Date: Wed, 20 Sep 1995 14:11:22 -0300 From: maddog Subject: Exit Light (1/1) Comments, criticisms, chilled diet cokes, welcome. Exit Light by Maddog Janette balanced the bottom of the glass on one finger. It was less than half full of a nice Chardonnay/human blood mixture and balanced rather well. She tried to move the glass in a circle in front of her. The liquid moved slightly within the container and center of gravity shifted. The wine glass started to fall but she caught it easily. Her vampire-heightened reflexes were an easy match for gravity. Staring at the glass for a moment, she brought it to her reddened lips and finished off the contents in one gulp. She was annoyed with herself for a moment, hating it when she consumed anything without the proper delicacy. She was sitting on the black leather couch that took up a good portion of her living room, at least it did this week. Reaching forward to the glass-topped coffee table she picked up the bottle she had been pouring from. It was empty. That surprised her, she hadn't realized she'd had that much to drink. Of course, there were several other bottles scattered around the table. Maybe she'd been sitting there longer than she'd thought. Glancing at the black marble clock, she read the time, 3:30 A.M. Hours yet until sunrise. Hours yet until sleep claimed her, unless she decided to have more wine that is. Janette got up unsteadily from the couch and went to the refrigerator. Opening the door she found it empty except for a lone, half-empty bottle. Taking it out, she uncorked it and sniffed. The slightly sweet scent reminded her why this bottle had been sitting in her refrigerator for so long. She disliked fruity wines, no matter what the hemoglobin content. Deciding that she could tolerate it for one night, she poured the liquid into her glass and went back to sit on the couch. It took her only a few sips to realize that she didn't want to drink this too sweet wine. Didn't want to sit in her apartment, no matter how gorgeously it was decorated. Didn't want to go down to the Raven and check how Miklos and Alma were managing. She didn't want to do any of the things she normally did. She was tired of it all. Leaving the wine glass on the coffee table, she got up and put on a long black, leather trench coat. Making sure the car keys were in her purse, she left the apartment. She needed to move, to go somewhere, anywhere. She was so restless she felt as if she was going to leave her very skin. She drove through the deserted streets of Toronto. Trying to find something to distract her. From what, she wondered. She couldn't determine the source of her agitation. She felt angry, sad, frustrated and tired all at the same time. She had hoped being out in the cool, night air would relax her. It wasn't though. She was simply getting more and more angry. Flipping open the built-in holder between the front seats of her car, she pulled out a bottle of wine and blood she always kept there. Unlike the drink she'd been sipping when she left her apartment this one was not too sweet. It had a subtle, sharp bitterness to it. After a few sips, she began to relax slightly. Enjoying the sensation of freedom that driving always gave her, the street lights flying past her, the neon signs with their garish colors catching her eye. The bottle she was drinking from was now half empty and the way it was designed would require her to tilt it back further to get the rest of the wine. She did so, the bottle obscuring her vision just long enough for her not to see the light change to red in front of her. Just long enough for another car, who had been edging dangerously forward during their red, to have to swerve madly to avoid broadsiding her. Long enough for a Cadillac that had been coming in the opposite direction from Janette to see the near accident and Janette's response, which had been to slam on her brakes, spinning the car in the center of the intersection. Nick pulled his car over to the side of the road. Schanke was already complaining that they were not, repeat not, traffic cops. They were homicide detectives and since there hadn't been accident, or dead bodies flung anywhere that he could see, why were they stopping? Besides, they were off duty and Nick was giving him a ride home. Schanke hadn't even finished his sentence before Nick was out of the Caddy and opening the door to the other car. Sighing loudly, he dragged himself out of the front seat and out into the street. Nick would have known who was in the car he was approaching even if he hadn't recognized the model. The familiar voice, cursing in French, was clearly audible from where he had parked his own car. Opening the driver's door he was confronted by Janette, looking disheveled, a very rare occurrence. Her hair has been put in disarray by the car's motion and her dress was covered by the blood-laden wine she'd been drinking. She was furiously dabbing at it with a handkerchief, which didn't appear to be having much of an effect. "Need any help?" Nick asked through a wide grin. Janette looked at him, eyes narrowing at the question. "Thank you, no, Nichola," His presence irritated her. She didn't like anybody seeing her anything less than immaculate for one thing. For another thing, his blond, cheerful visage was making her annoyed, very annoyed. She glared at him and watched as the smile fled from his face. "What's wrong?" he asked but was interrupted by his partner coming over to the car. "Hey Janet, not looking where you're going or what?" Schanke smiled at Nick's friend. She was one bodacious babe, he thought, always dressed to kill, always smelling so fine. Except she didn't smell very good right now. Leaning forward slightly into the car, he took a deep sniff, detecting the smell of the wine, and then noticed the state of Janet's dress. The lacy front of it was soaked and wilting. "Oh," the detective mouthed. Janette began to fume. The last person she wanted to deal with was Nichola's idiot friend. Hadn't she already been nice enough to him to last for the next hundred years? That was Nichola for you, she thought, always dumping his problems on her door. Always making her help out the foolish mortals in his life. Never a thought to the inconvenience to her, never anything more than a kiss and a quick "thanks, Janette" as he hurried away. Folding the handkerchief she'd been using to clean up, she placed it gently on the seat beside her. "Some idiot, probably a man," she stated frostily, glaring at the two examples of that sex in front of her, "pulled out in front of me. I hit my brakes and the car spun. If you'll excuse me, I have to go." "Janette, is there something..." Nick started to ask, but was interrupted by Schanke. "Excuse us for a minute," his partner said, as he grabbed Nick by the arm and dragged him away from the car. "What are we going to do?" "About what?" "Nick, in case you didn't notice the lady smells like some cheap Italian winery and I don't think that's just her perfume." "Schanke, I'm sure she's not drunk," Knight responded, "It just looks like she spilled part of a bottle on herself." "So, in other words, she was drinking in the car and, during the time she lost control of the car, she also lost control of the contents of the bottle. Is that what you're trying to say?" Schanke enunciated the words carefully. "Uh, no," his partner replied carefully, "I'm trying to say that one of the corked bottles she was carrying in the backseat broke and flung its contents all over the car and that the driver is shaken up and needs to be driven home." "I thought so," Schanke held out his hand. "What?" "The keys, partner, you drive Janet home and I'll follow you in the Caddy." Nick gave him the keys to the car and they walked back to Janette's automobile. Giving her what he hoped was a neutral but helpful look, he said, "Janette, why don't I drive you home?" Janette gave them a look as if to say, why am I perpetually surrounded by idiots, "I don't think so, Nichola, because I'm not going home." "Look Janette, I think it would be a good idea if I drove you home, you're shaken up and.." "I said," she replied, words staccato, "I am not going home right now," the two vampires glared at each other, a silent battle of wills going on. The silence was broken by Schanke, "Look, why don't you go over to Nick's place? You two must shop at the same winery, he's got a ton of bottles just like that one," he pointed to the emptied bottle beside Janette. Janette considered ripping the human detective's throat out but then decided she'd probably only get blood stains under her nails. She wasn't going to rid of them easily, best, she thought, to let Nicholas drive her to his place, she could unload him and then continue her drive. "Fine." "Good," Schanke pronounced, pleased with his peace making efforts. He wondered if he should have mentioned to Nick that Janette was giving all the signs of woman heavily into a P.M.S. driven snit. Nah, let him figure it out for himself. "I'll drop your car off later today, Nick. Night all." He hurried away from the car which was still in the middle of the intersection. Nick looked at Janette and tried to give her a warm, supportive smile. She glared at him frostily and slid over to the passenger's seat. They drove in silence, each thinking their thoughts. Knight was trying to determine the source of his friend's agitation. Though he didn't think hard to figure out what was the probable cause. It had only been a week since Julie Beamer's death. The young hooker had been killed by another confused young woman, Celeste Morgan. Janette had tried to help both women even though they were mortal, drawn to help them because she had been what they were, a prostitute. Even though it had been a thousand years ago, he knew she still remembered it as if it were yesterday. The perfect memory of a vampire was as much a curse at times, he thought, as the hunger for blood. He hadn't talked to Janette since she had been shot by Celeste, Natalie removing the bullets that would become evidence in the case against the woman. He had meant to call her, to visit her at her club, The Raven. Things had been busy down at the station and he hadn't gotten the chance to. Guilt started to settle upon him. Nicholas realized he should have called her, after all, she was his oldest companion. They had been everything to each other over the past eight hundred years and if Janette didn't share his quest to become mortal, she still was his friend. Never complaining, well not too much, if he showed up at her door with a problem. Always coming to help if he needed her. And now that she needed his understanding and support, what had he done? Ignored her. He automatically took his foot off the gas to let the car roll to a stop at the light. Lost in his thoughts he didn't register anything until the passenger door slammed. Janette had vacated the car. Stunned, he sat there for a moment and then saw that she had entered a late night convenience store. Pulling the car over to the side of the street, he killed the engine and got out. Janette strode into the brightly lit store. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do in there but she was tired of sitting in her car and having Nichola ignore her. Was he ashamed of her? Was that the cause of his silence? Had she embarrassed him in front of his ridiculous human friend? Well, what if she did? Walking towards the magazine section she started scanning the racks for the latest fashion magazines. The clerk, a thin, agitated young man stared openly at her. She was definitely not dressed like most of the clientele he had at that time of the morning, even with the stains down the front of her intricate dress. He was startled out of his reverie by the door ringing and announcing another customer. A well dressed blond man entered the store, shot him a polite look, and then went over beside the woman by magazines. "Janette, if you wanted to stop and get a magazine all you had to do was ask," Nicholas spoke quietly. "I need your permission to get out of my car?" she responded testily, picking up the latest issue of Vogue and leafing through it. The persistent hum of the fluorescent lighting grated on her hearing. The smell of cheap exploded food on the instore microwave kept nudging her consciousness. For eight hundred years I've known Janette, Nick thought. Eight hundred years and I still don't understand how I can say one thing to her and she gets an entirely different meaning from it. A meaning that isn't even close to what I intended. "That's not what I meant and you know it." "Do I?" the other vampire peered at him over the magazine. Then lowered her eyes to stare at some of the latest Paris fashions, wondering if her dressmaker could copy the hot little red number with the plunging neckline and scalloped hem. This is not going well, Nick decided. Definitely not the right tack to take. Before he could decide what to say next, she picked up two magazines and went over to the clerk to pay for them. Staying two steps behind her, he followed her out to the car. She stood patiently in front of the passenger's door until he opened it for her. Climbing into the car Nick started driving. They were only a few blocks away from the old warehouse he'd converted into an apartment. He started rehearsing opening lines to conversations, carefully sifting through them to find one that couldn't be twisted back at him. He still hadn't thought of one by the time he pulled in to his usual parking space. Hoping to think of something before they actually got into his home, he got out of the car and walked around to let Janette out. She didn't acknowledge him as she stepped out of the car and strode to the driver's side. "Where are you going?" Nick managed to quickly get over there and stop her from getting in. "I'm leaving." "I thought you agreed to stay at my place for a while." "No, you and your friend, Schanke agreed. I've simply tolerated your presence for as long as I intend to. Now I'm going to be leaving. Good night, Nichola," she stated firmly as she started climbing in to the car. Knight grabbed her arm and prevented her from sitting down. "Janette, you're upset. Why don't you stay and talk?" "I'm not upset," the other vampire retorted, pulling her arm away. "Really? Then why are you acting like somebody's put holy water in your blood? I know you're upset about Julie Beamer and I.." Nick's words were cut short as Janette pushed him back away from her hard enough that he contacted the brick wall beside the car hard. "I am not upset about Julie Beamer. I am not upset about anything," her voice began to rise, eyes tingeing with red as she continued. "I am slightly annoyed that my pleasant evening's drive was rudely interrupted first by some idiot driver and then by some idiot policemen!" She punctuated the last remark by poking Nick's chest with her manicured finger. "Do you always drive after you've had several bottles of blood and wine?" Nick asked the question in a light tone, not wishing to anger her any further. He knew Janette well and could probably estimate within a quarter of a liter how much she'd been drinking in the last few hours. "I am hardly a drunken mortal, Nichola." "No, you're not, that would make it very interesting if some other idiot policemen pulled you over instead of Schanke and I, wouldn't it? Maybe I could fix it but..." "You, why does it have to be about you?" Janette interrupted him angrily. "Would you be embarrassed by me if I got "pulled over"? Or are you just ashamed of me and what I am, Nichola." She turned her back to him, body trembling with agitation, and walked the few steps to the car. Now where did that come from, Nick wondered to himself. Crossing over to his friend he put his arm gently on her shoulder and his mouth close to her ear. "Never, Janette, never." Kissing her tenderly and led her into his home. *** Janette tried again to clean off the front of her dress. It was hopeless, she decided, not even sure if dry cleaning would get out the stain. She felt reluctant to give up the effort, stopping it would mean dealing with Nichola. He had taken her coat as soon as they'd entered his home and then gone off to retrieve some of that horrid cow blood he consumed. He'd placed a glass of it in front of her. Sighing, she commented, "I haven't had enough wine that I've lost my taste buds. I have no intention of touching that," Janette inclined her head towards the glass. "I thought it rude not to offer you something," Nick responded, taking a seat on the chair across from her. He'd considered sitting next to her on the couch but had decided to take things gently. "Too bad about your dress. You'll just have to buy a new one." "Yes," Janette responded. She looked at the man across from her. A surge of annoyance coursed through her again, accompanied by agitation. Crossing her arms, she leaned back in to the couch. Sensing her mood change, and for the millionth time amazed at the speed she could shift emotional gears, Nick leaned towards her. "You never answered me, Janette, what is troubling you?" "Can't a woman go out for a drive on a nice night without something being wrong?" "Of course, you can, I only..." "I'm glad you've given me your permission," Janette snapped at him. "That's not what I meant and you know it. Stop avoiding talking to me about what's really on your mind by attacking me for every sentence I utter. I know that trick and its not going to work." "You mean you finally figured out why I do it? And it only took you eight hundred years, remarkable." "Janette," Nick said lightly, exasperation tingeing the word. He left the chair to sit beside her on the couch and began to gently run his hand down the side of her face. The back of his fingers delicately brushing her cheek. He did this for a minute or two, encouraged that she didn't pull away from him. "Ah, Janette," he finally spoke again, keeping his voice low. "What have I done to make you so angry with me?" He let his fingers trace a line down the center of her forehead as if to smooth away a furled brow. She didn't react, so he h moved his hand to caress the back of her neck. "Nothing. You've done nothing, Nichola," the woman sat herself up straighter in the couch but did not pull away from her friend. The man could be so irritating at times, she thought to herself, always knowing how to get what he wanted from her. Wether it was helping him do something foolish or getting her to tell him what he wanted to know. "You were not the one taken in by lying mortals. You were not the one who was shot. You weren't the one who..." Janette abruptly stood up, back to Nick. "Who what? Who showed compassion?" "I was an idiot! I should have known better." "So now you feel foolish? Is that what's bothering you?" Nick left the couch and walked around to face her. "Or is it because even after a thousand years, you could understand their pain so well?" "I am no longer like those women," Janette snapped back. "We are more like mortals than most of us would care to admit. We laugh, we get angry, we even love," Nick explained. "But you hate what you are, Nichola. What I am and what I wish to remain." "But I will never hate you." "Or be ashamed of me?" Janette asked, her body tensing, wishing that she'd never uttered the question aloud as soon as she'd spoken it. "Is that what you thought?" Nick stepped forward to her and touched his forehead lightly to hers. Locking her blue eyes with his, he continued. "I can't lead this life anymore but it doesn't mean that I'm going to stop caring for you. Its the vampire I hate, not Janette. And as for the rest? Who am I to judge what any one else has ever done or been forced to do. I would never be ashamed of you." Drawing his friend into an embrace he held her for several moments. Then he decided it was time to lighten the mood. "Of course, I might have made you ashamed of me at times." "Countless," Janette informed him, pulling away from their embrace. "You took forever to civilize and you do have a tendency to make a fool of yourself over women." "Me?" Nick asked with shock. "Never." "You are such a terrible liar, Nicola," Janette laughed. "You must be holding some sort of world's record in the 'foolish things done for women' category by now." "Yes, and it started with you," Nick grinned and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Oh, no, you can't that tendency on me. You were doing it long before I met you," Janette countered. "And you'll be doing it long after I'm gone." She kissed him on the cheek, turned and left Nick's home. ********************************************************** Maddog - A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Too Much Caffeine and Chocolate