slowly, he raised his eyes and looked at the other coffin, the one containing the female vampire. Gibbs’ eyes narrowed. A spike of sudden violent anger swept through him for no reason he could immediately think of. He walked around the gray casket and towards the older coffin, moving at a rapid pace as he took firm, angry strides…
The coffin lid was abruptly thrown open, the figure inside sitting up and looking straight at him.
“Well hello, Agent Gibbs,” a pair of yellow eyes narrowed at him coolly. “May I ask just what exactly it is that you think you’re doing?”