A WEE TALE From: the dungeon of souls Subject: A Wee Tale 13 May 1996 The moon sat smiling over the compound, filling the treetops with an eerie light. Nick sighed, looking out from the balcony across the expansive lawn to the shore of Lake Ontario below. It was so beautiful. On a night as bright as this, you could almost convince yourself that it was sunlight... He still could hardly believe that he has moved back in with Lacroix after all these years... all these battles... After they'd tried to *kill* each other. But here he was, in this sprawling old house, with Lacroix and Janette... Almost like old times. Well, no. Not really. To begin with, Lacroix had marries a beautiful young vampire named Camilla. Only about eighty years old, Camilla was the perfect match for Lacroix. She had a piercing and vicios wit that she often sharpened on the servants, and on Lacroix himself. The old man ate it up - they often bantered the night away on stools in the Raven, getting drunk on Janette's best. Camilla and Janette got on famously. Lacroix was quite hopelessly in love with her. Love had strange effects on Lacroix. He had taken to puttering about the grounds in big, baggy, navy blue corduroy overalls. And he was lavishing attention on Nick - when, of course, he wasn't lavishing it on his bride. Tonight's "present" had outdone all previous gifts. Before, it had been simple things: clothes, cars, rare books, art, bottles of "vintage" - most of which Nick sold off or threw away. But tonight's gift... tonight it was a harem. Nick shook his head at the memory. Lacroix had been so excited. "They're *yours*, Nicholas, I got them for *you*!" A half dozen attractive girls, somewhat bedraggled, and very obviously hypnotised. "I've collected them from all over the city for you... Ones that no-one will miss, you see. And so pretty..." He had reached out and stroked the cheek of the one nearest him, and she had smiled at him. "Thank-you," she had replied in a dazed voice. "Nicholas?" came a low voice behind him. He whirled, startled. Camilla had the same bad habit of sneaking up on people that Lacroix did. What a couple, he mused, not for the first time. Camilla was tall and slender, and had long, luxuriously wavy dark brown hair. She favoured extremely short cut-offs and t-shirts on some nights, and other nights flowing floor length black shifts. Tonight was a shift night. Lacroix had bleached his hair again, and kept it mowed down to a spiky flat-top. He kept going back and forth between his customary elegant suits and those damnable overalls. "Nicholas?" she repeated impatiently. "Yes, Camilla?" He sighed again. It wasn't that he didn't like her, it was just that she was so *mean* sometimes... And had a unique mind, to be sure. "You've taken the night off, yes? We're taking your young ladies shopping... they need some decent clothes." Nick shrugged. "I took the night off, but why do you need me? Can't you handle it?" Camilla's eyes narrowed. "They are *your* harem, you *are* coming along to supervise. I'm sure you'll want a say in their appearance, won't you?" "I guess," muttered Nick. One couldn't really throw away a harem like any other gift. They might as well look good, he supposed. "Where are we going?" "Into the city - there is a lovely tailor's shoppe that I've called on before, they have all sorts of clothes. They are expecting us. You're taking half in your car, and I half in mine." She paused and frowned. "Stop looking so silly - let's go." Downstairs, Lacroix lounged on the rug in the sitting room. He was dressed in his favourite red silk pyjamas, with Lou Reed turned up loud on the stereo. He lay on his back, singing along at the top of his lungs. The girls sat on the edges of their seats, staring into space. Nick paused in the doorway, and cleared his throat. Lacroix ignored him. "Umm, ladies?" They all turned slowly to him. "Yes?" they replied in unison. "Ah, we're going shopping... Come on." Camilla's voice from behind him magically changed from her normal husky growl to a sensual purr. "Come now, girls. New dresses for all of you!" They jumped to their feet at this, and crowded toward the doorway. They all smiled sweetly at Nick as they filed by. He glanced over his shoulder at Lacroix before following them out. Camilla had gone in, to say good-bye, he supposed. They were kissing. He heard the whispered endearments: "J'aime tu...a jamais." "Moi aussi, chere... a jamais..." Nick covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head. This was out of control... The girls stood uncertainly by the cars. Lacroix himself refused to drive, but had bought Camilla a beautiful black BMW sedan with a red leather interior. "Umm, what are your names?" The first to reply was a petite and pretty one with long perfectly straight dark hair and very white teeth. "I'm Serena." The next was blonde, and very thin. "Caryn," she said. A taller one with short black hair and wide blue eyes smiled at him. "And I'm Molly." "I'm Jospephine," said another. She had masses of red hair and eyes that were quite green. She smiled shyly. "Milica." The girl stepped forward and shook Nick's hand. She was a curvaceous brunette with a slight accent. "And you?" he asked the last one. She also had quite a figure, but her eyes had a distant look in them. Her light brown hair was tied back in a ribbon. "I'm Candy." He nodded. "Of course you are." Camilla came bustling out then, immediatley taking charge. "Candy, Serena, Josephine - you go with Nick. Caryn, Milica and Molly are with me." They piled into the cars and drove into the city. Camilla drove like a woman posessed. Speed limits meant nothing to her. Nick had all he could do to keep up with her, and converation was minimal. He managed, however, to find out that the girls had all been homeless until "Uncle took us in." At this, he nearly drove off the road. The tailor's shoppe was a small and expensive looking downtown establishment, which proudly advertised that it was "Open Nights By Appointment." Nick parked behind Camilla, who was already out of the car and herding her charges to the door. A fortyish man with pince-nez glasses and a slightly receeding hairline met them there. "Mrs. Lacroix, I assume?" he asked. Camilla nodded, and they went inside. Thankfully, it was the kind of store that had couches and chairs for long-suffering husbands and boyfriends who accompanied their women on such shopping sprees. Nick sat on a small horsehair settee, staring with a pained expression as the girls were trotted back and forth out of the dressing rooms in various attires. They all looked rather striking in black, and Molly made a ravishing figure in blood red velvet. He gave his approval to nearly every thing they came out in - dresses, designer jeans, the whole spectrum of fashion, but when Serena came out in a a black lace teddy, he put his foot down. "NO," he stated emphatically, getting to his feet. "I am *not* selecting lingerie. Forget it." He glared at Camilla. She glared back. "A harem is a harem, Nicholas. They have to be properly attired for ALL occasions." "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." "Why?" "I repeat - a harem is a harem." She turned to the tailor. "We'll take the teddy." Nick smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand and sat down again. "Women," he muttered. 20 May 1996 Nick walked into Cohen's office wearily. He yawned audibly, not bothering to cover his mouth. Schanke eyed him curiously. "Haven't been getting much sleep lately, eh partner?" "No," Nick confessed. "What does the Captain want to see us about?" Schanke shrugged. "I don't know. So what *is* with you, huh?" "Like you said, not enough sleep." "Mmm hmm... better not let Natalie see that hickey, though." Nick's hand flew to his neck. "What hickey?" The other man chuckled. "Just turn your collar up a little more, 'kay? Doesn't look very professional." Cohen came in then, as business as usual. "Detective Knight, Detective Schanke, I have some news for you both. I'm trying to se everyone who's affected personally, instead of a memo... You're both being transferred again. Effective in two weeks." Schanke's mouth dropped open. "Why? We've barely been here two years now!" Cohen grimaced. "Budget, I'm afraid. They need you more downtown, and downtown has the bigger budget. I hate to lose you - you're both good cops." The pair accepted the compliment numbly. Downtown, Nick thought. Damn., "So we'll have two weeks, Captain?" Schanke asked. "Do we try to tie up everything that we can, or just hand our cases over to the new people?" "If there's anything that can be solved in two weeks - which I don't think there is - hang on to it. Otherwise, yes, you're going to have to give up your cases. Think of it as two weeks paid vacation." She was trying to make up for the blow, and failing miserably, Nick thought. "Don't worry, Captain. We'll handle it." He and Schanke trudged from the office and sat wearily at their desks. "New precinct," grumbled Schanke. "Now we have to break in whole new Captain. I hate these budget cuts! If we were able to stay in one place for longer than a year or two, we'd get a lot more done." "Maybe it'll be better downtown," Nick said reasonably. "At least we didn't get laid off." "Boy, I'd hate to have to go home and tell Myra *that*." He sighed. "You're right - we'll just have to make the best of it." 22 May 1996 "I've gotten a job," Lacroix announced as he walked into the sitting room. Nick was sitting there staring at the walls, Serena in his lap nibbling his ear. Some paid vacation. Lolling about the house with a half dozen girls trailing behind him, offering him sex and blood, while Lacroix and Camilla danced around their room in their pyjamas, drunk as hell. They'd taken to playing Depeche Mode lately, and it was making him insane. If he heard Lacroix singing "I Want You Now" to Camilla *one* *more* *time*, he was going to sharpen a stake and do it right this time. "You weren't listening, Nicholas." Lacroix snapped his fingers. Nick turned and gazed blankly at him. "What?" "I've gotten a job! You and your foolish mortal ways are getting to me, I'm afraid... I've sold the radio station and gotten a *real* job!" Nick gave him a suspicious look. It was another overalls night, and no short beneath. "What kind of job? Checkout boy? Are you drunk again?" Serena giggled in his ear and started kissing his neck. Lacroix glared. "No, Nicholas... an *important* job. You just don't take me seriously." "All right, you're serious. When do you start, and what do you do that's so important?" "It's a *surprise*," he replied with a secretive glint in his eye. "You'll see." "Guess what, darling!!" Camilla burst into the room and threw her arms around Lacroix. He hugged her tightly. "What, cherie?" "I found the most wonderful thing at a street vendor's tonight! Look!" She opened the bag she was holding and triumphantly held forth a mass of black cloth. Lacroix's eyes widened. "You really found them?" "Yes!" "Found what?" queried Nick. "Velvet sheets, idiot! What else?" Nick found himself wishing he could strangle Camilla. Life was getting weirder by the day. The house had turned into a veritable commune - all of Janette's young vampire castaways that were usually stashed in the basement below the Raven had moved in. It was bizarre - everywhere he turned there were vampires, or another one his "little girls", as Lacroix called them. He hadn't spoken to Natalie in a couple of days... she thought he still lived in the loft, and he called for his messages every night. She was worried about him, she said. He probably ought to go see her. He'd changed the alarm code when he moved out - she luckily hadn't tried to get in. Boy, she'd be mad when she found out that he'd changed the code without telling her. "Nicholas?" It was Camilla. "May I speak to you? In private?" "Of course." He pried Serena from his neck and followed Camilla out. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Lacroix striking up a Depeche Mode CD. To Nick's surprisem they went up to her and Lacroix's room. This was their private snactum, and they guarded it jealously. Camilla was in a shorts mode, and he found himself intrigued by the way her long legs moved beneath the scant covering. He shook off this thought after a moment, and looked around the room. The bed was a giant four-poster of some dark wood, and was draped in black matte. It was heaped with tassled red and black silk pillows - rather like the brothel cribs he recalled from his mortal days in the Middle East, during the Crusades. Hung above the bed was a rebec. Incredulously, Nick identified it as the same one Lacroix had been playing the night he had brought him across. To think he had kept that old thing... The carpet was wall to wall, thick and black. He noted a pair of burgundy silk boxers on the floor in a corner, and averted his eyes - some things we just don't *want* to know. Camilla seated herself in a big Victorian style cahir, legs crossed. "Look, Nicholas... I know you think of me as a wicked stepmother and all, I know I'm a great deal younger than you, but can't you just be nice to me? You've always been civil but never *nice*." Nick moaned softly. "Camilla, I don't know what to think about anything anymore. I swore once I'd never live under Lacroix's thumb again... He's changed, I moved in here hoping things would be different, and I got my wish. He's not himself anymore. Marriage agrees with him. But honestly... nothing is more unsettling than a two thousand year old love-struck vampire. I almost wish he was back to being a bastard, trying to ruin my life. I'm *used* to that." Camilla smiled. "He loves you and Janette so, and you've both hurt him so much. Don't you think he acted the way he did because he was hurting?" Nick shook his head. "I don't know what you did to change him, but it worked." "Easy, Nicholas - I loved him." 3 June 1996 Nick walked into his new precinct house with a nauseating feeling of anxiety. He hated this - he'd been wondering about the new Captain for days now. Stonetree had been great, Cohen had grown on him... what would the new person be like? He had conjured up an image of the most demanding, cold, inconsiderate and sadistic police captain in all of Toronto in hhis worry. He balled his hands into fists as he came to the office door. No nameplate. He'd been told by Cohen that this guy was brand new. Captain Cross, that was what she had said his name was. He opened the door and stepped inside. Schanke was already there, chatting companionably with the Captain. He saw things slowly, in pieces: the nameplate on the desk: "Cap. Frank Cross"; the shiny buttons on the Captain's suit jacket, the commendations and photo on the walls emblazoned with the name "Frank Cross"... at last the face of Frank Cross himself came into focus. Lacroix smiled pleasantly at him. "Detective Knight! Welcome!" The world had come to an end. ******************************************************************************* Well, there it is. Like I said, this is what happens when a Cousin is quitting smoking... It's downright silly, I know, and is meant to be taken as such. Flames and applause both welcome. Oh, and due credit goes my my dear Cousin GMB for Lou Reed, red pyjamas, hanging rebecs, and black matte drapery. ;) Cousin Caile gielskcl@bigvax.alfred.edu There can be only One... Uncle Lacroix