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Saul yawned and stretched his arms above his head. He glanced toward the window and saw that a light snow was falling and much of the glass was laced with frost. Judging from the amount of light seeping into the bedroom it had to be about nine in the morning. He also noticed that the aches, pains and fever he'd been feeling were completely absent. He smiled to himself. Nothing like a good night's sleep to help the body cure itself. However, even as he luxuriated in the feeling of well-being, he couldn't help but notice that something seemed off.

He looked around at his surroundings and noted that he was lying on the bed in their guest bedroom. That, in and of itself wasn't too unusual. He would occasionally sleep there if one or the other of them were sick, or needed a lot of sleep. What seemed out of the ordinary was that he was lying in the bed normally. Every other time he'd used the bed he had to lie diagonally in order to fit. He sat up and discovered himself entangled in clothes a number of sizes too big for him.

The detective scrambled to his feet. The only things that didn't fall off onto the floor was his football jersey, socks and heated underwear which now looked like a baggy clown suit. That was when he saw himself for the first time in a mirror. The kid looking back at him was someone he hadn't seen for more than thirty years. He took one step closer, tripped and might have face planted had the pile of clothing on the floor not cushioned his landing.

“PEPPER!!!"

There was a brief pause before he heard the soft padding of feet from the hall and the door opened. His partner stood there, dressed in a thick bathrobe and holding a bundle of clothing under her arm and a mug of what smelled like hot chocolate. She examined the tall, pre-adolescent with a slightly humorous smirk on her muzzle.

“Morning, Sunshine," she greeted him. “Sleep well?"

“WHAT THE HELL'S ALL THIS ABOUT?"

The vixen handed him the mug, which was indeed filled with hot chocolate. “Drink up. Victor says it does wonders for curing a case of morning grumpiness."

Saul took the mug and sipped on it tentatively as she talked.

“The short answer is that you're suffering the effects of Black Rose pollen. It has unpredictable effects, but it's what makes Gwen's anti-lycanthropy potion work, provided you drink it within the first twenty-four hours of having been bitten.

“I take it the potion worked then," he observed taking a large swig from the mug.

The vixen nodded. “Like a charm. Oh, and by the way, you owe her four and a half pounds of gold for the cure."

Blackthorn almost blew hot chocolate out through his nose as he gagged. When he finished coughing she casually tossed him a bundle of clothes. “What's this?" he asked, unrolling the small polo shirt and small pair of gym shorts.

“We have a guest, if you remember. You need something to wear around the house."

He started to put on the shirt and noticed the buttons were slightly different. “Wait. Are these your clothes?"

“They're the only thing we have close to your current size."

“What do I do for underwear?" Saul asked.

“Well, I'm not giving you mine," the vixen chuckled. “I'd recommend you go commando for now." She handed him three large safety pins.

“And what do I do with these?"

“They're for the tail hole, silly," she grinned wickedly, leaving her partner to figure the rest out for himself.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later Saul was showered and dressed and was sauntering into the living room. In addition to the polo shirt and gym pants, the detective also wore his football jersey. Though baggy, it worked to disguise the clothes he wore as it swept down to just above his knees and covered his arms passed his elbows. Even as a nine-year old, the human had been exceptionally tall. This was before the doctors had diagnosed his acromegaly.

Victor sat on the couch, dressed in a cream colored shirt and gray slacks. He looked up from the laptop computer sitting in front of him and greeted Saul. “Morning. How are you feeling?"

“Pretty good, all things considering. Kind of surprised I don't have a hangover from all that whiskey I downed last night."

“One of the more pleasant side-effects of the potion," the todd offered. “I don't think I need to mention the more obvious one." He punched a few keys on the computer then rotated the screen around so the human could see it. “Thought you might be interested in this."

Saul looked at the image before him. “The Oradean Daggers," he read aloud. “Weapons of the Lycanthrope/Vampire war. Used to slice apart the soul of one corrupted by the curse of a were-creature..." He paused for a moment to study the accompanying picture, then looked up at Victor.

The Zorr nodded. “Your dagger is the missing mate to the other three."

“Any idea who was in possession of it?"

“None... though popular speculation was that it resided in the private collection of either the Rothschild, Vanderbilt or Kanazawa families. Obviously, that wasn't quite accurate."

The human looked at Victor. “Does this mean the victim was a werewolf?"

“I don't know," the Zorr replied. “Pepper told me that she was raped, suffocated, and then stabbed post mortem with the dagger."

“That sounds about right."

“Do you have any DNA evidence from the rape?"

Saul shook his head. “As random as the attack was made to look, our perpetrator used a condom and cleaned the body of any potential hair or fiber evidence. We thought we might have a latent fingerprint on the knife, but so far we haven't been able to find a match."

“So the rape was window dressing," Victor said thoughtfully. “His true intent was to murder the girl specifically using one of the Oradean Daggers. It makes sense."

“How so?" came a feminine voice.

The todd looked up to see his cousin enter the room. She was now dressed and outfitted for work. “Morning Penelope," the Zorr yipped a quick greeting.

“Morning yourself, Vikki," she replied.

Victor wrinkled his nose pad. “I hate that nickname."

“And I hate Penelope... so let's just stick to Victor and Pepper, alright?"

“Vikki?" asked Blackthorne.

“I'll tell you later," the vixen said, looking back at her cousin. “So, how does the post mortem stabbing make any sense?"

“Okay, it's predicated on the idea that your victim was a lycanthrope, or was in the process of becoming one and the murderer knew it."

“I haven't indulged in as many horror movies as Saul has, so this is as clear as mud to me," said Pepper.

“If your victim..."

“Rita Hollingsworth," the vixen gently chided. “Let's not list her as a statistic just yet."

“Sorry... Ms. Hollingsworth. If she were transitioning into a lycanthrope, then your murderer would not have risked exposing himself to any of her bodily fluids, as they could pass the curse to him as well."

“Wait," interrupted Saul. “I thought it was only the bite of a werewolf that could infect its victim."

“Actually," the todd said, “it's the lycanthrope's saliva that carries the elements of the curse. If for some reason one is exposed to any other internal fluids, blood, mucus, tears, then the curse can be passed on, but only during a full moon."

“Hence, using a condom to prevent an exchange of fluids and the accompanying lycanthropy," Pepper speculated. “But it doesn't explain why he stabbed Rita through the heart after suffocating her."

“Because she would have eventually recovered from the asphyxiation," Victor said.

“Hold on... time out here. What do you mean recovered?" the vixen asked.

“You need to use a silver weapon to kill a werewolf, or any lycanthrope for that matter," the Zorr explained. “Without it, she would have 'woken-up' while lying on a slab in the morgue."

Saul grinned. “I'd pay good money to see Derek's face if that happened during an autopsy."

“Did anyone ever tell you you're sick, Detective Blackthorne?" Pepper observed. “I wish there was some way we could confirm whether she was a lycanthrope or not."

“Actually, there is," Victor responded.

“How?"

“Well, if you could get me into the morgue, I could use my chrystal charm to check for residual signs of lycanthropy on her body," the todd replied.

Pepper looked at her watch. “It's just after 9:15. Derek should still be on shift and doesn't mind visitors. Just don't go flashing your magic around or he'll think you're a nutcase and throw us out."

Victor rose, closed up his computer and went to get his coat.

“Hey, what about your scent? Won't that be a problem?" Saul asked.

“We're passed the nadir of the full moon," the todd explained. “I have a lot more control of my change now. As long as I don't deliberately transform into a dragon the musk is almost completely neutralized. That, and I took a really long shower this morning."

“I thought were-creatures always transformed during the three days of the full moon."

Victor chuckled. “Only freshly minted ones. The longer you've had the curse, the more you learn to control things. Hell, once you reach one-hundred or so, even a full moon can't force an involuntary change, though the urge is hard to resist."

Pepper pulled on her overcoat and linked arms with her cousin as they headed for the door.

“Anything I can do to help?" Saul asked his partner.

“Well, aside from not answering the door or comlink you could get on our computer and try researching any similar cases that involve ritual murders or post-mortem knifings," Pepper suggested, gently ruffling her partner's hair.

“What, no goodbye kiss?" he pouted.

“Let's save that until you've grown up a little," she grinned.

* * * *

The two Zorrs arrived at the coroner's office about twenty minutes later and Pepper introduced her cousin to Derek. As it was a slow morning, he was more than happy to take a fellow scientist on a tour of the facility. For his part, Victor was appropriately impressed by the organization and layout of the forensic laboratory.

When they reached the morgue proper, the vixen asked to take a look at Rita's body and a copy of the finished examiner's report. Pepper explained she wanted to check for any unusual marks that might connect the waitress' death to a case she'd heard of in Denver. Derek, helpful as always guided them over to the cold room and pulled out the storage rack containing Rita Hollingsworth's body. He then left the two Zorrs alone while he went to print out a copy of the M. E. report.

Victor pulled out his charm and used it to examine the dead girl's hand, while Pepper strategically placed herself next to him in such a way as to conceal the softly glowing object from a nearby security camera. The charm revealed the image of a shattered pentagram on the back of her hand.

“No doubt of it," Victor said. “She was cursed."

“Why does it look different from Saul's?

“The dagger literally cuts the soul of the lycanthrope to pieces," he replied, “killing them not only physically, but spiritually as well. When used properly, all that is left is an empty shell."

Both Zorrs went quiet as Derek returned with the report and handed it to the detective. “Sorry it isn't more complete. There are a lot of unknowns that we don't have any pieces to. It's up to you and Saul to find the pieces."

The vixen quickly scanned the report, then folded it and put it in her pocket thanking the M.E. After a little more light banter with Derek the two left and headed back to the car.

“What happens to the victim's soul? Pepper asked as she closed the driver's door.

“The stories aren't very precise about that. Some hold that it is completely obliterated. Other tales insist the lycanthrope's spirit is bound forever in limbo. Whatever happens, the stories agree it isn't a pleasant way to die."

“That sounds like a rather extreme cure for lycanthropy," the vixen observed.

“I'd agree, if it were intended as a cure," Victor replied. “The daggers were weapons, pure and simple, meant to permanently dispatch whoever they were used on to the afterlife, with extreme prejudice."

Pepper frowned. “Leave it to a vampire to come up with something so nasty."

“Actually, it wasn't the vampires who created them."

“It wasn't? But I thought it was a weapon from your mythological vampire/lycanthrope war."

“It was," the todd said. “The daggers were created by the Catholic church, as a means of fighting against both sides."

“So it worked against vampires? How? They're supposed to be soul-less, undead blood suckers, or so popular culture says."

Victor chuckled lightly. “If you're going to rely on old Hollywood movies as your supernatural resource, I might as well pack-up and head home."

“Then enlighten me."

“Remember the runes etched into the dagger's blade?" Pepper nodded. “They're actually an incantation that causes the weapon to take on the purifying effects of the sun. Stab it into the heart of an undead creature and poof, nothing but ashes."

“Wouldn't you have to be a mage to use something like that?"

The todd shook his head. “The magic's in the weapon. All the wielder has to do is pronounce the spell correctly using the proper intonation and timing."

“So a sage such as yourself could..."

“Nope."

Pepper looked at him curiously. “Why not?"

“I'd burn my hand if I tried. It's made of pure silver after all."

“What difference would that make?" she asked. Victor just looked at his cousin with a silent, deadpan, 'are you kidding me' kind of expression. It took her a moment to figure it out. “Oh... Right!"

They drove on in silence for a few minutes before something crossed the vixen's mind. “Wait a second. You said the bodily fluids of a lycanthrope are enough to pass on the disease. Does that mean that Gwen...?"

“She's a sorceress. She cast a spell that makes her immune to a lycanthrope's curse."

“Could she do the same for others?" Pepper asked.

“Yes," Victor replied. “As a matter of fact, we discussed using something like that on our two adopted kitts, just in case they somehow were exposed to my curse. Turns out Oberon and Titannia have a natural immunity, thanks to their mother."

“Their mother?

The todd responded by pulling a small photo out of his wallet and handing it to his cousin. Pepper pulled the floater to the side of the road before looking at the photo. The image was that of Victor and Gwen hugging a beautiful set of twin fox kitts, one boy and one girl. They were about two years old. Pepper immediately noticed they had the same blue coloration as Victor's earlier mate, Sapphire. She looked quizzically at her cousin.

“I thought you'd adopted a pair of normal Zorr kitts."

“Except for the fur, they are perfectly normal, so far."

“So their mother was...?"

Victor nodded. “And I am their biological father. Djinn obstetrics. Go figure."

“So you finally found Sapphire?"

The todd shook his head sadly. “No." he sighed. “For whatever reason, she's still hidden. Gwen thinks it's part of the whole genie thing; that a former master can't ever find the lamp again."

“So what happened? I knew she was pregnant when our whole tapestry adventure went down. Where were the kitts all this time, and why did she abandon them?"

“Probably with her in the lamp. Neither Gwen nor I think they were abandoned, not in the traditional sense. She was able to use her magic to sort out that a spell had been placed on them that guaranteed they would magically find their way to us when the time was right," he explained. “She figured that as they were non-magical beings, Sapphire wanted them raised by us rather than be subject to life in the lamp."

Pepper looked up from the photo and saw that her cousin was wiping a small tear from his eye. He'd loved both Sapphire and Gwen with equal passion, and losing the former still hurt. She undid the seatbelt, reached across and took Victor in a long, powerful hug. He returned the embrace. When they separated he was smiling.

“Thank-you."

“Hey, it's the least I can do for my favorite cousin."

“I'm your only cousin," he replied.

“Which, by default, makes you my favorite."

The vixen slid back over into the driver's seat and started the floater again. “We'd better get back to the house and see what Saul's been able to turn up on our laptop."

At the word laptop, a strange expression crossed Victor's face. He reached into his jacket pocket, then patted the rest of his coat. “Shit," he muttered.

“What's wrong?"

“My thumb drive... I think I forgot it in my computer when we left the house."

“Well, Saul's there. He'll keep an eye on it for you."

“You don't understand. It's a rather special kind of memory stick." The todd looked over at Pepper. “Your partner isn't overly curious by nature, is he?"

“He is a detective, if that's what you're asking."

“Then we'd better get back to your house, before anything happens."

* * * *

One of the disadvantages of being a pre-teen was that Sal's normal reasoning ability was being influenced by his present, slightly unbalanced body chemistry. Most kids between the age of about seven and eighteen tend to think less with their rational mind and rely more on the subjective logic of their emotions. In other words, he was bored. Searching for connections between their current case and any possible similar cases was tedious work, requiring more patience than most pre-teens have. Sighing in frustration, he closed the laptop and leaned back on the couch.

Glancing over at Victor's computer he noticed a data stick inserted into one of the ports. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a perfectly normal data stick. That is it would look normal if you ignored the tiny, glowing amethyst mounted on the end of the stick.

Saul reached over and gently pulled it out of Victor's computer, then rebooted his own and put the data stick in one of the available ports. He waited, and after about twenty seconds a window opened up: ENTER USER NAME. The human thought about it for a moment. He knew from previous conversations that the todd tended to think like a historian, from cause to effect, and was therefore often focused on finding the truth. This occasionally resulted in him being quite literal in his thinking. Saul typed in Victor's last name: PEABODY. A second window popped up: ENTER PASSWORD. The pre-teen pursed his lips. He had no clue what to enter. Noticing there was a timer in the corner of the screen, Saul shrugged and made a wild guess: SMITHSONIAN. There was a pause. A blue light jumped out from the computer's vidcam lens, quickly scanning his face. A third box opened up: PASSWORD AND FACIAL SCAN INCORRECT FOR USER. INIATING MEDUSA FIREWALL.

“What the hell is a Medusa firewall?" the detective muttered to himself.