VQ: Vampire Quarterly
For the Vampire of Discriminating Taste
By Lizbeth Marcs
 
        In a fit of guilt, Nick decided to visit Jannette at The
Raven.
        That's how it _all_ started.
        As a fit of guilt.
        Well, there was _nothing_ new about Nick feeling
guilty, per se. It's just that it had begun to dawn on him that
Jannette might be feeling a bit used and neglected. It seemed that
whenever he saw her these days it was always on business, or at
least on the _pretext_ that he was seeing her on business.
Jannette had complained about this trend _several_ times, but
Nick always managed to soften her up by planting a quick kiss on
the cheek and mumbling a promise to stop by for a visit of the
social kind.
        But work just _always_ seemed to get in the way. It
wasn't that there was one big case on his desk, or even several
little cases clamoring for his attention.
        It was Cohen.
        It seemed his new captain was simply _hell-bent_ on
getting all the paperwork done on time. That meant working
dangerously close to sunrise and sunset. It also meant coming in
on his night off as the year-end push to clear all the paper-choked
desks off in time for the new year kicked into high gear.
        Nick was beginning to suspect that the captain's
obsession with crossing all the "T"s and dotting all the "I"s was
affecting her sanity as already-overworked detectives became
even _more_ overworked. Some of his reports had been kicked back
so many times for "further clarification" that at least _one_
detective, namely himself, had begun to wonder if she was taking
points off for handwriting.
        Not that the reports were actually handwritten,
understand. They were typed. It's just that Nick was a _terrible_
typist. He just never got the hang of keyboards. Or spelling. When
he was _really_ tired, he sometimes found himself slipping into
the spelling habits of his childhood. As he told Nat half-jokingly
the other night, 800-year-old spelling is _not_ spelling at its
best.
        Suffice to say that a string of broken promises and the
pressures at work inspired one vampire to call in sick this very
fateful night. Minutes after he hung up on Cohen, the phone rang as
if on cue. "Hello, Nat," he sighed.
        "Ooooh. You _do_ sound tired." Nat's voice was warmly
amused.
        "It's the paperwork, Nat. I can't take it anymore."
        A chuckle at the other end line caught him by surprise.
"So you're taking a mental health day, hmmmm?"
        "A mental what?"
        "Okay, okay. A mental health _night_," Nat corrected.
Nick could almomst imagine the cat-like grin spreading across her
face as she said this. "You know, some time for yourself to relax
and unwind even as you play hookey. I want you to know that
Schanke is _not_ pleased."
        "How does Schanke know..."
        "Sometimes you _really_ underestimate him," Nat said.
"When Cohen told him that you called in, guess who he called to
rant and rave about you taking off and leaving him to finish up all
the paperwork? He also says you _really_ should take a typing
class. He thought _his_ two-fingered typing style was bad, but
he's of the opinion that _yours_ takes the cake." Nat's giggle
threatened to go out of control with this statement.
        "Fine. After the holidays when I actually start getting
my night off back, I'll go to night school or something" Nick
promised.
        "Well, you _could_ always take a correspondence
course," Nat said thoughtfully. "Look, can we talk about this later?
Hmmmm? I've got my own paper monster here to slash through."
                  "Sure. Will do."
        "Oh, and Nick? Have a good night off. Try and relax. Go
for a walk or something." Then she hung up.
        Nick looked a moment at the receiver. Well, maybe
tonight wouldn't be exactly be relaxing. _But_, he _could_ at least
solve one of his problems.
 
        Alarm bells _should_ have gone off in his head when he
saw that the usual crowd was not piled up outside to get into The
Raven.
        But they didn't.
        He _should've_ been suspicious when he heard strains
of dance music pounding out a salsa rhythm instead of the usual
Euro-tech.
        But he wasn't.
        After walking though the door and seeing the usually
dark club light up like high noon, he should've hauled out of there
and come back another time.
        But he didn't.
        Instead, he stood just inside the entrance and gaped.
The first coherent thought he had was, *What the hell?*
        The second coherent thought he had was, *Maybe
Alma's decided to redecorate.*
        While mulling over this second terrifying prospect, a
little man carrying a big light almost ran him over. "Hey, buddy!
Watch where you're standing," the little man growled. Before Nick
could answer him, he'd scurried away.
        "Nicolah! I'm _so_ glad you decided to drop by!"
Jannette descended on him from God knew where and began
escorting him to God-help-him, he really wasn't sure he wanted to
know.
        He managed to sputter an intelligent, "What?" before
Jannette literally overrode his senses. "So tell me," she whispered.
"Is it business or pleasure?"
        Well, Nick wasn't sure if the word "pleasure" was what
he had in mind, but he decided to play along until he could figure
out what was going on. "Ummm, here for that visit I keep
promising you."
        Jannette clapped her hands. "Excellent! You're timing
just _couldn't_ have been better! Wait right here." And with a
giggle, she was off.
        The lasting image of Jannette actually giggling was
too much for poor Nick and he decided that _now_ might be the
time to escape.
        Too bad he was too late in implementing this course of
action.
        Before he could carry out his plan, Jannette was back,
dragging another woman bearing a notebook with her. "I want you
to meet Nicolah. He's one of our regulars and an _old_ friend."
        The bored look on the woman's face immediately
transformed. "_Really_!" she held out an elegantly manicured hand
and added, "It's quite a pleasure to meet you Mr....ahhh?"
        "Knight. Nick Knight," he answered automatically.
"Jannette, what is..."
        "This is Morgaine Ravenhurst," Jannette interrupted.
"She's a writer for VQ."
        Nick wasn't sure he wanted to know. "VQ?"
        "Vampire Quarterly," Ravenhurst said helpfully.
        Nick looked at Jannette. "This has _got_ to be a joke."
        "No joke, Mr. Knight," Ravenhurst said, as she tucked
her pen behind her ear. "I see you haven't gotten our solicitation
for your subscription yet."
        "I may have, it's just I've been really busy, see and..."
his voice trailed off. It was too complicated to explain,
_especially_ to another vampire. "Well, I haven't had a chance to
go through my mail for the past week."
        Ravenhurst nodded sagely. "I know how that is. Work,
work, work, work." She smiled at Nick's look of surprise. "Making it
in a mortal world isn't all it's cracked up to be sometimes. There
are days when I could just _kill_ to be back in Paris during the
Revolution. Didn't have to worry about too much about certain
matters back then."
        "W-e-e-e-ll..." Nick began, but he found himself cut off
as Jannette took one arm and Ravenhurst took the other and began
to lead him to the bar.
        "It's like this, you see, VQ is a _new_ full-color glossy
monthly magazine devoted _strictly_ to vampires for vampires,"
Ravenhurst began.
        "Now I _know_ this is a joke," Nick mumbled as he
found himself perched precariously on a barstool.
        "It's all serious. We've already published two issues
and you're friend here has agreed to grace the cover of our third,"
Ravenhurst said. "We're all very excited about this. 'Vampire
Entrepreneur Takes the Night in Toronto.' That's the working title.
Like it?"
        Nick sputtered a bit on this information. "But how? I
mean, why? I mean, what about the Enforcers? Why do they..."
        "W-e-e-e-e-ell, it took some doing, getting
permission. The code you know," Ravenhurst said distractedly as
she brushed an errant lock of hair out of her eyes. "_But_ we
_finally_ got them to go along with it because _now_ the
technology exists to limit our mailing list to only the most
_select_ clientele."
        Nick was suspicious. "Unh-unh? And?"
        "We promised to feature them on the cover of our first
issue."
        Nick blinked. This was too weird for words.
        "It was a good article!" Ravenhurst said defensively. "'A
Day in the Life of an Enforcer: Thrills, Chills, Romance. And That's
Just Before Lunch.'"
        "I don't _believe_ this," he muttered.
        "I know. That's what a lot of our subscribers said at
first, but I have to tell you, the circulation has just been
_growing_ by leaps and bounds. I think we've really tapped into an
under-served market. I figure that by the time some upstart
publication tries to home in on our turf, we'll just _corner_
market," Ravenhurst said.
        Nick was beginning to get a headache. Subscribers?
Circulation? Market share? Vampires under-served by the media?
And that's to say nothing of the vision of Enforcers as cover girls.
 
 
        Ravenhurst snapped the pen from behind her ear and put
it to paper. "So, would you be willing to answer some questions
about your friend? It's _all_ in a good cause, I assure you."
        "Please, Nicolah?" Jannette breathed. "It would mean so
_much_ to me if you'd cooperate."
        Before he could agree or find a way to squirm out of
the interview, a voice wove it's way through the scurrying
photographers. "Ms. Jannette! We're ready to shoot now!"
        "That's my cue," Jannette said. She planted a quick kiss
on Nick's cheek and warned him, "Be a _good_ boy now. And say
only _nice_ things" before disappearing into the crowd.
 
        The rest of that night was a bit of a blur as Ravenhurst
pounded him with questions. How did he first meet the subject?
Under what circumstances? What were some of the adventures
they shared? How did she run the bar? How often did he stop by?
How did he feel about her success?
        When Ravenhurst wandered off to talk to Alma, Miklos
and other employees, Nick idly thumbed through a sample copy of
the latest issue of VQ. The contents were...well...were...words
failed him.
        'Making Your Mixed Moral-Immortal Relationship Work,'
one article screamed. Another announced, 'Till Death? How Far
Should You Carry This Vampiric Relationship Anyway?'
        Of course, there were helpful hints. 'The Best 10
Sources for Your Blood Supply' and 'Moving? Our Guide Will Point
You in the Right Direction.'
        Then there were the fashion tips. 'Next Year's Hot
Fashions for the Vampire on the Go. Vests Are Out. Long Coats Are
In.' and 'Bad Hair Night? Simple Tips To Tame Those Locks.'
        Then there were the advice columns. 'Dear Vladdy' and
'Can This Master-Fledgling Relationship Be Saved.'
        The colorful pictures and the gushing text simply
overwhelmed Nick's medieval senses. He was so bamboozled,
especially by the "Horror" Scopes, that he was completely
unprepared for Jannette's powers of manipulation.
        The vampire _somehow_ managed to talk him into
posing for some photos with her. There were shots of him and
Jannette sipping from glasses, more shots of him and Jannette
making small-talk over an intimate table for two, a group shot of
him, Jannette and a whole host of other vampires sitting around
the bar and a shot of him and Alma dancing while an amused
Jannette looked on.
        Through the entire ordeal, Nick vowed that he was
going to get even with Jannette, one way or the other.
        It was around 4 a.m. when everyone decided to pack up
and head back to their hotel. Ravenhurst button-holed him into a
corner and extracted his telephone number using some mysterious
reporter trick. She made a vague promise to call him about an
upcoming article about "Vampires in Public Service: The New
Knight Shift."
 
        Nick remained _very_ quiet about the events of that
night. It was too embarrassing to share. He managed to keep the
secret. For about a month.
        The whole thing was blown _wide_ open when Nat
breezed into his apartment with the rented movie, a bag of
microwave popcorn and a copy of VQ.
        She threw it down on the couch and, with a crooked
grin, remarked, "Interesting mag. I have to say, you take a
_wonderful_ picture."
        There it was. Proof of his shame. Staring back at him
was Jannette. She graced the cover with an elegant off-the-
shoulder black dress, a glass of her "special stock" and a
smouldering cigarette. The cover screamed: "The New Vampiress:
Woman In Charge."
        "I can explain..." Nick began.
        Nat chuckled. "Don't bother. Jannette already told me.
She was so excited about  the magazine that she ran over a copy to
me. She thought it best, since they planed on calling me for an
interview."
        "WHAT?!"
        "Calm down, already," Nat said. "Jannette mentioned to
them that she knew this most _divine_ mortal surgeon who knows
how to meet a vampire's basic medical needs. I guess that sparked
the idea to do a story about 'mortal helpers.'"
        "Ohhhhhh, no," he groaned.
        Nat settled on the couch. She seemed very amused. "In
fact, Ms. Ravenhurst called me just as I was leaving the morgue.
Told me all about their plans. She's even got a headline worked out:
'Got a Toothache? Need To Remove a Pesky Bullet? Indigestion?
These Mortals Can Ease The Pain of Un-Living.' Did you know that
there are literally _hundreds_ of people in my position
ministering to you guys? _I_ didn't know that." She shook her head
in wonder. "It's nice to know I'm not alone."
        "Oh, God. I can't take it."
        Nat smiled. "Hmmmm. Maybe I could open a whole new
practice. Can you see it now? Nat Lambert, MD in vampire
physiology. It would be nice to have some customers capable of
walking out of my office _after_ I was done with them."
        Nick looked at her. "You wouldn't."
        Nat shrugged. "Probably not. But you never know what
the attention of a cover photo will bring."
 
THE END
Oh, and happy holidays....
Liz-Hazel ;)
Ravenette who feels Jannette _should_ be a cover woman....
lizbeth258@aol.com