Looking back, Doyle didn't remember how they ended
 up at Gran's.   He remembered finding the burnt Corvette, 
 but that was it.  The next thing he knew, Laurella was in a 
 chair next to the bed he layed in.  She was weeping softly.
 
 "'Rella?"  Doyle whispered.
 
 She looked up.  "You're awake!"  She moved to sit
 on the side of the bed.  "Gran said you would, but I wasn't 
 sure."  
 
 Frost stepped into the room, closing the door
 behind him.  He smiled at his friend.  He stood by the door.  
 Frost had been so quiet in his movements that Laurella hadn't   
 noticed his entrance.  Only Doyle had.
 
 "What is wrong, love?"  Doyle asked.  His voice
 was still a whisper.   He felt very tired physically, although 
 his mind was completely alert.
 
 "I...  What you must think of me now, Doyle.  I am
 so sorry."  She  looked down a moment at their hands, now
 intertwined in each other.    "Doyle, what happened to Mortal  
 Dread?"  She asked it brightly, as if trying to change the 
 subject.  Doyle's eyes narrowed, and he threw a quick glance at  
 Frost.  Frost nodded his head.
 
 'He'll watch her.'  Doyle thought.  Aloud he said,
 "Rory was killed with it by Cel.  Kevames gave it to him, 
 when he chased us after we excaped.  Cel didn't know what weapon 
 he held until he struck down Rory.  Oddly, he didn't go insane.  
 He became saner than he has  been  in centuries, from what Frost  
 said."
 
 "I wonder if that is because he was already a crazy pyscopath,"  
 Laurella said.  "What do you do now, Doyle?  Kevames is in charge 
 at  the court, from what Frost told me.  Cel, Andias
 and Barinthus are in St. Louis making their plans.  Will you go  
 there, or back to Los Angeles?"  She asked.  She hesitated, then 
 added,  "And what do we do about me?  I would fade, but it is  
 impossible when one is pregnant."
 
 "Laurella!  The queen will hear you!"  Doyle
 exclaimed hoarsely.
 
 "It is daylight now, my love.  I saw the look you
 threw Frost when I  asked about Mortal Dread.  My mistake, 
 I didn't realize he was there before that glance."  Frost shook 
 his head and stepped up to Doyle's bedside, across from  
 Laurella.  "So, Mortal Dread will be locked up tight.  I can't 
 carry it to term - the Queen would learn and then Cel 
 would win.  So where do we go from here?" 
 
 "We go home.  Back to L.A."  Frost answered. 
 "Gran said it would take a week or two before Doyle would be 
 able to get out of a bed by himself.  Atleast a month before he 
 will be back to his old self.  That whip nearly killed you, my 
 friend."  He placed a hand on Doyle's shoulder.  "Another hour, 
 and the rot would have reached your heart and lungs.  I don't 
 think we could have saved you at that point."
 
 Laurella stood and placed a kiss on Doyle's cheek.
 "I will go get you some soup and water."  She smiled sadly at
 both of them, then was out the bedroom door.
 
 Doyle stared at the closed door.  "Would that she
 carried my child,"  he whispered.  Frost's hand squeezed Doyle's
 shoulder for a moment, then released it.  Frost moved around to 
 sit in Laurella's chair.
 
 "We leave on a chartered flight this afternoon.  I
 contacted the Queen and reported your invalid status.  She
 agreed that L.A. was a safer place for you to recover than the 
 Court."  Frost reported in the manner of a leutinant to his 
 captian.  
 
 Doyle nodded, and glanced at the door.  He hoped
 Doyle would follow his train of thought.  He didn't feel he had 
 the energy to speak now.  
 
 "I don't know, Doyle.  Do you want her to stay
 here?  Gran said she could."
 
 Doyle thought about that one.  Gran had been
 married to a King who was simular to Cel.  But Gran couldn't 
 watch her constantly.  If she went to L.A., though, what of Merry?  
 Here would be Cel's heir growing under her very nose.  The other  
 guards would be sympathetic, but one or two would take it upon 
 theirselves to eliminate the competition.  Or give Laurella a chance 
 to do it herself.  Here, at least only Laurella could harm herself.  
 In L.A., there would be the other guardsmen to worry about.
 
 He started to speak slowly, barely whispering.  He wanted to sleep 
 so badly.  "L.A. - the others.  Here - just her to..."  His eyelids 
 slid close and he fought to open them.
 
 "Worry about.  So here she will stay.  I will tell
 her.  Go to sleep, Doyle.  I will wake you when it is time to leave."
 
 Doyle smiled faintly, and felt himself sink into the darkness of 
 sleep.  Then, at the last second, he felt a great wave of pain.  
 Not his pain, although it was there.  Someone he was
 connected to.  His eyes opened, and he tried to sit up.  "Laurella!" 
 He gasped.  Frost looked at his friend, and then left the room at a
 run.