Date:         Sat, 11 Dec 1993 13:44:50 EST
 
 
 
                    Bring Me Home Tonight....
 
 
                        by Teleri
 
 
 
 
Kara was being followed.
    She *knew*. Walking down the street, hearing the sound of the hem
of her overcoat swishing against her jeans like some great bat's
wingbeats, she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle and a
shiver dance between her shoulder blades. Staring at her gloved, numb
hands, she cleared her mind. Something was wrong. Something was
urging her to...run. To be afraid.
    Kar had stopped being afraid long ago.
    She felt some strange thing, a darkness unfamiliar to her,
pressing against the back of her mind, and she *knew.*
    She didn't run. She didn't scream. She didn't even stick to the
lighted areas in the street, or start making a path to the beckoning
lights of the still-open shops farther up the street. Not in this
part of town. In danger, all else seemed innocent--but this was
the bad part of Toronto, the part where the cops didn't leave
their cars without their guns handy and the people didn't leave
their houses after dark. No, Kara didn't do anything except hunch
further down into her overcoat, just like any other person walking
down a street on a cold night, and thought furiously.
    Up ahead, an intersection. If she turned right, she would be home
in fifteen minutes. Safe in the cramped, smelly confines of her small
and dirty apartment. If she turned left, a 7-11 five minutes away,
where she could call a cop to help her. He'd come out, look around,
find nothing. Offer to escort her home, which she'd take. In the car,
he would mutter about the bad side of town, and how was a nice girl
living there. Why don't you move out? he'd ask. And she would turn
her face to the window and watch the night moving past.
    When she got to the intersection, she turned right.
 
 
    One of the shadows disengaged itself from the wall and stepped
after the woman, forming into the shape of a man with a black
overcoat on. Smiling to himself, he quickened his pace, careful to
step around the pools of light thrown by the lampposts. Avoiding a
large pile of rotting trash sprawled over the snow on the sidewalk,
however, he stepped briefly into one of the light spots. The pale
glow glinted off his shock of white-blond hair, giving him a golden
halo.
    He smiled in the darkness. He didn't make kills often anymore, not
in this day and age. It was too easy for the police to realize someone
was missing. It was no longer easy to hide bodies. And so he kept from
making more than random kills in order to keep from drawing attention
to himself and his kind--and to keep the Enforcers from coming after
him.
    Sometimes, though, when an ignorant mortal--such as this one--
blundered out onto the street at night, alone, they would find more
than the cool light of the moon. Beyond the shadows, deep in the
dark, LaCroix was waiting.
 
 
    Kara knew he was still there; knew that he was closer. She could
almost feel something hovering over her back, waiting for her to run.
Smiling at her, daring her to run.
    To act like prey.
    She glanced down at her hands while she walked. They were steady.
She sighed. She had faced the horrors of life before--she was no
naive child. Whatever happened--happened. Afterwards--if there was an
afterwards; that was always debatable in this neighbourhood--she
would take a shower in her grimy stall, a nice warm shower. Wash
herself thoroughly, climb into bed--
    She stopped. Bed. Her apartment--her *home*-- No. Whatever was
going to happen, Kara wanted it to happen here. Now. On this street,
outside of her haven. She wasn't going to let this person into her
home; she wasn't going to let him invade her life. Not the life
she had fought so hard to have after everything else was taken away;
not the existance she'd managed to eke out for herself here, far away
from anything known. For over a year she'd lived in that small, dank
apartment, hoping the roof wouldn't cave in with each rainfall and
that the rotting smell wafting under the neighbour's door wasn't what-
-who--she thought it was--but the place was *hers.* Her apartment,
her little niche in life, no matter how much it stank. And she wasn't
going to let anyone invade it. She wouldn't be driven out this time.
    Kara squared her shoulders. She wouldn't let anyone take her home
away from her again.
 
 
    LaCroix smiled when he saw her stop, then nearly laughed aloud
when she turned and seemed to wait for him. He was amused. Did she
really think she could take him on? Did she really think her puny
mortal strength was any match for his? Did she really think she would
be the victor?
    He glided out of the shadows, closer to her, allowing her to see
him drift suddenly from the darkness, the shadows clinging to his
form like old friends. He smiled at her.
    But other than a slight widening of her eyes, she stood firm.
    "What are you going to do to me?" Her voice was calm, soft.
    "Do?" One dark eyebrow rose slowly. "What am I going to do to
you?"
    Suddenly, he wasn't standing five feet away from her anymore.
Suddenly, he was *there*, and he smiled slightly at the almost
unnoticable intake of her breath as he appeared in front of her, close
to her. LaCroix laughed inside. He was so close he could reach out now
and rip her throat open, giving her throat a permanent, horrible smile
frozen in the rictus of death.
    Circling slowly around her, he moved, stopping behind her, so
close that he could blow on her hair. She hadn't turned her head
to follow his progress, but had stared straight ahead. Her shoulders
stiffened slightly when he paused behind her, and he smiled. Bending
slightly, he whispered, "What *am* I going to do to you?" He was close
enough to nuzzle her earlobe. "Ah, that's the question." His hot
breath raked across her ear as he hovered over the smooth, pale curve
of her cheek.
    Slowly, she turned and looked at him with a level gaze. "That's
what I asked you," she said softly.
    He reared back quickly. He hadn't expected this...this serenity.
Pacing around her, he stopped, facing her, an arm's length away. Her
eyes had followed him as he moved, and her heartbeat was loud and
sure in his head.
    "Why didn't you run?"
    She kept her eyes on him. "Would that have helped?"
    He smiled cruelly. "No."
    "So why bother?"
    He kept the surprise from his face with effort. "To save yourself,
of course."
    She looked away. "It was already too late."
    LaCroix laughed out loud. "That it was. From the moment I
first saw you walking alone." He snorted. "No lover to protect you?
All alone?"
    She glanced up at him, and some emotion--sorrow? fear?--flashed
quickly, brightly, in her eyes. "No lover. No one. I'm all alone."
    "So no one will miss you when you're gone."
    "Does that mean you're going to kill me?" she asked calmly.
    LaCroix pretended to consider, then smiled at her gently. "Yes, I
do believe I will."
    "No."
    The vampire was amused. "You have some objections? Would you care
to try and stop me?"
    "You misunderstand me." She shook her head, her short brown hair
falling over her face. "No one will miss me when I'm gone."
    LaCroix laughed again, a short bark of surprise at her. What
a curious mortal! He ignored the utter absurdity of the situation--of
the feeling of unreality, at prey that didn't run. It was a nice
change, he thought, as he watched her calm face. He cocked his head
and listened to her heartbeat--strong, sure, mortal--and felt his
mouth flood with saliva.
    Then, suddenly, he was beside her, his hand gripping her arm, the
other behind her neck. He pulled her with him, heading deeper into the
shadows--into an alley which he could faintly see with his enhanced
eyesight. She came with him docilely, unprotesting. Anyone watching
would have thought they were long-lost lovers.
    Anyone watching would have been wrong.
    The vampire pulled her into the alleyway, stealing her from the
light of the moon outside. Smiling, he watched as her pale form was
swallowed by the shadows deep inside. Here were the things that hid
from the light. Here lived the creatures of the night.
    He turned to the quiet mortal.
    Suddenly, the darkness within him erupted, and he snarled, fangs
thrusting from his mouth and eyes glowing lambent green. He turned to
the mortal woman, hissing.
    She barely flinched. "Are you a vampire?"
    He smiled, fangs glinting coldly in the darkness. "Yesssss...."
    "Are you going to make me one too?"
    LaCroix checked himself. "Do you want to?" Not that he
would...but a new convert brought power to him. "Do you want eternal
life?" He stared at her, deep into her eyes. Her hearbeat pounded
loudly in his mind. "Do you want to live forever?"
    She shook her head slowly, staring at him, yet looking deep
inside of herself. "No." She shook her head harder. "No, not really.
I'd much rather have...peace."
    "Then you shall." He smiled, a horrifying expression that twisted
lips and exposed fangs to their roots. "You shall have peace for
eternity, rotting in your grave--"
    He pulled her to him with one arm, holding her body against his
tightly. He needn't have bothered. She stumbled into his arms, then
stiffened when he sank his fangs into her throat, deep into the
carotid artery. He was fast, lunging and quickly burying his fangs,
feeling the blood well up, nearly crying out joyously as the first
explosion of blood filled his mouth. The mortal gasped and nearly
fell, but he cupped the back of her head with his other hand and
supported her, sensual lips and tongue working hot on her neck in a
macabre parody of sex. She shuddered, clutching at the lapels of his
coat tightly, burying her hands in the material as spasms ripped
through her body. He dug his fangs further into her throat, pulling
down slightly, greedily widening the gaps through which the thick,
bright red liquid flowed, feeling it spurt into his mouth, a fatal
echo to her heartbeats. Keeping time with her life. She made little
noises, wet, choking noises, as his tongue suckled greedily at her
neck, his lips locked on her rapidly cooling skin. Beads of blood
escaped to run down her shoulders into her coat, down her arm, to drop
to the snow below like red rain.
    Her hands suddenly loosened their grip and fell, and she sagged
limply against him.
    LaCroix pulled back and looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes,
feeling the warmth of her blood dribble down his chin. A similar heat
was spreading through his body, the only body heat he could ever
share. Her hearbeat pounded loudly in his ears--she was alive, but
she was fading fast. He smiled at her as she stared at him, trying to
concentrate, to focus, as her body began to shut down. Her eyes
wobbled. LaCroix knelt down onto the dark-spotted snow, setting her
down in an oddly gentle way, one hand supporting her back as the
other hand grasped her face. He wanted her to look at him. He forced
her to face him, used his mind to force her dilating pupils to
contract and focus on him. When he knew she saw him as best as she
could, he licked the blood from his lips and smiled sardonically.
"Thank you."
    She smiled groggily. "You're welcome," she said softly.
    LaCroix nearly dropped her onto the snow. Wha--? "Why are you
smiling?" he whispered. When she remained silent, lolling in his arms
as her life spilled onto his hands, he shook her and grabbed her face
cruelly. There was something to this mortal--some sort of utter peace
inside--that filled him with a sense of urgency. What made her
different? What was her power? He bent low over her. "Why are you
smiling?" he demanded harshly.
    She breathed slowly through her open mouth, the faint starlight
from high above the darkness glistening off the blood still oozing
from her throat. She coughed, and a spurt of deep red washed over her
white skin, bathing her chest in blood. "My friend," she coughed,
each movement making a wet, sickening sound, "I'm not really sure...
what AIDS will do...to *your* kind, but I thank you for saving me
from...the effects to my kind. I've given you a meal...hopefully saved
some other poor innocent--you've given me the greatest of all
gifts." She sighed. "You've taken away my suffering...you've given me
peace..."
    Her eyes suddenly widened, as if she saw something that awed her.
LaCroix nearly looked back--but then her cold blue lips twisted
into a smile of such beauty, such peace, that LaCroix watched her
with horror, and...shame. Her body stiffened and shuddered, and only
his hearing detected the soft words she breathed.
    "The Light--"
    Then, suddenly, she went limp as warm clay and slipped through
LaCroix's stiff fingers to fall with a muffled thud on the defiled
purity of the snow.
    The vampire stared dully down at the woman's body. *No.* He shook
his head. "NO!" Throwing his head back, he screamed into the dark
sky, shouting into the unforgiving face of the moon, shattering the
chill silence of the night. "NOOO!!!" He panted heavily and
looked down at his hands, his eyesight wavering over the delicate,
lacy trail of blood staining his fingers down to his arms. He
wavered dizzily, feeling anger rising up to consume him in black
waves. His eyes danced over the alley, searching for a target. Her
pale form danced before his eyes, mocking him. Viciously, he turned
on the mortal's body, ripping the cooling flesh into shreds with his
bare hands, glorifying in the violence, intending to scatter the
pieces in a gory trail across the city.
    And yet, even as he tore her apart, LaCroix was haunted by the
memory of her peaceful smile as she died.