Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

In the darkness of the ship's hold Spike gazed at his lover, fast asleep. There was a fine line of drying blood at the corner of her mouth and he resisted the urge to reach out and gently wipe it away.

The young prostitute they had recently fed upon moaned in the grip of a nightmare. They had found her trawling the docks for business as they searched for a ship with the appropriate destination. The girl proved quite knowledgeable of the vessels in port and pointed out the steel transport, Eye of Ishtar, bound for Egypt that very morning. They had thanked the young whore by biting into her throat and dragging her into the dark hold as sustenance for their long journey. There should be enough juice in her to last until we dock in Egypt, he thought, as long as we don't get greedy.

He turned his gaze back to his sleeping lover - to the pale curve of her throat and the gentle sloping rise of her breasts - but he had things to do.

Spike reached into the pockets of his leather coat and removed the items he had acquired from an occult bookstore after his conflict at the Fatted Calf. Pennywhistle's Ancient Arcanum was a store he had frequented often in his early days and he was glad to find that it was still in business.