V

V

"This is why I hate jobs involving kids; they're all kinds of trouble." Seated cross-legged on the beach, the black-haired priest lit a cigarette. Blowing smoke out of his nostrils, he turned around in annoyance. "Well, how is that kid? Is he dead?"

Taking Peter's pulse, Abel sighed. "He's okay. He's just unconscious." Around him, the fairies lay in heaps, also unconscious.

What should they do about them? Wait for dawn? Hand them over to the Vatican or Albion authorities? The man who had forced this monstrous fate on these children was already long gone. Who should take responsibility?

Leon stared at his companion's tired face. When he stood up, he wiped off his rear and suggested in a displeased tone, "I want to get out of here. However, we have to take care of some business first."

"Business? Are you saying there's something left to do?"

"There is—hey, get away from there. It's dangerous."

"What?" Abel twitched as he looked at the huge gun barrel.

Leon's pistol still was pointed at Wendy's blood-smeared face, which rested beneath Abel's right leg. "Move. I'm blowing her away."

"What are you saying? This girl—"

"That girl is a criminal. How many people did she kill? How many ships did she sink?"

Leon's typically jovial expression disappeared as if it had been erased permanently. He forcefully declared his intentions as if he hoped to grind each word into Abel's face: "Have you forgotten our duty? We must destroy the vampires on this island — or arrest them and take them back."

"That's right! So, we'll arrest them."

"Take them to Rome? Nine times out often, that would be crueler. They're valuable samples of artificial conversion. Unable to die, they'll be subjects of human experiments for centuries."

Abel's tightly pursed lips turned white. What Leon suggested was a distinct possibility. Certainly, allowing that to happen would be choosing a fate worse than death for these children.

"Well . . . what about letting them escape far away . . . ?" "Criminals who have killed dozens of people? Abel, I also sympathize with this girl's bad luck. Think about it, though — can you conveniently forget about the people who made her and what they made her capable of?"

"She's still a child!"

"There are things for which even children can't be forgiven. If we overlook what she's done here, she'll do the same thing again someplace else. Will you take responsibility then?"

Abel was at a loss for words. What his companion said was right. In a way, Leon was showing his own kind of compassion toward this unlucky girl.

"If you think it's terrible, pray for this girl. We agents are allowed to pray. We are not allowed to pity." He put his finger on the trigger.

Abel stood before Leon, trying to shield Wendy from the bullet Leon was aiming at her head. Leon forcibly pushed him away.

"Stop." A faint voice ceased the giant priest's movements. "Stop. Don't kin Wendy." Peter covered Wendy with his broken body. Weakly, he lifted his head. After everything, he still was trying to protect her.

"Out of the way, kid. Do you want to be shot together?"

"Old man, don't kill Wendy. Wendy is kind. She didn't tease me, a failure. . . . She was nice . . . especially to failures."

"Kid, that girl attacked a number of boats and killed dozens of people. We can't forgive her."

"It was for the experiments. The attacks all were ordered by Teacher," Peter insisted. "He said it was a test of her battle strength. After we chased away Teacher, Wendy didn't kill anybody!"

That sounded suspicious, considering Wendy's undeniably malicious actions in trying to eliminate Abel and Leon. Yet, Peter's explanation held a note of desperate truth.

"You're going to kill Wendy because she was commanded to kill people? Father, Wendy didn't really want to do it."

"Don't interfere, Peter," Leon said.

A small female voice interrupted Leon's protest. "Yes, don't interfere. It's like he says. I shouldn't be alive."

"Wendy!"

The fairy — who had lost her wings by that point — opened her eyes slightly. She hadn't recovered enough to stand up, but her consciousness had returned. She continued speaking in a weak but clear voice: "It doesn't matter. Nothing you say will make any difference with the priests, either. Their work can't be stopped by one grand speech." She looked at Leon. "Go on. Please, kill me right away."

"Wh-what are you saying, Wendy?" Shocked, Peter clung to her. "Why do you have to be killed?" He turned to the priests. "Who gave Wendy this body and made her attack those ships? It was all Teacher and the others! So why?"

"Peter, it's no use any longer." Wendy's eyes were soft, like a doting mother's, as she gazed at Peter. In a voice filled with resignation and fatigue, she spoke, "It's no use. Our time in Never Land is over. The adults won't overlook us being here. If they catch us, it'll be worse than dying. Please understand. That priest is showing me mercy."

"It's not like that!" Peter looked up at the priests, imploring them with his eyes.

Leon muttered a prayer.

Peter said, "You people wouldn't do such a thing, right? You wouldn't do anything terrible to Wendy and the others."

Leon's expression was as blank and emotionless as a statue's. Abel was silent, searching for the right words.

"I understand, Father," Wendy said. "It can't be helped. At least save this boy."

Peter gasped. "No, Wendy! Stop, old man! Don't kill Wendy!" There was strength left somewhere in his wounded body: He clung to Leon's thick arm, shouting at the priest in a blood-curdling voice, "You're an adult! Adults are strong, right, old man? Then, help Wendy! Don't kill her!"

"I'm not an old man! Out of the way, kid!" Leon's thick arm moved, dislodging Peter. He sent the boy flying, and then he pitilessly pulled the trigger. "Dammit, how can I stand to be called old man before the age of thirty?" he roared.

A few blonde hairs danced on the wind.

The huge bullet grazed the girl, who'd involuntarily shut her eyes. She didn't see the bullet strike the ocean's surface and raise a huge spray of water.

"Bah! I'm such a stupid scoundrel! I feel sick!" Leon complained, his angry voice erupting like a volcano. The giant was stamping his feet like a child as he spewed vitriol.

"Ah, Leon?" Abel asked.

"Awww, dammit! This is why I hate talking with kids. God, all right! We'll do something for these crappy kids, somehow! Curse it all!"

With a contemptuous glance at Abel and the others—who couldn't help but look at each other in confusion—Leon cursed heaven and hell. He called each demon and angel about three hundred bad names; then, at last, he seemed to calm down. He turned around, sporting an extremely displeased expression.

"What are we going to do? If we return, we'll have to make a report. And if we make a report, the police or the army or somebody will come swarming in. Don't you have some idea how to hide the children, Abel?"

"Hm." Abel thought for a while; then, he snapped his fingers—or at least, he tried. He clucked his tongue, glaring at his fingers that had failed to snap. "We still have your connection—we can use that guy for transportation. I know a place neither the Vatican nor Albion can reach. It's a little far, so I'll need your help, Leon."

"Mine?"

"If you just put up the money . . . airplanes and coffins . . ." Abel smiled wickedly at the suspicious glint in his companion's eyes. "I want your contact to supply something."

 

***

 

"I read your report." The most beautiful cardinal in the world, Vatican Foreign Affairs Minister Caterina Sforza, thanked the subordinates who stood before her desk. "It seems you finished your assignment without a hitch. Thank you both for all your hard work."

"It's an honor to receive your praise!" said Leon, standing at attention. He had combed his hair—quite unusual behavior for him. He also had shaved his whiskers, and his neatly pressed collar actually looked appropriate for someone working for the Vatican.

Next to him, Abel nodded vigorously. "We assaulted the hideout of the Albion professor James Barrie, who was conducting his pirate activities from a stronghold on Never Land Island. Although Barrie got away —"

"All the vampires were destroyed, right?" the cardinal asked.

"Yes!"

"Very good, just as I expected of you." She paused. "Ah, yes, that's right — now that I think about it, there's one thing I wanted to confirm, if you don't mind?"

"Yes?"

The two priests looked stiff, as if they were being interrogated while strapped to one of San Angelo's electric chairs.

By the window, the early spring sunlight gently shone in. The cathedral plaza below bustled with pilgrims from far away and church attendants walking about. It was a pleasant morning, but the priests' expressions were like those of mountain climbers stranded on a snowy cliff.

Leon asked, "When you say 'confirm' — "

" — what could you mean?" Abel wondered.

Caterina smiled. "You needn't be so tense. It's a very trivial thing. Sister Kate, are you there?"

"Yes, Your Eminence."

Caterina casually asked the holographic nun that appeared at the center of her desk: "A strange receipt appeared in the expense account, didn't it? Someone chartered a whole freighter to go to • the Empire. What was that about, gentlemen?"

"Well, what was that about, Abel?" Leon asked innocently.

Abel choked. "Uh, I'm bad with money. When I see an amount of money higher than three figures, I get a fever. . . ."

Caterina silently listened to her flustered subordinates as they bickered. At length, she quietly nodded. "Fine. Based on the nature of AX, there are often obscure expenses."

"Of course there are! Just so, Your Eminence. You understand," Leon said smoothly.

Abel looked relieved. "Yes, yes. That's right. Well, we have a wise superior. Yes, yes."

The two priests nodded their heads.

Gazing kindly through her monocle at their strained faces, the cardinal pushed a piece of paper across his desk. "However, as there's no explanation for this receipt, I can't approve the expenditure. Payment will be taken out of your personal accounts. Sister Kate, send them both an invoice later."

"What!" The two agents—the strongest members of the AX—screamed in fear.

"Wh-wh-what shall we do, Leon? I'm probably the poorest priest in the world! I'm opposed to this idea; this huge amount of money—"

"Never mind that! Aren't you relieved she didn't see through our deception? Didn't you prepare some plausible excuse?"

"Excuse? To Caterina? I wouldn't do such a reckless thing."

"Ah, Your Eminence?" Sister Kate's hologram peered anxiously at her superior's face, which had been carefully blank for some time. "You don't seem to feel well. Shall I make you some tea?"

"Make it hot, please." Rubbing her aching forehead, the Woman of Steel heaved a rare sigh. "These two... some children never grow up."

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