Date         Fri, 10 Jul 1998 112441 +1200
Reply-To Anthea <anthea@IHUG.CO.NZ>
Sender Forever Knight TV show stories <FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU>
From Anthea <anthea@IHUG.CO.NZ>
Subject      Meetings 1/2
To FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU
Status   

Ok, for anyone who read 'Conversation With The Vampire',  this is an
expansion on one of the incidents referred to in that.  Thanks to Kelly  )
for beta-ing.

Usual disclaimers - the FK guys aren't mine (oh, but I wish they were!), but
Catherine is (just don't call her Mary Sue p).

Permission to archive at Mel Mosers's fiction site - anyone else, ask first.

Warning, warning - there's a couple of rude words (no worse than anything on
South Park) and some implied sexual content (again, no worse ...).

Any comments to anthea@ihug.co.nz.   Any flames to marshmallow@campfire.co.

Here we go


MEETINGS

The green Cadillac purred along, its two passengers -- a blond man and a
red-haired woman -- both silent.

<This has got to have been the weirdest evening of my life.  Here I am,
being driven home by a really cute guy, who's saved me from a mugger by
snarling and growing fangs, which is because he's an honest-to-God
*vampire*!  What are you, Cath, the weird guy magnet?  How did you get
yourself into this?>

"Hey there.  Still with me?"

"Huh?  Oh ... yeah.  Cool car, by the way.  Fins.  Neat."

"Trunk space."

"What?"

"Very large trunk space on the 62 Caddy."

"But why ... oh.  I see.  Can't be all that comfortable though."

"It does for emergencies."

<The guy sleeps in the trunk of his car!  Argh!  Still, it's better than a
coffin.  I wonder if he ... nah.  Surely not.  I *hope* not.>

"This is me, on the left ...  just here."

"I'll walk you up."

<Oh yes, yes, yes.  This could be it, my lucky night.  This one's special.
Just what I'm doing, I don't know, but hey, I think he's worth it.  God, I
must be insane.>

They paused at the door to her apartment, waited while she fumbled with the
keys <dammit, not cool, not cool at all>, then she stopped just inside the
door, and said hesitantly   "I can't exactly offer you coffee, but would
like you to come in anyway?" <damn and blast, I'm blushing!>

"No, Catherine, that wouldn't be a good idea.  It's best that you forget
about me," <oh, those sad blue eyes.  Who could forget them?>

"I don't think that's going to happen, Nick.  I can confidently say that the
events of tonight -- meeting you -- has changed my life.  You've given me a
glimpse into a world that I never dreamed existed -- a world that I want to
know more about.  And I want to know more about *you*.  I want -"

"No.  You *don't* want to know about me.  You don't want to know about the
endless darkness and the hunger.  It's bad enough that you now know such
things exist -- put them out of your mind.  Forget us."

"Forget you?  How am I supposed to do that?  We already know hypnotizing me
doesn't work, and I hardly think that tonight is just going to slip my mind.
You can't know what this has meant to me."

At that, Nick turned to go.

"Please, Nick - don't go."  She reached out, put a hand on Nick's arm,
gasping at the coldness of the flesh.  Her voice dropped to a whisper
"Stay with me."

He shook his head and left.

She closed the door slowly behind him, then turned and hit the wall,
swearing, feeling frustrated, foolish, and embarrassed.  "Well, don't we
feel stupid now!  Honestly, do you specialize in making a fool of yourself,
girl?"

A cool voice answered her  "It would appear so."

She gasped with shock, swinging round to see the speaker.  It was the man
who had stopped to talk to Nick earlier, tall, with cropped blond hair and
cold blue eyes.  From the way Nick had reacted to him, she'd guessed that he
was also one of *them*.

"You!  What the hell are you doing here?"  Shock was giving way to anger.
How dare this man -- or whatever he was -- intrude into her home.  "No, I
don't care what you're doing here - I didn't invite you so get the hell
out!"

"I need no invitation.  I go where I please," was the calm reply.

The sheer arrogance fueled her anger  "Look, pal, I *know* what you are.
I don't know what rules you live by, although courtesy clearly isn't one of
them, and I don't care.  What I do know is that you're in my home and I
don't want you here, so GET OUT NOW!  I'm not in the mood for this!"

"Indeed."  One eyebrow lifted, getting a furious glare from Catherine in
return.  "So Nicholas has been ... indiscreet again.  I thought as much.  I
assume he has unburdening himself about his long life and incessant guilt --
it's a very tiresome habit of his.  Unfortunately, his guilt is now
about to be increased by the sum of yet one more mortal life.  Yours.  I
will not tolerate Nicholas' indiscretions any further."



At that, the fear came walloping back, blanking out any rational thought.
The animal instincts kicked in run, hide .... FIGHT!  Catherine grabbed
the first thing to hand that remotely resembled a weapon and swung it, hard.
The frying pan connected with the side of LaCroix's head with a satisfying
'thwack', but the blow didn't seem to register.  Dropping it, she went for
the knife block <by God, I'll see the colour of the bastard's blood before
I'm through!>, but never reached it.  She was grabbed from behind, and
pinned against her attacker's body with one iron-hard arm.  His free hand
went to her neck, pushing her hair away, pulling her head back.  <oh dear
God, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, it's NOT FAIR!>

"Why do you struggle so hard?  What sort of life can you have, that, knowing
what Nicholas is, you beg him not to leave you?"

"I *never* - ", she began furiously, through gritted teeth, but was cut off.

"I was here, I heard you.  You all but offered yourself to him.  Do you hold
your life so cheap, so worthless?  Are you so alone that it does not matter
if you live or die?  Is there no-one your death will touch?"

The mellow, soothing voice made the viciously barbed words hurt all the
worse.  Catherine began struggling again, twisting helplessly against the
encircling arm.  The words hit deep, so deep that a small voice buried far
within told her to stop fighting, to submit, to welcome oblivion.  <no,
that's what he *wants*!  I won't give in, I WON'T !>

Almost incoherent now with rage and fear, she was only able to spit  "Screw
you, you bastard!"

She could *hear* him smile as he murmured "Charming to the last".  As he
moved his hand to push her head to one side, she twisted again, ducked her
head, and bit down as hard she could, hard enough to draw blood.  The effect
was electrifying, for both parties.

The room seemed to spin away and disappear as Catherine's mind filled with
images from LaCroix's very long past.  Her knees buckled and she fell back
against him, only his arm still around her preventing her from falling.  As
for LaCroix, the sheer audacity of the action stunned him for a moment, and
then the vampiric pleasure of being bitten flowed through him.  He pulled
Catherine's head back again, but this time, instead of going for the throat,
he turned her to face him and kissed her long and deeply.

<oh God, what's happening ... oh my God ... don't let me go ... don't stop>

LaCroix finally broke the kiss, by which time Catherine was unable to stand
and had almost forgotten how to breathe.  Blue eyes, holding equal measures
of desire and confusion, met unreadable gold eyes.  LaCroix bent his head
again, but this time his lips traveled down her neck until they rested on
the spot where the pulse throbbed strongest.

<He's going to bite me ... is he going to kill me? ... I don't care, just
don't let it end>

He did indeed bite her, but only briefly, gently, a taste, no more.  Not the
tearing, throat-rending bite of the kill.  He held her until she had
regained some stability, meanwhile reconsidering his earlier intention of
simply disposing of her as an object lesson to Nicholas.  Defiance had
always held a certain charm; after all, it was one of the qualities in
Nicholas which had held his attention for nearly eight hundred years.  She
could prove interesting ...

Having made up his mind, he stepped away from her and raised her hand to his
lips.  "Until tomorrow, my dear."  No sooner had he spoken the words than he
was gone.  Catherine stood alone in the middle of the room for a moment,
dazed and bewildered.  She dropped limply into a chair, mentally replaying
the events of the last -- what had it been?  Ten minutes, no more.  It felt
like half a lifetime.  She touched a hand to her neck, wincing slightly,
then stared, fascinated, at the blood on her fingers.  She closed her hand
into a fist and bowed her head, unable to quite believe what had just
happened.  Then she thought again of LaCroix's last words, and she began to
smile, her lips curving slowly into a wide, anticipatory grin.  "Until
tomorrow, then.  I'll be waiting."


The End


By Anthea Armstrong      anthea@ihug.co.nz    ICQ 12553091