Yes, believe it or not, this is the sequel to "Tomorrow's Tangle". Be
forewarned: it's even longer than its predecessor. Comments eagerly
solicited to lackeyj@indiana.edu, or welshkin@dfw.net, as well as
requests for missing parts, or for previous Kate or Gwen stories. Hope
you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it. No, really. We
mean it.



To the Winds Resign
a sequel to Tomorrow's Tangle
by Sarah Welsh and Jennifer Greenbury Lackey

Part One
Excerpts from Kate's diary, wherein Kate formulates revenge

        I stood on the back porch of my grandmother's house - my house
now - and looked out across the yard in the moonlight.  Funny how I had
spent so much time here and the moonlight view of the house was still
unfamiliar to me.  It's the only way I'll ever see it now, I guess.  But
all my memories of that backyard are in the sunlight, playing with my
dog.  He wasn't really my dog, of course, just one of the strays who
lived in the neighborhood.  But he had come back every afternoon to play
with me for the couple of years I had lived in that house, and in the
winter I had smuggled him into the back room at night to keep him warm.
I think my grandmother knew he was there, but she never said anything
about it.  I found out later that he'd kept coming around for a few
months after I left until some boys down the street started throwing
rocks at him. After that he disappeared. That was when I still had friend
on the street who wrote me letters to tell me what was happening.  It
hadn't lasted very long.  Children's memories are short.  I was shipped
off to my mother, the house was sold, and Life Went On.
        But now the house is mine again, really mine.  It's still hard to
believe the way Gwen just gave me that money, like my grandmother used to
give away cups of starter for her friendship bread.  I had to use it in
the same way too:  keep some back to make more.  "Touch no more than a
million," Gwen said.  "The rest of it stays in the bank. You live off the
interest, which will grow larger and larger over time, if you're careful.
And you won't have to worry about money again."  It had been ridiculously
easy to get the house and the necessary renovations done to the basement
apartment for  a fraction of what Gwen allowed me.  Mortal minds are such
weak things.  I know I'm by no means LaCroix' equal in hypnotism, but the
lessons Gwen gave me in Mind Control 101 were more than enough to
convince the silly family that had been living here that I was doing them
a favor by taking the house off their hands. Hypnotism still seems like a
rather roundabout way of getting what I want, but another of Gwen's
lessons popped into my head: "Never kill anyone you're doing business
with, not in this day and age.  It's vulgar, and dangerous besides.  We
want to avoid undue attention, not attract it."
        I slipped back through the door where the cooling body of my
dinner lay crumpled in a heap.  Gwen had sent enough bottled blood along
with me to feed an army of vampires, but it didn't have the same taste as
the Real Thing. It's not like there was much else to do around here
anyway, and I was careful about who I killed.
        Victims were almost as easy to find in a small country town as in
the big city, as long as you knew what you were looking for.  He had been
one of those men who wander out of nowhere down the roads, hitching rides
when they can in the backs of old pick-ups, working in a farmer's field
today and chopping wood or hauling bales of hay tomorrow for a meal and a
barn or porch to sleep under for the night.  My grandmother had fed quite
a few of them in her day.  They never had names or identifiable ages.
They just kept moving on, while the landscape changed around them.  A lot
like us, actually.  Except, of course, that we're the predators and
they're the prey.  The one I had fed from tonight had skin the color of
leather from his endless days in the sun, and it looked even darker in
contrast with his bleached silver-white hair.  Men like him are so used
to taking whatever the world deals out to them that his eyes hadn't even
widened in surprise when I struck him.  His head was hanging at an odd
angle where I had broken his neck.  I'd take his body out into the
country somewhere tonight and leave it.
        I continued in from the back room to the kitchen and paused a
minute, looking at the phone on the wall.  On an impulse, I snatched up
the receiver and dialed Nick's number.  "Yeah, Nick Knight.  I'm either
in bed or incommunicado...."  I hung up.  The machine.  I didn't want to
leave a message.  I wanted to talk to someone, anyone.  Because the truth
is, no matter how bad I wanted to own this house, no matter how good the
hunting, I can't stand being alone.  I was lonely, and once the
remodeling was done, I was bored.  And there was nothing to do.  Nick was
apparently at work, and I didn't want to call Gwen.  For all I knew, she
might be with LaCroix.  If she was, they were either in bed or on a
battlefield, and I didn't particularly care for my chances if I
interrupted either one of them. I can still remember the beating he gave
me last time I got in his way. He was the reason I was stuck here by
myself in the first place. I hadn't felt safe in Toronto, always looking
over my shoulder, so as soon as Gwen taught me the basics, she sent me
off here to Missouri until he cools down.  If he ever does. Which I
doubt. I might be stuck in this same house for the next century, all
because of him and that stupid diary.
        The diary.  I suddenly remembered something I had been skimming
over before LaCroix came in the room and demanded I read what Gwen had
written about him.  Gwen had been in Missouri too a few years back, in
St. Louis, and she had written about a mortal she had met in a club
there. A mortal who looked an awful lot like Nick. Just like I looked an
awful lot like Natalie.  LaCroix knew what to do with a double. Surely I
could figure out something much better than any of Gwen's plans for
revenge. Of course, it had been a few years, and mortals age quickly.
Would he still look enough like Nick for me to pull this off? Would I
even be able to find him? Only one way to find out.  I locked the front
door to my new house and began to get together a few things I might need
for the trip.  I'd dispose of the corpse on the way to the city.  This
could be just what I needed to amuse myself.

Part Two
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, relating the arrival of an unexpected visitor


        I was preparing to go to the Raven, fussing with my hair and
trying to decide on a pair of shoes when I heard a key in the lock of the
front door. Kate was the only other person who had a key, but she was
still in Missouri. Or so I had thought. I headed downstairs to see what
was happening, and heard her speaking to someone, reassuring them that it
was okay. I had a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. Kate had done
something, I knew without seeing it, and it was something Very Bad. I
never should have let her go to Missouri alone, I thought, as I flew down
the rest of the stairs through sheer impatience.
        I landed in the living room, to see a young mortal, who looked
remarkably like Nick, sitting on the couch, obviously under Kate's
hypnotic influence. The boy from St. Louis. I cursed, in Irish, and
looked at Kate. How did she develop such an unerring instinct for doing
the things which would upset me most? I felt very, very ill.
        "How did you find him?" I asked her. "And why? It took all my
strength to let him go before. It is one of the few things that I've done
in recent years which was a truly benevolent act. Now, he's in great
danger. He'll never emerge unscathed from contact with so many of us. Oh,
Kate." I took a deep breath and decided to sit down. The feeling of doom
that had descended on me upstairs settled in for a long stay. I had never
even mentioned this boy, who looked so like Nicholas, to anyone for fear
of exactly this. I had left St. Louis to protect him. Now, here he sat,
almost five years later, in my living room in Toronto, and all my efforts
to shield him had come to naught. I was angry at Kate, but I primarily
felt unutterably helpless. It seemed nothing good could ever come from
anything I touched. "It was my diary that led you to him, wasn't it?"
        She nodded. Her enthusiasm was unaffected by my obvious
disapproval. "Yeah, of course," she said. "But listen, calm down. I had
the greatest idea to get LaCroix back. He's going to absolutely go nuts.
I remembered what I read about this mortal guy you met who looked like
Nick, and I thought what if I could find him and we'd make LaCroix think
that Nick had actually made it back over, that he became human again? I
know it wouldn't work for too long - he'd catch on after a little while -
but just to see his reaction ... Gwen, isn't that just the most hilarious
idea?"
        At the sound of my name, the boy seemed to snap out of Kate's
thrall, and really looked at me for the first time. "My God," he
whispered, "it's you. It's really you. I've been looking for you, all
over, for years. Every bar, every coffee shop, I always searched the
crowd for you. Where am I? How did I get here? Is this real?" He was
understandably confused. I was understandably overcome with guilt.
        "It's a dream," I told him. "You'll wake up in your own bed, very
soon, without a bit of harm to a single hair on your head." I looked at
Kate, pointedly.
        He shook his head, growing visibly distressed. "But I want to
stay here with you. I don't care if it's a dream, I've dreamt about you
ever since we met. I'm staying here."
        I looked at Kate again, as if to say, you see what you've done. I
caught the boy's eyes, and murmured to him, "Stay here. You won't hear a
word we say, all right?"
        "All right," he agreed, dreamily.
        I pulled Kate into the dining room.  I hissed at her, "You take
him back to Missouri. I don't want to be a party to this boy's death, not
in any way."
        But Kate stared back at me, fiercely, and I was suddenly reminded
of myself at her age. "No," she said. "I won't and you can't make me. I
want my revenge on LaCroix, and I need him to do it. I need you, too." A
crafty look came into her eyes, and she smiled at me. "If you won't help
me, then I'll kill the guy. I swear I will. He'll be a midnight snack.
Come on, Gwen. You know it's a great idea. And you can take care of him
if you're so worried about him. I promise, if you'll just help me with
this, I'll take him back to Missouri right afterwards, and everything
will be just fine."
        I sighed. "Kate, you're in no position to be blackmailing me.
Without my protection Lucien will probably tear you to shreds. You can't
plot against LaCroix yourself. As soon as you get near him, he'll snatch
the thoughts right out of your mind." As usual, Kate had not worked
through the consequences of her actions. And, of course, she wasn't
listening to a word that I said, except for the implied refusal in my
voice.
        "It's not fair," she screamed, stamping her foot so hard that a
painting slid down the wall to fall face-first on the floor. Oh lovely, I
thought. A two-year old in a vampire's body. Now where did I put that
child rearing manual? She continued her diatribe, unaffected by the crash
of the painting. "Do you know what I went through to find him? Those
directions in your diary are not exactly clear. I had to tramp all around
St. Louis looking for that stupid club you stumbled into four years ago,
and then when I finally found it, all I knew was that I was looking for
some guy named Nick with blond hair and blue eyes. You could at least
have found out his last name so I could have looked him up in the phone
book or something. I had to hypnotize about every third waitress in there
before I found one who knew where I could find him. I am not  going to
just take him back, not after all that. If nothing else, he'll make a
good dinner. Or do you think that I won't really kill him? Because I
will. I'm not squeamish about fresh blood like you and Nick are."
        "No, Kate, I have no doubt that you'd kill that boy just to spite
me." I sat down at the table, suddenly feeling every moment my age.
        Kate folded her arms and  waited. "I don't see that it would be
such a  terrible loss if I did kill him," she muttered. "He's got about
as much sense as our own Nick."
        I had to chuckle at that, and the more I thought about the
situation, the funnier it all seemed. I began to laugh helplessly, tears
of mirth gathering in my eyes.
        "What?" Kate asked, scowling at me.
        "I have to admit that is a funny idea. To make Lucien think that
our Nicholas has crossed back over. Can you imagine the look on his
face?" I started laughing again.
        "Yeah,  I thought it was pretty good," she stated dryly.
        I tried to compose myself. I looked at her a bit more seriously,
and added, "But it would put the boy in danger, and I won't accept that."
I have to admit, though, that I almost wished that there were some way to
accomplish it without harming the mortal.
        "Gwen, he's already here," Kate cajoled, apparently switching
tactics. "And you can protect him from LaCroix. I know you can. I don't
even think it would be possible to wipe his memory now that he's seen you
again. He's really stubborn. And he's got it really bad for you. He
didn't seem interested in me at all until  I mentioned your name, and
showed him the portrait in the little locket you gave me. After that, I
hardly had to hypnotize him at all. He wanted to come and find you." She
smiled sweetly at me. "Come on, Gwen. You know  it would be fun."
        "Kate," I admonished her, "that locket is supposed to  be for
your protection. Trust you to find  some way of using it to cause
trouble." I  looked at her for a moment. I never imagined that this
fledgling could cause so much disruption in so many lives. Why is it that
my imagination always fails me at the most crucial moments? Finally, I
asserted, "No, Kate, I refuse to allow this scheme. I don't need yet
another youngster running around who needs to be protected from LaCroix.
And I won't allow you to kill him, either.  Cherie, I don't want us to be
at each other's throats. We'll think of something else to get back at
Lucien. Now, I'm going to go wipe the boy's memory, and you take him back
to Missouri. Come back here, or stay at the country house, it doesn't
matter. But see that he gets there safely. Promise me."
        She eyed me sulkily for a long moment and then nodded, very
reluctantly. I suppose she realized that she was outclassed, for the time
being anyway. I hoped that the boy aged quickly. In another five years,
he'd look too old to be mistaken for our Nicholas de Brabant.
        Kate followed me into the living room, and I got the boy's
attention. "Nicholas, you're going to go home now. And you'll realize
that you had a very normal, average day. No unusual visitors, nothing
unusual at all."
        He looked at me a moment, glassy eyed, and then shook his head as
if to clear it.  "Nothing unusual?" he asked. "I finally see you again,
after years of searching, and that's not unusual?" Kate laughed
triumphantly, and I glared at her.
        "Beautiful," I said sarcastically. I sighed. There would be no
protecting this one. I had no idea what I would do with him, but I
decided that, all things considered, there would be no harm in giving
Lucien a little scare. I'd be there to keep him from hurting the boy.
After that, well, I would just have to think of some way to get the child
back to his old life without permanent damage.
        "My boy," I began, sitting on the couch next to him, "how would
you like to help Kate and me repay a debt to an old friend?"
        His eyes were now clear and alert as he studied me carefully,
seeming to weigh each word. "And how exactly could I be of service?" he
asked.
        "Well, it seems you resemble this friend of ours. Quite amazingly
so, actually. I think all that would be necessary is for you to show
yourself, allowing another friend of ours to believe you are the friend I
mentioned before." This was sounding even more confusing than it was.
        "Do these friends have names?" he asked.
        "Perhaps it would be best if your knowledge of the affair were
kept to a minimum. Their first names are Nicholas, who is the man whom
you resemble, and Lucien." He was not the only one choosing words carefully.
        "Ah," he laughed. "Another Nicholas who looks like me. That's
going to make things confusing."
        "Yeah, well, really, you look like him. He had the face first.
He's quite a bit older than you," Kate interjected in a wry tone.
        I scowled at her. Too much information, I thought at her, wishing
I had the luxury of Lucien's link with her.
        And as I feared, the boy caught the implication of her statement
right away. "If he's so much older  than I am, how can I pass for him, no
matter how briefly?"
        "No need for you to worry about that," I assured him. "Just trust
us to make the scheme work. And if it doesn't, then you're none the worse
off."
        He narrowed his eyes at me. "There's obviously quite a bit going
on here that you aren't willing to share with me. Okay, I'll let it
stand, for now. For your sake, Gwen." He gave me a winning smile. My
stomach twisted, in commiseration with my conscience. Well, the game had
already begun, I thought. He's caught up in it, with or without my
consent. The best thing I can do now, is let the thing play its course,
hope that I can protect him, and hope that Kate keeps her promise to take
him back when she's done with him. If he will agree to go back at all.
All these hopes looked suspiciously like fairy tales when examined in the
light of reason. I suddenly decided I could use a drink. I went to the
kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine, mixed with my private stock, of
course, and then realized that I didn't have anything to offer my mortal
guest. I hadn't had any mortals as house guests for several centuries.
        I walked back into the living room, where Kate and the mortal
were chatting quietly, and said, "Kate, dear. Would you do me a favor,
and go pick up a bottle of wine for our guest? Better get several. Just
have them put it on the bill, as usual. What do you care for, Nicholas?"
        "Oh, whatever you usually drink is fine," he replied amiably.
        Kate stiffled a snort. I gave her a look of warning, and then
turned back to him, "But what do you prefer?"
        "A cabernet savignon would be nice. Generally, I prefer French,"
he answered.
        I nodded. This was my wine of choice as well. "They'll know what
to give you, then, Kate. Just ask for my usual vintage, but without the
extra bottles." She smiled at me, and left.

Part Two, Continued
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, relating the arrival of an unexpected visitor


"So," he said, "where's your music room?"
        I looked at him, startled. "How did you know that I played?"
        "Four years ago, when we held hands and walked along the river, I
noticed the calluses on the tips of the fingers of your left hand. I'm a
free-lance photographer, and I specialize in photographing musicians. I'm
very familiar with your ilk." He grinned at me. I thought to myself,
let's hope you don't become too familiar with my ilk of the other sort.
        "And you deduced that since I played a stringed instrument I must
have a separate room for playing?" Of course, I did have a separate
studio, but how could he know that?
        "Well, look at this place. The expensive furnishings, the art,
which looks to be all original. Your clothes. You're not exactly
impoverished. And the first thing any musician does when she gets a bit
of money is to buy a bunch of instruments and musical equipment, and find
a place to put it all. So where is it?" He flashed another smile at me,
this one a bit smug.
        "So is your last name Holmes?" I teased him.
        "No, Sterne, actually. But you can be my Dr. Watson. Or Dr.
whatever. What is your last name, anyway?" he inquired.
        "You do insist on asking bothersome questions, don't you?"  This
mortal was much sharper than average, and was asking entirely too many
questions. And figuring too many things out, without even asking. "I use
a last name only for business transactions. This isn't business, is it?"
        "No, I don't think so," he said, with his boyish smirk.
        "Well, just call me Gwen, then." I had a dozen last names,
anyway. One for every occasion. But I was not sure which would be
appropriate to wear to a grilling by an inquisitive mortal.
        The boy beamed at me, undaunted. "All right, Gwen. I'll do
exactly that. I'd really like to see your musical set-up, though, if
you'd agree to show it to me."
        "Why are you so interested in that?" I wondered.
        "Because musicians' studio rooms tell a lot about them. Please?
Since I *am* doing you a favor. . ." His cajoling was much more effective
than Kate's.
        "Oh, all right. I don't see what harm could come of it." I led
him upstairs to my little studio, curious to see what other surprises he
would pull out of his metaphorical hat.
        He looked around attentively after entering, and stared at all
the instruments, which dominated the room. There was a small amount of
recording equipment in the corner, as well, but I preferred to play live.
He turned about, examining each side of the room intently, before
pivoting to look at me with a wide-eyed and somewhat frightened
expression on his face. "You play all these?"
        "Yes," I answered, "with varying degrees of proficiency." This
was a slightly misleading statement. I played them all very proficiently,
and a mortal's ear, even that of a trained musician, probably wouldn't be
able to hear any real difference in the level of my playing from one
instrument to the next. I, however, could hear a marked difference, so I
didn't consider this assertion an outright lie.
        "Is there anything you don't play?" he joked.
        "Oh, a few things here and there, I'm sure," I responded.
        He sat in one of the two straightbacked chairs in the room.
"Gwen," he said, "there is something seriously awry with this picture.
How could anyone, no matter how talented, learn to play all these
different types of instruments, to any level of proficiency, in the
twenty years or so that you must have been playing, at the most? And that
night that we met, as you drove away, I saw something in your eyes,
something wrong with your eyes ... "  I watched the blood drain away from
his face, and his complexion turn stark white.
        He was putting the pieces together, I could see it in his face. I
wasn't sure exactly how much he was correct about, but he was on to
something, it was plain. I never imagined that he could deduce so much
from so little information. He would be in serious danger now, from my
kindred who were so jealous of their secret. I took his hand, grasping it
with my traitorous fingertips, that had set him on the trail of the
truth. "Let's go downstairs, and we'll talk about it, all right, Nicholas
Sterne?"
        "Yeah.  Maybe you can put some of my wild suspicions to rest." He
nodded and headed down the hallway toward the stairs.
        "Let's hope that suspicions are the only things put to rest by
the end of this debacle," I muttered under my breath, and followed.


        "I'm sorry we don't yet have refreshments to offer you," I
remarked, trying to play the gracious host. "You look like you could use
a drink."
        "Yeah, I'll bet," he replied, trying to smile at me, but not
quite succeeding. He was chalk white, obviously still shaken. If I'd had
any morbid curiosity about what he would look like if I should decide to
bring him over, it was now satisfied.  With all the blood drained away
from his face he looked, well, like Nicholas de Brabant. What a surprise.
We sat on the couch, and I set about trying to formulate a version of the
truth that would impart the knowledge that he needed while hiding
everything else.
        "Nicholas, I'm doing my very best to protect you. I do not want
to see you get hurt. That's why I left St. Louis, to prevent something
like this from happening." Or more honestly, I thought, to protect him
from my own ravenous hunger for a companion, especially one that looked
so like my then-lost Nicholas de Brabant. "Now, through an occurrence
which was partially my fault, you're here, and I'm trying to keep you
from learning anything which might be dangerous to you.  That is why I'm
being so mysterious. It isn't to protect myself; I'm in no real danger,
and if I were it wouldn't matter to me anyway. You, on the other hand,
are. Serious danger. Mortal danger.  If you want to maintain your status
among the living, you must trust me. Without cause, I realize. But I ask
it of you anyway, for your own sake."
        He considered my words, with a grim expression. "Such a mystery,
though, Gwen. How can I just walk away from a tangle like this, without
making the slightest effort to unravel it? I'd rather risk my life and
get to the bottom of it. Won't you explain it to me? I know you aren't
what you seem. You can't be. You seem to be too many things."
        "No," I admitted. "I am not what I seem. But can we come to a
compromise position? Can I buy three days from you, in order to try to
come up with a way out of this mess? After that we'll discuss again what
you can know and what you can't. And I'll answer whatever questions that
I safely can." I looked into his pretty blue eyes, and exerted my will,
so slightly and subtly that it wouldn't be detected.
        "All right," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll ask my questions again
in three days, or sooner if you think of something that might help. In
the meantime, I should find a hotel."
        "That would be very unwise. You must stay here, where I can keep
an eye on you. There are several guest bedrooms down this way," I
gestured toward the hallway, "the largest being at the end of the hall.
You should be much more comfortable here than in a hotel."  Any
definition of comfortable includes being alive, I would think.
        "That's very kind," he answered. "Thank you."
        I heard the key in the door, and Kate walked in, bearing a
grocery sack full of clinking glass bottles of wine.
        "Ah, reinforcements," I joked. "Now we can set aside all this
serious discussion, and try to entertain ourselves for a bit."
        Kate grinned. "That's the best idea I've heard all night." She
looked Nicholas over with the same expression I'd seen on mortals
choosing a lobster for their dinner. I wondered exactly how
"entertaining" the entertainment was likely to be tonight. I'd be
watching Nicholas Sterne *very* carefully, to be sure.

Part Three
Excerpts from Kate's diary, wherein plans are made

       After I got back from the liquor store, the three of us sat and
talked a while.  Or really, Gwen and my mortal Nick talked.  He's really
got it bad for Gwen; I don't think he noticed my being there at all.
Actually, to be totally accurate, what really happened was that Gwen
poured him an awful lot of wine and made a lot of small talk that edged
her around having to say anything that might give away our secret.  I've
got to admit she's good at it.  Between the wine and Gwen's powers of
persuasion, he was pretty out of it before long. Gwen let the night wear
on until almost three o'clock before she set down her wine glass.
        "Look at the time," she said.  "I'm so sorry to have
kept you up so late.  I'm sure you're very tired."
        "But I'm not," the new Nick insisted.  "Not at all."
        "But you must be," Gwen repeated a little more firmly and fixed
him with her eyes.  "After your flight?  I find air travel very tiring,
don't you?"
        He nodded a bit reluctantly.  "Well, yes, now that you mention
it."  He set down his glass and pushed a hand back through his hair.  I
almost spilled my wine, and even Gwen looked startled.  The gesture was
so like our own Nick.  "I guess I could do with some rest."
        Gwen stood up, and Nick pushed himself to his feet as well.
"I'll show you to your room then.  If you'll excuse us, Kate."
        Nick swiveled around to glance at me in mild surprise.  I think
he was so caught up in Gwen he had forgotten I was there.  "Good night,"
he mumbled to me as he followed Gwen down the hall.  I wasn't supposed to
hear the next part, but he didn't know how sensitive my ears are.  "Do I
really have to stay in a guest room?"
        Gwen's voice was carefully flat.  "I thought we agreed it would
be better for you to stay here than in a hotel."
        I could hear the grin in his voice.  "I wasn't talking about
going to a hotel."  I choked back a laugh.  I wonder if it was the wine
talking or if he was always that smooth.  I moved slightly to look down
the hall and caught my breath.  He was kissing her.  This guy really
knows how to take his life in his hands.  I stepped back quickly.  Gwen,
of course, knew that I could hear everything that was going on, but I
didn't want Nick to know that I was listening in.
        Gwen's voice was the next one I heard, speaking quietly.  "You're
playing a dangerous game, Nicholas Sterne."
        "It's the only kind worth playing," he murmured.  "Gwen, I've
looked for you for years, haven't been able to think of anyone else.  Now
that I've found you, don't turn me away."
        "Nicholas, no."  She was firm but not unkind.  "There is much
more going on here than you are aware.  I cannot and will not allow you
to endanger yourself, which is what would happen if anything were to
occur between us."
        There was a long pause.  "No questions for three days, huh?
You'd better prepare yourself for a long question-and-answer session when
the time's up."
        "Good night, Nicholas."  I heard the door close, and then Gwen
stalked back into the living room.  "In three days," she stated, glaring
at me, "Nicholas Sterne will be back in Saint Louis with as little memory
of this whole thing as we can manage."  She poured herself a generous
helping of wine.
        I grinned.  It was sort of fun watching Gwen being given a hard
time.  "Was Nick like that?  The real Nick, I mean?"
        She shot me an amused glance.  "I'll wager that Nicholas Sterne
lays as much claim to reality as our Nicholas de Brabant."  She stopped
and seemed to think back eight hundred years, a slight smile on her
lips.  "Well, yes, in some ways he was.  Just as thoughtless.  Just as
impetuous. But Nicholas Sterne is considerably sharper than his
counterpart was at that age. To put it mildly. My chevalier had a certain
style, though, that this Nicholas lacks, that this whole century lacks,
for that matter.  There's a quality of subtlety and grace that seems
quite beyond anyone born in the last hundred years." She suddenly seemed
to remember who she was talking to.  "Kate, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean...."
        "Yeah, I know," I said dryly.  "We're all barbarians.  I've heard
the same line from LaCroix.  I'm sorry this century is such a burden for
all of you.  Maybe in the next one you'll find some bearable company
again."  I started across the room, but Gwen stopped me with a hand on my
shoulder.
        "Kate, I truly am sorry.  You must remember that I am a very old
woman and set in my ways.  I value the old patterns because they're part
of my youth."  She smiled.  "I usually only reminisce with friends near
my own age.  I can see you're going to uncover prejudices I didn't even
realize I had."
        She really seemed sorry.  LaCroix had never apologized.  "Well,
my grandmother never understood the kind of music I listened to."  I
continued across the room toward the open wine bottles to get a refill.
        "So what are we going to do?"
         Gwen was suddenly at my side, taking the bottle out of my hand.
"To begin with, you are not going to have any more wine."
        "Since when did you turn into Nick?"
        "Since there's a mortal in the room next to yours," she said
firmly.  "I want you in control of yourself, Kate.  I told you I don't
want this boy harmed.  There's pure blood in the kitchen to take care of
your hunger.  Have you fed tonight?"
        "Yeah, I hunted," I answered without thinking.
        "Kate."  Gwen set the bottle down and looked me straight in the
eyes.  She looked like a schoolteacher about to launch into the "Kathryn
Bolen, I'm disappointed in you" spiel.  "I sent bottled blood with you so
you wouldn't have to hunt.  I understand the temptation, Kate, I truly
do. But it's dangerous.  You're going to bring suspicion on yourself.
Hunting is risky enough in a large city.  Unusual deaths are even more
noticeable in a small town."
        "Oh, don't worry," I told her impatiently as I broke away and
headed for the kitchen.  "I took care of the body.  It's in the middle of
nowhere miles from my house.  No one will even find it for months.
Besides, weird stuff happens all the time in small towns.  Don't you ever
watch The X-Files?"  I poured my blood and carried it back into the
living room.  "The question is, what are we going to do exactly with our
look-alike now that we've got him?  How are we going to set this up?"
        "I can tell you *when* we're going to set it up," Gwen said as
she sat on the couch.  "Tomorrow night.  I'm not having that child here
any longer than absolutely necessary.  Whatever has to be done must be
taken care of between now and then."
        "Can we do it that quickly?" I asked.  "It's only a few hours
until dawn now."
        "Of course we can."  She smiled at me.  "Money may not be able to
buy happiness, but there is little else beyond its reach.  We can have
everything taken care of during the daylight hours."
        I grinned.  "You have an idea."
        She glanced my way.  "Of sorts.  What we need to do, obviously,
is to let Lucien catch a glimpse of our human friend in a situation where
there can be no question of his mortality.  In the sunlight, for
instance.  That should lead him to jump to conclusions without his
examining our stand-in too closely."
        "But how can he see Nick in the sunlight without being burned
himself?"
        "I have been considering for the past several weeks the
advisability of installing a security system like the one at Nicholas'
loft.  I have had enough of a problem with unexpected visitors in the
past, both mortal and immortal, to warrant it.  Suppose I had a security
camera put in at the door to the building and our friend Nicholas were to
arrive for a visit during the daylight hours."
        I caught on.  "And if LaCroix were here, he'd see him standing in
the sun.  And since he'd just be seeing a video of him, he'd be even less
likely to notice that it's not really Nick."
        Gwen nodded.  "Plus, it has the added benefit of built-in
protection for our mortal Nicholas.  He can be in no danger from LaCroix
as long as he is standing outside the building in the sunlight." She
paused for a moment. "It is late.  I'll call the security company as soon
as they open for business.  And you had better run off to bed, Kate."
        I set down my glass.  I really was a bit tired.  It had been a
very busy night.  "Aren't you going to get any sleep, Gwen?"
        She raised her eyebrows.  "With a mortal boy in my house to worry
about?  I think not.  Don't you remember what happened the last time I
indulged myself in sleep while I had house guests?"
        "Oh."  I grinned sheepishly.  "Better make sure you've hidden
your diary good."
        She laughed.  "Oh, that really would be priceless, wouldn't it?
So much for our secret.  You have just heightened my resolve to stay
awake today.  As I've told you, the older one is, the less sleep one
requires anyway.  You, on the other hand, are young enough to need your
rest."
        "All right, all right.  I'm going."  I stood up and started down
the hall toward my room.
        "Kate."  Gwen's voice stopped me, and I turned around.  "Lock
your door.  The mortal will be up and about in the daylight hours, and we
don't need him stumbling into your bedchamber.  A startled vampire is not
the most reflective of creatures when she's just been awakened."
        "Gotcha.  The Surgeon General has determined that entering this
room can be hazardous to your health.  Night, Gwen."
        She smiled at me.  "Good night, cherie.  It is good to have you
home.  For all the havoc that you seem to bring with you wherever you go,
I must admit that I've missed you."
        So I locked my door behind me and sat down to write in my diary.
It's a bit distracting to hear that mortal heartbeat from the room next
to mine.  It would be so easy just to go in and take him.  But more than
I want the blood, I want my revenge on LaCroix, and that mortal is the
key.  Behind the heartbeat, I can hear Gwen upstairs in her studio
playing a song I don't recognize.  I wonder if it's a new one she just
wrote or an old one that hasn't been played in maybe a thousand years.
I'm going to go to sleep now.  I can't wait for tomorrow night.  It's
like Christmas Eve: the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner it's Christmas
morning.
Part Four
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, wherein the trap is built


        I played music quietly in the studio for the rest of the morning,
waiting for working hours to begin.  Playing is the only thing which will
relieve my mind of any concern with which I might be wrestling.  And,
though I had agreed to the prank, and was actively involved in its
execution, I still had a very bad feeling about it. About Nicholas Sterne
being there at all. Unfortunately, my bad feelings are almost always
borne out, which was not exactly a comforting thought.
        At eight, I called a security company, and spoke to a consultant
about an appropriate system. He seemed surprised when I said that I
wanted it installed that afternoon at the latest, but when I offered to
triple the fee, he readily agreed. As I told Kate, money will accomplish
miracles. The security consultant, I think Bob was his name, said that
he'd have a team over before noon to do the installation, and that it
shouldn't take more than four hours to complete. I thanked him, and hung
up. Well, I thought to myself, at least that was as easily achieved as I
thought it might be.  I went downstairs and poured myself a snack, then
returned to my bedroom, to take a shower and change. Although Nicholas
was already suspicious, I wanted to continue with a veneer of normalcy as
long as possible.  I had to at least appear as though I had slept and
gone through a normal morning routine.
        After that little task I returned to the studio, to resume my
distractions. I was playing a Vivaldi tune when Nicholas stuck his head
through the open door.
        "My God," he blurted,  interrupting me, "you can really play.
That was amazing. Why aren't you playing on the concert circuit? You're
easily good enough."
        "Oh, I did for a while, but it does become boring. Besides, I
prefer to play my own compositions, which are mostly folk music, of
various sorts." I smiled. The last time I played the concert circuit, as
he called it, was several hundred years ago. One can only do a thing so
long, before it loses its charm. Except for the playing itself, which I
never tired of. But I played for my own enjoyment only. It was the
trappings of being a public performer that eventually wore on me.
        "I still take students, occasionally, if they're very
exceptional," I told him. I didn't mention that the exceptionalness that
was required was of the preternatural kind, rather than native mortal
talent.
        "You're a bundle of contradictions," he declared. "You realize
that you only make me more determined to discover every nuance of your
personality." He entered the room and sat down.
        "I assure you that this is not my intention." I looked at him,
settled into one of my playing chairs, as if he were planted there and
had no intention of ever getting up. It irritated me. I hate socializing
in my studio anyway. It is my private space for playing, and I like to
keep it to myself. "Let's go downstairs," I said. "We'll be much more
comfortable on the couch."
        "Oh, afraid to be alone with me?" he joked.
        "You should be afraid to be alone with me, my dear." I snapped at
him. "If you had the sense of a fieldmouse, you'd run the other direction
as fast as you could." I glared at him, for a moment, then concluded,
"And this room is for playing, not for chatting, and it is a private
area. I'm very used to living alone, and I don't take well to people
barging in on me when I'm in the middle of something."
        He looked at me with hurt-puppy eyes, and said, "I'm sorry, I was
just fooling around. I'll go." He started down the hallway toward the
stairs. I watched him for a moment, then caught up with him and took his
arm gently.
        "I didn't mean to snap at you, Nicholas. I'm sorry. I guess I'm
just not a morning person, and I'm a little touchy today besides."
        "Because of whatever it is you're planning?" he asked.
        "Yes, and your presence here," I admitted. "I'm very worried
about you, and I'm particularly concerned that you don't take the
situation seriously enough. You must be very careful, and watch your
back. And most of all, you must do as I ask. If you disobey me in any of
my requests to you, you will undoubtedly be taking your life into your
hands. I'd explain it if I could, but you will simply have to trust me."
        We had reached the living room, and sat on the couch.  I took his
hands, and asked him, "Will you do this, Nicholas? Will you trust me?"
        He looked into my eyes, and whispered, "With my life." And I
thought, you poor child, that's exactly what you're doing, and you still
don't realize it. Then he leaned toward me, and kissed me, ever so
gently. I allowed it for a moment, seduced by his naivete and his blue
eyes. But then I pulled away, and quickly thought of something to
distract him from this dangerous course. "You know, I don't believe I
have anything to eat in the house. Kate and I usually eat out. I'll give
you some money, and you can go get yourself some breakfast." I walked
over to the mantle of the fireplace, opened a black lacquered box, which
was filled with twenty dollar bills, and handed him two.
        "That should be plenty for this morning, shouldn't it?" I asked.
        "I'd say so, yeah. Gwen, is that whole box full of twenties?" He
looked astounded. It was a fairly sizable box, I suppose.
        I responded, "Um, yes. Will two be enough, or shall I send more?
I'm not sure what you'd like."
        "Gwen, I could eat for a week on forty bucks."
        "Oh, well, that seems a bit extreme. You should help yourself to
whatever you need while you're here. That's what the box is for, petty
cash for Kate and me, while she's staying here." I considered him for a
moment. "Here," I said, "take another for good measure," and I took
another bill out of the box.
        "You have a lot of money, don't you?" he asked in an incredulous
tone. He had already figured this out for himself; I didn't understand
why he was making such a fuss about it now.
        "I'm very good with money," I acknowledged. "I always have
plenty, and I can always make more if I run out. It seems very petty to
me to worry about money. There are so many other things that one can
worry about." I closed the box and sat down on the couch again. "And I
meant what I said about helping yourself to whatever you want or need.
You are my guest."
        He stared at me for a moment in disbelief. "You are strange.
Very, very strange." Then he grinned suddenly. "But I like it. I think
sixty bucks should set me up for breakfast, thanks. But why don't you
come with me? I don't want to eat alone."
        I smiled. "Thank you for the invitation, cherie, but I'm going to
work on a composition for a while, and then I'm expecting some workers to
install a security system."
        "Expecting trouble?" he asked.
        "Oh, yes," I replied. Trouble was an understatement. "I have no
doubt of it. But this is more a preventative measure. Now, go get
yourself fed, and we'll talk more when you return."
        "When are you going to eat, though, if you've no food in the
house?" he asked, with a tone of mixed concern and suspicion.
        "Oh, I'll eat later," I answered lightly. "I never eat breakfast.
It makes me ill to eat before noon." And after noon, and at night, I
thought to myself.
        "All right," he sulked. "I suppose I'd better get in the habit of
obeying your every whim."
        I laughed, and said, "That's my boy. An excellent idea!"
        I felt a sense of profound relief when he left. He'd be safe in
the sunlight, and I could relax a bit without him in the house to worry
about. This little game was wearing on my nerves. I thought about it and
decided I'd better drink at least a bottle of pure blood, before he got
back. I wasn't sure when I'd have the chance again, without it being
mixed with concealing wine, and I'd need the strength if I were to hold
my temper.  How, I wondered to myself, did I ever get into this mess?


        While Mr. Sterne was out eating breakfast, the security company
workers arrived, to install my new equipment.  I sat on the couch with a
book in hand, to oversee in a subtle manner.  There were five of them, to
speed the work, I should think. Two stayed downstairs in front of the
building, installing the camera there, and the other three began wiring
the upstairs windows and the door to the apartment. They were surprised
that there were no windows in the downstairs bedrooms, understandably. I
had all the guest room windows plastered up when I moved in, but had left
my own upstairs rooms' windows intact. I could afford to be less cautious
about the light, because of my age. And I liked to watch the stars from
the library. But I thought it was a nice touch to arrange for my guests to
be well protected.  The workers would think me merely eccentric, but I was
surprised my mortal friend hadn't mentioned it. He must be saving it as
one of his questions, I thought. Which hopefully he will never get to ask.
        Nicholas returned while the workers were drilling and taping
things, and sat down on the couch next to me.
        "How was breakfast?" I asked.
        "Oh, very good. I went to a little bakery down the street there.
Great coffee. Have you ever been there?" This last question had a slight
tone of suspicion in it. Never content to allow me a moment's peace, he
was trying to gather information, as subtly as he could.
        "No, I don't believe I have," I answered. "As I said, I don't eat
breakfast, so I've never had occasion to go there." I hated this
dissembling, and keeping track of my lies. That is why I seldom had
mortal friends or even acquaintances any more. I wished that Nicholas
would stop asking so many damned questions, but it seemed to be as
natural and unconscious to him as breathing.
        "Oh," he chirped, still watching my reaction attentively.
        Kate came out of her room then, and saved me. "Good afternoon, or
I should say, good morning," I said to her. She looked around a bit
sleepily.
        "They woke me up," she mumbled.
        "Oh, the noise?" Nicholas asked.
        She glanced at me with an amused expression. "Something like
that," she said. More likely it was the smell of so much mortal blood in
the house.
        "Looks like you were right about the best method to get things
done, though," she observed, glancing at the activity buzzing around the
apartment.
        "Oh, yes." I smiled at her. "They rushed right over."
        Nicholas looked at both of us, frowning a bit. "I get the
distinct feeling that I have no idea what's going on here. As usual. I
can't wait till my three days are up."
        "I'm sorry, Nicholas," I replied. "We shouldn't be rude."
        Just then we heard a loud noise outside, like something heavy
being dropped, or perhaps a car misfiring. The mortal got up and crossed
over to the window, touching the curtain to draw it back.
        "Nicholas!" I exclaimed, stopping him. "Um, would you please go
downstairs and ask the workers to be sure that the camera covers the
entire front of the building?  And buy them some beer or whatever, would
you, while you're at it? It never hurts to butter them up." I rose and
went to the petty cash box, taking out another two twenties. "Here, take
this," I said. "Buy an ample amount."
        "Gwen, I have most of the money from this morning left, I don't
need this." He tried to give the bills back to me, but I pushed them into
his hand.
        "Take it anyway, and go, quickly, please?" I was beginning to
wonder if I would have to use more serious persuasion to get him out of
the apartment.
        "All right, all right. Be back in a little while," he grumbled,
and left the apartment.
        I let out a deep breath, and sank onto the couch. "You know," I
reflected, "I think I may have been going about this all wrong. I don't
need to protect him from us, I need to protect us from him!"
        Kate laughed and sat down next to me. "Yeah," she agreed. "That
guy is a real pain in the ass. Cute, though."
        I nodded, and added, "Well, it doesn't help that we can't tell
him anything about our  ... lives." I was suddenly aware of the workers
in the apartment.  "Shall we adjourn to your room?" I asked, eyeing the
security people pointedly.
        "Oh, yeah," she said, catching my meaning. "That's probably a
good idea."
        We went down the hall to her room, and closed the door.
        "Mortals, mortals everywhere, and not a drop to drink," I joked.
        She laughed. "So what did you want to talk about?"
        "The plan for tonight," I said, sitting down next to her on the
bed. "I'm going to call Janette when she gets up and ask for her help.
You will take Nicholas to the Raven tonight, and keep him there until
well after sunrise, so that there can be no question that it is full
sunlight that he's standing in at the door."
        She frowned. "Wait, that won't work. If it's daylight when I let
Nick leave the Raven, how will I get back to catch the show?"
        "You won't," I replied. She began sputtering protests, but I cut
her off.  "Kate, I told you this at the very beginning, but you obviously
weren't listening. If you are anywhere in the vicinity, Lucien will read
your thoughts and know immediately that it isn't Nicholas de Brabant
outside. I'm sorry, but you'll have to forgo the actual execution of the
plan itself. I promise you, I will describe it  in full detail."
        She looked as if she still could not believe her own ears. "But
.... but that's not fair. It's my idea. It's my revenge. I was the one who
hunted down your little mortal boy. I should be in on the fun."
        "I'm sorry, Kate, but you know it's necessary." I thought for a
moment and then added, "And it's better that you aren't around to be a
target for Lucien, anyway. I have no idea how he's going to react to
this, but it wouldn't surprise me if he reacted badly."
        She muttered something under her breath, which I ignored and
continued speaking quickly to avoid further protest. "Now, we've got to
get you fed before Nicholas gets back. You should probably drink a whole
bottle to keep your strength up, and I'm going to drink another bottle
too, more for the comfort of it than anything." I headed out toward the
kitchen, and Kate followed me, still looking none too pleased.
        This is truly lovely, I thought. I'm lodging a spoiled fledgling
who's grumpy because she can't have her way, and a meddlesome mortal
who'll likely get himself, or Kate, or me for that matter, or all three
of us, killed through his uncontrollable inquisitiveness. Life's
inventiveness is surpassed only by its absurdity.

Part Five
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, wherein Kate pouts


        Kate sulked quietly for the rest of the afternoon on the day of
the prank, but seemed resigned to her fate. Since I am the perpetual
optimist, I thought that she must have seen the good sense of it. The
security system was soon installed, and the workers removed themselves,
much to my relief. I dislike having so many mortals poking around my
house. And they were a temptation to Kate, who is not good at resisting
temptation. Once they were gone, we had only our Nicholas Sterne to
manage. I decided to play for him, hoping that it would keep him
entertained and out of trouble until Kate could get him to the Raven once
it opened.
        I brought a guitar and a violin down into the living room, and
Kate and Nicholas sat on the couch and listened. I hadn't played for that
large an audience since the salon days, I don't believe. I alternated
between the instruments, playing classical pieces and my own
compositions. I think Kate was a bit bored by it, to put it mildly, but
Nicholas was rapt, and at least it kept him from trying to open the
windows.
        This passed several hours, and finally it was evening. I opened a
bottle of red wine, and poured some for Nicholas, hoping to make him a
bit more malleable for Kate. We chatted and drank until the Raven finally
opened at nine. I pulled Kate into the kitchen as casually as I could,
and said, "Okay, Kate, it is finally late enough for you to take him to
the Raven. Get him drunk, if you can, ma cherie. The last thing we need
is his starting on Janette with his ridiculous questions. And send him as
soon as the light is strong tomorrow, around ten or so?"
        She glowered at me. "Okay, okay. I know the plan. And I know, I'm
supposed to keep an eye on him, blah, blah, blah. I get to play
babysitter all night and then hang around the Raven all day to get the
revenge that I won't even get to see. Thank you very much, Mommy Dearest.
Are you happy? Can I go?"
        "Don't sulk, cherie, or I might get out the wire hangers." I
kissed her cheek. "Trust me, getting your revenge will be well worth it.
And who knows, perhaps you will enjoy yourself with our little toy this
evening."
        She just glared at me, in silence, then turned and walked out of
the kitchen. I followed her out.
        "Okay, Nicky-boy, we're outta here," she called, taking her coat
and his out of the breezeway closet.
        "What do you mean?" he asked, looking at me for an explanation,
rather than Kate.
        "You and Kate are going to a friend's club for a while." I
explained. "I have some business to attend to, but I will try to meet you
there later." That was a lie, but I knew that he would never agree to go
if he thought I would be staying home.
        "Well, okay," he agreed reluctantly. "I'll save you a dance." He
took my hand and kissed it, not too ungracefully, especially considering
how little occasion he had in his life for the gesture. I inclined my
head in acknowledgment, and opened the door for them. They went, Kate
tossing a dissatisfied look over her shoulder.  I was beginning to see
why LaCroix had been so eager to allow me to take custody of her. Ah
well, I consoled myself, her education should be complete before long,
and I can send her back to Lucien and let the two of them negotiate their
relationship as they will. What a beautiful thought.


Part Six
Excerpts from Kate's diary, relating Kate and Nicholas Sterne's outing to the Raven

        We took a cab to the Raven.  Flying would have been quicker, but
Gwen had strictly outlawed that as long as Nicky-boy was around.  I
dropped a roll of bills in the driver's hand as we got out of the cab,
including a tip that could probably put his kid through braces.  What the
hell, Gwen was paying.  His eyes widened as he saw what I had given him.
He didn't even stop to count it all before he floored the accelerator and
was around the corner.  Probably afraid I'd change my mind and ask for
change.
        My mortal Nick was glancing around at the darkened windows.  "I
thought we were going to a bar," he complained.  "Where is it?"
        "Around the corner on the next block," I told him and then
grabbed a handful of his leather jacket as he started past me.  "We will
go slowly," I hissed and gave his coat a final jerk that almost knocked
him off balance.  As he stumbled, I took the lead, reaching out
cautiously with my mind to feel for any hint of LaCroix' presence.  That
would be all I needed: to waltz into the Raven with Nick Sterne while
LaCroix had a front-row seat.  So much for my revenge in that case.  Not
that it was turning out to be my revenge anyway, I scowled.  It was Gwen
who was going to have all the fun.  And what did I get to do?  Babysit a
mortal all night and then get stuck at the Raven with Janette all the
next day.  Well, maybe not, I thought defiantly.  Gwen didn't need to
think that she could tell me what to do all the time.  I wasn't her
slave, after all.
        We were approaching the club by that time, and Nick read the sign
over my shoulder.  "'The Raven.'  Is this it?  Why'd you have the cab
leave us so far away?"
        I ignored his questions and put out my arm to stop him in his
tracks.  Just one last check.  I closed my eyes and swept mentally
through the building ahead of us.  Many vampires, but LaCroix wasn't one
of them.  Satisfied, I opened my eyes and turned to the human beside me.
"Listen, Nick.  Stay close to me until we find Janette.  She's a friend
of Gwen's.  She owns the club.  She's gonna need to know who you are to
keep an eye on you tonight.  Whatever she says, goes, understand?  Ignore
her and you could be in big trouble."
        He stared at me a minute.  "I feel like I'm in a James Bond
movie.  What's with all the top-secret, life-and-death stuff?  Is Gwen
tied in with some sort of Canadian mob or something?"
        I laughed.  "Or something.  I thought you weren't supposed to ask
any questions for three days."
       "That deal was just with Gwen.  I never promised her I wouldn't
find out as much as I could from anyone else."
        "Well, Nick."  I took a step closer to him and looked up
into those wide, mortal eyes.  "If it was up to me, you could know the
whole story.  Because I really don't care much what happens to you after
the prank is over.  Right now, though, all I want to know is that you're
going to do what I tell you to do tonight.  Are you going to do that for me?"
        His eyes were fixed on mine, and I could hear his heartbeat.
"Yes," he answered a bit breathlessly.
        I smiled at him.  "Good boy.  Now come on."
        I turned and started toward the door, hearing him shake himself
out of the state I'd had him in and scramble after me.  I shoved my way
through the line of mortals waiting outside and nodded to the vampire
standing sternly at the door.  His eyes grimly acknowledged me and the
blond man pushing after me, then widened in amazement when he heard the
mortal heartbeat.  I grinned as he snapped his head around to peer into
the club after us, not sure whether to trust his own senses.
        I stopped just inside the door, and Nick stopped beside me,
taking in the atmosphere, a foot already tapping with the heavy bass that
poured out of the speakers.  My own eyes swept the room in search of
Janette.  I finally caught sight of her at the far end of the bar and
grasped Nick's arm to get his attention.  "That's Janette there," I said,
raising my voice over the music.  There was a moment before he saw her,
and then I heard him draw in a sharp breath of appreciation.  "Yes, isn't
she?" I muttered too softly for his mortal ears to hear and tugged
impatiently at him.
        Janette, I thought at her, and her eyes rose to see us as we
approached.  She smiled at the sight of the man I was dragging toward her
and arranged herself in a provocative curve against the bar.  We were
halfway there before she suddenly realized what he was.  Her eyes
widened, and she made a convulsive movement that knocked over the glass
of blood and wine on the bar in front of her.  She hissed a curse,
jerking away before the spill could stain the dress she was almost
wearing, and Miklos was there in a moment, wiping away the mess.  I just
barely managed not to laugh out loud.  But seeing her reaction to my
mortal Nick reminded me of LaCroix' reaction that I would not be allowed
to see.  The thought only made me more determined that I wasn't going to
sit around here all night and day waiting for Gwen to have all the fun.
        By the time we reached the bar, Janette had regained her
composure, but her eyes kept flickering up at Nick Sterne in spite of
herself.  "Well, little one," she said in greeting.
        "Hi, Janette," I grinned.  I intended to enjoy every minute of
this.  I could tell she was dying for an explanation, and if she thought
she was going to get one from me, she had another think coming.  "Aren't
you going to offer me a drink?"  She glared at me and gestured
impatiently to Miklos, who set a wine glass in front of me.  I took a
leisurely sip before I continued.  "You seemed a bit surprised to see me."
        "It was my impression that you were in the States," she purred
dangerously.
        "I was," I smirked.  "I'm here now.  Oh, by the way, have you met
Nick Sterne?"
        "I don't believe I've had the pleasure," she murmured, allowing
him to take her hand.  The touch of his warm mortal flesh seemed to
fascinate her.
        "Doesn't he remind you of someone?" I asked.
        She glared at me and pulled her hand away from his, turning his
back on him rather deliberately and assuming an air of extreme boredom.
"No, I can't say that he does."
        "Oh, come on, Janette, think about it for a minute," I encouraged
her with a grin.  "Another Nicholas you know, maybe?"
        She let her eyes run over him again from head to toe and affected
a casual tone of voice.  "Oh, yes.  Now that you mention it, I do see a
slight resemblance."
        I smiled and finished up my drink with one gulp, indicating to
Miklos that I didn't need a refill.  "Nick is a friend of Gwen's.  She'd
like you keep an eye on him tonight and send him back to her apartment
during the day tomorrow.  She'd like him to meet LaCroix."
        Janette arched one eyebrow in interest.  "LaCroix?  I see.  Very,
well, Kate, you may tell Gwen that her . . . friend is safe with me."
        "Great," I grinned.  "Gotta run."
        I turned and headed for the door, but Nick came after me and
caught my arm.  "Wait a minute.  I thought Gwen wanted you to stay here,
too."
        I jerked my arm out of his grasp.  "I think you're a little old
to need a babysitter, don't you, Nick?  Do you really want me here
keeping watch over you all night?"
        He paused.  "No."
        "Then what are you complaining about?  Have some wine.  Eat,
drink, and be merry."  I smiled at him and then turned my back and walked
out of the Raven.  I didn't turn around to see if he was still looking
after me.

Part Seven
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, wherein the bait is set


        As soon as Kate and Nick left for the Raven, I called Lucien's
apartment, to arrange for his visit. The machine picked up. "Lucien," I
said, "this is Gwen. I would greatly appreciate it if you would do me the
favor of appearing at my apartment tonight, to discuss our recent falling
out. I have a few things I need to do, so later in the night would be
better for me. Sometime after midnight, perhaps? I hope to talk to you
soon."
        Attempting to cover all the bases, I called the radio station,
and was told that he wasn't in. I dialed the Raven's number.
        Janette's voice was unmistakable. "Good evening, The Raven," she
said.
        "Ah, Janette. It's Gwen."
        "Oh, hello, Gwen. Your protege and her little toy just arrived,"
she said.
        "Oh good. Janette, I really appreciate your babysitting them this
evening. I hope they won't be too much trouble." That was probably a wish
in vain, but it seemed impolitic to say so.
        "I hope so, too, ma cherie. Between you and Nick it seems I am
lodging all the strays in Toronto." I laughed. Janette affects annoyance
at being put upon, but I have always suspected that she enjoys being useful.
        "Well, I have yet another favor to ask of you, my love," I confessed.
        "And how many more copies of Nicholas do you have running
around?" she joked.
        "No, this is much simpler. If LaCroix should appear this evening,
be sure to get Nicholas Sterne into a back room immediately. And ask
Lucien to meet me at my condominium this evening, sometime after
midnight. Will you do that for me, dearest?" I asked.
        "Of course. I know you're plotting something, cherie. I can't
wait to hear about this once it's accomplished." She laughed. "It will
surely be magnificent."
        "Well, beloved, just keep all thoughts of my machinations from
LaCroix, and keep Nicholas Sterne intact, and I shall be more than
delighted to give you a full account of the proceedings. And you shall
have my eternal gratitude."
        "Ooh," she breathed. "Your eternal gratitude. I shall remember
that. That is a phrase that shouldn't be batted around lightly."
        "Nor do I bat it lightly. This is important to me, Janette. And
most of all, it will be ever so amusing." I giggled, thinking of it. "I
can't wait to tell you. I only hope everything goes as planned. I'll talk
to you soon."
        "A bientot," she said.
        Now there was only to wait. And to think of some way of keeping
Lucien safely occupied while I waited for my decoy to arrive.  This part
of the plan was the most sketchy, and the most personally risky for me.
Thinking back to the last time Lucien was trapped at my apartment for the
day, I realized that perhaps I should have spent a bit more time working
this part out.  I shook my head. Gwen, I thought, what exactly possessed
you to engage in this ill-conceived conspiracy? Revenge, I thought. Just
focus on the revenge and on the look on his face when he believes that
Nicholas made it back across.  I padded upstairs with a bottle in hand,
to nourish myself and attempt a short nap. It would undoubtedly be a long
night, and a longer day afterward. I would need my strength.


Part Eight
Excerpts from Kate's diary, wherein Kate is disappointed

       I keyed in the security code at Nick's warehouse and rode up to
the loft in the elevator.  He was coming down the stairs pulling on his
coat when I slid open the door.  "Kate," he sighed.  "Why do you always
show up when I'm on my way to work?"
        "Because you work nights?" I guessed, stepping into the room and
slipping off my coat.  "I'm not likely to drop by for afternoon tea."  I
threw my coat across the back of the couch and sat down.  "So what are we
going to do tonight?"
        Nick picked up my coat and held it out to me.  "*We* are not
going to do anything.  I told you I'm on my way to work."
        I stood up and took a few steps toward him, looking up at him out
of the corners of my eyes.  Men like that for some reason. I've never
figured out why exactly, but I don't argue with success. "Nick," I
smiled.  "Can't you get out of it?"
        He dropped my coat into my hands.  "No.  I can't.  I have missed
more work in the time that I have known you, Kate, than I have in the
last three years."
        "Well, it's not like you need a job.  If you're anything like
Gwen, you've got heaps of money just lying around somewhere, and it's
pretty obvious LaCroix isn't exactly short of funds either."  I glanced
curiously around the loft, wondering if Nick had a petty cash box
somewhere like Gwen's.  Gwen's idea of petty cash was would have paid my
rent for the next ten years when I was living in Cheyenne.
        "You're right, Kate," Nick said, going for his car keys.  "I
don't need this job.  I want this job.  And not only that, I want to need
this job.  I'd like to worry about putting food on the table and kids
through school and taking the family to the beach for vacation.  To be
mortal, Kate.  That's what I want.  And I could make a lot more progress
in that direction if you weren't always dropping by here dragging me into
what is, even for the vampire community, the seamier side of life." While
he was talking, he had been striding around the loft turning out lights
and gathering up what he needed for work, and now he stood at the
elevator, holding the door open and looking at me expectantly.  "So if
you wouldn't mind leaving now?"
        I stood staring at him.  "Well, aren't we in a mood tonight?
Where do you get off blaming me for dragging you into the vampire world,
*your* world, Nick, if you'll recall? If it weren't for the fact that you
and LaCroix can't get along, I wouldn't be in the vampire world. I'd
still be one of those mortals you love so much. And I see you at the
Raven with Janette often enough, and you can't blame me for that.  You
don't want to be mortal, Nick.  Oh, yeah, you want your little Ward
Cleaver life with Natalie and a couple of kids and the sweat of your brow
and all that kind of stuff.  Truth, justice, and the Canadian way.  But
then you also want your strength and your abilities and your heaps of
immortal money and your eternal youth.  And your life right now, Nick?
You're enjoying the hell out of it.  It's the best of both worlds.  You
can have your cake and eat it, too.  Natalie, Janette, Gwen, anyone you
want." I hesitated to include my own name. It was too perfect an
opportunity for him to tell me I couls cross myself off that list right
now. His eyes had gone gold with anger, and I knew mine had, too. But no
matter how angry I was, I knew better than to break my rule never to set
myself up for a fall. "Only LaCroix has Gwen now, and it's driving you
crazy because for once in your ridiculous eight hundred year life there's
a woman out there who's not falling all over you and telling you how damn
gorgeous you are."  I quickly made up something to hurt him, the icing on
the cake.  "In fact, LaCroix and Gwen
are in bed together right now.  That's why I'm not at Gwen's tonight."
        I smiled and waited to see what he'd do, but he smiled too around
his fangs.  "Don't bother lying to me, Kate.  I know the truth.  LaCroix
and Gwen have never been lovers."
        "Of course they have," I bluffed.  "I told you about it last time
I was here.  I read it in her diary."
        He shook his head.  "You lied the last time you were here just
like you're lying now.  You wanted to hurt me, and you wanted to
manipulate me.  But you're not going to do it again.  Gwen told me the
truth."
        "Oh, and you believe her instead of me?"
        "Yes," he said.  "I do.  Now, Kate, I believe you were just
leaving?"
        There was nothing I could do.  Nothing but leave.  I stalked past
him into the elevator.  He began to slide the door shut, but I caught it
before it closed.  I would walk into the sun before I'd let him have the
last word.  "You're just like all men. You're only out for yourself. You
play Natalie and Janette against each other, and you're the only one who
wins that game. It doesn't matter to you who has to lose as long as you win."
        I didn't even wait to see if he reacted to that.  I just slammed
the door shut before he could see me start to cry.  Just like all men.
One more to add to the list of those who told me they cared and then
turned against me.  Well, there weren't going to be any more on that
list.  Not ever again.  Someone was going to pay for all the times I'd
been hurt.  I would see to that.

Part Nine
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, wherein Gwen and LaCroix negotiate


        A tap on the bedroom window woke me. I started, and sat up to see
Lucien hovering outside, with an amused expression on his face.
I waved, and headed downstairs to buzz him in. The clock in the living
room said 11:45. I had slept much longer than I had intended to, but it
would probably stand me in good stead.
        I opened the door for him, and he pulled from behind his back a
single rose. "A peace offering."
        I accepted the flower, smiling. Back to the courtly lover, I
thought. Interesting. "Come in," I said. "Can I offer you a glass of wine?"
        "That would be lovely," he replied. He stood until I returned
with the bottle and two glasses, and then settled himself gracefully on
the couch, leaving a carefully comfortable distance between us.
        He was being so civilized that I almost felt guilty, but thinking
of the bruises on Kate's face hardened my resolve. That and the sheer
hilarity of our plan. I opened the wine and poured it generously into the
glasses. I would monitor my alcohol intake carefully, but hoped to at
least soften his guard with the wine.  The large helpings of blood I had
ingested during the day should increase my tolerance, I thought, though
Lucien is as practiced a drinker as I. There would be no hope of getting
him truly drunk without getting that way myself. And I would be needing
all my faculties if something should go wrong. But, I thought, it cannot
hurt to give myself an advantage. My actions would be largely planned,
while he would be thinking on his feet. If his thinking is even the
slightest bit fuzzy, so much the better.
        "Well, Gwen," he said, "what have you been doing with yourself
the past few weeks?" So, I thought, he's starting with small talk, and
the pretense of normality. As if there were anything normal about us,
anyway. But that is excellent. The more time I can kill without saying
anything substantial, the less I'll have to come up with meaningful
conversation to justify my asking him here.
        "Oh, the usual. Writing songs. Teaching Kate. I had a security
system installed, that was quite thrilling," I noted dryly.
        "Yes, I noticed it. Expecting trouble?" he asked.
        I almost laughed. Nicholas Sterne's phrase exactly. "Not
especially," I lied, "but I thought that it might be prudent, with Kate
here. I'm not always tied to this apartment, and she has no experience
with Hunters, or enemies of any kind. It's not likely to protect her
completely, but I thought it might be useful."
        "You just love modern gadgetry," he accused me. "You and
Nicholas. You'll be installing those annoying electric shades next."
        Laughing, I shook my head. "Oh no," I protested. "I shall never
sink so low as that."
        After a brief pause, I inquired, "And what about you? Have you
been hunting ferociously? Terrorizing your listeners?"
        "Oh, I've hunted a bit, here and there. One must be so careful,
in  these times, as you know. It's enough to make me wish for the good
old days, before all this forensic pathology and database link-ups. A
nice, quiet, inconspicuous kill takes great artistry in the modern
world." He shook his head, with the air of an old man decrying the rise
in the price of a loaf of bread.
        "Yes," I concurred. "I have had little success in convincing Kate
of that. I fear she may have to learn the hard way. Then we will both be
forced to relocate, if I can't convince Nicholas to keep the police away
from us. She'd be sure to leave a trail a mile wide for his detective
friends." Though clever, Kate was never prudent.
        "Hm," he mused, with a slight, and slightly evil smile. "Have you
asked me here to beg me to take her off your hands? Had enough, Gwen?"
        I had to laugh. He only wished. He would have liked nothing
better than to get Kate out of the way. She had been a perpetual obstacle
between us. "No, I have committed myself to her education, and I will
complete it. She's not so very far away from being self-sufficient. And
then, it will be her responsibility, if she wants to endanger herself.
She can't say she was not warned," I replied.
        "A somewhat detached attitude, don't you think? Don't you feel a
responsibility to that protege you've sent into the wide world?" he asked.
        "Well, one can only arm them with one's knowledge," I returned,
"and hope for the best. It is her life. If she wishes to throw it away,
or complicate it foolishly, then that is her right. I see my job as her
mentor as only providing accurate information and presenting all the
choices available." I looked at him. "All this could apply just as easily
to Nicholas. That's who we're really talking about, here, isn't it?
Well,  you know what I would do in your situation. What I myself have
done with him; let him go. Perhaps he'll lose his silly infatuation with
things mortal. Or perhaps he'll cross back. But barring his way will only
make him the more determined to fight you. I don't think this project of
his is so different from walking into the sun. It merely takes longer.
And if our loved ones choose death, it is not our place to try to stop
them. If we truly love them, we must let them go, and hope that others do
the same for us when it is our time."
        He examined my face, though what he sought I don't know. "You're
thinking of Marcus, as well, aren't you?" I nodded an admission. He said,
"You know, you two were widely envied in the community. You were so
transparently in love.  I've seldom seen two immortals as passionately in
love as you were. And never for so long. Did that passion finally fade?
Was that what drove him to the sunlight?"
        I shook my head, smiling, thinking how strong his love for me had
been on the very day he died. "No, we loved each other as much on the
last day, more perhaps, as on the first. But he was simply tired. And he
had some strange notion that I would never achieve my greatest potential
as long as he was around to care for me.  I still miss him, do you know?
After all this time. Strange, isn't it?"
        "Perhaps it's only that you hadn't found another high passion to
fill his place," he suggested. Like whom, Lucien? I thought to myself.
        "I don't believe anyone will ever fill Marcus' place," I
retorted. "He was my soul. I've loved deeply since Marcus but never with
such intensity. We were lucky that we found each other, and lucky that we
had centuries together. I try to think of it that way, when I miss him."
        "Don't you long for someone to take that place beside you, as
your companion, your equal?" he demanded.
        "I've never found anyone who was able. You seem to be hinting
toward yourself, Lucien. But we have so little in common. Our values are
utterly at odds.  I've discussed this with you so many times before, you
must know that it's impossible." I was exasperated. "Surely you don't
believe that we could make each other anything but miserable. We are
already at each other's throats, and we haven't even begun anything."
        He smiled seductively at me. "But that's exactly where I want to
be, at your throat, Gwen.  To taste your blood, the essence of your life,
your experiences. . ."
        A small thrill shivered through my body at this image, but I
scowled at him, and said, "You know what I mean.  We'd only end up hating
each other again."
        "Would we? Is that what you're so afraid of, Gwendolyn? Or is it
the opposite? Perhaps it is that I am the only one with the strength to
take Marcus' place, and that would mean releasing your habitual mourning
of him, truly letting him go? Are you most afraid of hating me or loving
me, my beauty?" At this, he rose, and went to the kitchen, presumably for
another bottle of wine.
        I sat there, stunned. My certainty about him was sliced in half.
So much of what he said cut straight to the heart of my dilemma. Of
course I feared loving him, because he was brutal, cruel. But could he be
right, that a component of my fear was finally allowing someone to take
Marcus' place? I felt suddenly cornered, as I frequently did with
LaCroix. He returned with the bottle and sat down, a bit closer than before.
        "So, why did you call me here? To make perfectly platonic
arrangements of truce? To berate me for my mistreatment of Kate? To
surrender?" He spoke  the last with a sly grin.
        "Though you do deserve a severe berating for the awful beating
you gave Kate," I told him, "I called you here merely to discuss
treaties.  If there is to be peace between us, you must cease tormenting
her. And you must treat her with a certain amount of respect." It was
nearing  dawn, and I thought that this negotiation should certainly take
long enough to keep Lucien there until the sun rose and trapped him.
        "And what," he asked predictably, "do I gain from this treaty?"
        "Peace," I replied. "The renewal of my friendship"
        "Ah," he said. "A worthy prize. Very well, I accept."
        "What?"
        "I accept your terms. In fact, I hereby relinquish all rights to
Kate Bolen, and give her to you, to do with as you will. I am no longer
responsible. She's your responsibility, totally. I will never interfere
with her again. Does this satisfy you?" he asked, with a false innocence.
        "But . . . I mean, yes, yes it does. It is that simple?" I was
astounded. Wasn't he going to argue with me?
        "Of course that simple. But why not? We are both adults, are we
not? Can't we negotiate such a little thing as the possession of a
fledgling?"
        I didn't know what to say. "Well, there's no reason why not, I suppose."
        He looked at me. "And what about your retribution for my
disciplining her while she was under your protection?"
        "What about it?" I asked, trying to extend the conversation for
as long as possible.
        "Do you give up the right of vengeance?"
        "Lucien," I began, thinking desperately of some way to change the
subject. My mind was flashing ideas at me like lightning, most of them
utterly ridiculous. I had to think of something, something convincing,
and quickly. Something that would hold his attention totally.
        I kissed him. This was the best idea I could come up with, on
such short notice. Perhaps it was a terrible one, but my body didn't seem
to think so. My rational mind told me that the sun was up now, and
Nicholas Sterne would be here in just a few hours, if I could hold out
that long. My body informed my brain that Nicholas and Kate could both go
hang themselves.
        Lucien embraced me, and the already passionate kiss became
deeper. I could feel his hands on my back, my hands running across his
shoulders, touching his hair.  He pulled slightly away, and bent toward
my neck. I could feel his breath on my skin, and as I kissed his neck,
running my now-extended fangs lightly across the skin,  I could smell his
rich, ancient blood pulsing beneath.  I felt him shiver, and then his
fangs were in my neck, and I felt the first waves of ecstasy crashing
down on me. I buried my own teeth in his flesh, and was flooded with
images, tastes, sounds, the essence of Lucien LaCroix, in all his flaws
and  glories.  Eventually, we pulled apart. My head was still swimming,
but I felt a strange triumph and a fierce sense of joy. Somewhere in my
mind, confusion whirled. But lust had triumphed over reason. Doesn't it
always?
        Lucien smiled at me, an amazing, contented, charming smile.
"Shall we continue this upstairs?" he murmured. Without even waiting for
my answer, he rose, and pulled me up after him by the hand. As he led me
to my own bedroom, I uttered not a phrase in resistance. It was wrong. I
knew it was wrong. But I wanted it anyway, I wanted him anyway, and have
him I would. All thoughts of revenge were laid aside for the time being,
as we explored each other hungrily,  gluttonous after months of
deprivation. If the neighbors heard us, they wisely did not call to complain.

Part Ten
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, wherein the trap is sprung


        Ten o'clock passed unnoticed, but by eleven thirty I realized the
time and began to be concerned that Nicholas Sterne hadn't yet arrived.
Lucien was sleeping soundly, but I was wide awake, consumed by worry and
fretting over what I had allowed to happen. I looked at the creature
lying beside me, and wondered how everything had gotten so out of
control. From the moment I had moved to Toronto, events seemed to twist
out of my hands. Every decision I made complicated things more. First
taking Kate on as a protege, then agreeing to this ridiculous plan, then
taking Lucien as my lover in the very middle of my revenge. How Marcus
would have laughed at me! "Your passions always get the better of you, my
love."  I could almost hear him saying it.  There was no way of knowing
how Lucien would react to our little prank, now. Now that he had his
victory over my scruples, he might not be concerned at all. Perhaps that
was all he wanted from me, and he wouldn't feel betrayed. Or he might be
utterly incensed. No way to predict Lucien's behavior, in the best of
circumstances. And how would Kate feel about this? And Nicholas? Nicholas
de Brabant, that is. But what about Nicholas Sterne, as well? What to do
with him? The more I thought about these knotted circumstances, the more
ill I felt. I rose, and went downstairs to fortify myself with some
nourishment. I might need all my strength. If Sterne ever showed himself,
that is.  I had passed several hours in staring at the ceiling and making
myself a nervous wreck, and it was now late afternoon.
        As I pulled the cork out of the bottle, the doorbell rang. My
heart leaped. That must be Nicholas Sterne. I hadn't bothered to put even
a robe on, and I dashed upstairs to clothe myself. I pulled on a long red
silk kimono,  drinking thirstily from the bottle as quickly as I could.
Lucien stirred, opening his eyes languorously.
        "What are you in such a panic about?" he asked me.
        "I've been expecting someone, and he's arrived. Someone you'll
want to see, I'm certain."
        "Oh, really?" he inquired. "Who is it?"
        "Come and see for yourself." I couldn't help smiling, for all my
anxiety.
        He pulled on his clothes, not bothering to tuck his shirt in. I
headed downstairs, and he followed.
        I looked into the video screen, and saw Nicholas Sterne. I
affected delight and surprise. "He's done it. I can't believe it!  He
said they thought they were close, but he's actually done it!"
        "What?" LaCroix demanded suspiciously. "Who is it?"
        "Look," I responded and moved over so that he could see the
screen. "It's Nicholas. He's made it back across." Sterne stood at the
door, with the late afternoon sunlight streaming all around him.
        Lucien began to curse in Latin, his words tumbling over each
other so I could barely understand them.  He looked absolutely panic
stricken, and I could see the gears of his mind turning, thinking of a
way to bring Nicholas back.
        I spoke into the speaker. "Nicholas, I'm afraid I am a bit
indisposed at the moment, dear. Could you come back later this evening?"
At this, Sterne was to say, of course, and go back to the Raven until I
gave the all clear. I didn't want him to spoil the illusion too quickly
by saying very much.
        But instead, he responded, "Why not let me come up for a just a
moment? I have something I want to discuss with you."
        And with that, he let himself into the building. I was stunned. I
hadn't given him the security code, and I had no idea how he had obtained
it. And now he was on his way up toward a confrontation with a very
panicked and pissed off LaCroix. I stood there, trying to think of some
way to avert disaster, but disaster was already on it's way up the
stairs.  I couldn't decide if I should move the party into the hallway or
if it would be better to keep any possible altercations to the privacy of
the apartment.
        Lucien's face was triumphant. Once he was out of the sunlight, it
would be child's play to bring Nicholas over again. But it was the wrong
Nicholas. I could hear Sterne in the hallway, and Lucien put his hand on
the deadbolt, unlocking it.
        I laid a restraining hand on him, but he pulled away from me,
just as Sterne opened the now-unlocked door himself,  pausing in the
doorway, looking rather shocked both to find us so close to the door, and
in dishabille. I grabbed his arm, pulled him quickly through the doorway
past LaCroix and  thrust him behind me. Now Lucien would have to get
through me to get to Nicholas, and this was not an easy task.
        Lucien's fangs were extended and his eyes dark gold, and he
snarled, "Get out of the way, Gwen. This is not your concern."
        He stepped toward us, and I pushed him away. I had fed that day,
and he had not, which gave me a physical advantage. At least my planning
had done some small bit of good, though this was exactly what I'd hoped
to avoid.  There would be no hiding what I was from Nicholas Sterne, now,
though. All my monstrous attributes were just as visible as LaCroix's. It
was now time to try to get the situation under control
        "Lucien," I reasoned, "it's a prank. My revenge. Look at the boy,
closely." He did so, first a glance and then a longer examination. "This
is not Nicholas de Brabant. It's a mortal, Nicholas Sterne."
        "It is," he realized, his relief evident in his tone. The panic
edged from his face, to be replaced by dark anger, turned towards me.
"You tricked me," he said, his voice fading into a taut whisper.
        I stepped toward him. "Only about this, a harmless prank, you
must admit. My revenge for your  disrespect of my protection of Kate. Now
we are even." I began to laugh, a bit nervously.  "A harmless, quite
amusing prank."
        He was not amused, however. "And this morning? Was that merely
the only way you could keep me here to see him in the sunlight?"
        I sobered. "Oh, that was quite genuine. Foolish, no doubt. My
passions getting the better of my reason, certainly. But quite, quite
genuine."
        He glowered at me like a petulant child, glancing once more at
the mortal behind me, and then he turned and was out the door in an
instant. The sun was just about to set, and he'd be risking burns by
leaving so soon, but he would be able to make it back to his apartment
without serious harm.
        I wondered if that was a declaration of war. I imagined I would
find out soon enough.  I pushed my hair out of my face, and resumed my
human countenance, my mind ablaze with questions and worries and fears.
        From behind me, Nicholas Sterne spoke, with a shaking voice.
"Well, that was very exciting."

Part Ten, Continued
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, wherein the trap is sprung

I turned to look at him. I had all but forgotten about him for a moment.
I fixed him carefully with my eyes, about to try to wipe all knowledge of
what happened from his mind, but he stopped me.
        "That hypnotism crap isn't going to work this time, Gwen. You
might be able to use it to get me to go to bed early, but this is the big
time. I want to know what's going on, and what the hell you are. You owe
me at least that." He folded his arms across his chest and looked at me
defiantly.
        I thought about the situation, and realized that he couldn't be
in any more danger than he was already. I felt I owed him some answers.
And I admired his curiosity and strength of will, no matter how much of a
nuisance it made him. It was unfortunate that he had stumbled into a
circumstance where curiosity was not an adaptive behavior. I decided to
allow him to ask his questions, if he really wanted to, and worry about
wiping his memory of it later. If we all survived.
        I sighed and pulled my robe closer around me. "All right," I
admitted. "You're right. But realize that you ask for this knowledge, and
I have warned you that merely possessing it will put your life in danger."
        He nodded impatiently.
        "Let's sit down then, and I'll try to be as concise as possible."
We sat on the couch. "Firstly, I think what we are, what I am, is fairly
clear." It's  a riddle, Nicholas, I thought giddily. Figure it out.
What's pale and fanged and nocturnal all over?
        His voice broke into my thoughts. "You're a vampire, aren't you?"
I nodded. "It makes sense," he commented. "The windows, your not eating,
the money, the exquisite playing, everything. How old are you?"
        "About sixteen hundred, give or take a year or two," I responded,
then added, "though it's never polite to ask a lady about her age."  This
was a weak attempt at humor. Obviously, I am no lady.
        He regarded me with awe, ignoring my little joke. "Wow, so you
were born around 400 AD? That's amazing. And that was the favor you
wanted me to do?  Just to show up here, and look like somebody else? What
was that guy so pissed off about? And who was he anyway?"
        I laughed at this cascade of inquiry. "I believe you're making up
for not being able to ask your questions before," I observed. "Shall I
start at the beginning of the list? I don't know my exact birthdate; we
didn't keep track of such things then. But I was born in the vicinity of
370 AD, by the current calendar. And yes, that was the favor, although I
expected you here much earlier, and you weren't supposed to come
upstairs. You would have been perfectly safe if you'd stayed outside in
the light.  Didn't Kate give you your instructions before you left the
Raven?"
        "No," he answered. "She split last night, and left me with some
woman named Janette. I guess she's a friend of yours, right? Beautiful
woman, but she seemed a bit annoyed with me. Is she a vampire too?" It
suddenly seemed to occur to him that the majority of my acquaintances
might be vampires.
        "I don't think Janette's statut de mort has anything to do with
our present situation. So Kate didn't tell you to arrive here at ten, and
to go back to the Raven once you'd talked to me from the door?" Then
where did she go instead of the Raven, and where is she now? I wondered
silently.
        "No. She just told me to do whatever Janette said, and then she
left. I haven't seen her since." He frowned at me. "I thought it was my
turn to ask questions."
        "Oh, of course. I'm sorry, go ahead." I replied. Then I had to
interrupt again. "I'm sorry, just one more thing. I have to know - how
did you get the security code?" Now, that was a major mystery.
        He laughed. "Oh, that. Well, when I was cozying up to the
security system installers, drinking beer with them and just watching
them work, I casually dropped a hint that I didn't remember the code.
They assumed that I was "the man of the house" and reminded me of it.
Piece of cake, actually."
        "Ah." I intoned. "I shall  have to change it. All right, go ahead
with your other questions. I'm sorry to interrupt."
        "Okay, what about that guy who was here this afternoon?" he continued.
         A request for  fourteen hundred years of personal history in a
nutshell and a question much more complicated than it sounded. I would
have to attempt to restrict myself to the immediately relevant. "His name
is Lucien LaCroix. He is one of my kind, very powerful and potentially
very dangerous.  He brought Nicholas de Brabant, whom you resemble,
across the threshold of mortality. This makes him something of a cross
between a father, a brother and a lover to Nicholas. Lucien was annoyed,
to put it mildly, because he thought that his child had managed to become
human again. Which Nicholas is trying to do, and which Lucien does not
want."
        He looked at me closely as if he were having trouble following
all of it. I couldn't blame him. "Okay," he said. "I think I get it. My
look-a-like is a vampire, too?" I nodded. "And this LaCroix guy is your
lover? That's why you wouldn't make love to me last night?"
        Oh, we're back to this, are we? I thought. You'd think that the
news that his intended was an inhuman, bloodsucking monster might dampen
his libido a bit. "I wouldn't make love to you last night for the exact
reason I told you. The more entangled you become with our kind, the
slimmer the chances you will make it home alive and in your present
mortal state. Lucien and I did not have . . . this kind of relationship
until this morning, and I'm not sure I really want it to be common
knowledge. So keep it to yourself, please?"
        He smiled. "You can count on my discretion. But what's the
problem with you two, that you don't want anyone to know?"
        I sighed. What's the problem? What isn't the problem?  That is a
whole conversation in itself,  I thought.  But I wasn't about to pour my
heart out to this mortal. "It's entirely too long and complicated to
explain," I told him. "Suffice it to say that we have a very long, very
tumultuous history, that we have been enemies for the last eight hundred
years or so, and I am very confused right now."
        He grinned brightly at me. "So, you're not too attached to this
guy, huh?" Hope springs eternal. If the knowledge that I wasn't even
technically alive wasn't enough to discourage him, nothing would, I
supposed. Was I attached to Lucien? I wondered.
        "I don't know what I am," I finally stated, "but if you're
imagining that I would take a mortal lover with Lucien LaCroix skulking
around and probably on the war path, you must be out of your mind." I
shook my head. "I'm sorry, Nicholas, it just isn't meant to be."
        "So, make me one of you. Then I'd be able to take care of myself.
And we could spend the centuries together. I want to be with you, Gwen.
Don't you understand? I don't care what it takes. I want to be by your
side, your immortal lover through the centuries." He took my hand, and
bared his neck to me. The blood beneath his skin smelled fresh and sweet.
I could hear his heart pounding, and I was so tempted to take him, not to
bring him over, but simply to feed my bloodlust. I pulled my hand away
from him, and slid a bit farther away on the couch.
        I was supposed to be protecting him, not dining on him. And
brining him over, oh, that would be great fun. Spend the rest of eternity
chasing both Kate *and* Nicholas, trying to keep them out of trouble and
out of Lucien's way. This was not my idea of a good time.
        "No, Nicholas. Even if you understood the ramifications of what
you asked -"
        "Understand the ramifications?" he asked, raising his voice a
bit. "I don't need to have lived 1600 years to realize that my life isn't
worth a plug nickel without you around to protect me. If this Lucien
person, or any of your other pallid pals should decide I know too much,
I'm history, right?" He looked at me. "Right?"
        I admitted it.
        "So work the change on me, for my own protection, if nothing
else,"  he demanded.
        "That wouldn't afford you much protection against Lucien," I
retorted. "He's old, and therefore very strong. And he's just as likely
to kill you simply for having been here as for anything else. Bringing
you across would not change the situation very much. And besides, I can't
take on another fledgling right now. I've got my hands full teaching
Kate. I'd be cheating both of you of your full education. I won't do
it."  Even I had limits to both my energy and my stupidity.
        "But, Gwen -" he began but I stopped him.
        "Nicholas, listen to me for just a moment." I looked into his
eyes, not to force his will, but merely hoping to convince him.  "You
should go back to St. Louis, and enjoy the blessings of your mortal life.
Sunlight, children, a clear conscience. Don't chase this dark dream of
immortality. I let you go in St. Louis because I didn't want to endanger
you. Please save yourself. Go back, and forget that any of this happened.
Let me believe that I did not destroy one mortal life that I touched."
        "Gwen, you haven't destroyed me. You've brought me life, passion,
love. The magic I always knew lurked beneath the surface of the everyday.
I can't give that up now. Besides, I've always hated the sun. I never
wanted children. I don't care about all that suburban crap. I want you. I
want this fantastic existence you can give me, the opportunity to read
every book I never had time for, complete every project that fell by the
wayside. The time to convince you to love me. "
        I sighed. I could see visions of gothic romance dancing in his
eyes. It would be very difficult to talk him out of this, I realized. And
I was sick of thinking about it.  "Look, Nicholas, I think we should talk
about his some more tomorrow. I'm tired of worrying about our
predicament. Let's go out to the Raven for a while, and try to forget
about it, okay? And we'll start where we left off in the afternoon."
        "Sure, Gwen. Even an abbreviated mortal life like mine should be
able to spare a few hours for relaxation." He smiled at me, and I just
looked at him and shook my head.  The expression skating on thin ice
seemed to have no meaning to Nicholas.
        "I'm going upstairs to take a shower and get dressed," I informed
him.  "Don't let anyone in, if you can help it." I climbed the stairs,
cursing under my breath all the way. I wondered if Marcus was watching
from somewhere, laughing hysterically, as he always used to do.
Part Eleven
Excerpts from Kate's diary, relating Kate's revenge of a different sort


       The Southern California night felt pleasantly warm to me after all
the time I'd been up in Toronto. I knew I had missed LA, but I didn't
realize how much until I was there again.  I hadn't been there since that
night of the audition when LaCroix had found me.  Things had definitely
changed since then.  I remembered that night very well, glancing over my
shoulder with every step that I took alone on these dangerous streets, in
my cheap clothes, heading back to Cheyenne and that roach motel of an
apartment.  Now I was wearing clothes that would have cost me a month's
rent in those days, owned a house in Missouri, and was resting on a
cushion of four million
in the bank.  Not bad in exchange for giving up a suntan.  Not to mention
that I didn't have to look over my shoulder anymore.  All those years of
getting used to being afraid of strangers, and now, if they knew what was
good for them, strangers ought to be afraid of me.  I laughed as I
rounded the corner and got a strange look from a hooker.  I was so aware
of all the mortal hearts beating around me, so many nameless, faceless,
dispensable lives that the disappearance of just one wouldn't ever be
noticed.  It was tempting, but I wanted all my hunger for what lay ahead
of me.
        The streets were getting more familiar.  Mike's condo was in a
nice part of town but not as nice as the hotel I could afford now.  It
wasn't long before I was at the door.  It was locked, of course, like any
sensible person in LA would keep it, but that was no problem for me.  I
could break the lock, I mused, with a simple twist of my wrist or just
tear the door off its hinges if it came to that, but there was no need
for such dramatic measures.  After all, I smiled, I was just an old
friend dropping by for a visit.  What's so suspicious about that?  I
pressed the bell.  This was going to be fun.
        The look on his face when he opened the door and saw me almost
paid me back for missing LaCroix' reaction to seeing my mortal Nick.  I
would imagine that of all the women he'd screwed over in his life, I was
the one he least expected to ever see again. The more penniless they are,
the fewer problems they can create later. Even after all he'd done to me,
though, his looks still made even my immortal stomach turn somersaults.
Those eyes the color of coffee left in the bottom of the cup widened
behind the glasses he wore to give himself an intellectual air.  "Hi,
Mike," I grinned.  "Aren't you going to ask me in?"  I ducked under his
arm into the hallway before he could answer.
        "Kate."  He swung the door shut and turned to watch me as I
strolled around the living room.  He'd changed a few things since I'd
lived there, mostly the pictures.  They were all of another woman now, or
I should say a girl.  He took a few steps toward me and stood uncertainly
in the doorway.  "Kate, what are you doing here?"
        I ignored him.  "This is my replacement, I guess?  The girl that
you kicked me out so she could move in?  She's very pretty.  And not
quite young enough to be your daughter.  Very classy, Mike."
        "Kate," he repeated more firmly, "what are you doing here?"
        "Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in.  That
chair is new.  Did she pick it out?  I don't like it.  What's her name?"
        He came closer to me as if he meant to usher me out.  "It doesn't
matter.  Kate, I think you ought to . . . ."
        I fixed him with my eyes and listened for the throb of his
heartbeat.  "I want to know her name, Mike," I said very quietly.
        He took a shaky breath.  "Angie.  Her name is Angie."  He broke
eye contact and turned his head away in confusion.  Mike was not
accustomed to not being in control.
        "Angie.  What a nice name.  She's not here?" I asked, glancing
around the room.
        "No, she won't be home for a few hours."
        "What a shame," I sighed.  "I would so like to meet her.  Well, I
guess I can just see her when she comes home."
        "Kate," he said, trying to reassert control, "you will not be
here when she comes home."
        I smiled.  "One of us won't be."
        "What?"
        "Don't worry about that now, Mike.  There's plenty of time for
that."  I sat down on the couch and made myself comfortable.  "Let's just
spend some time getting caught up, shall we?"
        He glared at me for a moment or two and then seemed to give in
and perched himself on the arm of a chair across the room.  "Fine, Kate.
I don't know what sort of game you're playing, but I'll go alone with it
for a little while.  But then you are leaving, understand?"
        "Oh, I'll be glad to leave," I told him, "as soon as I've done
what I came for."
        "And what is that, Kate?  Why are you here?"  He was on his feet
again and pacing.  He needed a haircut, I noticed.  That thick shock of
chestnut hair was falling forward almost into his eyes.  "Why have you
waltzed back into my life and my home out of nowhere?  What do you want?
Money?  You're not going to get it."
        I stood up slowly.  "No, I don't want your money.  You wouldn't
give me anything when you threw me out, and I had nothing then, for food,
for a place to stay, for anything.  If you wouldn't give me money then,
why should I expect any now?  Besides, I don't need money anymore. Things
have changed since then."
        Mike had stopped pacing and was eyeing me suspiciously, his brow
creased as it always was when he was thinking.  The sense of familiarity
was overpowering, being in that room again, sitting on that couch, seeing
him, that tall, slender but powerful frame.  Just like old times, except,
of course, for Angie's perky little face smiling at me from photographs
and the enticing scent of Mike's blood.  "So you're saying what?  You got
a job?"
        "It all started with an audition, yeah."  I crossed the room to
stand closer to him.  "You know, Mike, the money thing's not the only
thing that's changed since then.  You remember how you used to get upset
with me for eating sweets?  It was for my own good, of course, the way
you told me how I was going to be a fat slob and no one would hire me.
You were just looking out for my welfare."  I took a step closer.  I was
almost in his arms.  "I don't eat sweets anymore, Mike, not at all.  If
you took me back, you'd never have to worry about that again."
        He snorted and shoved his way past me into the center of the
room.  "Is that what this is all about?  You think I would ever consider
taking you back?  Get over yourself, Kate.  I told you it was over months
ago.  I have moved on.  I have someone else now.  I have a life.  Just
because you don't is no reason to assume there's any chance I'd let you
come back here.  I'm not attracted to you, Kate.  Deal with it."
        I shook my hair back over my shoulders.  "You used to tell me
that you loved me.  You said we'd be together forever."
        "And you were naive enough to believe that?" he asked.  "Forever
is a long time."
        I laughed.  "You have no idea.  So did you promise Angie the same
things?  How long is forever going to be for her?  How long before you
move on to someone younger still?"
        He folded his arms across his chest.  "I think you should leave
now, Kate."
        "Oh, I don't think so," I answered.
        His expression had become completely cold.  "Then I will have to
*make* you leave."  He strode across the room and grabbed my arm roughly,
intending to put me out the door by force, I assume.  But even as he used
all his considerable strength, I didn't move an inch.  I smiled slowly as
his eyes widened in bewilderment.  "What the . . . ?"
        Deliberately, I let my eyes go gold and felt my fangs extend.
His mouth dropped open, and he almost fell over the coffee table as he
scrambled backwards to get away from me.  "I told you things had
changed," I breathed as I stepped slowly toward him.  There was nothing
but a wall behind him, no way out, and he cringed against it as I approached.
        "Oh God.  No.  This can't be happening," he whimpered.  "Kate.
No, please.  Please, Kate."
        I stopped when I was almost touching him.  I was close enough to
feel the warmth from his body.  I let my eyes linger on his strong neck
and ran the edge of my tongue deliberately along my upper lip.
        "Kate, please," he begged.  "Please don't kill me.  Please."
        My eyes softened as I looked at him tenderly.  "Mike."  I raised
my hand to his face.  He closed his eyes in terror as I traced my fingers
softly down his cheek and jaw and continued downward to stroke his square
shoulder and broad chest.  With my other hand, I gently pressed his
fingers.  I knew the feel of them so well.  His hands were strong but
sensitive for a man, with long, nimble fingers.  Musician's hands, I
thought suddenly, thinking of Gwen.  I rested my head where it fit so
well against his chest beneath his chin.  With the sudden change of mood,
I could feel the tension begin to ebb out of his body.  "Mike, I couldn't
ever hurt you.  I love you."  I wrapped my arm around his trim waist and
gently pulled him a few steps away from the wall.  "You know that, don't
you, Mike?  You know how I love you?"
        I could feel his relief wash over him like a flood as he gasped
for breath.  I nuzzled a last kiss into the base of his throat before I
pulled back a few inches so he could see my face again.  "It's so cute,"
I told him breathlessly as my eyes flashed to dark amber, "that you
actually believe that."  And then I killed him.

Part Eleven
Excerpts from Kate's diary, relating Kate's revenge of a different sort


         Gwen's taste is for the sweet blood of those who die peacefully.
LaCroix taught me the hunt and the sharp taste of fear.  Janette
introduced me to blood mixed with wine, and Nick showed me the ecstasy of
drinking immortal blood in a moment of passion.  But none of these can
begin to compare with the delicious flavor of revenge.  I took my time
about it, draining him slowly, wanting to enjoy every second.  I was so
caught up in the taste of his blood, the sound of his final heartbeats
that I never even heard the footsteps behind me.
        "That's my girl."  I had sunk to the floor, cradling Mike's body
in my arms.  At the sound of LaCroix' voice, I jumped to my feet, letting
Mike's corpse tumble and sprawl across the carpet.  I had no idea what to
expect from LaCroix, but he just stood in the doorway and smiled at me
quietly.  "Did you enjoy that?"
        Breathless and still on my guard, I nodded.  "Yes."
        He glanced down at Mike and then up at me again.  There was a
moment thick with silence and then he stepped around the body on the
floor and moved in my direction.  I was struck by a sudden impulse to
run, to get far away from him, but there was nowhere to run to and I knew
that he could run far faster than I could if it came down to that.  When
he was only inches away from me, he stretched out his hand toward my
face.  I flinched when he touched me.  I felt the coldness of his
fingertip stroke across my lower lip, and then he drew his finger away
red with Mike's blood and put it to his mouth.  He gave a delighted smile
at my reaction to his closeness.  "Why, Kate, you're not afraid of me,
are you?"
        "No," I breathed, but even as I mouthed the word, I knew that he
knew that it was a lie.  I saw his eyes begin to glow and his fangs
extend as he stepped even closer to me.  I could almost feel his breath
on my face.  Again he raised his hand and ran a slow, cold caress along
my cheek.  I couldn't keep a shiver from running through me, and he
smiled more widely as he felt it.  I was ready to take my chances at
running at this point, but I felt paralyzed as he lowered his face to my
neck.  He laid the points of his fangs teasingly against the flesh just
over an artery and traced the path of the blood vessel up my throat.  His
strong hands had a firm grasp on my arms, and the coldness of his body
pressed against mine.
        He had never touched me this way before, never.  Never except
when he brought me across.  I felt like I was suffocating or drowning.
Finally, in a moment of panic, I rediscovered my ability to move and
pushed against him.  I know my strength is nowhere near his, but he let
me go, looking amused.  "I thought that was what you wanted, Kate."
        I thought it was too, once. To be his lover and share his blood.
But he was . . . .  He was just too much.  Too much power, too many
years.  He frightened me.  I never understood the expression "playing
with fire" until that moment with LaCroix.  If Gwen wanted him, she was
welcome to him.  Maybe she was strong enough to handle him without losing
herself.  I eyed him warily. He didn't look angry, but appearances can be
deceiving.  "If you're going to kill me, LaCroix, do it and get it over
with."
        He raised his eyebrows in surprise.  "Kill you?  Oh, I assume
you're referring to that amusing little trick Gwen played on me.  Very
clever, you know.  It was your idea, wasn't it?"  I knew I didn't have to
answer him out loud.  "Yes, I thought so.  But you didn't get to be in on
the fun, did you?  So you came here."
        "How did you find me?"
        "Kate," he said reproachingly.  "You are mine.  I created you.
Wherever you go, I will always be able to find you."  He looked back down
at the corpse on the floor.  "I must admit, I quite approve of this
little trip."  He raised his eyes back to mine.  "Revenge is sweet, isn't
it?"
        I smiled in spite of myself.  "Don't be afraid to admit it,
Kate.  Never be ashamed of what you are.  I gave you this power.  This is
what it is for."  He gestured to Mike.  "You should have been here for
the old days, Kate.  We could take anyone we wanted, and no one dared
challenge us.  Those were hunts."  He drew in a deep breath and for a
moment seemed lost in his memories.  With an expression of distaste, he
drew himself back into the present.  "Today, however, we must be more
careful about cleaning up the messy details."  He strode to the door of
the condo and called out into the night.  "Angie, come in here."
        The girl from the pictures walked in, a duffel bag slung over her
shoulder.  Apparently, from the way she was dressed, she was some kind of
aerobics instructor.  Typical of Mike.  She didn't look at me or at her
dead lover or at anyone really.  Instead, she was staring blankly at the
wall, and I realized that LaCroix had her under his control, far more
deeply than I had ever seen anyone put under before.  I was impressed.
        "She got here while you were dispatching your friend here,"
LaCroix explained in an off-hand manner, "and I certainly didn't want her
to disturb you while you were dining.  Angie."  He raised his voice.  "Go
into the kitchen and bring me a large knife."  She turned and walked out
of the room with no more expression than before.  It was kind of creepy,
even for me.
        LaCroix stepped over to the corpse and placed the toe of his boot
against Mike's neck, just under the chin.  He closed his eyes in
concentration and just barely twisted his ankle, and I heard a soft snap
as the spine cracked.  "Just to make sure," he explained kindly as Angie
sleepwalked back into the room with a butcher knife.  "Ah, here we are."
He removed a crisp handkerchief from his pocket and expertly wrapped it
around the knife's handle as he took it from her.  Kneeling, he
skillfully made a deep cut across Mike's throat directly through the
marks of my fangs.  "A few more fingerprints, if you please," he ordered,
handing the knife back to Angie and returning his handkerchief to his
pocket.  "That's enough.  Put it in your bag."  He didn't even glance at
her to make sure she did it.  Instead, he took a roll of bills from his
inside coat pocket and dropped it in her bag with the knife.  "Listen to
me, Angie.  You're going to leave here and not come back.  Throw the
knife in an alley a few blocks from here and then go straight to the
airport.  Buy a ticket to wherever you'd like to go and leave this city.
Do you understand?"  She nodded.  "Then go."
        I watched her walk out the door.  "That was very well done."
        He smiled.  "It is so enlightening to have a relative in law
enforcement.  Now, shall we discuss your little prank?"
        I took a deep breath and raised my chin.  He'd never actually
said he wasn't going to kill me over this.  "What about it?"
        "It was you who found that boy, wasn't it?"
        I don't know why he bothers asking me questions.  It's not like
he couldn't find out anything he wanted to know just using his mind.
Probably already had, too.  I guess he liked to at least keep up the
appearance of carrying on a reasonable conversation.  "You know I did."
        He looked thoughtful.  "And yet you didn't get to be a part of
it.  You missed the pay-off, as it were.  And it was supposed to be your
revenge, too."
        I glanced away.  "Don't remind me."
        He went on, of course, ignoring me.  "I'm sure it was quite a
show you missed, too.  I truly was completely taken in for a moment.  I'm
quite certain Gwen had a difficult time keeping a straight face."  He
smiled.  "Of course, she was a bit distracted at the time as the boy took
it on himself to come upstairs to the apartment."
        I perked up at that information.  "No, really?  He wasn't
supposed to do that."  I giggled.  "Gwen must have had a fit.  Did you
kill him?"
        "I would have," he assured me.  "I still thought that it was my
Nicholas, you know.  I'm not sure what I intended to do: kill him, bring
him back across if possible."  His voice went very cold.  "I would have
made it quite clear that I would not be defied.  But Gwen wouldn't let me
touch him.  She revealed the trickery then and put her own rather
formidable self between him and me.  She seemed quite adamant that the
boy should not be harmed."
        "Yeah," I shrugged.  "She has some sort of thing about that."  I
struck a melodramatic pose.  "'One life that she has touched without
destroying' or something like that."
        "Oh, I think there's more to it than that."
        There was something in his voice that made me frown and turn
toward him.  "What do you mean?"
        He met my eyes very seriously.  "I mean that there is a personal
dimension to this.  You know that Gwen and Nicholas, our Nicholas, were
lovers centuries ago.  I took him from her then when I made him
immortal.  Now she has a mortal Nicholas again.  Perhaps she intends to
bring him across as she would have done with our Nicholas had I not
stolen him.  Perhaps she will keep him as a mortal lover.  I don't know
precisely what she intends to do with him, but she does intend to keep him."
        "No.  That can't be right.  She told me she was sending him back."
        He raised his eyebrows.  "And what did she tell you about the
relationship between her and me before you happened to walk in on us that
day in her apartment?  That we were no more than old acquaintances?  And
she told you that she didn't mind your having a relationship with our
Nicholas, too.  But then she went to Nicholas and told him that you were
a liar, knowing it would drive him away from you."  He chuckled low in
his throat.  "You have been deceived, Kate.  All's fair," he said
deliberately, "in love and war."
        It was true, all of it.  I hadn't seen the pattern before, but it
was true.  "But why would she lie to me about this Nick?  I don't care if
she wants to keep him.  It doesn't matter to me."
        "Oh, but it does matter to you, Kate.  Think about it.  You are
dependent on Gwen as your mentor now.  What becomes of you when she takes
on a protege of her own, one that is really her own and not just
borrowed?  You know the bond of blood that exists between you and me,
Kate, how strong it is even as the situation stands between us now. Kate,
how strong it is even as the situation stands between us now. Think what
it would be between Gwen and her new Nicholas, not only master and
protege but lovers, as well.  Two is company, Kate, and three is a
crowd.  How long before Kate turns her back on you?  As long as her new
Nicholas is alive, that is."  He looked at me a long moment.  "I flew to
Los Angeles in a private jet, but I won't be going back tonight.  You can
take it back if you want to leave now."
        He held out his hand to me, and I took what he offered without
thinking.  It was a folded paper.  Opening it, I read, "Antoine, please
fly Kate Bolen back to Toronto right away.  You may return for me
tomorrow night.  Lucien LaCroix."  I ran my finger over the lines of his
seal impressed in the lump of wax as I looked into his quiet eyes.  And
then I stepped over Mike's corpse and took to the air on my way to the
airport.


Part Twelve
Excerpts from Gwen's diary, wherein Gwen solicits advice


        The night I spent at the Raven trying to relax was less than
relaxing. When Nicholas Sterne wasn't pestering me with questions about
my life, or trying to convince me to bring him across, he was pestering
Janette. Or, if somehow we had managed to distract him from these two
activities, he would disappear for a moment, and we would begin a frantic
search for him, only to find him chatting up some attractive young
vampire with a hungry look in her eye.  It's a wonder that I hadn't
killed him myself by the end of that night. Much less Janette, who was
alternately amused and disgusted by all of it.
        The next afternoon, I forbid all conversation of immortality,
saying that his conversion was officially under consideration in my mind,
and that there were no arguments he could make that he hadn't made in the
last twenty four hours.  Actually, I had, as I had said before, no
intention of bringing him over myself. But if he didn't stop talking
about it, I *would* certainly kill him. I wanted to solicit Janette's
advice, and the previous evening had been so filled with chasing Nicholas
around the Raven that there had been no time to talk. I decided I needed
some quality time with Janette.
        I told Nicholas, "Cheri, I'm going to the Raven tonight, alone. I
hate to leave you here by yourself. I really thought that Kate would have
returned by now, but there seems to be no sign of her."
        "Do you think she's okay?" he wondered.
        "I think so. I imagine she's probably sulking at her house in
Missouri, though she isn't answering the phone there. Or perhaps she's
with Nicholas, de Brabant, that is. I left a message on his machine, but
he hasn't called yet. Perhaps he will later on, in the morning. In the
meantime, I've got to talk to Janette, and I can't do it with you running
around the club endangering yourself at every turn."
        He laughed. "I wasn't in any danger. I was only chatting with a
couple of women. I think you're jealous."  This infuriated me. The child's
naivete was beginning to lose its charm. I was working as hard as I could
to keep him alive, and I was beginning to resent the fact that he seemed
to be working just as hard for the opposite result.
        I glared at him, eyes flaring gold, and he blanched. "You're
going to learn the hard way that I do not exaggerate, and then it will be
too late to save you." I sighed, frustrated, and forced myself to assume
a more normal countenance. "Look," I reasoned, trying not to lose my
temper, "just stay here. Okay? Don't leave the apartment. Don't open the
door for anyone, I mean *anyone* but Kate. Swear it."
        "I swear," he replied.
        "You swear not to leave the apartment, and not to open the door
to anyone but Kate?" I reiterated, trying to pin him down so as to leave
no doubt of the proper course of action.
        "Yes, yes. I swear I will not leave the apartment or open the
door to anyone but Kate."
        "All right." That would have to do. If he managed to get himself
killed anyway, it was not my responsibility. "If LaCroix shows up" I
added, "call me immediately at the Raven. It's number one on the speed
dial. And if he gets too close, say the Lord's prayer or something. He
hates that."
        "Um, Gwen? I don't know the Lord's Prayer," Nicholas confided.
        "Oh." I thought for a moment. "I don't know all of it either. Do
you think you could hum part of the Requiem? Oh, never mind. Just call
me. I don't think he will make an appearance, anyway."
        He smiled sweetly at me. "Okay. Have a good time."
        "Thanks," I said dryly, and escaped to the Raven.  I was
beginning to feel like the den mother for the juvenile delinquent
contingent of the Vampire Scouts.  I could only hope that Janette would
have some ideas on how to haul myself out of the quicksand into which I
had swan-dived.

        When I explained the circumstances that led to my pretty mess at
length to Janette, she was quite amused. Unfortunately, her primary
advice was, simply, "Kill him."  She, of course, did not understand why I
was being so sensitive about this boy. Whether he looked like Nicholas or
not, he was a mortal, he was too inquisitive and he was a general
nuisance. Therefore, he was an hors-d'ouevre. And she made the point that
he could easily become a danger to our little community; admittedly he
hadn't demonstrated much talent for discretion.  And because I had been
responsible for bringing him into the community, it was my duty to
rectify the situation. Or, rather, Kate was the guilty party, but I was
responsible for Kate, and so responsible for cleaning up after her. I had
failed in my duty when I allowed the mess to occur in the first place.  I
was acutely aware of this chain of responsibility when I came to Janette
for advice and it weighed heavily on me.
        When I proposed my best and only idea for keeping the boy alive
(well, in some manner, anyway) Janette flatly refused. I could not blame
her, I suppose. After all, I didn't want to bring him across myself
either, why would Janette?
        But concerning the prank itself, she was delighted with it. She
herself had believed for a moment that Nicholas de Brabant had gone back
across when she first saw Nicholas Sterne. She confided that she had
almost ruined a new dress by spilling an entire glass of wine in shock.
This made me laugh. It was almost worth all the tumult just to hear
Janette admit that she had lost her eternal composure for an instant. Her
only suggestion was that the next time I decided to pull a trick of this
magnitude, I should install hidden video cameras, so that all those who
couldn't be present at the trick's execution could have the pleasure of
viewing it. I must confess that this was an excellent idea, which had not
even occurred to me. But, as I told her, with all the trouble this little
prank had caused, I doubted I'd be repeating its like in the near future.
        The discussion concluded with Janette teasing me unmercifully and
with great enjoyment about my having "finally succumbed" to LaCroix.  She
had been waiting for several months for this, and wanted nothing more
than to see the two of us together, for a variety of reasons, most of
them selfish.  But, I truly do believe that in some twisted way, she
thought that Lucien and I could make each other happy, against all logic
and history. And, of course, she was concerned abo