This story is brought to you by the price of Icehouse six-packs on Fort 
Hood, Texas: $2.60 for 16-ounce cans.  ;-)  It doesn't taste great, but 
it gets you there.

Email is a wonderful thing!  People who send email are even better!  
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Blood on the Ice
a Forever Knight story
by Sue O'Reilly


"Nick, I said I was sorry."

Silence.  Frigid, angry silence.  Danny glanced anxiously at the driver, 
searching for even the tiniest sign of forgiveness.

"I'm *really* sorry.  I didn't mean to do it."

He wouldn't look at her.  His fingers were white on the Caddy's steering 
wheel, and the little muscle at the corner of his jaw was twitching 
spasmodically.  

"You just went through a red light, Nick."

No response.

Danny stifled a sigh.  He hadn't said a word since they left the 
precinct.  It was making her nervous as hell.  She had expected 
screaming, a lecture, wooden stakes, maybe being dropped off in the 
middle of Yonge Street, but there had been absolutely nothing.  She was 
starting to think that anything else would be better.  She could almost 
*feel* him getting more and more furious.

Fifteen minutes and two red lights later, he spoke.

"Did you know that they were going to leave you holding the bag?" he 
asked evenly.  "Was that the plan?"

She shifted uncomfortably on the seat.  "We didn't plan it.  It just 
kind of happened."

"Whose idea was it?"

She hesitated before answering, wondering if he would go any easier on 
her if she lied.  No, probably not.  Suppressing another sigh, she 
admitted, "Mine, I guess.  I started it."

"You started it," Nick said, his tone wondering and matter-of-fact at 
the same time.

Danny looked down at her sneakers.  "I...yeah."

"*You* started a bench brawl with the entire Detroit Red Wings hockey 
team?"

She winced.  It sounded so stupid when he put it that way.  "I didn't 
mean to start it with the whole team.  That jerk Lidstrom, he was 
slashing at Mats Sundin and the refs didn't see any of it--"

"So you thought you'd scale the glass and bash his face in?" Nick 
demanded, his voice rising to a hectoring shout.  "THAT seemed like the 
logical thing to do?  You must be insane!"

Danny was smart enough to know when it was her turn to be quiet.  She 
stared intently at the dashboard, her face blank.

Nick gripped the steering wheel even tighter.  He was leaving inch-deep 
handprints in it.  "And those two idiots, they just leaped right in with 
you!  I'd expect this kind of thing from Screed, but Vachon?  He'd 
better have a good place to hide because if I get my hands on him--"

"It wasn't his fault, Nick," Danny protested weakly.  "He just came to 
help when Chris Osgood came out of the crease and jumped me.  Goalies 
aren't supposed to do that."

He nearly lost control of the Caddy, glaring at her in furious 
disbelief.  "*Vampires* aren't supposed to chase NHL players with broken 
hockey sticks in front of twenty thousand people!" he yelled.
"What in the world is wrong with you?"

She knew it was a bad idea, but her mouth opened before she could stop 
it.  "Um...I'm a teenager?"

Nick gave her a deadly look.  "You won't make it into your twenties if 
you do something like that again.  Do you have any idea how much trouble 
you caused?  The juvenile division caseworker won't remember this 
tomorrow, but I really doubt I can hypnotize Sergei Federov into 
forgetting that you broke his jaw!"

Danny winced again.  The Russian had said some pretty heated things 
before he passed out from the pain.  Things about lawyers and mob thugs 
and finding out where she lived.  

"And thanks *so* much for giving my name to the security guards.  
Everyone at the precinct knows about you now.  I had to do some fast 
talking to explain my 'niece' to the Captain.  All of my family is 
supposed to be dead, Danny!"

"I'm sorry," she said, for what felt like the millionth time.  "I 
thought you might take it better than LaCroix.  He would have killed me 
if he had to pick me up from the cops."

Nick smiled in a vicious way that was totally unlike him.

Danny stared at him.  "You're not going to tell LaCroix, are you?" she 
asked in a tiny voice.

"Why bother?" he snapped.  "He can get his own videotape from CBC.  And 
probably from every highlights show in North America by tomorrow 
morning.  This is just great."

They rode in complete silence for a few more minutes.  Danny snuck a 
sideways glance at the older vampire.  If he had any skin color, he 
would have been beet-red.  Maybe she really should have broken those 
handcuffs and run for it with Vachon and Screed.

Finally Nick said tiredly, "Danny, did you *learn* something out of 
this?"

She was tempted to suggest, "That Dmitri Mironov has a mean right hook?" 
but her sense of self-preservation stopped her.  Instead she nodded and 
looked suitably repentant.  "Yeah.  I'm really sorry, Nick.  I won't do 
it again."

"You better not."  He pulled the Caddy to a stop in front of LaCroix's 
townhouse and made an abrupt shooing gesture with one hand.  "And I 
don't want to see you at any more Leafs games this year, you hear?"

She nodded immediately.  "Okay, sure.  Thanks, Nick."

As the Caddy's tires squealed away and Danny ran for the door, she was 
already planning the flying route across the border to Buffalo.

After all, he hadn't said no more *Sabres* games.

END

Author's note:  A little pre-celebration of the season opener in a few 
weeks!  Now I have to deal with being in Texas and not having CBC.  
*sob*  I miss home.

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