Giving Thanks (A Nissa Story) 
Sequel of sorts to "Trick Or Treat, Smell My Feet, 
Give Me Something Good To Eat" 
by Imajiru 
imajiru@mindspring.com 
imajiru@unicorn-x.net
November 24, 1997


Mom was wearing mitten-style potholders, opening the oven 
door to baste the turkey, and making the house smell 
heavenly; Daddy was standing behind her, drinking out of 
one of the dark-glass bottles and sniffing the air 
wistfully; the big-screen TV was displaying the Macy's 
parade, and the radio was playing Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's 
Restaurant"... it was Thanksgiving, and it was perfect.

Nissa padded through the house silently, resplendent in 
flowered flannel nightgown and bunny slippers.  She slipped 
into the kitchen and dipped two fingers into the bowl of 
leftover stuffing, came up with a handful and shoved it 
into her mouth; she wiped her hand on a dishtowel and went 
over to hug her daddy, who freed one hand from the bottle 
to stroke her hair.

"Don't spoil your appetite," warned Mom without bothering 
to turn, and Nissa mouthed an automatic agreement:  "Okay, 
Mom," even as she ducked behind her mother's back to snag 
another gob of stuffing.

Her Thanksgiving essay was hung on the refrigerator, 
elaborately marked with a gold star and a big "A+" on 
top... her parents had been so proud. Nissa, however, had 
been annoyed.  She'd gone all the way back to ancient 
America to research that report, and what she'd learned 
about the true origins of the holiday had been completely 
useless -- there was no way she could use any of it; so 
she'd had to spend hours at the library and on the Internet 
researching the "official" history in order to come up with 
a paper that her teacher would believe, and accept.

One thing she'd learned: the history she'd been taught in 
school bore little or no relation to what had really 
happened.  Something she would be sure to remember, in the 
future.

Daddy yawned; his hand stilled in her hair.  "I'm going to 
lie down for awhile," he said, almost apologetically.

"You do that," said Mom, "you had a long night.  And I want 
you awake and at the table for dinner," and Nissa, glancing 
up, caught the small grimace that crossed his face.  Sooner 
or later, it would occur to him to wonder why his daughter 
never questioned the fact that he never ate... but Daddy 
had so far been complacently content, and Nissa didn't feel 
like rocking the boat.

In her more mischievous moments, she imagined that she'd 
save the revelation of her knowledge for the 'right time' -
- like when she wanted something expensive, or her first 
bra, or her first date, or a new car. Now *that* would be 
the time to mention that she knew her daddy was a 
vampire...

"And you," Mom said, turning to her, "do you think you 
could keep yourself out from underfoot for a little while?"

"Sure, Mom," said Nissa, and escaped to her room.

-------

She'd been thinking, for awhile, about what might be an 
appropriate journey for this holiday.  Originally, she'd 
planned to try going back to colonial days, but she'd 
already *done* that, and it was far overrated...  She'd 
considered going to the Macy's Parade, too, but she'd 
already done that in real-time two years ago, with Mom and 
Daddy.  No, she wanted to do something new; to go somewhere 
she hadn't gone before.

On the little TV on her nightstand, the announcer was 
talking about the snowstorm that had blanketed the 
Northeast.  It never snowed in Phoenix, Nissa thought 
wistfully.  And snow was so much fun...

She closed her eyes, and thought about snow, and when she 
felt the air grow chill around her, she knew that she'd 
Arrived.  Somewhere.  Somewhen.

Opening her eyes, she found herself on an empty nighttime 
street, white flakes drifting down... she shivered, and 
cursed under her breath.  She'd been doing this long enough 
to know better; she should have donned a coat, or at least 
a sweater.  Instead, here she was in her nightgown and 
slippers in the middle of the street.  Not a good move: not 
only was she cold, she was noticeable.

She knew that she should go back, don proper apparel before 
proceeding; but instead, Nissa moved down the street, 
enjoying the feel of the wafting snowflakes despite the 
cold.

At the intersection, she looked up and gasped:  so *this* 
was where she'd gone!  The dome of the Capitol sparkled in 
the background, instantly recognizable.  So now she knew 
where she was -- *when* was another matter. And *when* was 
always the hardest thing to discern: "Excuse me, can you 
tell me what year this is?" wasn't a question likely to 
receive a satisfactory answer, not in any century.

Well, she wasn't completely clueless -- it was wintertime, 
and it was nighttime, and sometime within the same decade 
she'd left, for things looked pretty much the same.  And 
there were no people around, which meant that there was a 
good chance that it was a holiday night...

"Hey!" came the sound of a man's voice, and she turned, for 
it held overtones of friendly concern.  "Are you lost?  
Here, put this on," and Nissa watched the man struggle out 
of his coat, tug a sweatshirt over his head, then slide 
quickly back into the overcoat.  "What are you doing out 
here all alone, in the middle of the night, in your 
pajamas?"

"Going for a walk," Nissa answered.  "I like the night-
time," and enjoyed the man's bemused expression.

She slid into the sweatshirt, which was 'way too big for 
her, and waited for the inevitable slew of questions -- but 
instead the man just shrugged, and said, "I like the night-
time too; but *I* wear a coat when I go out walking."

Nissa laughed.  "I forgot," she said truthfully.  "I wanted 
to go and play in the snow, and I didn't think first."

The man knelt in front of her, studying her with interest.  
"Haven't your parents ever told you not to talk to 
strangers?" he asked her.

"Yep," she said securely, "but you're not *that* strange," 
which provoked a wry laugh.

"Actually, I am kind of strange," he replied, with a hint 
of melancholy in his voice that she didn't understand, "but 
it's okay," and he reached into his pocket and produced a 
wallet, opened it and displayed the badge and i.d. card 
within.

Nissa took it from his hand and studied it closely.  She 
knew a fake i.d. when she saw one, and this wasn't one.  
Not that she'd been worried.  She'd encountered strange men 
before, in her travels through time and space and 
unreality, and things far stranger than ordinary perverts, 
and she'd learned to trust her ability to escape from 
danger.  As well, she'd learned to trust her instincts -- 
and they told her that she was utterly safe with this man.

She closed the wallet and handed it back to him with a 
small nod, and he nodded back and took it.  "So your 
parents don't mind that you go wandering the streets at 
night?"

"They don't know," she said, "they think I'm sitting in my 
room, waiting for the turkey to be ready."  Instantly, she 
regretted the slip -- then wondered: //Is it Thanksgiving 
here, too?//

Apparently, it was.  The man's lips twitched slightly.  
"Lucky you," he remarked.  "I don't have anyone to cook 
*me* a turkey."

"Not *any*one?"  Nissa wondered at that.  He was a good-
looking man -- Jenny would have been batting her eyelashes 
at him and drooling -- and surely there was some woman, 
somewhere, who would have been perfectly happy to invite 
this man over for dinner, and more.

He shrugged.  "My partner invited me to dinner, but I... I 
dunno.  This is a family time..."

"Family," said Nissa, thinking of her own odd clan, "is a 
relative concept."  She raised her eyebrow at him.  "No pun 
intended."

This elicited another startled, pleased laugh.  "Speaking 
of which," said the man, finally getting around to the 
inevitable question, "don't you think we should be seeing 
about getting you home to yours?"

"Oh, I'll get home in time for dinner," said Nissa, 
grinning.  "Right now, I just want to play in the snow," 
and she headed off, walking past him, knowing that he would 
follow.

He fell into step beside her, adjusting his long-legged 
stride to match hers.  "I don't suppose it's occurred to 
you that it isn't really safe for a young girl to be 
wandering around D.C. at night," he mentioned.

"S'okay," answered Nissa, wondering how long she could keep 
this up: eventually, inevitably, he would insist on calling 
the police, or taking her home, and she'd have to make a 
speedy getaway.  For now, though, she liked the company.  
"I'm perfectly safe."

"No one is that safe," said the man grimly, and looking up 
at him, she saw shadows cross her face, echoes of 
bitterness and sadness that made her want to hug him, the 
same way she hugged her daddy when he got that faraway, 
unhappy look on his face.

Then something past him caught her attention, a gleam in 
the shadows, and she stopped dead in her tracks to look.

It looked back at her, and she *knew* that look: the hot 
yellow eyes, the preternatural stillness -- she didn't 
recognize the face, but she knew what type of face it was.

"You're right," she said to her new friend, letting the 
childlike tone slide away from her voice, taking on a sound 
of mature authority.  "It's not safe here.  Let's go," and 
she started moving faster, toward the brighter streets 
ahead.

His arms scooped her up, and he carried her, moving faster 
than her legs would have taken her; she noted that he 
didn't bother to question her instinct toward flight, 
merely obeyed it, as if he was used to unexpected danger.  
Which considering his line of work, was probably true...  
But it was following them, and the gun her new friend 
carried wouldn't do any good; she scrambled around in his 
arms to gaze back, over his shoulder, toward the figure 
that moved swiftly through the shadows.

She focused her attention on the predator, reached inward 
and focused her will, gathering the essence of everything 
that was inhuman and unnatural within her, and projecting 
it as fiercely as she could.  "Go away!" she shouted.  
"Leave us alone!"

The predator stopped -- and so did her new friend.  He 
turned, setting her down and moving to shield her behind 
himself, drawing his weapon... and she stepped around him 
and planted herself squarely in front of him, between the 
man and the predator that stalked them.  "Take a good look 
at me," she said strongly, "look at me, look at who I am.  
Touch either of us, and you'll never be safe.  My family 
will hunt you down..."

And Nissa felt the predator 'look' at her, with its 
enhanced senses -- heard the subliminal sound of flight, as 
it took off.

She relaxed.  "Put that thing away," she said, glancing 
back and up at the wary man behind her.  "It's gone, now."

He didn't holster the gun; his eyes flickered toward her.  
"What was it?" he asked.  With surprise, Nissa realized 
that he'd never doubted her, not for an instant: he'd known 
that they were being hunted, had believed her without 
question.

"It was a vampire," she said, just to see what he'd say.

The man made an odd sound; not quite disbelief, more like 
disgust.  "A vampire," he repeated.  "Yeah, right."  But 
there was something wrong with his voice: no, not 
disbelief, not at all.

"My daddy's a vampire," Nissa told him, again to see what 
he'd say.

"And your mommy's an elven changeling," the man said, in a 
polite tone.

"No, my mom's a forensic pathologist," she informed him.

That made him smile.  "So's my partner," he said.

"Yeah, right," Nissa scoffed.

Her new friend laughed aloud.  "I guess I deserved that," 
he said ruefully.

"You did," she agreed.  "Come on."

"Where?" he wanted to know.

"I came all the way here to play in the snow," Nissa 
reminded him, "and now I want to build a snowman.  And 
you're going to help me, or else."

"Or else what?  You're going to turn into a vampire and 
bite me?" he challenged.

"Nope," she said.  "I just won't give you back your 
sweatshirt," and trotted off.

-------

They built a snowman.  It was a fine snowman, almost as 
tall as he was; and when they were finishing up the head, 
using pennies for eyes, a woman came to stand beside them 
and watch.

The man seemed to know her; he greeted her by tossing a 
handful of snow in her direction, and she replied by 
packing a snowball and hitting him squarely in the 
shoulder.

When things escalated to a full-fledged snowball fight, 
Nissa left them there: the man looked much happier than he 
had when she'd first met him, now that his friend was here 
-- and as for the aforementioned friend, Nissa had the 
feeling that she wouldn't be quite so easily swayed; only a 
matter of time before the woman insisted on taking her to 
her parents.  So she ducked behind a bush and closed her 
eyes: warmth surrounded her, and the smell of turkey, and 
she knew she was home.

Too late, she remembered that she was still wearing the 
man's sweatshirt; she pulled it off and gazed at it -- 
"Oxford", it said -- folded it neatly and placed it on the 
top shelf of her closet, beside the box where she kept the 
dragon's tooth, and the magic ring, and all the other 
souvenirs she'd garnered from her travels.

//Good thing Mom respects my privacy,// she thought, as she 
changed into dry clothes.

Nissa emerged from her room into the middle of a standoff: 
her mom and her daddy were on one side of the living room, 
looking defensive, and on the other end of the room was 
LaCroix, as haughty and imposing as ever.

//Okay, how do I handle this?// she thought, and instantly 
had her answer. "Grandpa!" she shouted, raced across the 
room and leapt into his arms.

He caught her, the air of superiority dissolving into a 
fond smile. "Hello, child," he said, tousling her hair.  
His hand came away wet; he glanced at the evaporating snow 
crystals clinging to his fingertips and frowned at her 
slightly...  Nissa met his gaze levelly, knowing that he 
would not probe.  Not now, when the situation at hand 
demanded all his attention.

She twisted her head around to look at her parents.  "I 
asked Grandpa if he could come over for Thanksgiving 
dinner," she said, in her best innocent-childlike voice.  
"It's okay, isn't it?"

Mom and Daddy looked at each other for a long, long moment.  
"I guess so," said Mom at last, very cautiously.

"Great!" Nissa exclaimed.  "Grandpa, I wanna show you my 
Thanksgiving essay... I got an A-plus!"

"Naturally," LaCroix said, as he allowed her to drag him to 
the kitchen and the refrigerator.  "I would expect no less 
from my... grandchild."

Her parents were looking at her *very* strangely... She had 
the feeling that she was going to have a lot of explaining 
to do, later.

But that was all right.  After all, she had so much to be 
thankful for.

--end--