Date:         Thu, 4 Mar 1999 18:14:31 -0500 
From: vampwrtr@INNOCENT.COM 
Subject:      Out of Tune 01/01 
To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu 

FOREVER KNIGHT

"Out of Tune"

for McL

The first light of predawn was in the sky when LaCroix landed in the
alleyway behind the Raven.  A van sporting a light bulb logo was just
pulling away, and for a moment, the Ancient was blinded by its headlights.
He glared at the driver, who smiled in turn at him.  LaCroix shook his
head; stupid mortal was lucky he wasn't breakfast....

He opened the alley door and walked into the Raven, which was dark and
quiet.  He felt quite tired, and let out a sigh of air as he walked to the
bar.  He began to pour himself a glass of blood, when a voice in the dark
startled him, causing him to spill some of the liquid down the side of the
glass.

"It's about time.  Pushing it a little, aren't you?"

He hadn't heard her come in, nor did he sense her, but he tried to cover
it, "I was....busy."

Janette moved closer, "Busy, or just afraid to come home?"

LaCroix looked at her, smiled and took a long sip from his glass.  He
gently set it down on the bar and looked at her once again.

"Are you threatening me, Janette?"

His smile was one of warning, and Janette could feel that, but she was
still so angry with him, she didn't really care.  She moved closer toward
his face, leaning over the bar.

"Of course not, mon pere."

He leaned in, kissed her lightly on the lips and picked up his glass once
more.  Grabbing the bottle in the other hand, he headed toward the back
stairs.

He spoke to her over his shoulder as he went, "I knew you'd come to your
senses once you had some time to think on it.  Good night....."

He disappeared into the back.

Janette's smile grew wider, "Yes, it will be a good night.  For me."

****************

The first thing LaCroix had done upon entering his bedroom at dawn, was to
check it, just in case.  He knew his daughter's temper, and it wouldn't do
to be so arrogant as to think she might not retaliate for his little
indulgences of the previous night.  Everything in his room was in order.
LaCroix had gone to sleep, secure in the knowledge that Janette had
realised it had been her own cantankerous attitude that had caused him to
clean out her closet and drawers.

After a much needed sleep, he allowed himself to finish the bottle he had
opened that morning.  He reached out with his senses; no sign of Janette in
the apartment.  He frowned, that was slightly odd, but, no matter.  He
stepped into the shower, and let the hot water cascade over him.  The
warmth felt especially good on his muscles, which he had subconsciously
been holding taut.

He padded into his bedroom and over to the closet, and extracted a black
suit, which he put on.  He looked at himself in the mirror; he loved an
Armani, it added a touch of elegance to his intimidating presence.  He
looked at his watch, and realised that he had slept longer than usual, and
he needed to get to his soundbooth.

As he headed toward the door to the apartment, he stopped and frowned.  No,
Janette was not here.  He shrugged, she was probably downstairs already.
He walked out the door and descended the stairs.  He opened the door to his
soundbooth, walked in, and closed it behind him, switching on the lights.
He glanced at his watch once again.  He had time to check his e-mail before
the show.

He walked over to the desk in the corner, behind the soundboard, and opened
the laptop.  He hit a key and the computer screen snapped into life.  He
signed onto the 'net and downloaded his mail.  He tried to open the first
one, but instead of getting an open piece of mail, the computer spoke to
him.

"Revenge, gentle listeners, is like the sweetest taste of nectar upon one's
tongue.  It holds the promise of delights to come."

LaCroix frowned.  It was his voice, from a monologue he had recorded some
time ago.  Obviously someone was having fun at his expense.  His eyes
narrowed.  No, not some nondescript person in the dark, but rather, his
daughter.  He sighed as he tried to open the next piece of mail, and his
own voice assaulted him once again.

"In the end, mes amis, one must be sure of one's friends, and one's
enemies.  It is never wise to start a war, when one is not entirely sure of
one's opponent's resources."

LaCroix rolled his eyes, "Oh good grief...."

It was fairly clear that he wasn't going to be able to access his e-mail.
But before he could shut down the program, an image of a wooden stake
flashed upon the computer screen, the computer screamed bloody murder, and
then the screen went black.  Out, gone, dead.  LaCroix merely raised an
eyebrow.  Was that the best she could muster?  He was disappointed.

He looked at his watch, it was time for his broadcast.  He could deal with
Janette later.  He slammed the laptop closed.  He stalked over to his
soundboard, sat down and pulled the mic close to his mouth.  He flicked a
switch on his sound board, and instead of the "on air" light engaging, the
lights in the booth went dark.

"Shit...." was all he muttered.

He sighed.  He didn't need the lights to see, but he began to wonder just
how far Janette had gone with her little idea of a prank.  He flicked
another switch, and the power on the sound board roared to life.  At least
she hadn't totally ruined his broadcast.  In the dark, he adjusted the mic
once again.  He flicked another switch on the sound board, and was rewarded
with a flickering "on air" light; still not broadcasting.  He hit another
button, and an unidentified casette began to roll in the tape deck, filling
the booth with very loud polka music.  Worse than just that, it was out of
tune polka music.  LaCroix slammed his eyes shut against the offending
noise and covered his ears.  The decibel level was deafening to one of his
kind.

He began hitting buttons on his sound board randomly, looking for one that
would shut the thing down.  He had no luck, other than to cause the lights
in the room to switch on and off, and the music to switch from polka to rap
to mariachis to some Bible-thumping minister preaching his guts out, then
back to polka again.  Within minutes, the lights on his phone were lit up
like a Christmas tree.  He was sure his audience was wondering why they had
dead air instead of his show.

A growl escaped his lips as he continued fiddling with the switches, having
absolutely no luck in shutting down the disaster around him.  His eyes
began to glow first amber, then red, as his anger grew.  He couldn't take
the noise anymore, his ears were killing him.  In a fit of rage, LaCroix
picked up his chair and smashed it into the console repeatedly, until
finally, peace was restored, along with blessed silence.  The lights on the
board flickered out and died.  LaCroix had slain the errant beast.

The door to the sound booth opened quickly, and Nick walked in, a slight
look of worry upon his face.  LaCroix growled in his direction, flashing
his fangs in warning; he hadn't even realised it was his own son.  Nick
reached for the light switch and flicked it, the lights illuminating the
mess that was now the sound booth.  The two vampires stared at one another,
dumbfounded for different reasons.

Nick was the first to speak, "Why were you in the dark?"

LaCroix growled, "I can assure you, had it been my choice, I would not have
been...."

"Then why didn't you turn them on?"

LaCroix snarled at Nick, and Nick stared at LaCroix.  There was something
more in the air, and Nick was going to uncover it.

"LaCroix?"

"What?"

"Why did you smash your console?"

LaCroix glared at Nick for a moment, then finally spoke, "Why are you here,
Nicholas?"

"I was...concerned."

"Concerned?"

"Well, I assume that polka music isn't your out of tune choice...."

LaCroix' eyes opened wide in irritation, "You mean to tell me that all of
this went out on the air?"

"Afraid so...."

LaCroix' chin slumped to his chest in defeat, a groan escaping from him.

Nick, beginning to enjoy LaCroix' predicament, continued, "There was the
polka music, followed by rap, then some ecstatic man going on about coming
home to Jesus, then more polka."

LaCroix' lips curled up in a sneer, "I'll kill her.  I will positively kill
her."

LaCroix started in a rage for the door, but Nick stopped him, "Who,
LaCroix?  Who are you going to kill?"

LaCroix' lips were so tight his consonants snapped in his mouth, "Your
sister.....daughter........whatever.  She's dead where she stands."

Nick tried to stifle a grin, but he was losing.

LaCroix glared at him, "And just what, prey tell, is so damned funny, Nicholas?"

Nick bent down toward a wall outlet and pulled out the plug to the sound
board, "Why didn't you just unplug the thing?"

LaCroix positively roared as his eyes glowed red.  Nick decided getting out
was his best option, which he did, slamming the door behind him.  In his
rage, LaCroix began ripping apart his sound booth.  Nick shook his head,
grinning, and walked out to the bar.  Maurice and Janette were there,
waiting for him.

"Well?"  Janette asked.

"Well....if I were you, Janette, I think I might get out of town for
awhile.  He isn't taking it very well."

"He's such a spoiled sport," Janette purred, smiling.

Maurice looked at Janette, "Now Miss Janette, you have to admit, hiring an
electrician to come in here and rewire his sound booth was a tad more than
just devious."

Janette laughed, "He can dish it out, Maurice, but he can't take it."  Both
men looked at her, she looked back, "What?  So he doesn't like polka and
mariachis, so what?  It was only in his soundbooth, it's not as if I put it
on his broadcast....."

Her voice drifted away as she caught the look on Nick's face.  Her face
took on a slightly fear-filled look as the realisation hit her.

"Oh no.  Non.  I did not tell that idiot electrician to send any of that
out as a broadcast.  He was supposed to have a tape of one of LaCroix' old
shows--"

An steely voice broke in, "--Well, he didn't....."

They all turned to see a very provoked LaCroix standing behind them, his
eyes barely able to maintain their blue colour.  Nick instinctively put
himself in between Janette and LaCroix, and  Maurice suddenly found
something else to do on the other side of the bar.

LaCroix glared at Janette, "Well Janette, what have you to say for
yourself?  Give me one good reason why I should not stake you where you
stand?"

A stab of defiance caused Janette to stand clear of Nick and approach
LaCroix.  Her face full of its own fury.

"Oh, it is alright for you to give my gowns to bag ladies, and toss my
lipsticks in the garbage; but I am not to look for revenge?  Ha.  It was
you who taught me that revenge is the best way to attain satisfaction."

While LaCroix stifled an inward smile, the look upon his face remained as
irked as ever.  He could not help but be entertained, and to a certain
extent, pleased.  Janette was most definitely his child.  But he couldn't
let her see his pride.  His face turned positively stony; he wasn't quite
finished with the entire charade.  There was one more lesson to be
rendered.

He leaned very close, into her face, "I shall give you a ten second head
start; no more, no less."

"And if you catch me?"

"If I catch you, Janette, you will regret it most profoundly."

His smile was positively frightening.  Janette didn't wait for another word
to be spoken.  In a whoosh of air, she was gone.  LaCroix smiled.  Nick
glared at him.

"I'm not going to allow you to kill her, LaCroix..."

LaCroix turned to Nick, "Oh don't be a dolt, Nicholas, I'm not going to
kill her."

Nick was slightly confused, "You're not?"

"Of course not.  What a waste it would be, to deprive the world of so
devious a mind."  He smiled, then added, "It's just too bad for her that
mine is slightly more developed in that area."

"LaCroix...."

"Not to worry, Nicholas, I told you I wouldn't harm her, and I won't."  He
paused, then, "I'm merely going to let her think I will kill her, then in
her relief that I do not, she'll be rather.....pliable."

Nick rolled his eyes, "LaCroix, don't you ever tire of all these games?"

LaCroix giggled fiendishly as he glanced at his watch, "Time's up, my
pretty Janette...."  He looked once more at Nick, "Games, my dear Nicholas,
are but one of life's pleasures.  Especially when one has the upper hand."

LaCroix was gone before Nick could answer.  Maurice walked back over and
placed a glass in front of Nick, who shook his head in LaCroix' direction.

"One of these days, Maurice, he'll meet his match in the departments of
depravity and deceit.  I just hope I'm around to see it."

Maurice's face was lit with a very knowing smile, "I dare say, lad, that
day might be today."

Nick frowned at the Irishman, "Maurice, what do you know that I don't?
Tell me.  You have to tell me...."

"Let's just say that Miss Janette knows him a damned site better than he
thinks she does, and leave it at that, hmmm?"

Maurice smiled a confident, if not annoying smile, and walked away.  Nick
sipped his drink and wondered what Janette had in store for LaCroix.  It
didn't really matter though; whatever it was, the old man deserved it - And
if for no other reason, than wiping that smug, overly confident smile off
his face once and for all.  Amusement began to spread across Nick's lips.
A lesson well learned for both of them really:  Never try to outsmart a
woman.  It can only lead to a ruined career, bounced cheques, or worst of
all, a bruised ego; the latter of which, Nick was quite sure was heading
his father's way.  He almost felt sorry for LaCroix.  Almost, but not
quite.  Nick raised his glass, as if in toast.

"Give him hell, Janette.  For both of us."

fin

4 March 1999

end part 01
vampwrtr@innocent.com
http://members.aol.com/vampwrtr/forever_lacroix/