Date: Wed, 17 Nov 1993 09:44:23 -0700 This came to me yesterday. I hope you enjoy it. I thought it was fun. Comments or questions or flames can be sent to me. ******************************************************************************* Celebration A Forever Knight Story by Margaret Newman The secretary quiet pulled the doors closed on her boss's private office. The last she saw of him, he was standing with his back to her, staring out at the city wrapped in night. The lights from other buildings blinked like stars. She sighed, and turned. The other woman that worked in the office with her glanced up. "Everything okay, Molly?" Beatrix, the executive secretary, arched a finely drawn eyebrow. "He asked for a bottle of wine." Molly walked over to her desk, and logged off her computer. "He wants me to go that gourmet shop down the street, and get him their most expensive. I shouldn't be gone long." "A bottle of wine?" Beatrix frowned, her fingers pausing over her keyboard. "Well, as they say, 'ours is not to reason why'. I've never seen him eat or drink a single thing. My husband was complaining about our hours again, but as long as I'm getting paid this wage, I don't care." "That's for certain." Molly half smiled. Fred, Beatrix's husband, always complained about something. His wife's work hours was just one of millions. As for the wage, it had enabled her to pay off quite a few bills. She now could see the day when she could own a car, her own car, brand new. Someday she would have an apartment to herself without the need for a roommate. She pulled on her coat -brand new- and buttoned up. "I'll finish the Headon report when I get back. He wanted that by morning." "Good." Beatrix nodded. "I'll have this analysis typed up in no time, and I can get started on those letters we didn't finish last night." Molly walked to the elevator, her heels clicking loudly in the quiet hall. She said hello to the fern that sat in the heavy black metal pot under the elevator buttons. She raised her eyes and considered the bronze plaque that named the business she worked for and it's owner. Her distorted image reflected blurrily in it. He was unlike any man she had ever met. Not that she was particularly well traveled. She knew, though, that he was different. The elevator "bing" almost made her jump. The doors opened, silently waiting for her. She stepped in. Pressed the ground floor button, the doors shut, and she sighed. As the elevator took her down, she walked around in circles -never able to simple stand still in one, especially by herself. He was the easiest boss she had worked for. He might have his peculiarities, but once you accepted them, and did your work as he said, when he said, everything went smoothly. It was his white blonde hair, cut so short, and those eyes that unnerved her. She looked up as the elevator stopped. Ground floor. She walked out the lobby and into the night wondering if he was watching her from his office window. * "What's up, Janette?" Nick frowned, glancing quickly over the dance floor of The Raven. He had just wrapped up a triple homicide, and was supposed to meet Schanke back at the precinct when he got Janette's call. "'What's up, Janette'?" She raised a finely arched eyebrow at him. A bottle sat on her table, and two fluted goblets -empty- sat waiting. "I have not seen you in over two weeks, and that is how you greet me, Nicolah?" "I don't have time for games." He growled, and half turned to leave. What stayed him, he did not know. Something in her eyes? Something about the turn of her lips? "Indulge me, mon cher." She whispered huskily. It was not her sultry, sensuous whisper. It was her 'your on my shit list' whisper. Nick stepped closer to the table, leaning an elbow on it, he cupped his chin in his hand. He waited patiently for her to calm down, forcing himself to get a grip as well. "I called you for a reason." She set the long cigarette holder aside. "Tell me, Nicolah, what is today's date?" "Today is November 19, 1993." He replied, straightening. "Why?" "Where were we November 19, 1393?" She watched his face, and then as realization dawned on him, their eyes locked. "Avignon." He croaked. "We celebrated LaCroix's birthday by giving him that maid that had denounced him as a demon." "That's right, mon cher." She opened the bottle -Janette's private brand- and poured a share into each fluted glass. "I thought we should mark the day somehow." Nick accepted the drink from her, looking down into the dark, ruby depths of the fluid. He could smell the blood, human blood, and a touch of wine. He could hear the maid's screams and LaCroix's laughter. They had celebrated *his* birthday only a few times -always on November 19, though Nick did not know why, it had nothing to do with LaCroix's real birth date- and the last time he had left LaCroix's company had been on this date. Janette held up her glass. He slowly touched his to hers. "To LaCroix." Janette said with a sort of sad smile around her lips. He could not read her eyes, they were hooded. Did she truly miss him? They had known each other longer than she had known Nick. "Happy Birthday." His lips twisted in a smile. Perhaps that maid had the last laugh after all? They downed the drink in unison, setting their glasses on the table together. She leaned forward, and kissed him full on the mouth. * "Sir?" Molly knocked on the door as she opened it. Beatrix was in the copy room arguing with the fax machine. "I have the wine you requested." "Come in, my dear." He smiled at her from behind his desk. "What were you able to find?" "I can't say it, sir. It's French. The gentleman at the shop said it was the best he had, and they don't get it very often." She walked across the plush carpet to hand him the very expensive bottle. He took the bottle from her, their fingers touching momentarily. She stood while he examined the bottle. "Very good." He chuckled. He read the label with ease, his French sounding strong and fluid. "Very good." He looked up at her, their eyes meeting, and he smiled slowly. A shivery feeling wiggled up her spine. It seemed as if he could read her mind, it was unnerving. "Have Beatrix join us." "Yes, sir." She whispered, turned to walk back across the carpet. It was hard walking on this plush stuff in heels. "Molly." He said her name just as she got to the double doors. She looked back. He had obviously watched her trek to the doors. "Yes, sir?" She felt herself flushing, but she ignored it. "Bring in three glasses as well." He saw her flush, his smile deepened. The fingers of his right hand toyed with a turquoise and gold pen. "It's my birthday, and I feel like celebrating." * * * * * *