---------------[Friday, July 8th]------------ --------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 14:13:44 -0400 From: Elizabeth A Scroggs Subject: FKWAR2: A lurker joins the fray "I can't believe it. Seven months we've been lurking, waiting to make our move, and now that we have our chance, your modem won't work!" Betsy was beside herself. Windy had been the one who told her about the handsome vampire cop in Toronto and his charming companions. They found the list right after the first war and decided to lurk, gather information until the next one. Windy had kept up, and had paid more attention to what had been going on. They figured once the war started, she would be the one to throw them into it. But now the next war was happening, and Windy was far away. "I can't help it Betsy. You'll have to fight without me. Tell me what's happened." "There's a new Betsy here besides me, she jumped right into the war and the Cousins got her." Betsy shuddered involuntarily. "I hope she realizes what she's got herself into." "What about you? What are you going to do?" "You know, Windy, it's the strangest thing. All this time I thought I was a Die-Hard, but lately... I dunno. The other day, out of the blue, I bought a choker. And I've developed a taste for fine wine. And you already know about my appreciation for good looking men," "Yes, yes. I know." Betsy could almost see Windy rolling her eyes over the phone, and smiled. "I think I need to try and help Janette, if she'll have me." "Okay, if that's how you feel. Good luck, Betsy. And be careful." "I'll try. But if you don't hear from me in a few weeks, start to worry." As soon as she hung up, Betsy went to get her suitcase out of the closet. 'If I'm going to go, I might as well go all the way,' she thought. "Hello, BWI? I need a first class ticket to Toronto as soon as possible. This evening? Perfect." On her way to the airport, Betsy stopped at the bank and got some money she was saving for a rainy day. For days it had been pouring, but she only just noticed it. ----------- Betsy Scroggs betsy@jhunix.hcf.jhu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 08:59:18 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FK WarsII: Dawn endures the heat... The weather in Hamilton and Toronto had taken a nasty turn in the past few days. Humidity was at 94%, which meant the Humidex reading at 8 in the morning was already 28 centigrade. *What's that in Fahrenheit? Oh well, something high*. Dawn was sitting stickily at her computer, reading war updates. Yesterday had been exhausting and she'd done the minimal amount of reading. *I almost wish I was a vampire right now. They seem to have a much broader comfort range in temperatures.* Dawn absentmindedly listened to the weather channel on tv. Apparently a lot of regions in the US were having a heat wave as well. *I'm a transplant from the Maritimes. I'm used to this kind of weather.* The weather channel droned on, "... the jet stream is curving over ontario pushing hot air into Southern Ontario... the humidex highs in Toronto will reach 39 centigrade today... " Dawn thought of all the people who were flying to Toronto for the war. It had been the middle of the winter during the last one. *I wonder if they know that Southern Ontario is warm during most of the summertime. They better not come up here and expect to get away from hot weather.* From the most recent reports it looked as if the war was currently in a less actively visible stage. People changing alliances left and right, but that was to be expected. *It looks as if the Cousins, and Ravens are hatching plans.* Dawn was pleased. So far it looked as if the main purpose behind the leaflets and charter had succeeded. Die-Hards weren't being forced to join any one group. Lurkers were coming out of the corners to choose sides, that their prerogative. She starting getting organized for work, there was a lunch to be made, and plants to water before she left. *I shouldn't be overconfident though. What if this is just a lull in the war.* The Nat-Packers would probably honor the charter, but the others might disregard it. *I think I should have insurance. If I can get it, I might even be able to help end the war...* Logging back on to her account, she starting writing... ---------------------------------------------------------------- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:26:28 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK wars II: Sneaking in Friday, July 8th 10:00 a.m. Jennie sighed as she (finally) finished reading over her E-mail from the last five days. She'd been somewhat behind the times, as a result of a weekend visit to family and friends in Milwaukee and staying rather late. She was really regretting not popping down to Chicago to check on things Monday, since she'd have gotten news about the war then. At least her Natpack sources had kept her fairly well informed, and she hadn't been hit with any of the viruses floating around yet. Wondering what she could possibly do, she began to clean up from her latest experiment. As she hoisted the heavy chloroform bottle to its shelf, her expression grew thoughtful. She checked the calendar on her desk, then headed toward her supervisor's office. Returning an hour later with a gleeful smile creeping across her face, she began making her preparations... --- To: Vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu, shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu From: Jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com Subject: Re: Striking back Sorry to jump in so late, but the war started without me. I thought you might like to know that I'm scheduled to head up to Toronto for a chromatography conference next week, and I've arranged to take some comp time and go up there a bit early, like...this afternoon. I'm afraid I have publicly declared my affiliation with the Natpack so I wouldn't be the best agent for the Raven (although I may have a plan to overcome that if necessary...) but I would make excellent backup for anyone you do have there. At least I didn't send in my application, so nobody knows much about me or what I look like. I'm packing all of my Raven-appropriate clothing, the departmental powerbook, and a 'demonstration' for the convention which just happens to contain a very nice little bag of tricks from the lab here. Let me know where I can be most useful! --- After sending the message off, Jennie turned the rest of her work over to the summer student to finish off, gathered up her bag of tricks and the powerbook and headed out. On the way, she stopped at the travel office to check with them. Gloria looked up as she entered. "Oh, hi, Jennie. It's all set. You can pick up your ticket at the airline desk tomorrow and the bed and breakfast you wanted had a vacancy. All the reservations are in the company name, like you asked. May I ask why, though?" "Uh, probably nothing, but some crazy woman followed some friends and I up there on a trip last year, and since she has connections at some airline - I just don't want it happening again." "Well, whatever. Have a nice trip!" --- Back at her apartment, she started packing up. Just in time, she remembered to ask her neighbor to water the plants on her patio while she was gone. she thought. She also put out plenty of birdseed. They might not need it at this time of the year, but she wanted to keep them coming back. Finally she put a brand new block of suet out for Snuggles, the downy woodpecker. Satisfied at last, she went back to packing. A frantic search through her file cabinet turned up an old envelope which she tossed into her purse. Satisfied that she was ready to go, she logged on to check her e-mail before leaving. (to be continued) Jennie Hayes jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 01:06:29 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--At the Die-Hard Digs July 8, 1994, 10:00 AM "This is _it_?" I said as I stood looking at the somewhat dilapidated St. George Residence. "It looks like it ought to be condemned." "Well, there's the while and red cross on the entrance so this must be the place. It's right next to the Toronto university like Kathy wrote to us," said Bruce. We walked up to the door. "Maybe we should take out some ID," said Bruce. We both dug out our drivers licenses. Then we knocked on the door. A young woman answered our knock. Bruce smiled and said, "Hi, I'm Bruce Gray and this is my wife, Sandra. We're looking for the Die-Hard Headquarters?" She looked at our IDs. Then she smiled and said, "You found 'em! I'm Kathy." We all shook hands and she invited us inside. "Don't be fooled by the outside appearance of this place. We're well protected here. The place is scheduled to be torn down in a couple of years though." 'I can believe that,' I thought. She continued to talk as we followed her to a living/recreation room in the back of the building. "It was a graduate student residence before we took it over as our Headquarters. It's good to have a few more Die-Hards here. We can use all the help we can get." "Actually, I'm a Die-Hard, but Sandra's not." "Oh, well, doesn't matter. The Headquarters is for anyone who wants sanctuary." "Well, we didn't exactly come for sanctuary," said Bruce. "We came for some information." "Information?" "Yeah, you know. What's going on with the Wars." "Oh. Well, our information is kind of sketchy right now. The main thing is LaCroix and his Cousins stole the mail from _all_ the factions groups _and_ Nick's laptop computer with whatever database information was on it from Nick's place. So your applications are probably in the hands of the Cousins." "Applications?" Bruce asked. "Oh, yeah, being a Die-Hard means you never filled one out. Did you?" she asked, looking at me. "No. We're both new to this. We've only been on the list since early April." "Well, at least that means the Cousins probably won't target you since they don't know anything about either of you." "What's the Die-Hard position in all this?" asked Bruce. "We're offering protected sanctuary to anyone who requests it and are prepared to mediate an end to the conflicts according to our charter." "Charter?" "Oh. Well, since you're so new, I guess you haven't heard about that either. Let me go get you a copy and maybe some coffee or tea or something?" "Coffee sounds fine. Thanks," I said. "Yeah, coffee," added Bruce. Tracy left us, but soon returned with a tray of coffee and fixings and a rather large stapled "report" of some kind. She set down the tray and passed the report to Bruce. It was the Die-Hard charter. "I've--got some things to do, so I hope you'll excuse me Make yourselves at home and I'll be back in a while." I started to put cream and sugar in our coffee while Bruce settled back to read the voluminous Die-Hard charter. Fortunately he was a fast reader. At one point, he murmured, "Woo, laser defenses." Eventually Tracy returned. "Have you had a chance to go over the charter?" "Yeah," said Bruce, holding it out to her. "Keep it. We've got more. Do you have a place to stay yet?" "Yeah. We got in last night." He hesitated, then said, "Do you have a phone number here? We couldn't bring our computer from home and don't have any way to make contact otherwise short of coming back here in person." "Oh, sure." She gave us the number and I wrote it in my notebook that I kept in my tote bag style purse. "I assume you have computers here," said Bruce. "Of course." "Well, I'm fairly proficient in their use if you need any help." "I'll keep that in mind." "Could I look at your database now? We know very little and I'd like to get an idea where everything stands." "I'll just wait here," I said. Kathy led Bruce away. I sipped my coffee and perused the Die- Hard charter. After a while, they returned, Bruce saying, "Well, we have some things we want to do around town today, so we really should leave now. We'll check in on the number you gave us throughout the day to see what's happening." We said our goodbyes. As we stepped down onto the sidewalk, a wasp flew near Bruce. He fled down the sidewalk and I smiled at him as I caught up to him. "I hate bees," he said. "Well, it's gone now. So what did you find out?" Bruce filled me in on some of the things he'd discovered as we made our way around Toronto's shops picking out some final defensive items. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 10:43:38 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FoDly foraging Friday, July 8, 1994: Toronto Coroner's Office "Natalie, you'd better come and look at this delivery." "Oh, Grace, just put it where--" Dr. Lambert looked up at her favorite assistant and friend and paused, forgetting the facetious remark she had been going to make when she saw the strange look on Grace's face. Would LaCroix and his demented minions dare to attack here, in a public building in broad daylight? Dr. Lambert abandoned her file without even bothering to SAVE it. "What is it, Grace?" "An *unusual* delivery -- and the driver says it's for *you* personally." "Does he know this is a *morgue*?" "Didn't seem to bother him, but...well, come and see for yourself." Both lab-coated figures hurried out to the loading dock entrance at the rear of the blocky building. An 18-wheel truck was backed up to the dock, rear doors half opened. The driver, a muscular, good-loooking man with typically Scots-Irish colouring, tight jeans and cowboy boots, was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe and whistling. The huge trailer was plainly labeled UNITED CARBIDE in foot-high letters. Dr. Lambert approached the driver cautiously, Grace's natural dignity and solid strength next to her lending her assurance. "I'm Dr. Lambert. Can I help you?" "Danaher," the driver said, touching two fingers to an imaginary hat in salute," and I think I can do something for *you*. At least, I was told you'd be happy to get this delivery." "Uh, gee, Mr., uh, Danaher...I appreciate the thought, but I really don't know what I'd do with more *batteries*...." A warm Irish chuckle cut short her confusion. "No, not batteries...that's my *business*. This delivery is a... private favor. It's not on the manifest and this stop is completely off the record." As he spoke, Danaher was loading several small aluminum containers onto a dolly. "Where do you want these?" "But this is a *morgue*!" "Right! Pam said you'd have plenty of *cooler space*. You're gonna need it." "Cooler *what*?! I don't--" But he was already inside and half way down the hallway. Dr. Lambert, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, caught Grace's ironic gaze and was galvanized into action: hurriedly, she turned and half-ran back into the building with Grace close behind her. "Wait a minute. W-a-i-t just one minute! What is that and who's 'Pam' and who the hell are *you*?" "In here?" Danaher asked, turning into the only open door on the hall, which they had left ajar on their way out. "There's a note,"he continued, as they caught up with him. "I don't know anything else about it myself. It's a favor to a relative -- well, not *blood* kin, thank goodness. But when Pam is happy, her sister is happy, and," he indicated the gold band on his left hand, "when her sister is happy, then I'm a happy man. At least this one isn't furniture...or breakables...or *alive*. But I just delivery 'em; I don't explain 'em." Handing Dr. Lambert a folded sheet of paper, Danaher gave the ladies a mock bow and strode off. Natalie stared dumbly after him and thought The metallic click of a latch recalled her to the present puzzlement and she realized with a frisson of terror that Grace was opening one of the boxes! "No! Grace, don't--" she exclaimed, thoughts of bombs and cunning traps and exotic poisonous gases flashing through her mind. Grace looked at her as though she were delirious. "Well, if you want to keep all the goodies to yourself, just say so!" "Huh?" "All the goodies," Grace reiterated, poking about in the chest. Two steps closer and Dr. Lambert could see that it was really an insulated picnic-type freezer container. It was full of vacuum sealed food storage bags, each coyly revealing tantalizing glimpses of different gourmet foodstuffs. Grace was examining the seal on a bag of ratatouille when Dr. Lambert remembered the note still clutched in her hand; opening it, she was mystified by the cryptic message: Store in a cool place until needed. Minimal garlic content guaranteed at .08% per serving. EXCEPT FOR BLAUTWEINER FOR NICK (GARLIC FREE). Signed: FoDs of the Internet FoDs? FoDs.... That did sound oh-so-distantly-and-vaguely familiar....Weren't they a small group, very select, utterly discreet, fanatically dedicated to, to.... "Man-oh-man, it's here! Wun-der-bar!" cried Schanke, bursting into the room and slamming the door behind him. "Schanke!" Dr. Lambert was always pleased to see the attractive police detective (too bad he was so *very* married although Natalie held the deepest respect for the profoundly spiritual and passionately erotic relationship between him and the lovely Myra) but if he knew something about this mysterious delivery he would be doubly welcome today. "Schank, do you know what this is?" "Yeah, it's *smor-gas-board*!" he exclaimed gleefully, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I *know* it's food, but...why? Where'd it come from? What's it for?" "Oh, a few of my friends in the States--" thought Dr. Lambert, "--send me some snacks occasionally. Just stuff it's hard to get in Toronto or stuff they want me to try or stuff they have taking up too much room in *their* refrigerators. Anyway, usually I get one package a month, more or less, but then, the last couple of months: Nada! Niente! Rein! Not a taco, not a sausage, not a dolmade; I mean, I was starting to feel *neglected*! Then this morning I get a message through the Ham radio network -- did you know that's always free? pretty neat, huh? -- saying that the post office or someone has screwed up deliveries but they're sending a *major* shipment to make up for it. And, here it is! There's plenty, Nat, Grace -- help yourselves. Uh, you can, like, *store* some of this here until we get to it? You do have a drawer free, right?" * * * * Later the same day: someplace in Kentucky "...CONFIRM YOUR MESSAGE DELIVERED AT THIRTEEN-FORTY ZULU THIS DATE." Static crackled merrily but the tinny voice came through loud and clear at 20 over 9 dB. "TRAFFIC FOR YOUR STATION, KI4OD, ORIGINATING THIS STATION, THIS TIME, THIS DATE, WITH A COUNT OF ELEVEN, AS FOLLOWS: SHIPMENT RECEIVED MANY THANKS AND BON APPETITE TO YOU TOO DON END OF MESSAGE. NO MORE, KI4OD. THIS IS VE3CKT." "Roger. I count eleven. Thanks a lot, Terry, and I'll check in again soon." Pamela let the front legs of her chair slam back onto the rag rug in the rig room. "VE3CKT and the net, this is KI4OD and I'm clear on this frequency." She switched off the amplifier, the tuner and the old but trusty Drake TR-4 transceiver. So far, so good.... But what to have for dinner? ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:54:29 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2 : Precautions Ivy sat down at her terminal. *Think like a cousin now, how would they strike?* She logged onto the network. *Better defend against the simple.* Nick, I am having some foodstuffs delivered to your loft. Nothing that has much of a smell, fruits mostly and frozen goods. Natalie can use them after the war, but I don't want LaCroix reporting you as a potential alcoholic (that's how it would look -- all you have are wine bottles) especially with you being a cop and all. His eating habits are likely the same but with the cousins running around it might not wash to accuse him of the same. Let me know if you think it viable? - Ivy She called the local grocer to have the stuff delivered, and charged it to LaCroix, why not damage his card a little more? She caught the transaction and approved it the moment it came through. That done she started another message. Knighties, We need to set up a contact network, each member calling in a circle on preset intervals so the rest will know if something has gone wrong. Contact me. I'll start the chain going as soon as I start to receive responses. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:46:58 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: En Route En Route Friday, July 8, 3pm, PDT Usually on long flights Tanaquil found it impossible to read anything that didn't have Fabio on the cover, but today her first priority was planning strategy. Flipping open the Powerbook on her lap, she reviewed her recent correspondence over and over. To: pinax5@garnet.berkeley.edu From: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu Subject: Potential Allies Received some messages this morning that I thought might be of use to you. Hope this reaches you before you leave. This one was forwarded to me by Sharon S. after I told her that we were planning to make a move on the Raven: >To : SelmaMc@AOL.COM SCOTTS@BAYLOR.EDU >From : ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com >Subject : New Operative > >Hi Sharon and Selma - > >I have been lurking for the past couple of months, and I am now >ready to join in the war. Being unemployed, I have all the time in >the world, and I now submit myself to be your newest operative. >Luckily, my affiliation wasn't known when Nick's laptop was >stolen, (my application is still sitting in front of me) all available >information about myself is also at a minimum (no Barney fears here). >Additionally, there is nothing here to keep me in San Diego during >the war...football season hasn't started yet and there are no current >job prospects. I am available ASAP wherever the Knighties need me. >I look forward to working with you all. > >~~~Ava :-) AvaABC123@aol.com > ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com And here's one who says she's actually on her way to Toronto: >Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:26:28 -0500 >To: Vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu, shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu >From: Jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com >Subject: Re: Striking back > >Sorry to jump in so late, but the war started without me. I >thought you might like to know that I'm scheduled to head up >to Toronto for a chromatography conference next week, and >I've arranged to take some comp time and go up there a bit >early, like...this afternoon. > >I'm afraid I have publicly declared my affiliation with the Natpack >so I wouldn't be the best agent for the Raven (although I may >have a plan to overcome that if necessary...) >but I would make excellent backup for anyone you do have >there. At least I didn't send in my application, so nobody knows >much about me or what I look like. > >I'm packing all of my Raven-appropriate clothing, the departmental >powerbook, and a 'demonstration' for the convention which just >happens to contain a very nice little bag of tricks from the lab here. > >Let me know where I can be most useful! And this one could mean a real break for us: >Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 13:25:56 EDT >From: panstygia@aol.com >To: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu > > I've been lurking for a while, having pledged myself to Janette a > while ago, out of some misguided notion of safety. But I see now > how wrong I've been. I want to cross back into the light. I'll be > willing to do anything you ask... Can you help me? > > > A Lost Soul, > > Nan As long as Janette doesn't find out what Nan is up to, we will have an insider on our side. From the rumors I've been hearing, she might not be the only Ravenette who is getting scared. If "Cousin" Monica is to be believed, Janette is out to get everyone who was associated with the Warren in the last War, and that includes a lot of her followers. Keep an eye on Hilary, Tara, Susan and Liz-Hazel, if any of them show up in Toronto. Not to mention, of course, "Cousin" Monica and ex-Cousin Laurie. Who knows where their loyalties really lie. I contacted Jennie and Nan and told them you were on your way. I'll leave it to you to figure out how to contact them when you arrive, if they don't find you first. Sharon H. has gone to PSU. I don't know whether she's within reach of e-mail or not. Her last message reached me via pigeon post, if you can believe it. Good luck! Later! Tanaquil moved on to the next message she'd saved: To: Nat Pack Cc: Knighties From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu Subject: Update Hello all! I'm leaving for Toronto this afternoon. The more eyes we have at the Raven, the better. Janette has to be the key to this thing. I may have to lay low over the weekend in order to work out my best method of approach. I've checked and triple checked the security on this account; I think it's safe to use again. I'll be checking in regularly, so let me know of anything useful you might hear. Does anyone know what the Graces and the FOSSILS have been up to? Hope to be in touch again by Monday, if not before. Tanaquil Tanaquil fidgeted in her seat. As soon as the plane landed, she would find an obscure motel somewhere and complete her disguise. It didn't look as if it would be necessary to actually pretend to be a Ravenette, not with a Ravenette already on their side. No, the anonymous-club-denizen approach would be best. But it would take a while to make the disguise convincing, and to make contact with the others, who would probably be doing *their* best to be inconspicuous. She hoped that her carefully suppressed Ravenette tendencies were going to come in handy at last. S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 15:42:40 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FKwars2: Interruptions [part 1/2]--------------------------- Interruptions Jennie arrived at OHare a good hour and a half early for her flight, wondering if there was really any point to being early at OHare, since most of her flights out of here were delayed at least two hours. She got in a long line of people at the ticket counter and settled in to wait. Looking about, she noticed several people next to the line apparently waiting for others who were in the line. One very seriously dressed pair made her shake her head and smile. The woman had short red hair and was reading a medical journal, while an intense young man next to her appeared to be avidly studying UFO magazine. Next to all the serious businesspeople here, the magazine was curiously incongruous. After about twenty minutes, she finally made it to one of the harassed looking ticket agents and asked for her ticket. The young mans eyes widened and he said, "Just a moment, Ill go look it up," and walked off rather abruptly through a nearby door. Jennie was still giving the door a puzzled look when a voice right next to her ear said, "Excuse me." Jumping, she whirled around, only to come face to face with a rather impressive looking badge in a holder. The name on the I.D. card with it was Fox Mulder and identified the owner of the badge as F.B.I. Looking up to his face, she was startled to see the man who shed noticed with the UFO magazine earlier, and had to fight down a hysterical giggle. "Eep!" was the only sound she could manage. "I'm special agent Fox Mulder of the FBI and this is special agent Dana Scully," he motioned to the red-haired woman. "We need to talk to you about the Natpack..." ----- By the time Jennie had finally gotten most of the story (reluctantly) out of the FBI agents, she had missed her flight. Even assuming it was delayed. Apparently they had stopped her only because she was the first name on any of the lists they had managed to locate: It seemed everyone else they had tried to contact was either already in Toronto or en route there. Jennie herself would have been home free if someone at the lab hadn't told them she was still en route to the airport and helpfully provided them with her flight info. It had all started when they had tried to contact Lisa regarding her brothers strange associate and found her gone, then turned to trying to locate people from the membership lists on the laptop discovered in Brian's apartment. Things had moved swiftly downhill from there. Now, they wanted to know what was up and seemed to expect answers from Jennie, answers which she didn't dare provide. Not that she knew very much anyhow, but she couldn't even tell them about the factions or who they followed. From the way things looked right now, Scully would want to lock her up as a lunatic and Mulder would want to go charging out on a vampire hunt. Neither option was terribly appealing. Finally, she convinced them of how little she knew, telling them the Natpack was just a group of friends who had formed sort of a club to discuss things on the Internet, and that the Knighties were another group that had turned out to have similar interests. As for everyone heading for Toronto, she had been told about some trouble with a virus and that nobody was sure who was responsible. The rumor was that a young man had been arrested for it whom nobody believed was the culprit and so everyone who could make it to Toronto was going there to have a face-to-face meeting and try to come up with a good solution to the problem. It seemed that they believed her, and they let her go arrange for another flight after giving her a business card with phone numbers where they could be reached if she found out anything they might like to know, but she was awfully tired and decided to try and grab a flight to Toronto the following day. Surely Natalie and the others wouldn't mind her getting a good nights rest, under the circumstances. Upon arriving home, she checked her answering machine. There was a message on it from Robin Bonke, complaining about how a Barney virus had attacked the entire computer system where she worked and how impossible the last few days had been. Jennie sighed and decided to pretend she hadn't gotten the message before her trip - she was just too tired to listen to yet *another* Barney-related problem. [end of part 1/2] --------------------------------------------------------- ----- Jennie, Natpack jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com --- This? Its a lateral cranial impact enhancer! --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 03:12:22 EDT Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: DionneEN@AOL.COM Subject: FKW2 Play! [part 1/2]---------------------------------- (time ? -- before the bomb) Goblin looked around the club. Janette had asked her to look out for pests. She said that dangerous stupid people sometimes follow wars and that they got in the way. She had used a word Goblin didn't know, non-combatant, but Goblin knew what a pest was. She was going to stop the pests. ------ DionneEN@aol.com Dionne Empress of Cats, Die-Hard Goblin Ravenette, enjoying the play-acting, she gets to be outside longer ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:47:41 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Family Feud turns Wagnerian [part1 of 2] About 5:30 pm. this afternoon, the 8th of July: "Oh, good, you're on the desk." Thus spake Lisa as she stepped out of the revolving doors at the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto. She was humming the Ride of the Valkyries. All she needed was a horned helmet and a spear. Anne gulped and appeared to wonder if she could do guard duty from *under* the desk. "Lisa, what a nice surprise. I thought you weren't coming to Toronto until the Trek." "So did I," said Lisa, submitting her tote bag and purse for inspection. "More to the point, so did Larry." Not having found anything that would do as an excuse to keep Lisa out, Anne had to let her through the gate. Of course the tote bag had to be surrendered, but not the laptop, once it had proven not to contain false bottoms for smuggling out books. "I thought Larry was in San Francisco." "He was supposed to be. He's going to be after I'm finished with him." Lisa indulged in one of her grins, sobering hastily as her friend backed away. "It's all right. I'm not asking you to hide anything this time. Although I really *didn't* realize that the wrapping on that fish wasn't airtight." Anne was heard to mutter placatingly that she should never have told Lisa that the student assistants referred to the place as the Thomas Booker Rare Fish Library. "Actually," Lisa continued, "I'm here as a patron. Don Bassingthwaite tells me he came across LaCroix's name while looking for something else in your online catalog." "Did he? It can't have been that long since Don had an eye exam." Anne stopped to stare down a would-be pen user, a distinct no-no in rare book circles. "No, it's there. I checked by telnetting into the catalog before I took off. He's an added entry for a donor. Anne, why didn't you tell us on Vampyres that the copy of Dracula with the interpolated text and pornographic illustrations that Aubrey Beardsley gave Stoker that famous April Fool's when they were both arrested for being drunk is in your library?" "It is?" "According to the catalog. Only, I know LaCroix." Lisa's smile returned, along with an odd look at the back of her eyes. "If he had *that* Dracula, there's no way he'd give it to anybody. So, I've come to see what it really is." "Maybe he needed a tax break?" "LaCroix doesn't pay taxes. Revenue Canada has lost several agents trying to make him." Lisa stood aside as another staffer replaced Anne on the guard desk. Then she continued. "Look, I know it's probably not your job, but can you get this item from DG10 for me?" No doubt figuring that the sooner Lisa got the book, the sooner she'd go away, Anne graciously complied. She regretted it almost instantly, when Lisa's war whoop wasn't stifled quite soon enough to not to turn heads. "Sorry," said Lisa. "But it's exactly what I thought. It's the Abarat." Before Anne could intervene, she slipped the bottom of the laptop over the open book. "Lisa, are you trying to get me fired?" "Nope," said her alleged friend, calmly restoring the Abarat in Dracula clothing to the table. "In fact, I'm going to see to it that the library gets a substantial donation in LaCroix's name, with a cover letter mentioning that it's to be listed as in your honor. Relax, Anne. Larry's got some kind of software that uses quantum theory to abstract and store and translate books in one gulp. I don't know how it works. I don't think even Larry knows, when he's sober." Lisa strode purposefully toward the exit. Anne sank shaking onto a chair, resolving to lead a blameless life henceforth at a new e and home address. [end of part 1 of 2] ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 09:41:38 -0500 From: "Cousins Sandye, Monica & Dennis" Subject: FKWAR2: Fade to Black Fade to Black These were the times that try men's souls. What kind of world did we live in? What kind of value did we place on our humanity, if when, faced with the choice of kindness or hate, we take the latter for our calling card? How little a cost to claim that dearest part of our soul called brotherhood, but how dear a price we pay when we choose egotism instead... It had been less than a week since the second Forever Knight Fiction War had begun and already it was a free-for-all. Of course, it was supposed to be: Janette's trick to get Nick into trouble with LaCroix, the general run-for-cover mentality that often produced more antagonistic interchange than seemed necessary, and the decidedly "blinder" mentality that caused otherwise logical individuals to deviate from reason and realism. Like rats to a pipers tune they danced to the discordant harmony of one-upmanship. Such was the microcosm of futility in this universe of fiction. But what did all this mean? That was what they were trying to decide. Cousins Sandye, Monica, and Dennis sat around the oak dining room table and pondered the meaning of life. Where was the time going? It had been days and yet nothing was accomplished, nothing was achieved, nothing was attained. LaCroix had his own plans, John had said, and that was true. had their own plans, and when those plans were thwarted, an even more devious one crept back into its place. Were any of them truly different from the entity they so despised? They say you can beat fire with fire; inevitable, the burns scar, no matter how righteous the cause. Yes, life was short, too short perhaps for this, and on a rainy State College evening, three cousins vowed to make a difference. But, what course of action ? Surely, any plan they could come up with would simply appear to be another attempt to gain the upperhand. No one could hear their voices amidst the cacophony of chaos that sprang like weeds in this somewhat empty garden. Afraid to remain, lest they fall prey to the discontent that infected their world, Sandye, Monica, and Dennis decided it was time to leave. Discretion, for them, the better part of valor. Were they shirking their duties? Were they betraying the cousins? Not likely...the war machine raged on with or without them. The factions moved within circles that turned by a power greater than they. Hadn't Nick himself escaped those many years ago? In the long run, they would not be missed. Three cousins made plans to exit gracefully from this conflict, leaving both the trauma and the trouble behind. They wrote a note to LaCroix and had it forwarded to one of his private accounts... Dear Uncle, After a long and careful deliberation, we have decided that the time has come for us to bow out of this latest conflict. An unexpected responsibility prevents us from continuing in any active participation, and rather than be ineffective, the best decision is for us to decline any further involvement. Thank you. Cousins Sandye, Monica, and Dennis. That was it. When everything was said and done, these three cousins felt that they had better bridges to burn. They packed the car--pets and all--and left for destinations as yet unknown. As they drove across the Pennsylvania State line, the damp and rainy day faded into black. Cousins Sandye, Monica, and Dennis. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 17:31:02 -0500 From: Debbie Kraft Subject: FKWarsII: FOSsiLs Attack, Delta(4) -- Clipping Little Crow's Wings July 7, 1994 5:30pm, Toronto time Panther moved like liquid ink, a figure swathed in Ninja indigo and faceless, save for his blazing amber eyes. He waited until there were no watchers, flicked his eyes up briefly to the position of the sun, then glided to the closed and locked doors of The Raven. Doors were never a problem. Noise could be. So, he pulled them open as gently as possible. They still made a screeching sound as the metal tabs were torn off. Panther winced, poked his head in, listened, smelled. He smiled under his mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Asleep, good. Amen-Ra was hot and strong above him. He took that heat with him as he entered the nightcrawler lair. He'd forgotten about the stench--it was strong enough to make him want to sneeze. He fought the impulse, holding to silence, complete silence. Each footstep, each cautious movement was liquid; he made himself a shadow as he glided past the bar. Not one nightcrawler was about, he could sense that. However, rumor had it that Little Crow often woke earlier than the others. Thus, he paused on the threshold of the basement stairs, stretching his perception out beyond his immediate space, beyond the superficial tomb-like silence. Yes. There. Little Crow *was* awake. He must be swift and unseen. Noiselessly he slipped down into the basement. Gently, quietly, he pulled his tools from his pack and fell to work. The floor came first, and that he dusted liberally with dried garlic distillate. He dusted the sleeping dens as well for good measure. Next came the bottles of blood on the wall. Panther quickly assembled his injection apparatus and inserted hypodermic needles trailing small tubes into one dozen corks. He pressed a single button on the control pad, and a small amount of odorless garlic distillate was delivered into the contents of each bottle. He did the same for the next dozen, and the next, until all the bottles, save one, were contaminated with distillate. His eyes were blazing with triumph as he packed away the injection apparatus and prepared to make his egress. A hand with perfectly manicured nails landed on his left shoulder and bore down with a vice-like grip. "And what do you think *you're* doing?" came an accented, smokey voice. Panther did not answer. He merely pivoted toward the voice and flung the contents of the garlic powder container in her face. She screamed and let go of his shoulder, flinging both hands up to her face as he knew she would. He scrambled away from Little Crow, up the stairs, nerves strung taut to the breaking point. His Gift was pounding at its cage door, wanting out, wanting nightcrawler death. He restrained it, legs pumping him ever closer to the doors. "Hold it, Blackie!" The nightcrawler, a female, landed in front of him, between himself and the doors, her eyes gleaming yellow-gold and her fangs gleaming wetly in the dim light. She snarled at him-- --and his Gift broke free. His still-moving shape shimmered, shifting, reformed itself...and his vision slid into the monochrome-red-blue of a black panther. His pistoning hind legs propelled him straight at the nightcrawler, his claws found her shocked face and tore down and away with sun-fed fury. She fell back, shrieking, hands trying to hold the ragged pieces of flesh on the now-exposed bone of her skull. She crawled away, screaming in counterpoint to Little Crow down in the basement. In his Gifted shape, Panther wanted to go after her. Her fear was a pungent, maddening scent in his nostrils, egging him on to kill this affront to Pasht, to the light of Amen-Ra and his Lady Moon. It was only with effort that he reined the hunting urge back inside, and regained the human shape Pasht had given him. "The light of Amen-Ra shines on you, Nightcrawler," he hissed at the female, his amber eyes blazing fiercely. She cried out and threw an arm up in front of her ruined face. Then, he was out the doors, down the alley, and up to a rooftop. He allowed his Gift to flow over him once more-- --and a black cat rested in the shade of a chimney. He travelled home, unnoticed, another feral cat of the city... /\ /\ ^o o^ D.K. "Cat" Kraft ->T<- cat@eskimo.com ~ Edmonds, WA -- Home of Jimmy Doohan, Star Trek's Scotty ___oOO___OOo___ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 08:51:50 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Cousin John Captured July 8, 1994, time uncertain John opened his eyes, his vision at first blurry. He looked around. Where was he? "You didn't think I'd let you take all your talents over to Sharon Scott and Nick's pitiful followers, did you?" said LaCroix, entering the room "Oh, I intercepted your message to her--or at least a copy of it." He paused. "John, John, I'm _very_ disappointed in you." John sat up, his head spinning. He was lying on a bed in a very elegant, but very male, bedroom. His memory started returning. Someone--a human, he thought, because he'd felt warmth--had snuck up on him when he'd stopped the car for a break and put a cloth over his mouth. What had happened after that and how long he'd been unconscious, he had no idea. LaCroix's eyes had never looked so cold or so deadly as he approached John. He picked up a computer disk from the pile at the end of the bed. John's computer was there too, he noticed. "And you had such promising traits. You would have been of great use to me," continued LaCroix, studying the disk in his hand. John didn't like the use of the past tense. His heart chilled. When LaCroix raised his eyes to John's again, they were golden. His fangs were extended. "You're of no use to me now," he said. Then he reached for John and, lifting him to his feet, pulled him into an embrace. His fangs pierced John's throat. John was paralyzed; he could make no move to defend himself from LaCroix's attack. Soon he was feeling more lightheaded due to the draining of his blood. LaCroix meant to kill him. There was the sound of some commotion in the next room. LaCroix released John with a snarl and John slumped to the floor. He felt like he would pass out, but on some basic primal level he realized that this was his one chance to maybe escape death. He fought to stay conscious and rose unsteadily to his feet. The commotion in the other room was still going on. He didn't know what it was, but knew he needed to get away. Noticing a second door in the room, he decided to make his way to it and hope it was unlocked. On impulse, he grabbed up the computer and disks. A surge of adrenalin powered his flight. The other door was fortunately unlocked and opened onto a small hallway. John stumbled down it and found an elevator. He hit the down button and slumped against the wall. The ground floor of the building was vacant of people, but afternoon sun shone on the sidewalk beyond the glass doors. John stumbled outside, feeling hopeful. He looked around him and recognized where he was. Toronto! Weakness and dizziness was descending on him again. What to do? Nick. Have to get to Nick,' he thought hazily. 'Have to get to Nick.' --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:47:41 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Family Feud turns Wagnerian [part 2 of 2] It wasn't necessary after all to open the little jar of garlic to force her way into the Raven. A black panther was leaping through the door just as Lisa came up to it. "Pretty kitty!" thought Lisa, wishing she had time to stop and make his acquaintance. As matters stood, it was best to charge through before the door slammed. "Oof!" Only Janette could manage that monosyllable with a French accent. Lisa stared in horror. Even in the dim light the vampire's face looked like a Frankenstein halloween mask. "What the? Oh, still haven't learned about cats, have you. Where's Larry?" Lisa reached into her tote bag. "On the computer, of course. Ma chere, do I dare to hope you've come to take him away?" Janette's had face visibly improved. So did her expression. Lisa was already descending toward the cellar when Larry, eyes squeezed shut and pale even for a vampire, exploded up the stairs and rocketed into the night. A scrap of paper fluttered to the floor in his wake. His sister picked it up, and burst out laughing. Janette looked over Lisa's shoulder. "And you can just stand there? Surely you know what that is. Or were you planning to kill Larry, anyway?" "Of course I know what it is. LaCroix's home address. Janette, I've got a little something to put up to you." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---- It was five minutes and one traffic cop hypnotized out of a ticket when the little black sports car screeched to a halt in front of LaCroix's building. Lisa hurried inside, cursing all the way up about not being able to fly as the elevator took its time getting to the 13th floor, and erupted into the lobby as soon as the doors opened. She punched in the code Janette had given her at LaCroix's door. A scattering of candles wavered on various surfaces, enough to let Lisa see Larry on the couch in an embrace with Monica. The odd couple sprang apart, but not soon enough. Lisa, shouting in Sanskrit, had thrown a mixture of garlic and rose seeds in Monica's face. With a scream that would have dismayed a banshee, Monica exploded in a blinding white flash. LaCroix dived, cursing, into the room. Feminine sobs rent the air, in counterpoint with soothing muttering from Larry. Lisa's vision cleared. Yes, it was just as she'd thought. In Monica's place, Alexandra sprawled tearfully on the floor. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here!" Lisa said. "No, Frankie, darling. I wouldn't. There's plenty more where that came from and I know the spell. You wouldn't want to spoil your chances of that muzzle for Christmas, now, would you? I admit it. I owe you an apology. I was so sure you were letting Larry keep Alexandra as one of your little jokes on me that I never thought you might have put a wig on her and taken her to State College with you." Lisa smiled. LaCroix flung up a hand in something that might have been a gesture against the evil eye. "I thought you didn't care after that little misunderstanding about the wrong strength steel in the hockey mask." "You, you --" Alexandra burst into language she hadn't used since her days as a 17th century barmaid. Larry, shocked, let go and stood away. Lisa shook her head. "You'd better learn to curse in modern English. After all, you're mortal now." She walked over to LaCroix. "You'd better move the Abarat again. If I can figure it out, so can Nick. At least one of the FOD's has the basic info." LaCroix began to laugh. "My dear," he said, putting an arm around his uninvited guest's shoulders, "I've known Nick a lot longer than you have. The Abarat's perfectly safe -- because trying to repay society has made Nick such a prude that he'd never dream of looking at pornography." Lisa crossed her arms. "Let's hope Schanke's level's no higher than Playboy, then." She turned just in time to intercept Alexandra, who was sneaking up behind her with carving knife. "Still a dingbat after all these years! Alex, honey, even a mortal can hear you doing that now." She grabbed the snivelling blonde and thrust her at LaCroix. "Here, since Larry doesn't seem inclined to do the honors." Shaking her head as LaCroix slurped, Lisa walked over to her brother. "All right, Larry, you might as well make yourself useful. Let's see you take the laptop down to the lobby pay phone and tell Ontario Hydro to get the power back on in here. And don't forget the phones." Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 18:11:15 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--After the Commotion July 8, 1994, time uncertain LaCroix finally started back to his bedroom to finish with John, although, by now, he might not need to any more. John could be dead already. He opened the door and walked into the room. But John wasn't there! And neither were his computer nor the disks his agents had recovered along with John. A slight trail of blood led over to the other door in the room--the one that lead to the hall. LaCroix opened the door, then stepped back as the brightness of the late afternoon sun blazed through the uncurtained hall window. He shut the door quickly. Damn! This War was _not_ proceeding as he'd planned _at all_. But John couldn't have gotten far. He'd send people looking for him. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 03:12:22 EDT Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: DionneEN@AOL.COM Subject: FKW2 Play! [part 2/2]------------------------------- Goblin roamed around in the dark. She could smell lots of pests, they could probably smell her too, but they couldn't hear her. Goblin liked her new red collar (Janette said she needed red because she was already black) that covered her reflector and rabies tag. She didn't jingle anymore, and nice humans could still find her home phone number. There was a pest. She would kill it and bring it back to the Raven for Janette, she wanted to talk to the pests. Goblin walked through a crack in the wall and dropped her rat. She was very pleased with herself, it was a big rat. Where was everyone? It smelled funny too. Where did all the garlic come from? ------ DionneEN@aol.com Dionne Empress of Cats, Die-Hard Goblin Ravenette, enjoying the play-acting, she gets to be outside longer ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 15:48:40 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: A Financial Affair Larry, following Lisa's instructions, went down to the payphone to demand in no uncertain terms that the phone and electricity be turned back on. The operator was less than cooperative "I'm sorry sir, you have to bring your account to complete payment before I can restore service. It's the computer." Grumbling he ran back up and snatched LaCroix ATM card. "They want to be paid before they turn it on. We'll straighten out the mess as soon as possible." LaCroix gave him a withering look. "We?" Larry slunk back a step. "Very well," LaCroix went on. "Go do what you must." Larry ran to the nearest ATM and accessed LaCroix savings account with the code he'd been given. The balance was just two dollars. Turning a bit pale he checked savings, money market, cds, all two dollars. Sweating he pulled up his own account. Same thing. "LaCroix isn't going to like this." He headed back to the apartment to report his findings. --------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 06:36:45 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Stealing the Abarat July 8, 1994, early evening LaCroix put his arm around Lisa's shoulders. They were alone--Larry still off trying to straighten out LaCroix's finances while Alexandra--well, she was so understandably irritated he finally had to send her away. He smiled. "Lisa, your--devotion--to your brother is admirable. But he seems very sensible to me." "He's not sensible when he's around dingbat bimbos like Alexandra." "Ah, well, we all must have our little amusements." He smiled again. "With Larry, I can understand. But you--" She stopped speaking abruptly. LaCroix released her and walked away from her a few steps. Then he turned and said, "We all have our...desires and vices." Lisa didn't say anything so after a slight pause, LaCroix continued, "But loyalty such as yours for your brother is rare. I value loyalty and I _always_ reward it." Lisa still said nothing. "So because I understand your feelings of loyalty toward Larry and concern for his welfare, I am willing to overlook your--impetuousness--this time." "My impetuousness?" "You meant to cure your brother with the spell, didn't you." Lisa's gaze didn't waver. "Yes," she said. He studied her intently. "That is why I will overlook your impetuousness. What we feel for...family...sometimes clouds our reason." He smiled again. "You're as clever as your brother--more clever. I wasn't aware that you read Sanskrit." "I don't. Larry came up with a program to translate it." "Did he? Well, I'll have to read it when I get time." He poured he and Lisa some wine. ------- Later, after Lisa had finally decided to slumber, LaCroix retrieved her laptop. He turned it on and began to scan the trans- lated version of the Abarat. 'What a useful book!' he thought. 'And dangerous.' Perhaps it _would_ be better _not_ to leave the original in an accessible place. Just on the off chance that Nicholas might be able to retrieve it. And this copy? LaCroix smiled. He would allow Alexandra her revenge on Lisa. But before then... LaCroix hooked up the laptop to his own computer and began to make a copy of the Abarat on disk. [end of part 1/2]---------------------------------------------------------- --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 15:55:40 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: A new neighbor The nice advantage of coming into this thing so late is that no one knows what I look like. Ivy grinned. Or my name. A heavy bribe, taken from the misplaced monies from LaCroix accounts served as a nice bribe and now she strode down the hall on the twelfth floor, to stop right under LaCroix own abode. Hands shaking she inserted the key in the lock. It was dingy, she didn't give the super time to fix the place up, and it smelled a little musty, but it would serve her purposes. She set up her computer and her directional mike, the latter of which she attached to a tape player. Hushed voices could be heard speaking clearly above, but no LaCroix, not yet, it was still daylight hours. She logged onto her account and sent a message to the knighties. Knighties, Espionage situation. Information tape available. Give me a drop point or I give it to a ravenette I know will put it to good use. -- Ivy Wistfully she thought of that note inviting her to the ravenettes. She sighed, if the knighties did not want to work with her (and she couldn't blame them -- her actions were highly illegal) she may yet find herself at the Raven. One word from the tape caught her attention -- Arabat. She could hardly wait for this hour to finish so she could listen to it in full and get the context. She stared at the small speaker in rapt attention. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 16:21:54 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: A Message to all Knighties re : bookworm Ivy listened to the tape twice unbelieving. The knighties had to know. Nick had to know. She hastily typed out a message and cced the knighties. Nick, The Arafat is not only not destroyed but it has been unearthed and it is in the hands of the cousins. Seeking more information. Awaiting feedback. Will move if exact location disclosed. More to come. -- Ivy ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 16:59:28 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2 : a message to nick and knighties re new info Ivy sat down at her computer, calmer now and reissued her message from before, again sending a copy to all the knighties. Nick, The abarat is safe, not in the hands of the cousins, but I'm not sure where. It has something to do with pornography though, that's all I can tell you, and it can't be anywhere too public obviously. The cousins and LaCroix do know where it is however. I'll see what I can turn up. -- Ivy ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:28:47 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWar2: Ex-Cousin John pays the price NOTE: One of the FOSsils apparently attacked someone else and stole their laptop and laundry bags--because Nick's laptop had previously been seen in Brian Gestrel's apartment, not my house. Since I live in a house and not an apartment myself, the FOSsil must have broken into the some other person's apartment... * * * John hobbled up to the door, barely able to breathe. Exhausted and afraid for his life, his breath now came in ragged gasps. Only a few more feet...but his world went topsy-turvy in that sudden moment, as dizziness from lack of blood finally overcame him. His hand went reflexively to his neck, touching the tiny puncture wounds LaCroix had given him. There was no way he could get to Sharon now, and it looked bad now to go this route. He fell just inches short of the door that led to Nick's loft, his computer equipment and disks clattering around him in disarray. Too late, he thought...LaCroix had drained him and left him to die for his betrayal. His escape was for nothing...he was doomed to die here, and Nick would never know about Janette or LaCroix's plans. At least he'd brought the disks. Nick would at least find those he hoped. Then his world went black. Nick pulled the door open, thinking that something had crashed into the front door. At his feet, sprawled over disks and computer parts, lay Cousin John. Shocked, he pulled the LaCroixian inside, gathering up the strewn equipment as well. John was very near death, attacked by a vampire...perhaps he had outlived his usefulness to LaCroix? There was little to do but wait, make John comfortable, and see what happened. Either John would die and perhaps cross over, in which case he might have to kill the young man, or time and the little remaining blood would give him the strength to pull through. But it looked bad. "Unfortunate," Nick whispered under his breath. "You could have told me a great deal." * * * EX-Cousin John Emperor of Harpsichords jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 17:07:37 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: John needs a doctor Ivy gave up waiting and begging her computer to give her a message from Nick or some other knightie. This was too dangerous. They had to hear the tape. Resolved she packed a six hour monster tape onto the machine with another six hours for backup (and she knew she'd need someone to help her go through it all) and headed for Nick's loft. There were spots of blood on the floor near his front door. *Careless spilling your food*. She knocked on the door. Nick answered after a bit. He looked sleepy but gorgeous as always. She thrust the tape into his hand "you don't read your posts." she told him. "Who are you?" he asked. "I've been trying to reach you. This tape contains some information on the Abarat. I don't know the voice. I thought maybe you would." "Come on in." He led her to the living room. A very pale man lay on the leather couch. "What happened to him?" Ivy knelt by his side. "I don't know. I found him passed out outside. He was one of LaCroix's but it looks like he's been bitten. I ... don't know if he'll pull through. I guess he ... outlived his usefulness." "Bit? Get Natalie down here. What he needs is a transfusion and now. Nick, how did you think he would survive without blood. Oh, never mind. She picked up the phone and hit the speeddial button with Natalie's name on it. Two rings then "Dr. Lambert." "This is a medical emergency. We have a patient in need of a blood transfusion (and not to drink) Nick's loft. You know the address." She hung up and knelt by the man's side. She took his pale, weak hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly, "you'll be okay." she told him. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:27:22 -0800 From: EMPRESS OF CELERY AND KEEPER OF THE MACCS GATEWAY Subject: FK Wars 2 : Bay Area Party PARTY! Join me for a tea party at Filoli gardens! When : This weekend, Sunday, July 10. Where : Filoli Gardens, Woodside, West Bay, San Francisco Peninsula, CA. Time : Be at my place at 9:30, A.M! You can follow me to The Gardens. If you don't make it to my place in time, this Sunday is open tour day at FILOLI. You pay $8 at the gate per person. This covers the cost the keg\\\\upkeep of the grounds. Go to the Tea Shop and ask for Barb. Events : Gardens open for self guided tour. House open for docent led 'quick' tour. Rose garden in full bloom. Knot garden in full bloom, lots of lavender, bees. English style floral walkway in full bloom. Hidden Hydrangea garden in full bloom. Antique roses walkway in bloom. Kitchen Garden in bloom. Includes giant cabbages, flowering garlic. Directions : From the east Bay, take the San Mateo Bridge west. Follow 92 to just before the hwy to Half Moon Bay. If you end up in Half Moon Bay, you've gone too far. Go south from 92 to 280. Take hwy 280 to Edgewood Road exit, and turn west ( towards the hills ). Take Edgewood Road to Canada Road, and go north until you see the tiny sign for FILOLI. Take the private drive west into the estate. ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- "Whew", said Barb. "Guess that's all I can do for THIS FK war!" She thought for a moment. "It'll do them all good to get their silly minds off all those alliances for a while. Hum, I wonder just how many postings have there been, anyhow???" She quickly started to check her mailbox, then just as quickly closed it. "Hey, if you have to ask, you can't afford to find out. Ha ha ha! Just like FILOLI. If you have to ask 'How much did all this cost to build?', then you can't afford it. Ha ha ha. <*sigh*> Which explains why I just hang out there as a volunteer." Barb glanced over at her growing pile of work assignments. She thought a moment more. "Oh, yes, a disclaimer!" Quickly added to her posting : ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Please note : FILOLI is a property of the National Trust. It's name is used here without permission, but it IS open this Sunday!!! The following attractions are available : FOSsils : lots of mice in gardens. Ravenettes : Ravens frequently spotted on grounds ( usually being attacked by smaller birds )( TRUE! ) NATpackers : many scenic and romantic garden spots. *Sigh!* FoEs : Tragic history of original owners. Knights/Knighties : extensive mansion including large cellar, dormer attic, and mammoth living area rooms with heavily curtained windows. FoDs and Die-Hards : available in the tea house : Sandwiches : turkey, chicken, roastbeef, veggie Cookies : chocolate dipped peanut butter, plain chocolate chip, macadamia nut with white chocolate chips all dipped in white chocolate. Muffins : poppyseed, banana apple, blueberry and cranberry. Biscotti : hazelnut, chocolate chip, anise seed. Drinks : Sun tea, lemon sweetened tea, plain ice tea, lemonade. Biscotti : chocolate chip, anise seed, hazel nut. ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- "Well, that should cover it all," Barb said thoughtfully. "No, wait! Just one more thing." Merrily she added : ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Cousins : lots of clear sky and brilliant Californian SUN! ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 18:55:31 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: A way to spend a weekend Fri, 3:43 pm Selma read the invitation in delight. "Perfect!" she said. To: BARB@MDLI.COM From: selmamc@aol.com Subj: Tea Party Great! I'll come if I can find a ride. Know anyone who can carpool from Sacramento? I would love to get out of Sacramento. However, I am _not_ going to Toronto. Guess I'll be departing the war soon. Selma * + * . * Selma McCrory selmamc@aol.com . . * * . --------------- This was just what Selma needed. She loved tea parties, and she really wanted to meet Barb. Besides, she was not used to running around the country, and her mom was getting awfully upset at her. Let others do the fighting. to be continued... ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 19:01:51 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: John Comes Across Natalie infused three pints of blood into John. Still his vitals weakened and his skin grew pale and rubbery. "It's no good," she told Nick. "We're loosing him." "Turn him," Ivy said. "What?" Natalie looked shocked. "I can't do that," Nick said. "Either you do or he'll be LaCroix's by default if he does come across." "I'm not sure he won't be even if I do. LaCroix is the one who initiated this." He looked down at John mournfully. "We lost him." Natalie let go of his wrist. "No." Nick shook his head. "No. He's ... one of us now." "The choices lie with him now." Ivy gathered the disks. "I'm ... gonna see what's on this." She tried to swallow back the tears that threatened but they came back anyway. Natalie put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll bring him back, like we will Nick." Natalie said, but the catch in her voice betrayed her. "Oh um, that's why I'm here ... The Abarat, the cousins know where it is, I just gave Nick a tape of the conversation. Hope it helps." "It should." Natalie looked back regretfully at John, his chest now lightly rising and falling. Ivy walked into the kitchen to pack the disks into her tote bag. Just then people began to arrive, and in droves. It looked like most of the war was there. Well it was one way to make contacts she supposed. She set to making h'our d'orves in the kitchen with the food she'd sent over. The conversation was well under way by the time she walked into the living room. ------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 14:27:18 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Enemy Territory [part 1 of 2] Enemy Territory Tanaquil gazed with some satisfaction at her reflection in the scruffy motel room mirror. She should never have risked going by the Raven as soon as she'd arrived, sans disguise, but curiosity had been too strong. As it turned out, the timing had been fortuitous. She had practically been cannoned down by a frantic, garlic-stricken vampiress and had been able to pass for an anonymous Good Samaritan, driving Janette to the address that she had gasped out. No one had even noticed her surreptitious phone call to Valerie. Janette had been too sick to question her claim that someone named Alma had suggested Nick's place, although under ordinary circumstances any pretense that Alma had been responsible for anything resembling a sensible suggestion would have raised Janette's suspicions at once. She had slipped away quietly soon after Valerie arrived. They had all been too intent on getting some sort of information out of the two of the most uncooperative vampires in North America to notice. At least now she knew what one of her allies looked like, and vice versa. She didn't think Janette had looked twice at her unknown benefactor; she had been too miserable, and was too much in the habit of discounting mortals. Even if she had, Tanaquil very much doubted that Janette would recognize her. Tanaquil hated long flights, and it showed. Last night Janette had seen a slight, insignificant-looking graduate student wearing baggy trousers, an outsized Irish sweater and scuffed boots, dark hair pinned up all anyhow in an untidy bun, with the general air of one who has just noticed that the world exists and wonders why it had to go and wake her up. The woman looking back from the mirror was wearing one of those ghastly pseudo-seventies outfits, flared silk trousers and a (barely decent) halter top with even more flared long sleeves falling well past the wrists, all in the requisite black. The effect was completed the most hideous pair of platform shoes Tanaquil had ever seen in any Berkeley overpriced retro used-clothing dive: black velvet, with some sort of silver trimmings, and perfectly clear *plastic* platforms which seemed to have something which reflected flashes of color embedded in them. Every finger was weighed down with oversized rings. Tanaquil particularly liked the hot pink plastic one on her right thumb and the dolphin-shaped silver one with a fake ruby the size of a pigeon's egg on the third finger of her left hand. Her right ear had been pierced twice, the left one three times; in both she wore various exotic African-style earrings which had been made in Taiwan. She almost regretted that she had never had the nerve to pierce her nose. Almost. In all other respects Judy's annual Sleaze Queen costume parties had turned out to be a godsend. The rest of the disguise had required spending quite some time in a beauty shop. Tanaquil's hair was now jet-black with startling streaks of plum, and elaborately swept up in a style that she would never be able to recreate in this incarnation. Glumly, she foresaw a lot of afternoons spent catching up on beauty parlor gossip. She wondered if one could at least catch General Hospital on Toronto TV. Her silk-wrapped fingernails had been painted a shade which rejoiced in the name of Garnet Red, and looked exactly the color of blood in low light. Heavy powder and dark plum lipstick had done wonders for her normally healthy complexion. She looked like the victim of an inexperienced makeup artist in a funeral parlor. The real challenge, once she found a niche at the Raven, would be to move as little as possible so that no one would notice that Tanaquil's idea of walking in high heels bore a startling resemblance to the gait of a pigeon which had lost several of its toes to some hideous urban accident or disease. She had the feeling that it might sully her image. [end of part 1 of 2]----------------------------------------------------- S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:11:42 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: The Summit Finally! The dailies were run, the year-end summary report was well on its way, and Valerie had a chance to check in on the war. Her timing, as usual, bit rocks; there was no time for all that needed done today! Just as she logged into her e-mail, her phone gave its peculiar chirp. "Development, this is Valerie." A hushed, unfamiliar voice spoke at the other end. "It's Tanaquil. Somebody really nailed Janette. I'm afraid my cover's blown, because everyone else who lives here is sick from the garlic too so I was the only one who could help. She got attacked by a ninja who turned into a black cat, I swear! She's spitting mad, too." "*Wonderful*." A few other choice phrases came to mind, but in this office they were usually reserved for the dinosaur of a database she had inherited with the job. "Well, I'm sure Sharon and Natalie will agree that helping was more a priority than keeping your cover. I'll alert the Ravenettes. You said garlic? Is she okay?" "Getting that way," Tanaquil allowed. "The whole place reeks, though. She'll heal faster when she gets...something to drink, but they contaminated her stock too." "Damndamndamndamn." Of all the...Valerie had an idea who had done this, but that would have to wait. "Can you get her out of there safely? Get her to Nick's place? I was hoping we could powwow at the Raven, but sounds like it'll be pretty inhospitable for some of the folks who need to be there. I'll get the word out to get people there as quickly as possible. Nick's place is probably the best choice. I'd rather make use of the Die-Hard HQ, actually, but I can't guarantee everyone else following their charter, so we'd better keep it away from there for now. I'll get in touch with Sharon and Betsy, see if Betsy can get a Die-Hard rep or two to help mediate." "Do you think we can promise them safe passage?" "Fairly certain. If someone gets other ideas, the rest of us should be able to handle them." "Okay. I'll get the keys to that pinhole camera Janette calls a car and get her out of here. See you soon." "As soon as possible!" A short time, but probably still too long, later, Valerie buzzed at the door to Nick's loft. *If they're going to pull out magic, then we can too,* she thought grumpily, thinking of the Trump of the Raven Jack had made for her at the climax of the last war. Amber gamemasters were pretty handy to have as SO's... "Yeah?" a gruff voice emerged from the intercom. "It's me, Valerie." *The loony who invited half the war to your loft without asking you first*, she added silently; but the door clicked open. Eschewing the elevator, she bolted up the stairs to find Nick, Natalie, a new face who must be Tanaquil, and a very unhappy but seemingly healthy Janette. Three empty green bottles sat on the floor beside Janette's place on the couch, and all four faces turned to Valerie as she dashed in the door. "Who's contacted you?" "We have a few," Nat supplied. "No Laurie; she's trapped by her fractals. And Sharon Himmanen will be delayed because she's just gone to Penn State, and she wants to make sure the three who withdrew really are out before she comes up here." "Check. Who else?" "Sharon Scott and Susan are on the way. , but Susan's working on getting more Ravenettes first." Frowning, Janette interrupted with a nod toward Valerie's big grey T-shirt, the front of which proclaimed *Join the Human Race*. "Propaganda? That should start us off well." "It's for work, Janette; a fundraiser I'm involved in on Sunday." Valerie turned around to show her the BalletMet logo among those of several sponsors on the back of the shirt. "I'm going to rollerskate 10k in a straw hat and a pink tutu, and I *guarantee* it's no threat to you. Okay?" "No need to get impatient about it," Janette replied airily. "Well, you might as well sit down and collect yourself," Nick put in with a sigh. "The others will be getting here soon enough." "Right. And we can hammer out a plan then. WE're gonna need all the heads we can get together for that. Meanwhile, though . . . Janette, we *have* to know what was in the fax you sent Laurie. I wasn't abe to find out from her before I took off up here." "Then why should I tell you?" Janette countered. "Come on, Janette, I think it's gone a little beyond whatever that little game was," Nat told her sharply. "We need all this information out in the open." "Really?" the vampiress returned. "Like just what 'sensitive information' LaCroix got along with the application database?" "That too," Natalie agreed. "Right, Nick?" All eyes turned to their host, sinking into his armchair and a near-visible cloud of gloom. "Yeah. Right." The four women exchanged concerned looks at his attitude, but that too would have to wait. Maybe when Sharon Scott arrived... ---- -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 04:29:11 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--At Nick's Summit Meeting, Part I July 8, 1994, early evening Bruce and I stepped into our hotel room. We'd just had dinner, I'd made a call to Mom, and now we were ready for a little rest after our shopping expedition. "Boy, you'd never expect Toronto being so far north would be so _hot_," I said, peeling out of my clothes. "Yeah," said Bruce, also starting to undress. "I'll be glad to get a shower." And, as usual, he beat me to it. Ten minutes later he was finished and I had my turn. When I emerged afterwards in my terry robe, I knew something was up. "What is it?" I asked. "I called Die-Hard Headquarters. They got word there's to be a meeting of various factions at Nick's place tonight." "When?" "They said whenever people could get there." "Are the Cousins going to be there?" "I don't know." "Well, we'd better get dressed then." My heart was fluttering. Soon we'd be at Nick's. It was still a little hard to believe. We dressed. Bruce passed me the cross on a chain he'd bought me earlier today. Not that I thought it would really be of much help, but you never knew. He put on his own cross. I packed our defensive items in my tote bag. Before long, we stood outside Nick's building. It looked just like it did on the show. It was uncanny. We walked up to the door. "Our crosses," I said. "It might make Nick uncomfortable if they're visible." I put my own down inside my shirt. Bruce hid his as well. Then we pressed the buzzer. "Yes?" came an unfamiliar female voice. "I'm Bruce Gray, with the Die-Hards, with my wife, Sandra. We heard there was to be a meeting here." "Oh. Come on up." The door buzzed and Bruce opened it. When we opened the elevator door, it was like looking at the TV set, but from an angle not usually used. There was a group of mostly unfamiliar people in the room, but I did recognize _three_ of them. One was Natalie Lambert. Another was Janette. The third, his expression somewhat haunted and irritated at the same time, was Nick Knight. My pulse started to race. Bruce stepped into the room and said, "Gee. If you guys are real, I wonder how many other TV characters are." People looked at him in some confusion. I felt my face getting red. Bruce walked further into the room and I followed. "I'm Bruce Gray. This is my wife, Sandra." A thin redhead approached us. "Hi. I'm Valerie Meachum." She made the introductions of the others, ending with, "The--man on the couch is John Dencoff." Cousin John? He looked very ill--in fact, he appeared to be unconscious. His skin was very pale. I wondered what had happened to him, but never comfortable around strangers at first, I was afraid to ask. Bruce _never_ had such problems. People were sitting and standing wherever they could. I noticed a vacant dining table chair near the stairs and sat down on it. "You're with the Die-Hards?" asked Valerie. "I am. Sandra's not." "I've--never declared an affiliation," I said, glancing over at Nick, who was sitting in a chair near the couch. He was looking at me and I looked away quickly. I wasn't sure if I wanted to reveal my affiliation yet, either. Bruce pulled up a dining chair and sat down next to me. "We're here to help however we can. But we're, I guess you'd say, 'newbies' to all of this," said Bruce. "I got some information from Die-Hard Headquarters about what's been going on, but could someone tell us why all the groups' mail was here in the first place?" Nick briefly explained. My God! He was even more handsome in person than he was on TV! Almost made me wish I wasn't married. Not that he'd ever be interested in me. I'd been blessed with a thick mane of light red hair (now just shoulder-top length) but was otherwise fairly nondescript and, worse, wore large glasses with rust-tinted plastic frames. Although for some odd reason, people tended to remember me--even if it had been _years_ since they last saw me. I started wondering what sex with a vampire was like instead of paying a lot of attention to what Nick was saying so I was a little startled when Bruce said, "Why didn't each group have its' own mail drop?" --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 18:47:51 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2: A Long Strange Trip Curiosity Kills the Cat? Sharon Himmanen Sharon stood in the center of Cousin Sandye's darkened living room. All was still and silent, signs of the trio's hasty retreat evident from the shambles the room was in. Nothing moved here. Nothing lived here. It had taken most of the day to get here. Flying coach was not without it's problems--she'd had a 3 hour layover in Pittsburgh, and hadn't even managed to get a flight out of Detroit until 12:30 pm. She'd gone to Laurie first. The ex-Cousin had mumbled something about fractals, a t-shirt database and the fact that the cousins across the hall had skipped town all in one breath before tossing the keys to Sandye's apartment in her direction. So, Sharon went across the hall to see what she could find. Which, so far, was nothing except evidence of a hasty and somewhat permanent departure. The sharp knock on the door startled her. For a moment she panicked--she wasn't supposed to be here, even though she had been given a key. It was technically trespassing. But curiosity got the better of her and she softly crossed the room and looked out through the peephole. A UPS worker stood at the door expectantly. Then he knocked again. "Coming!" Sharon said, slipping over to the nearest lamp and switching it on. Might as well be a good samaritan and collect Sandye's package for her. But she didn't want to look suspicious, answering the door in a completely darkened apartment. She signed Sandye's name for the package, thanked the guy and closed the door on his retreating form. It was a big square package addressed to Sandye. And the return address said the FBI! Should she *open* it? It was a federal offense to open someone else's mail, but this was from the FBI! What was Sandye doing getting packages from the Federal Bureau of Investigation? Sharon hefted it in her hands--it was moderately heavy but not excessively so. Then she shook it gently. Nothing moved inside the box. So she stared at it for nearly five minutes. When she couldn't stand it anymore she reached into her pocket and pulled out her Swiss Army Knife to slit the packing tape. That's when the phone rang. The machine would get it, she thought to herself, ignoring the second and third ring. She half listened to Sandye's message, but then the voice that spoke into the machine and what he said sent a shudder through her and riveted her attention to the phone. It was LaCroix. "My dear, why don't you pick up," he said softly, and although his tone was completely civil, the command in it was unmistakable. Sharon barely stopped herself from lifting the receiver in time. There was a long sigh. "I know you're there, and by now you've discovered that my . . . followers have departed." Still she listened. "A good leader *always* knows what his followers are saying, especially when he's not around," LaCroix continued pointedly. Ah, thought Sharon. He has the place bugged. Then she stopped. He has the place bugged! "That's right. I see you're getting it now. I knew one of *her* followers would show up sooner or later and I thought it best to be prepared. Now, I'm getting tired of talking into this machine." No way, Sharon thought to herself, putting distance between herself and the phone. No way I'm falling into this trap! No, best to leave now! She turned for the front door. "Aren't you even the least bit curious as to what I have to say?" he asked smoothly. Damn! That got her! Between the package and LaCroix her curiosity was burning through her. And she realized she didn't have the resolve to keep it down simply to spite LaCroix. The truth was, she *had* to know what he wanted. Just like she *had* to know what was in that package. Patiently he waited for her. And slowly she retraced her steps back to the phone. She reached down and lifted the receiver to her ear. to be continued . . . o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Nat Pack | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 08:40:59 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2: Yes, we have no titles today -------------------------------------------- Late afternoon/early evening July 8th She didn't speak at first, just lifted the receiver and waited. "That's better," he said after a moment. "Why don't you go ahead and open the package," he said. "It *is* for you, after all." "For me?" "Think of it as an olive branch of sorts," he continued. Sharon hit the switch for the speaker phone, then returned the receiver to its cradle and resumed opening the package. She lifted the lid and removed a large piece of packing foam. Nestled comfortably inside was an expensive grey laptop. "Nick's laptop," she said, looking up at the phone. "Intact," LaCroix added, "including the database, Larry Merlin's tiresome security precautions, Nick's tedious personal files that he's trying desperately to avoid talking about . . . and a few hidden files." "Hidden files? Nick doesn't know how to hide files on a computer." "That's right," LaCroix said. "Nick doesn't." "So, who's are they?" She'd get around to asking why he was doing this later. "Who gave Nick the mail? Who talked him into setting up the database?" LaCroix paused. "Who managed to find three occasions when she needed to go over and check it?" Sharon knew even before he finished speaking. "Janette?" "Janette." "But . . . this doesn't make any sense. Why didn't she just put them on her own laptop?" LaCroix chuckled. "I'll admit, this is elaborate, even for Janette. I think I might have to change my mind about her." This definitely didn't make any sense. Maybe if she knew what was in the files she'd-- But LaCroix cut off her train of thought. "I think I've given you enough. You're a smart girl. You can figure it out." He laughed softly. "But I'd hurry if I were you. They're all gathered at Nicholas' dreary loft. *All* of them, including Janette." "Just two more things," Sharon said quickly when she thought he was going to break the connection. He didn't hang up, but there was a chilly silence on the other end of the line. "Please." "I suppose I could spare you another moment or two." "If you knew what Janette was up to, and I presume you did, why'd you go along with it and steal this stuff?" "It amuses me," he said simply. "Then why are you doing this now, telling all this to me?" "It amuses me," he said again. Sharon leaned back on the couch, the laptop in front of her and breathed a small sigh of wonder. LaCroix amused himself by making a lot of people jump through a lot of hoops. And they'd all done it. And she knew she'd jump through a few more before this was finished. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked softly. "You don't really, and I could very well be lying. But you believe me already. And Janette needs to know that she will *always* be transparent to me. Just as you *all* are," LaCroix said, ice and steel creeping into his voice. "I have a question for you." Sharon felt her throat go instantly dry. She tried to swallow over the lump to speak but couldn't. Without thinking she nodded slowly, then immediately felt ridiculous. "I was just wondering, my dear, when you were finally going to give in to your instincts and join me? I've spoken to Laurie--before her defection she filled me in on some of your conversations." "I wouldn't hold my breath," Sharon said with a bit more bravado than she actually felt. She was grateful that her voice didn't waver. "Still," LaCroix said, "I sense that it's only a matter of time. You can only follow Nicholas' precious Natalie for so long before getting bored. I have *so* much more to offer you." She flashed briefly on Natalie's warning to her at the end of their first conversation, the warning about getting in over her head. Well she was way in now and no one was around. "But," LaCroix said, a note of congeniality creeping into his voice. "I can wait." And with that, he broke the connection. She'd worry about this later. A lot later. Sharon immediately dialed the number for Nick's loft and got a busy signal. "Damndamndamndamndamn!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and grabbing the laptop. If they were all meeting email wasn't going to do any good--nobody'd be checking. She'd have to send a telegram and then get up to Toronto as fast as possible. ----- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:41:20 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Coming Together > > "Nat, look at this!" > > The coroner looked over Valerie's shoulder, where Nan's plaintive > message stood out bright on the monitor. Janette was still pouting, > Nick was still brooding, and the agitated Bad Penny had taken the > brief lull to telnet to her account and see what was up. > > "Well, what do you know," Natalie said, a smile slowly forming. > "Sanity just might be taking hold after all." > > "I'll let her know the Raven is temporarily out of the loop--" this > was punctuated by an indignant noise from Janette "--and that she > should come here instead. I have to be back in Ohio by tomorrow > afternoon for sure because the Battle of Agincourt is being > choreographed, so the more brains we can get together to agree on some > action, the sooner we can get them, the better off we'll be." > > "Agincourt," Nick echoed, grumbling. "The French aced themselves out > of every advantage they had." > > "Which is just what we can't afford to do," Tanaquil put in. > > "And if we play it right," Valerie added with a glance at Janette, > "exactly what LaCroix *will*." > > Janette made no reply. > > -- > The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum > > "I fought fire with fire most of my life, and all it got me was > burned." --Bill Miller > -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:05:40 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: A FoDly development 2:30 PM Friday, July 8: University of Kentucky ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----- ABSENCE RECORD FORM NAME: Sherry Lin W. Crabtree DATE(S) ABSENT: July 11, 1994 - July 15, 1994 PURPOSE: (X) Vacation leave ( ) TDL w/pay ( ) Medical leave ( ) Funeral leave ( ) Military leave ( ) Family leave EXPENSES: ( ) Claiming expenses (X) Not claiming expenses Acct#_______________ SIGNATURE: Sherry W. Crabtree DATE: 7/8/94 SUPERVISOR:________________________ DEAN:______________________________ ------------------------------------------------------------------ thought Pamela, picking up the multi-paged Absence Form from her in-basket. she thought, mentally snapping her fingers, which isn't easy, <*next* week is the *tour*! How could I have forgotten that?> She quickly signed her own name under Sherry's on the application for vacation time and tossed it towards the departmental mail basket. Sher would have a good time.... Travel always gave one the opportunity to meet new people, try new restaurants, get thrown out of strange bars.... (to be continued....) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 17:48:00 -0700 From: Ava Chan-Crowder Subject: FK War : To Toronto It was Friday, July 8th, nearly 7pm PDT. It had been two days since she had posted to Selma and Sharon that she was ready to take part in the war. And she still hadn't heard from either of them....or anyone for that matter. Grabbing her iced tea, she sat in front of her trusty IBM 486 and powered it up. Hearing the welcoming FK theme, she knew her computer was up and running. After three tries, she finally was able to access her local BBS. Still nothing. "Hmm...I must send a comment to that sysop of mine".....She logged of and exited the communications program. This time, she opened up AOL....after logging on, she was greeted by the "Happy Happy Joy Joy"chorus as sung by Ren and Stimpy....finally, she had email! >To: Nat Pack shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu, > nlambert@toronto.gov.ca, jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com> >Cc: Knighties reisner@PANIX.COM, AvaABC123@aol.com> >From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu >Subject: Update > >Hello all! I'm leaving for Toronto this afternoon. The more >eyes we have at the Raven, the better. Janette has to be the key >to this thing. I may have to lay low over the weekend in order to >work out my best method of approach. I've checked and triple >checked the security on this account; I think it's safe to use again. >I'll be checking in regularly, so let me know of anything useful you >might hear. Does anyone know what the Graces and the FOSSILS >have been up to? > >Hope to be in touch again by Monday, if not before. > >Tanaquil At long last, contact had been made! She saved the post and logged off. Hmm...she had to think...what would her next move be? Sipping her tea, and running her fingers through her hair, she wondered what to do....what to do? With a snap of her fingers, she was logging back onto her account on her local BBS, although it wasn't the quickest, it was certainly the most inexpensive account she had.... -------- To : SelmaMc@aol.com scotts@baylor.edu reisner@PANIX.COM nlambert@toronto.gov.ca jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu Romana@aol.com, >From : ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com Subject : To Toronto Hi all - Glad to finally hear word. I was beginning to wonder if my services were needed. I will be on a flight to Toronto shortly. I will email you on my arrival in Toronto. As far as information goes : I have heard that the FOSsiLs have shown themselves to a very dangerous organization. I haven't heard any information regarding The Graces. And speaking of information, any word from Brian yet? Is he still locked up? Well, that's all for now, I will be touch after I get settled in Toronto. Take care, ~~~Ava :-) AvaABC123@aol.com ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com "If we don't stand together, we stand to lose the future." Queensryche -------- She sent the email, logged off , and sat back. Looking up at the clock, it was nearly 7:30 pm PDT...she had a few more things to do around the house before she needed to get to the airport. It was nearly 9pm, and the taxi hadn't arrived. Where was he? She had ordered the Yellow Cab 20 minutes earlier. A few minutes later, a white Jetta drove up. It was her neighbor Neal. Ava opened her front door. "Hi Neal." "Hi Ava. How are you?" "Just fine. Neal, can I ask you to do a favor for me?" "Sure, no problem. What is it?" "Can you take me to the airport?" "Sure. It is the least that I can do. After all, you did take in my mail when I was gone on vacation two weeks ago. When do you want to go?" Neal unlocked his front door. "Right now." He looked at his neighbor...she had a determined look on her face and he knew better than to question her. "Okay. Grab your stuff." Ava popped back into her apartment, grabbed her backpack, duffle bag, and the laptop she had purchased just before unemployment had set in. Within 15 minutes Neal had dropped her off at Lindbergh Field. After purchasing her ticket for the red-eye, Ava sat in the terminal and waited. A short time later, the final boarding call was announced and Ava was ready for her adventure to begin. ---- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 23:41:08 EDT From: Panstygia@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars II - SideTrip To Hell Nan slipped out of her seedy hotel room, her laptop slung over her shoulder in it's case. She scanned the empty street in both directions before stepping out of the shadow of the doorway and down the sidewalk towards her car. She'd gotten the message from her new friends to meet them at Nicks. Her heart thumped a little faster. She'd always had such a crush on the guy... That, coupled with the reality of her defection made her stomach twist tightly into knots. She reached her car unmolested. Even the feeling of being watched had disappeared and she slid easily into the drivers seat and popped her favorite tape into the tape deck before starting the engine. A little Rick would do a lot to soothe her jagged nerves. Maybe a couple of cuts from "Tao". She started the car and pulled out into traffic, settling back against the street, her left foot already tapping to the rhythm she knew would be coming from the speakers any second now... Oh God. Oh No! That wasn't Rick. Oh no, oh no, oh no. That was....AAAAGGGGHHHHH!!! Andy Gibb! A bright, blinding light flashed in front of her and she yanked on the wheel just in time to avoid a collision with another car. Somehow she'd veered into the other lane. She clutched the wheel and tried to direct the car onto the proper side of the road. Her stomach was churning and she could feel the itchy, burning hives pop up along her arms and legs. Any second now she was going to lose it, get sick all over the dash. She had to....get the ... tape...out... The car speakers droned on... "Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive..." Nan slammed on the breaks and reached blindly for the tape deck, pressing frantically with her fingers to eject the tape. Finally, the was silence. She jammed the car into park and collapsed forward, letting her head rest against the steering wheel. Who could have done this? Had Janette somehow found out? No. She was clever, but nan had been careful never to show the woman any vulnerability. But if not Janette, then who? She sat back against the seat, wiped the sweat from her forehead. Who on earth knew about her.... problem... with disco? And then it hit her. Her long-time "friend", her once boon companion. "Cousin" Tokaara. Nan's lips compressed into a grim smile. Well, if that was how the game was to be played, then there was only one thing to do. After the summit at Nick's, after she'd learned how best she could be of help, she'd have to run a little errand of her own. She'd fix Tok. Fix her for good... Panstygia Discobane ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 01:49:11 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: The Summit Jeez, it's a long drive from Waco to Toronto. I almost went to sleep at the wheel a couple of times in the lonesome wastes of North Texas & Oklahoma. Turned Sting up louder and louder, passed every 18-wheeler on the interstate, and hoped I didn't get stopped by the highway patrol. No laptop, and no way to connect to the net from a moving pickup, so I was in the dark about what was going on at the summit. But I had to get there. The last messages I had seen before I left were, well, I'm not easily frightened, but this thing seemed to be out of control. The Emperor had become an ex-cousin--he might or might be brought across--the Abarat had been found--the Raven had been attacked by garlic bombs--cats were running rampant--Sandye, Monica, & Dennis had disappeared--Laurie had gone into seclusion in State College, Pennsylvania--half of North America was converging on Toronto. What the blazes was going on? I've got to get there. I've got an idea of what LaCroix is really up to. Why would he care about Nick's database? Lists of names and addresses and affiliations? What use could it possibly be to him? He had to have stolen the database for some reason other than the nuisance factor. He has a hidden agenda. And I think I know what it is. ---------------------------------------- On the road again, Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 20:22:22 -0500 From: Betsy Vera Subject: Another long night's drive Friday, July 8, 8:18 pm Betsy had spent several hours at her desk ignoring the work she should've been doing, going through the motions whenever her boss came near. Jeffrey's a nice guy and all, but even he would've noticed that she had spent most of the day reading--and trying not to fall asleep over--the thick Die-Hard Charter. Hadn't the Die-Hards ever heard that brevity is the soul of something-or-other? By the time she had slogged through the legalese, stopping occasionally to do pretend-work and to rue the day she had ever let Sharon talk her into this mission, it was quitting time. She turned on the computer, ready to get in touch with the Die-Hards. "Great! Just bloody great!" MTS was down, and nothing was coming in or going out. She couldn't wait. She was itching for some action, especially after the incredibly boring day she'd just had. If she could only get to the center of things, where the *fun* stuff was happening. "Well, of course, you fool!" She smacked her hand on her forehead. Nick, the Raven, and LaCroix all lived (so to speak) in Toronto, so that's where the action was bound to be sooner or later. And Toronto was only a four-hour drive away. Good thing she'd just had the car's air-conditioning fixed (her wallet was going to be hurting for a long time over that one). Once again, it was 92 and muggy. After dropping Ace off at her sister's (Betsy's sister, not Ace's :-) ) and packing a sleeping bag and some food, she set off eastward. Towards adventure. ------------------------------------------ betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 19:25:12 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--At Nick's Summit Meeting, Part II "Why didn't each group have its own mail drop?" asked Bruce. "You know, I don't know," said Nick. Bruce hesitated a moment, then said, "Well, we were at the Die-Hard Headquarters this morning and have checked back with them throughout the day. Are any of the rest of you with the Die-Hards?" No one spoke up and most people shook their heads no when Bruce looked around the room. "I know some of you--Natalie Lambert, Nick Knight, Janette? (his voice hesitated a bit on the vampires' names)--have received a copy of the Die-Hard Charter?" His question made an impact on my fog and I started to pay attention to the conversation. "I did. And I read it," said Natalie. Janette said sullenly, "I haven't seen one." Nick just sat in his chair with a thoughtful faraway expression on his face. Afraid of being distracted again, I looked at Bruce. But it wasn't easy to forget I was actually in the same room with Nick Knight! I focused on the conversation again. "Well, since I am the only representative of the Die-Hards here, I guess I should state a few of our positions. The Die-Hard Headquarters is located at the St. George Residence next to the University of Toronto. (He gave the address.) We will offer our location for mediating an end to these conflicts--that is, unless something's decided here, of course--but it is _neutral_ ground. That means that no group meeting there will be allowed to try and recruit anyone else there to their sides. Also, should _anyone_ desire sanctuary for _any_ reason, the St. George is available for that. We're well defended against attacks, believe me. We even have aerial laser defenses." Janette raised an eyebrow at that remark and Nick--well, he looked like he was paying attention now too. "If anyone doesn't have access to one and wants to see a copy of the full Die-Hard Charter, just call Headquarters and I'm sure someone can let you see one. I think those are the main points I needed to get across." "Thank you, Bruce," said Valerie after a moment. "So...what actions have you been contemplating?" asked Bruce. "Well, we were just discussing laying out our cards on the table," said Valerie. "I think Janette should tell us what was in the fax she sent to Laurie and Nick needs to tell us what sort of 'sensitive information' was on his stolen database." Everyone looked at the two vampires. Janette pursed her lips, but said nothing. Nick sighed and opened his mouth. He was interrupted by the sound of his door buzzer. He got up and answered it. "Hi! I'm Nan. I was told to come here," came a voice over the intercom. Nick let her in. Natalie walked over to shake the newcomer's hand. > "Nan. It's a pleasure to meet you. Come in, you're among friends." > Nan smiled tentatively. "Thanks. You don't know how good it is >to hear that. > Nan turned to face Valerie, smiled a greeting. "As I said in my >post, whatever you need, just ask." She took a seat on the floor >near the fireplace. Nick was still standing. He ran a hand through his hair and said, >"Okay, folks. Here's what we're up against..." The door buzzer sounded again! Nick answered it and then reappeared holding a telegram. > "It's from Sharon of the Nat Pack." he said. "Have your laptop. >All for LaCroix's amusement. On my way." > "Have your laptop?" Natalie echoed. "But that's already been >recovered." > "I know." Nick glanced longingly towards his refrigerator. >"What she has is a trap." > Natalie's eyes flashed. "But what could LaCroix want with her? >And what will he do to here?" > Nick just shook his head. "She's in trouble." Sharon Himmanen was in trouble with LaCroix? I looked over at "Cousin" John, still lying unconscious on the couch. Perhaps he'd had a run in with LaCroix as well? And come here for sanctuary? I hoped he was going to be all right. But surely, if he was in some great physical danger, they would have put him in the hospital. "Why don't we form a group to go steal the mail and LaCroix's database from LaCroix?" I said. Everyone looked at me in some shock. "Well, since he's after Sharon Himmanen, how long will it be before he goes after others? _She's_ not even a Knightie." I looked at Nick. "That's too dangerous for any mortals to contemplate doing." I was disappointed and confused. It was like him, I guessed, to want to protect mortals from LaCroix, but was he hinting he would do such a thing alone? I didn't think _that_ was a good idea, unless he had some other vampire or vampires to aid him. I looked at Janette, but she was watching Nick with almost a smirking expression. Why were we all here then, I wondered, if we weren't going to be allowed to help? Ivy popped out of the kitchen again and said, "There's food made up in the kitchen if anyone wants some." The others seemed to accept Nick's statement as the final word on the subject since no one else said anything more about it. Even Bruce wasn't interested, leaning over to whisper, "Are you crazy or something? We should be trying to help mediate an end to this conflict, not escalate it." "I _was_ trying to end it," I hissed back in a whisper. "If LaCroix doesn't have the information, how can he make use of it? Besides, _I'm_ not a Die-Hard." "Why don't you tell them what you are?" he whispered. I glanced over at Nick again. He was frowning at me. I looked over at Janette, who was watching me. Damn these vampires and their hearing! I said nothing more. Cousin John started to stir on the couch and opened his eyes. He looked a bit dazed as he slowly sat up. Some people had wandered out to the kitchen for a snack and came back. Nick was wandering around, looking a bit unsure about what to do--not to mention a bit frazzled, whether from the situation, the people, or--hunger, I couldn't tell. Maybe it was all three. The phone rang. Nick answered it with, "Nick Knight speaking." He listened a few moments, then said, > "As a matter of fact, she is. Who is this?" He listened again, >then said, "Janette, a friend of yours." She got up and walked over to the phone. > "Who are you? What do you want?" She sounded suspicious and a >little weak. There was a pause as she listened, then she said, >"No, no, no! I've heard about you, Betsy. You don't know where >your loyalties lie. I cannot have someone who is not sure of her >heart here with me!" There was more silence, then she said, >"All right. You can start by sweeping up that mess at the Raven." Her voice dropped some so I didn't catch all of her instructions. Finally she ended with, > "Call me here again when it is clean and *all* of the smell is >gone." She hung up the phone and resumed her seat in one of the black leather chairs. "Since we should be laying our cards on the table, I should tell you what I've found out," said Ivy. "I set up some sound surveillance equipment in the apartment under LaCroix's." "Where was that?" I asked. She hesitated. Then she gave the address. "This evening before I came here, I heard an interesting conversation. The Cousins have the Abarat. It's not destroyed." Everyone looked at Nick. "We don't need to be concerned with the Abarat now," he said, although his expression was wistful. "Well, I brought the tape so you could listen to it, see if you could identify the speakers." "Maybe we should all hear it," said Natalie. She ignored the glare Nick gave her. Ivy brought out the tape and we all listened to it. "It's Lisa McDavid," said Natalie. "She _knows_ where the Abarat is?" "She's a librarian," said Valerie. "She should be good at tracking down books." She paused, then said, "I wonder if the Abarat itself is in some library." No one said anything to that. "Maybe we should form a group and try to find Lisa." "But she's a Cousin and with LaCroix," said Ivy. "Maybe we can corner her when she's not with him." "Look, I don't mean to interrupt here, but how is finding this 'Abarat' going to end the Wars?" said Bruce. "That is, I know it\s of interest to you, Mr. Knight--" "Nick." Bruce hesitated. "Nick. But this whole thing started because of stolen mail. This Abarat stuff--oh, nevermind. If you all want to try and find it, well--" Valerie hesitated, then said, "You may have a point, Bruce. Perhaps, though, there's some way to accomplish _both_ aims?--ending the Wars _and_ retrieving the Abarat. Suggestions, anyone?" There was some conversation back and forth among various people. Nick and Janette were noncommittal when asked their opinions and the frustration level in the room was growing. Near midnight, Janette got up with her purse and announced, "I'm going upstairs to powder my nose." Nick gave her an odd expression as she walked upstairs. The door buzzer rang. Nick walked over, punched the button, and said, > "Yeah, who is it and what do you want?" > "Um, it's me--Sharon--the one from Texas. Remember me?" > "You're late. Come on up." When the elevator opened, a woman clad in a frog ballerina T- shirt stepped into the room. She looked around in a bemused way-- much the same way I imagined _I_ probably had looked around when I'd entered for the first time. She said, > "Sorry I'm late. I got here as soon as I could." She looked >down at her shirt and said, "Hey, I know it's weird, but it was a >gift. And the information on it came in handy. And I was in a big >hurry, and I forgot to take it off." She smiled. "And, as a matter >of fact, I've gotten kind of fond of it." She paused and added, >"So, what in Sam Hill's going on here?" (to be continued) --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 00:47:19 EDT From: Panstygia@AOL.COM Subject: FKWAR2- Safe Haven ---- SAFE HAVEN --- Nan entered Nick's loft apartment and stared around her at the many faces. She'd heard of them all, read their messages on the net. It was a little awe-inspiring. Natalie was the first to greet her. She came over and took Nan's hand, which was damp with perspiration. Besides that, she was still shaking a little from her ordeal in the car. But Natalie was all charm. "Nan. It's a pleasure to meet you. Come in, you're among friends." Nan smiled tentatively. "Thanks. You don't know how good it is to hear that." Whatever kind of relationship she'd had with Janette, she'd never have used the word friendship to describe it. Nan turned to face Valerie, smiled a greeting. "As I said in my post, whatever you need, just ask." She took a seat on the floor near the fireplace and awaited her instructions. The group was definitely gearing up for action, and the air crackled with a sense of polarization. Nick took the floor, and a hush fell over the crowd. "Okay, folks. Here's what we're up against..." Panstygia@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 06:36:45 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Stealing the Abarat [part 2/2]---------------------- July 8, 1994, early evening [NOTE: EARLIER ON LC COPIED LISA'S SOFTCOPY ONTO A LAPTOP] Still later, LaCroix touched down in the lawn outside the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library. In the moonlight the gray concrete building resembled some ghostly geometric turkey in silhouette. The revolving front doors were locked (besides, they probably had an alarm) and the place was dark inside. He looked for another way in and soon found one which he thought would be unlikely to be connected to an alarm: a window too high to reach without a _very_ long ladder. Once inside, LaCroix dropped down through the open plan of the place to the floor. He didn't need any light to locate the computer catalog system. He sat and called up the information on the "pornographic" _Dracula_ that he had donated. He looked around the octagonal room at the book-filled balconies that lined the walls--six stories of them. He scanned the signs on each one until he finally found the one he wanted. He finally saw the right section and flew up and over the wood railing of the balcony. Soon he found the book he wanted. He picked it up and briefly wondered if he should have brought the _real_ "pornographic" _Dracula_ to leave in its place. "They don't deserve it," he whispered. Book in hand, LaCroix made his exit, flying back to his apart- ment. He entered through his bedroom window. LaCroix looked at the Abarat. Now that he had Lisa's (and Larry's) translation--well, there was no reason it shouldn't suffer the original fate to which Nicholas had believed it had fallen. He placed the book in a metal trash can and flew to the roof of the building. And there consigned the Abarat to flames. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 07:56:49 -0400 From: Elizabeth A Scroggs Subject: FKWARS2: Lurker's Lament Lurker's Lament Betsy Scroggs, finding the Raven empty and smelly, looked around for the nearest telephone. After finding Nick Knight's phone number from the police station, she dialed it, hoping that would be where Janette was. "Nick Knight speaking." "Detective Knight, is by any chance Janette there with you?" "As a matter of fact, she is. Who is this?" "Um, a friend of hers." At least, she hoped she was a friend. After a few moments Janette came to the phone. "Who are you? What do you want?" She sounded suspicious and a little weak. "Janette, it is an honor to talk to you. I've never sent an application or anything, but I would like to help you. My name is Betsy..." "No, no, no! I've heard about you, Betsy. You don't know where your loyalties lie! I cannot have someone who is not sure of her heart here with me!" "But no, Janette, I'm not her! I'm a different Betsy. I've been around for a long time, just not out in the open. I've been lurking, watching what everyone else has been doing before acting on my own. I've come all the way to Toronto to help you in this war however I can." Betsy hoped the truth showed in her voice. "All right. You can start by sweeping up that mess at the Raven. We had a bit of a mishap with a cat. I am afraid I cannot trust you with any important task yet, there have been too many betrayals and broken loyalties lately. I do appreciate your presence here. War or no war, I still have a business to run. I just hope my clientele will come back after what happened. Call me here again when it is clean and *all* of the smell is gone." Betsy spent the next few hours cleaning up broken glass and bits of garlic and cat hair. By morning, all she wanted to do was take a bath and try to soak away the dizzying garlic smell. --- Dear Windy, I made it to Toronto. The war is not as exciting as I thought it would be. Last night I was the best dressed janitor in Canada. But at least it's something. I shouldn't have lurked so long. I feel like I'm at a great disadvantage. I feel like I know everyone here, and everyone fighting, but none of them know me. And no one will ever want to know me the way I smell. Oh well, I'll manage. I'll keep you posted. Betsy ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 08:55:56 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: A telegram arrives In the room sat each in his or her place listening expectantly as Nick drew breath to lay his plan before them. The sudden rap on the door startled them all. Nick answered it then reappeared holding a telegram. "It's from Sharon of the Nat Pack." he said. "Have your laptop. All for LaCroix's amusement. On my way." "Have your laptop?" Natalie echoed. "But that's already been recovered." "I know." Nick glanced longingly towards his refrigerator. "What she has is a trap." Natalie's eyes flashed. "But what could LaCroix want with her? And what will he do to her?" Nick just shook his head. "She's in trouble." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 11:16:09 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARSII--Is there an echo? IS THERE AN ECHO? Late Evening--July 8th Susan didn't want to look at the clock. She'd just gotten in from doing a final backup on one of the computers at work. But--hey--at least she'd found the 256 color video driver for her computer! Those GIFs looked really nice, now. Not that she cared. She was dead tired, not having eaten since noon. And her refrigerator, as usual, was even more empty than Nick's. "Damn, forgot to buy food again," she muttered, as Diego wandered by, giving her a 'God, are you finally home? Well, don't bother walking me because I peed in the living room' look. That's when the phone rang. Susan picked up the portable, then opened the refrigerator again, hoping against hope something edible had grown since her last look inside. "Hello?" "Where have you been?" Susan closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it. "What?" There was an odd quality to the voice. "Who is this?" "Have you forgotten me so soon? Or have your loyalties changed?" It was Janette. Only she could get just the right hint of sarcasm in her tone. "You know me," said Susan. "--I am, and will always be, your faithful Ravenette." She paused. "Where are you calling from--sounds like an echo chamber." "I'm on Nicola's cellular, in the bathroom." "In his loft?" That gave Susan a start. She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "That reminds me, I asked the question on the list, but nobody seemed to want to answer it. Since your bodies absorb blood, do you actually have to--?" "Don't be crass!" snarled Janette. "I don't have much time. The others are downstairs." "Others?" "Nicola, his coroner friend, and several of their followers." She sighed. "They've got one of LaCroix's ex-friends as well. The one you tried to bring to our side?" "EX-Cousin John? Is he all right?" "In a matter of speaking. LaCroix found out about his possible defection. He's definitely one of the blood, now. Such a shame--Alma rather took a fancy to him during that last war's meeting at the Raven." Susan nodded, remembering how Janette had chased Alma away. "Too bad. If you've gotta go, at least have a good time on the trip." "Yes. Which is why I'm calling. Why aren't you ?" "I have to work for a living. Fiction and fan mail is all well and good, but we mortals need cold hard cash to put food in our . . . refrigerators. When we remember to shop," Susan added mournfully, wondering if Mickey D's had extended their hours for the summer crowd yet. "I'm supposed to work on Vicki's PC tomorrow and--" "I want you here. " "I won't be able to get a flight from--" "If you can dream my revenge on Monica, you can find a way to get up here." The steel in Janette's voice softened slightly. "I liked the coyotes. And the baby scorpions." "Just keeping my ears open. And Laurie helped." Frantically, Susan started going through her alternatives. But in the mean time--"I heard the ghastly trio packed up the menagerie and took a road trip." "LaCroix won't be pleased," said Janette after a pause. "But I think he's too busy at the moment to go after them. And I have a score to settle with Monica. As if I'd go after any of the Warren for no reason." "And Laurie's still locked in her apartment, Trouble on her lap and fractals on the screen?" "So I gather," growled Janette. "I started this whole thing for her, you know. I knew LaCroix wouldn't let one of his people escape without dire torment. And some have accused me of not taking care of my own. It would have been such a splendid coup--" "Until people started jumping ship left right and center," agreed Susan. "Well, you know you can count on me." "You'd never leave me?" Susan shuddered at the word--"Just . . . don't say 'never', okay? Every time I use that word, a week later I'm hip deep in it. Just ask Sharon sometime." Sighing, she winced at the thought of just how far she'd been willing to go for this series. Then, Susan sat upright. "Has Nick gotten his laptop back?" "Ummmm? Oh, yes. And those hideous cats--the ones that put garlic in half of my stock and attacked me? They broke into some innocent mortal's abode, stole their computer and their laundry, and released a perfectly ordinary non-Liz Hazel rabbit." Susan heard Janette's shiver over the line. "Nasty things!" Susan thought of mentioning that Janette would probably adore Laurie's cat, Trouble, but then decided that she'd like to live a little longer. "So, who's got the mail?" "The what?" "The fan mail?" pressed Susan. "You know, the stuff you dumped on Nick and which has been growing at a phenomenal rate since he's not the type to get around to doing ? I know most of it wasn't even entered yet. And God only knows what was in those sacks." Janette cleared her throat. "Yes. That's . . . true. I'll admit that there were times when the mail was very . . . interesting." Susan sat upright on a chair. "You read Nick's mail?" "Some." A cold chill ran down her spine. "And Natalie's?" "Ummmm." "And LaCroix's?" "Never," said Janette vehemently. "Or those dreadful FOD things--too much garlic. And usually uninteresting--mostly chatting about food and recipes." Susan's throat was dry. It was dangerous, but she had to know. After all, there was one thing that interested Nick and Natalie. "Did you happen to--uh--destroy any of Nick's or Natalie's mail? Like anything about how he might be brought back across?" Janette paused. "Semper fidelis?" she reminded softly. "All right." Susan bit her lip--maybe it was better that she know. "I'll be there as soon as I can." "That's a good girl. I'd better go--they'll be suspicious. I said I was going to powder my nose and my nose is that shiny." The dialtone returned. Susan looked at the phone and sighed again. Then she went back to the refrigerator. Nope. Nothing except a twelve-ounce jar of crushed garlic, a bottle of tomato ketchup, and gallons of ice tea. And--she leaned inside and picked it up--a card from her Sandman set, that had fallen from the refrigerator magnet on the freezer. Susan looked at the card. It was Matthew--the raven. Just as well it wasn't her membership card to Dream's library. She'd gotten it when she'd first started writing--and writing, adding scores of unwritten novels and short stories to the millions of might-have-been literary works that existed only in the Dream Country. That's when she realized that a trip to the library might be just the thing this time of night. the library happened to be in the Dream Country. For, as Monica, Sandye, and Dennis had so kindly pointed out, dreams could take you just about anywhere. And were a hell of a lot cheaper than airfare to Toronto. --------------------- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 22:15:00 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Arrival Friday, July 8, near midnight I pulled up in front of Nick's loft and wearily shut El Truck off. The loft was lit up like a Christmas tree--looked like everyone was still up and plotting. I got out of the pickup, walked quickly to the door, and hit the buzzer. "Yeah, who is it and what do you want?" That warm-honey voice made my knees turn to jello. "Um, it's me--Sharon--the one from Texas. Remember me?" "You're late. Come on up." The door opened, and I entered the elevator with some hesitation. Apparently he wasn't in the best of moods, which was understandable given the events of the last week. The elevator door opened, and as I stepped out, conversation stilled. Everyone stared at me and I stared back, realizing that the only people in the room that I recognized were Nick and Nat. A weird feeling--I thought I *knew* these people from the list, but reality was quite different from e-mail. Trying to put names to the faces, I figured the thin redhead must be Valerie, and the pale man on the couch *had* to be ex-Cousin John. I didn't recognize anyone else. I was here---really* here. Toronto, Nick's loft--the same loft I'd seen so many times via tape and television. I looked around in wonder. The black sun on the wall in the kitchen, a place where no one ever cooked a meal--the dining table at which no one ever dined--the piano; Nick had actually played it once--the red and black and yellow painting on the wall--the staircase leading up to the bedroom. A major case of deja vue. "Sorry I'm late. I got here as soon as I could." They all continued to stare at me. I looked down, thinking maybe my clothes were undone. And realized ... I still had on the frog ballet t-shirt. "Hey, I know it's weird, but it was a gift. And the information on it came in handy. And I was in a big hurry, and I forgot to take it off." I smiled. "And, as a matter of fact, I've gotten kind of fond of it." Valerie smiled back, and the ice was broken. "So, what in the Sam Hill's going on here?" I asked, then took a seat and waited for explanations. It was going to be a long night. -------------------------------- Sharon Scott scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 20:22:42 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--At Nick's Summit Meeting, Part III > "So, what in Sam Hill's going on here?" There were assorted sighs and groans, then, after introductions had been made, people started to fill Sharon in on what had been happening. Finally Natalie said, > "Okay, Valerie, you brought everyone here. Now how about telling >them why?" She was apparently as tired of the inaction as I was. > "That was...pretty much as far as I thought. I think I screwed >up, went off about three-quarters cocked. But I know we need to >unite, and I *knew* we weren't going to manage it unless we did it >face-to-face. We may not even manage it then." > "You're right about that," Janette snapped. "Just what made you >think you were appointed some sort of leader, anyway?" > "That's just it, I'm *not*! I don't think we'd ever all get along >with one leader, except maybe..." She cast a hopeful look in their >host's direction. > "Oh, no. I didn't want any of you getting involved at all. I'm >certainly not going to try and direct this madness!" > Nervously Valerie tucked a strand of red hair back into the >wayward remnant of a braid. "I know, I know. Look, I'm really sorry! >But I really think our only hope is to *communicate* and put up a >unified front against LaCroix!" She sank down on the arm of the >couch (away from John's end, I noticed). "I just don't know how to >do it." > "Well, isn't that just grand." Janette's voice was light, but >the tone was diamond-hard, razor-sharp. "I must say, Natalie, you >are welcome to this...child. I thought she showed promise during >that last little crisis, but now..." > "Now wait just a minute!" Valerie protested. "I *do* know one >of the main things keeping us divided is secrecy--specifically, at >least in part, *your* secrecy. We all know now that *you* told >LaCroix where to find the mail and the laptop, and you still haven't >told us why." I looked over at Nick, who was frowning. > "Why shouldn't I?" > "Because you stand to lose as much as anyone else, and you know >it! Do you think he'll really leave Susan alone? They say he's >already got Monica." Janette stiffened at this, and Valerie pressed >on, heedless of several warning headshakes including Nick's. "And >he won't stick to those involved now, either. If he wins, what's to >stop him going after Tara, or Mina? And Laurie's all alone and >vulnerable." Green eyes narrowed. "Or, are they all just expendable? >Use them up and throw them away like *he* does?" > That was the final straw, and Valerie realized it an instant too >late: a whoosh, a dark blur, and the vampiress was gone. > "Nice going, Ace," Nat chided gently. "Now what?" > "I don't know." > Valerie's near-inaudible admission that she didn't know what to >do next was met with silence, a silence broken by the door buzzer. >"Hey Nick, it's Alma." Nick walked over to the door and pressed the button to reply, >"What do you want?" > "I got something for ya. Come on, let me in, I got stuff to do!" > Nick looked around the room and was met by shrugs and headshakes. >"All right, come on up." When the intercom switch was off he muttered, >"And it better be good!" Alma soon entered the room, saying, > "Peace offering from Cousin Lisa." She was holding another >laptop...just what they all needed. "Actually, judging from what's >on this, I'd say she's about to be *ex--Cousin Lisa." > "What do you mean?" Nick asked sharply. "What's on it?" The vampire smiled. > "I guess she got a copy of that Arafat book from somewhere." > Nick snatched the laptop abruptly. "You mean Abarat? How could >she have--" > "Hey, don't ask me. She's the librarian. And I got better things >to do than have you correct my grammar, Nicky." > "Thank you, Alma. We won't keep you from them, then." > "Gee, thanks." > "Goodbye, Alma." Nick opened the laptop and put it on the coffee table. People gathered around the computer in an excited babble of voices. Except for me--I had no knowledge of computers whatsoever--and John Dencoff, who seemed to be trying to press himself into the crack in the corner of the couch where he sat. Nick told him to go upstairs. John somewhat unsteadily obeyed, his passing sending a chill through me. People were still exclaiming over the laptop (even Bruce was interested), but I noticed Nick had gone to the kitchen. Natalie slipped away to the kitchen too. Soon he returned with a glass and a bottle of what looked like his "blood." He headed upstairs with it. Did that mean that John had--become a vampire? If so, it must have been recent. But why was he here at Nick's? Natalie had paused near the kitchen area to watch Nick. On impulse, I walked over to her. "John?" I asked. She looked up at me as I was taller than she was. "LaCroix," she said simply, then walked on into the living room. I returned to my seat. Nick came back downstairs, sans glass and with an _empty_ "wine" bottle. Closer this time when our eyes met, I could see his were a green/blue. I could feel my temperature and pulse rise and looked away. I wondered if he could sense the effect he had on me. ------- Nick watched as the red-haired woman by the stairs looked away from him. Her eyes had been an odd color--somewhere between blue and gray with lighter flecks of some indefinable color mixed in. For some reason, he was reminded of some very erotic dreams he'd had from time to time about a red-haired stripper--who looked _nothing_ like this woman. His eyes travelled to her husband. He was about as tall as Nick, his hair and mustache either a dark blonde or a light brown, his long face open and friendly, his eyes gray. Nick sighed. He wished Janette's place hadn't been attacked--he wasn't accustomed to having so many strange people around. He walked out to the kitchen with the empty bottle and surveyed the fridge. What with Janette's consumption (due to her "wine" being contaminated with garlic) and John's, he was almost out of stock. Someone would have to go out for more, particularly with John in so new a state. People were still busy with the laptop. Nick picked up one of the two remaining bottles in the fridge. Better take another one to John. The redhead seated by the stairs avoided his gaze, but her pulse and temperature increased as he passed. Nick quickly walked upstairs, fervently hoping this "meeting" would soon be over. When he returned, he walked over to the knot of people around the coffee table. People moved aside so he could sit on the couch, some of them sitting down on either side of him. Could this really be a copy of the Abarat? Or was it perhaps a trap? He looked up at the people gathered around him. "This could be a trap. I'd like it if you all removed yourselves from the area, maybe the kitchen." People obeyed. Nick took a deep breath and cut the laptop on. There was no explosion, but the text he saw--part of it was english, but the other part was in some foreign script. It was all mixed together within most of the words. Nothing made any sense at all. And as he paged through it, whole sections of screen was blank. "I think you can all come back out now," he said. Natalie was the first eager person at his side. She frowned at the incoherent mass of material on the screen. "What happened?" she asked. "I don't know. All I did was call up the data," said Nick. "Maybe it's LaCroix's version of a joke," he added grimly. "No. They didn't know Ivy was taping them so they _have_ to have the Abarat," said Natalie. "Maybe someone sabotaged it before Alma brought it here," offered Ivy. "It doesn't matter now," said Nick. "John is good with computers. Maybe he can--" started Natalie. "John's--not in any kind of condition to do something like that right now." He looked around at the people gathered around him. Their expressions were sober and grim. Nick wished they would just leave. Natalie squeezed his arm. Then she looked at the others and said, "Well, it's very late. Maybe we should all--I don't know, go back to our groups and tell them what's happened? Maybe some new people can come up with some fresh ideas." People started to move away, gather things together. Bruce looked like he wanted to offer to help with the computer, but I put my hand on his arm and shook my head. He took the hint. He said, "Don't forget. We Die-Hards are willing to be mediators." Bruce passed the number of the Headquarters to Natalie. We left the loft. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 12:02:00 PDT From: M'lady Printcap the goddess of peripherals Subject: FKWAR2:_Jennise_makes_an_offer JULY 8, 12:00 INT. L. D. STEELE HOME - BEDROOM - NIGHT Dawn sleeps peacefully. She wears a t-shirt and has kicked the sheet down to her feet. KA THUNK! KA THUNK! Dawn stirs. She finally comes fully awake. KA THUNK! KA THUNK! She heads out of the bedroom. Tensed for attack; it's clear her karate has paid off. INT. STEELE HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Dawn steps into the living room. Her jaw drops at the sight of the black woman draped over her futon chair. JENNISE You like? She points to a full sized card board cut out of Killer Croc from the Batman Series. DAWN What? Who are you? JENNISE Come on. Guess! How do you like the poster? I guess that's what you call it. DAWN Jennise? JENNISE C'est moi. You know you were the only person who identified that little line in my .sig. DAWN What are you doing here? JENNISE Well, forgive me. I'm pretty behind in this little war. Had to get special dispensation. But, being a Die-Hard I figured I should report in. DAWN But you're... JENNISE A vampire. A career choice, really. I'm the head writer for the next season of Forever Knight you know. DAWN I thought... JENNISE Never mind who the mortals think is in charge. Or even what they think is going to make it on the air. But we're heading way off the point of my visit. I'm a Die-Hard and I'm here to offer my services as muscle. DAWN You just said you're a vampire. JENNISE And? What's your point? DAWN Won't LaCroix... JENNISE Pops cut me loose. I make my own choices. You want my help or not? DAWN We might just need your help before the next week is over. But, what if you have to go up against LaCroix or Nick? JENNISE Nick's a piece of cake. Pops. I've got one or two tricks up my sleeve. And if they don't work I can provide a distraction while you guys beat feet. DAWN I'll think about it. JENNISE Copacetic. You need me just holler. I got some traveling to do. Biggest draw back of my new state is getting from point A to point B before the sun comes up. Jennise heads over to the open window. JENNISE You know how to whistle don't you. Just ... Jennise climbs out the window and lets out a blood curdling scream. Followed by hysterical laughter. Dawn watches as she flies higher into the hot Hamilton night sky. Jennise Hall jennise@dgi.com or jennise@netcom.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 16:02:27 -0500 From: The Coterie Subject: FKWAR2: When The Piper Calls When The Piper Calls..... The sound of crunching debris beneath his feet reminded him of battlefields long since forgotten. Like the bleached bones of fallen men, the remnants of a once normal life were strewn about the room at random. Kicking his way through the litter, LaCroix bent down and took the handle of the basket-hilt saber. At least this had not been broken. "At least some things were made to last." Pulling it through the mountain of odd papers, he raised it to its full height and brought it swishing down in one lightening move. "The fools...right under their feet...so much for mortals." LaCroix remembered the last mortal that had ventured in to the apartment. Sharon had possibilities. Certainly the "coterie" had said so. But would she answer to her true nature? Would she come to them as an equal, or as a victim? That would reveal itself in time, of course, as most revelations do; but for now, the task was complete. She had taken the laptop, and by now, she knew it had not been Nicholas' after all. She only had to pull up those hidden files, and then, if she was as clever as they had said, Sharon would know the secret plans that they had made those many weeks before. Turning back around, weapon in hand, LaCroix whispered their names...they had no choice but to answer the call. Porthos....Aramus.....Athos.....D'Artagnon...............It's time. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 19:39:55 EDT From: LizBeth258@AOL.COM Subject: A long night's drive Late night July 7 Early morning July 8 Beth swore colorfully as she slammed her Subaru door shut and lit a Marlboro. She offered Hazel a puff, who understandably turned her nose up at it. "Good. These things are bad for ya anyway," she said. Hazel settled down into a camel pose and prepared for the long drive. Before long, the rabbit was snoring. Beth vainly hoped the rabbit wouldn't mind the long drive to Pennsylvania. "Damn Janette. I drive all the way to Toronto from New Hampshire and NOW she wants me to go to Penn State with these 'top secret' instructions to Laurie, who is now apparently no longer a cousin. This is getting way to nuts for me. Maybe I shoulda stayed out of this war. HELL! Maybe I shoulda stayed out of the LAST war...." She kicked the car into gear and headed off into the muggy night. Passing through New England, she hit a thundershow. And of course, that WONDERFUL traffic jam in New Jersey. "Better appreciate this, Janette should. But of course she won't. That woman takes us WAY too much for granted," Beth muttered. She was just pulling into Penn State when an odd thought occurred to her. "Did Janette's office smell like garlic?" She looked at the overstuffed manila envelope and wisely issued, "Unh-oh...." ------------------------------------------------- Liz-Hazel ;) lizbeth258@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------- --------------------Saturday, July 9th-------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 21:50:20 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Rockslide Early morning Saturday: The summit was crumbling. In fact, it was falling in great lethal hunks of rock to the valley below. There had been no word from Sharon, and Nick's succinct "She's in trouble" was seeming more understated by the minute. Tanaquil had returned to the Raven so surreptitiously that Valerie had not noticed exactly when she made her exit, but she was fairly certain the spy's exactly affiliation had escaped Janette's notice. She might even still be able to be completely anonymous; Janette had shown little interest in her benefactress' identity. Hopefully the cleanup efforts at the Raven were progressing well so that Tanaquil would have something to spy on... Surely they were progressing better than this meeting, though, which wasn't progressing at all. Everyone was warily eyeing everyone else, with the possible exception of John who was still pretty dazed. It was drawing close to dawn, but there was no word from Sharon Himmanen, or from others Valerie had fervently hoped would join them. Nick's succinct "She's in trouble" when they had received the telegram was seeming more and more an understatement. Worried for her compatriot, who had been the first to welcome her when she had fled the Cousins during the last war, Valerie could not begin to come up with a coherent plan of action. Which meant, of course, that someone would ask for one. "Okay, Valerie, you brought everyone here," Natalie prompted. "Now how about telling them why?" "That was...pretty much as far as I thought," Valerie confessed sheepishly, earning glares from several directions. "I think I screwed up, went off about three-quarters cocked. But I know we need to unite, and I *knew* we weren't going to manage it unless we did it face-to-face. We may not even manage it then." "You're right about that," Janette snapped. "Just what made you think you were appointed some sort of leader, anyway?" "That's just it, I'm *not*! I don't think we'd ever all get along with one leader, except maybe..." She cast a hopeful look in their host's direction. "Oh, no. I didn't want any of you getting involved at all. I'm certainly not going to try and direct this madness!" Nervously Valerie tucked a strand of red hair back into the wayward remnant of a braid. "I know, I know. Look, I'm really sorry! But I really think our only hope is to *communicate* and put up a unified front against LaCroix!" She sank down on the arm of the couch. "I just don't know how to do it." "Well, isn't that just grand." Janette's voice was light, but the tone was diamond-hard, razor-sharp. "I must say, Natalie, you are welcome to this...child. I thought she showed promise during that last little crisis, but now..." "Now wait just a minute!" Valerie protested. "I *do* know one of the main things keeping us divided is secrecy--specifically, at least in part, *your* secrecy! We all know now that *you* told LaCroix where to find the mail and the laptop, and you still haven't told us why." "Why shouldn't I?" "Because you stand to lose as much as anyone else, and you know it! Do you think he'll really leave Susan alone? They say he's already got Monica." Janette stiffened at this, and Valerie pressed on, heedless of several warning headshakes including Nick's. "And he won't stick to those involved now, either. If he wins, what's to stop him going after Tara, or Mina? And Laurie's all alone and vulnerable." Green eyes narrowed. "Or are they all just expendable? Use them up and throw them away like *he* does?" That was the final straw, and Valerie realized it an instant too late: a whoosh, a dark blur, and the vampiress was gone. "Nice going, Ace," Nat chided gently. "Now what?" Valerie looked around at the few faces remaining, their expressions ranging from expectancy to doubt to complete confusion. "I don't know." -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 21:48:35 18000 Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWar2: Meanwhile, back at the loft... Valerie's near-inaudible admission that she didn't know what to do next was met with silence, a silence broken by the door buzzer. "Hey, Nick, it's Alma." "What do you want?" "I got something for ya. Come on, let me in, I got stuff to do!" Nick looked around the room and was met by shrugs and headshakes. "All right, come on up." When the intercom switch was off he muttered, "And it better be good!" Alma sashayed through the elevator door in her usual trashy style. "Peace offering from Cousin Lisa." She was holding another laptop...just what they all needed. "Actually, judging from what's on this, I'd say she's about to be *ex--Cousin Lisa." "What do you mean?" Nick asked sharply. "What's on it?" The vampiress flashed her best Frederick's of Hollywood smile. "I guess she got a copy of that Arafat book from somewhere." Nick snatched the laptop abruptly. "You mean Abarat? How could she have--" "Hey, don't ask me. She's the librarian. And I got better things to do than have you correct my grammar, Nicky." "Thank you, Alma," Nick said with as much sincerity as he could muster, which wasn't much. "We won't keep you from them, then." "Gee, thanks." "Goodbye, Alma." The messenger was already all but forgotten as Nick opened the laptop and set in on the coffee table amid murmurings of "Lisa betraying LaCroix?" and "Could it really be the book?" What it could mean to Nick! And John, Valerie added to herself, glancing in the ex-Cousin's direction. The new vampire sat in the corner of the couch, removed from the excited knot of people and pulled in to himself as much as he possibly could. He met Valerie's eyes for a brief second, then looked away sharply, pulling himself even further from the group. "Nick," she said in a low voice, catching their host's attention amid the stir. He followed her nod to John, and nodded in answer. "Come on, John, you're still in a rough time. Why don't you go upstairs, get some rest." Flicking a glance at the refrigerator, he added, "I'll come and check on you in a few." "Okay," John agreed. "Good idea." With all that was going on, no one noticed when Alma happened to pick up Nick's police special from the counter on her way out... -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum Join the NatPack! We think we know what we're doing! ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 02:57:05 -0500 Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--John's Lofty Problem July 8, 1994 John paced the confines of Nick's bedroom. It was a little quieter here--with some effort, maybe he could block out the sounds of the mortals below. 'I'm already starting to think like them,' he thought, somewhat shocked. When he'd come to Nick's place, he was sure he'd be dead. Instead he'd awakened to a different world--and hunger. A hunger that seemed to be steadily increasing. He wished wistfully for a stack of those dreadful Barneyburgers, a smile drifting across his face at the memory. But he found he couldn't hold on long to the image of food. He found his thoughts drifting to the thin redhead downstairs...Valerie. And he was thirsty. Very thirsty. ------- Nick watched the others continue to exclaim aloud and wonder at the "present" that had been brought to him from "Cousin" Lisa. But his sensitive hearing was taking note of John's pacing upstairs. He slipped away to the kitched and opened the refrigerator. Nat sidled up to him and licked her lips. "John?" Nick pulled a bottle of blood out of the refrigerator. He looked at Natalie and said in a low tone, "He--needs help. Try to keep the others' attention on the laptop and _don't_ let anyone come upstairs." "What's going to happen with him?" "I don't know. Maybe there's a cure in the Abarat." Natalie started to say something else, but he put a hand on her arm and shook his head slightly. Then he picked up a glass and headed upstairs. John stopped pacing when Nick entered the room and shut the door behind him. "I--brought you something," said Nick. He held out the bottle and glass, but John made no move to take them. Nick hesitated, then pulled out the cork on the bottle with his teeth. John watched him as he poured a glass of blood. Nick held out the glass. John licked his lips, but his hand shook a little as he took the glass of blood from Nick. For a moment he just looked at it, mouth slightly open. "I can't believe this is happening," he said. "Drink it. You--need to eat." John frowned, then lifted the glass and took a drink of the contents. His face took on a brief expression of disgust. Then he tossed off what was left in the glass. Nick stepped closer to John and this time John took the bottle from him. He poured another glass of the blood and drained it, then poured another. After the third, John sat down on Nick's bed. "Better?" Nick asked. "Some," said John. "But I'm still hungry. How do you drink this stuff?" "It's an--acquired taste. I find it's better for me than the alternative." John looked quickly at him, eyes wide. Then they got a some- what distant expression, one which Nick thought didn't bode well. He decided to bring the young man's thoughts out of more dangerous contemplations and besides, there was important information he had to know. "John, did--LaCroix make you drink any of his blood?" John focused his attention on Nick. "No. Is that good?" Nick tried to smile reassuringly. "It may mean you'll be able to resist his--influence--if he tries to use it on you." He hesitated, then said, "If necessary, I'll--try to help you adjust. But there may be a cure in the Abarat--for both of us." John poured the last of the blood into the glass and looked at it. "Yeah. A cure," he said. But he sounded fatalistic about the possibility--like he didn't really believe it was possible. Nick took the empty bottle from him. "I'll bring you up another bottle. Just--try to stay cool, okay?" John looked at him. "I'll try," he said. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu (Note: John gave me permission to make use of his character.) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 21:04:57 -0500 Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Betsy Vera Subject: FKW2: [Mission report] To: --------@---------- (you think I'm going to display sensitive info like this where anyone can see it?) :-) From: betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu Subj: mission report Dear Uncle: Everything is going as you planned. Sharon H., leader of the Nat-Pack, took the bait. I overplayed the role of the eager newbie, as you suggested. If she suspected me for a double-agent, she probably thought, "A cousin wanting to infiltrate our ranks would be far more convincing." When last I saw her, she was heading towards State College, Pennsylvania. Again, exactly as you predicted. I assume you have persuaded her to join your ranks by now. The rest of the Nat-Pack haven't made their feelings towards me clear, one way or the other, so I think I can still be effective as a double-agent. I'm surprised none of them noticed that the Cousins never came looking for me after I failed to use the plane ticket. Oh, yes, you might find this amusing. One of the last things Sharon said to me before leaving was, "This is a war that's going to be won on intelligence and infiltration, not overt attacks. At least not by overt attacks until we're ready, until we've gathered our forces and discovered just what's going on." Little do they know, eh? I'll stay in my hotel room, here in Toronto, awaiting instructions. Respectfully yours, Cousin Betsy ------------------------------------------------- betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 14:18:53 EDT From: Tracy Clarke Subject: FK war 2: The Charter Anyone entering to Radio Imaging room would not notice the mailbox full of war information. The console was full of windows, all overlapping leaving only pale orange corners visible, and the odd little snip of the purple background peeking out. "I can't believe these people. It's lucky for them that us Die-Hards have entered in this war. They are going to need a safe haven before too long if things continue like this." Tracy chuckled to herself as she thought of that charter Dawn had sent out. It would even make that Optics professor squirm. None of the others would understand why it was so large but it didn't really matter, they were just lucky that Dawn had pulled rank! << Fade to early Monday July 4 >> Rrriiinngg. Rrrinnnggg. Click. "Hello?" "Dawn, Tracy here. Listen, I like the idea of the Die-Hards being in this war, but before I offer my place for safety I need to be sure people obey certain rules." "Ok, I was considering setting up some basic information on our participation anyway. What sort of format do you think we should look at for getting the information out?" "I have been talking to Kathy and she thought that we need to declare ourselves to everyone. It should set up lines which can't be crossed if we are to help maintain low bloodshed." "Why don't we write a sort of group charter? It can give rules and such and could be sent to group leaders." "Sure Dawn that sounds like the key. Shall Kathy and I get on that tonight?" "Ummmmm ... I don't want to offend either of you but would that be wise? I mean remember that Optics report a couple of years ago?" "Ha ha ha ... Oh! So just because we are a little competitive and turned the report of a half hour experiment into a 200 page essay <* ok creative license here but it did top 70 pages each *> you think we will get out of control here too?" "Listen Tracy, I have known you two for several years and you *both* are famous for overkill. Do I have to pull rank on this?" "No. I know you are right. I thought we were going to give the poor guy a hernia! You go ahead and work on it. We have already talked about our ideas so I guess there is no reason to postpone it anymore." "Ok. How are the travel plans coming?" "Actually it is funny that you mention that. I called Pearson today to book a flight out and the woman seemed quite relieved by my request. When I asked why she said the airport was flooded with arrivals recently. It seems that a lot of people bearing little luggage have been arriving lately but not too many departures. I couldn't help wondering what the others are up to." "I think that we will find out before long. We have to be ready to jump in if we are needed. I'll get the charter out asap." "Good luck." << Fade back to present. >> Yes, she thought, they don't know how lucky they are. This many years later that professor was still talking about those reports. No-one had topped it yet! Dawn insisted on making the charter short. She wanted point form setup rather than full text. Tracy couldn't help thinking "Oh well, maybe next year Kathy and I will ...." __________________________________________________________________ -- Tracy Clarke Die-Hard-- the easy way is no fun!! tclarke@radio.astro.utoronto.ca In a special report on the Toronto police, Unreality News quoted captain Stonetree (37th Precinct) as saying "Our Knight patrol really takes a *bite* out of crime ...". ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 14:33:11 U From: Wilson Judith Subject: Read my lips--NO! A lurker unlurks and a newbie decides! Early riser that she was, Jude Wilson had held off calling Susan until 10:00 AM. Give her enough time to unglue her eyes, have a cup of tea and catch up on The War. Oh yeah, and walk 'The Wizz King' as well. Steeling herself, she dialed and waited for an answer. "Hello?" Susan Garrett's voice was tentative and suspicious. "We go to Toronto," Jude didn't even say hello, just barged right on in her usual military manner, "they need us. They need fresh blood." "We going to Toronto, nitwit. In a week and a half from now, remember? Mary G.T's coming from Australia -- all that scrambling and re-planning?" "You don't understand," Jude's voice held a note of urgency to it. "We gotta go !" "Ah no, not you too!" Susan was trying desperately to calm her old-time friend down. She knew what Jude was like when she got an idea in her head--there was no rest for anyone until she was either satisfied or the idea was proven to be...trashable. Visions of Atlanta flashed across Susan's brain--it'd taken to get that one to die a decent death. Jude gave an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "Is there or is there not a war going on?" she asked. "Ah, yeah." "Did you or did you not get a call from Madam Janette a little while ago?" "Hey, how'd you know about that?" One could hear Susan stopping dead from her usual pacing while on the portable phone. "Nick called me," Jude answer simply. "He WHAT!" "Well," Jude started, a bit lamely at first, "you know, he's got a right to call his followers too. I mean, L.C. calls his all the time; and Madam J. has been know to call you guys every once and a while. Look, Nat called in her entire troop when this thing started." "I'd advise you not to refer to LaCroix as . . . L.C. and ," Susan was using her best instructors voice, "do not refer to Janette as Madam J." "God, are you guys picky or what? Okay, fine. But we still got to get to Toronto right away. They need us at that summit they're having." "No, Jude," Susan admonished, "read my lips: We are going to Toronto this weekend!" Jude paused for a moment, then cleared her throat, "Ah, weren't you advised to get your butt up there right away?" she asked knowing full well what the answer was. "Yeah, but there is a little matter of finances and what do I tell Maggie?" Maggie was Susan's boss and very understanding, even perhaps, a Cousin in disguise. Susan didn't even question how Jude knew this little item. "The same thing I'm gonna tell John," Jude responded quickly. John was Jude's boss and had no idea whatsoever what was going on nor why it was so important that Jude borrow his cute little Mac powerbook every weekend. "Lie." "Besides," Jude continued in a rush, "we already have reservations on the noon flight to Toronto; Air Canada from Newark--you've got just enough time to drive to the airport. Sean can take care of Diego again this weekend." "He's not going to like it--and who's paying for the tickets?" Susan questioned. "You're wasting valuable time--the tickets are prepaid. We pick them up at the counter and somebody will pick us up at the airport," Jude continued, "it's all arranged. Don't forget, once Ex-Cousin John gets over his blood lust he's gonna need help putting the laptop back together and restoring all the data." "I'm gonna regret this--what makes you think I can help John?" "I don't," Jude said chuckling, "but I know somebody who can and they just happen to be in Toronto this very weekend." "?" Susan questioned. Jude was always coming up with some hair brain schemes; once in a while they worked, more often than not they either fizzled or got them both into trouble. Susan was leery of committing herself . . . again. Visions of The Ezekial Project were now tripping across her brain. Jude sighed again. "Look, I'll explain it all on the plane, okay? Will you just ? You'll see, it'll all work out. Trust me." *Oh God,* Susan thought as she hung up the phone and dialed Sean's number. *I'm gonna regret this, I just I'm gonna regret this.* wilson_judith@bah.com As Indy would say...Trust me! ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 01:36:18 -0400 From: Robin Carroll-Mann Subject: Decision time Robin stared at the monitor, not really seeing it. So much had happened so quickly! Moves and counter-moves, evasions and deceptions, people changing sides -- sometimes more than once! -- it made her head spin. *At least I've kept my loyalty* she thought. *Nat Pack from first to last!* Then a more realistic inner voice added, *You haven't done anything, either. How much loyalty does it take to sit in from of your PC and read e-mail?* She frowned. What was she supposed to DO, anyway? She couldn't pick up and go to Toronto.... could she? *I don't even KNOW these people* she protested to herself. Even Natalie I've only exchanged e-mail with. Other than the principal players, I wouldn't know someone on the list if he/she came up and bit me!* Which, she mused, was a distinct possibility if she left the safe confines of suburban New Jersey. And what would she do in Toronto, once she joined the gathering in Nick's loft? She wasn't a devious strategist or a computer genius. She was a librarian. The only action she'd contemplated taking was a minor attack on fellow-librarian Cousin Lisa, but Lisa's defection had killed that idea. *I'd just get in the way.* Robin let her gaze wander. A hand-lettered sign was taped to the wall above the computer. "Some of my best friends are people I've never met." She'd once considered using it in her .sig. Her attention returned to the computer. She hit F2, letting Dlite log her into Delphi. A moment later, the main menu prompt asked courteously: MAIN>What do you want to do? Robin let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. "Good question," she said aloud. "A very good question, indeed." She hesitated for a brief moment, then typed GO TRAVEL AIRLINES... ----------------------------------------------------------------- Robin Carroll-Mann rcmann@delphi.com Nat Pack "I know what you are and it hasn't made me crazy." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 00:06:00 -0700 From: Ava Chan-Crowder Subject: FK War : 101 Gateway Lane 9 July 1994 10 am Towel in hand, Ava finished drying her hair. She looked at the mirror, now she looked refreshed and eager to greet the day. Flying on the red-eye out of San Diego sure could zap all of you energy! Sitting at the little desk in her hotel room, Ava turned on her laptop and logged on to check her email. "Hmm...no mail yet?" Well, she had only been in Toronto for a couple of hours. "ARGH! No wonder no one has contacted me!" Ava put a hand over her face.... "How could I be so dumb?" She had tried to send email out, and it was returned to her node! "Duh! It would help if I entered the right addresses!" Once again thinking aloud, she said, "Now who should I send this too this time? Let's see, Knighties.....Selma is at that party back in California....hm....Sharon's on her way out here, and Natpack....hmm.....Natalie, who better?" ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----- To : scotts@baylor.edu nlambert@toronto.gov.ca >From : ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com Subject : I'm here! Hi all - This is my second attempt at contacting you two. My first try crashed and burned. I just made it to Toronto and I am now settled into my hotel. Please email me as soon as you can! Or give me a call at 555-2121, I'm in room 732. I hope to hear from the two of you very soon! ~~~Ava :-) AvaABC123@aol.com ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Crossing her fingers, Ava sent off her messages. She anxiously looked around the hotel room. Grabbing her backpack, and stowing her laptop inside, Ava decided she would to try to find Nick's loft herself. The elevator emptied out at the lobby, and she made her way to where the doorman stood. Tipping his cap to the young woman, he opened the double doors. "Taxi!" A cab stopped in front of the hotel, and Ava climbed in. Looking at the driver, she gave him the address, "101 Gateway Lane, please." As the driver put his foot to the accelerator, Ava leaned back in the backseat of the cab. Hopefully she would be at Nick's loft, and finally be meeting other participants of the war. ---- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 23:48:11 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: Destination Toronto Sat. July 9th, 11:30am Dawn was taking a break. It had been a grueling day already. The Mac University students she had used to get the flyer out had been dropping by morning. They wanted expense money. Apparently after they had dropped off flyers at the addresses she had given them, they had started hitting parking lots at random. *I can just see that silly little pink and green flyer on thousands of cars. Maybe it'll bring some Die-Hards into the open though. Ones like me, that hadn't sent in an application.* She had been checking her email on and off all morning. There were Die-Hards sympathizers in every group, and she'd been very discreet in feeling them out. They made anonymous reports of the situations in the various camps. *People make an alliance to one party, when they really would like to have membership in two or three. It's probably why there's so much switching of sides during a war.* Annoying to some, but very useful for the Die-Hard information system. *I probably know more about what's going on in the various camps than LaCroix. Of course, he just makes extremely accurate guesses.* Dawn went into the small apartment kitchen and got some more ice cold rosehip tea. *I wonder if the rumor that vampires are allergic to roses is true. If it is, I certainly wouldn't be very appetizing right now.* She sat down in her futon, *I love this chair* and tried to think about Jennise's visit last night. She was tired though and her mind started to skip from one subject to another. Jennises' visit had been expected. Dawn was still trying to figure out how she had gotten through the patio window doors without breaking them. The cut-off broom handle had been lying on the floor. *I wonder if vampires have a bit of telekineses? I shouldn't worry, I probably just left it off yesterday.* *I think I'll keep that Killer Croc figure. Somehow it's just what this apartment needs. Hmmm, that reminds me. Once this war is over, I have to find out when Batman:TAS is on. I can't believe they took it off at 8 am. Don't they know people want a bit of entertainment when they eat their breakfast?* It was time to go to Toronto. *What should I pack? I should leave pretty soon.* People were starting to arrive from all over and she didn't want to be an hour's drive away if the action started to happen. *I'll just head out to the St. George Residence and make sure it's set up. I don't know if anyone will need it for sanctuary in this war, but it never hurts to be prepared.* The St. George residence was perfect. The residence was in the shape of a hollow rectangle with a courtyard (and fountain) in the middle. The lasers were installed to prevent an aerial entrance, and the only other entrance had a gate with an alarm on it. Anyone attempting to force the door would be surprised very quickly. *There was that strange reports about cats in the Raven. A cat would be able to just slip right through the bars in the gate. Why would be involved though? Someone probably had a bit too much wine before they logged on. Still, I better check it out when I get to Toronto.* *It's a good thing the residence is fairly deserted in the summer. I wouldn't want LaCroix or anyone else to try and force the key from an innocent bystander.* There was a painted red and white cross over the entrance of course, but surely that wouldn't bother the vampires much. *It's right by the Toronto university too. I'll have to tell my supervisor that I had to go to the libraries there to do a bit of research. I might as well mix truth and fiction and try to get a bit of work done during the war.* Lists, lists, lists. *I should make up a list of things to do...* *I did put Tracy's St. George address in the charter. People should be able to contact me there. I still haven't heard back from Tracy about when she's leaving for her vacation, and I'll have to get a set of the master keys for all the rooms. Until then I'll just have to practice my lockpicking skills. I'm glad that I already have a gate key though. That sucker can be picked.* Dawn was still amazed that the residence had such a high quality lock to the place. *It's due to be torn down in a few years too.* *I think it's time to get moving. I can use Tracy or Kathy's computer to keep caught up on my reports. I've received that package I was waiting for, so there's no point in staying here any longer.* Dawn walked across the room and stared at the small nondescript letter parcel. *We should be able to handle things without resorting to extremes. Especially now that Jennise has offered to help the Die-Hards. Still, a little bit of insurance never hurt.* She picked up the parcel and slipped it into her old green carryall. *Let's get moving.* ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 09:42:45 CDT From: "Bonke, Robin" Subject: FKWARSII: Exor-WHAT?! FKWARSII: The Exor-WHAT!?, SATURDAY, JULY 10, EARLY AFTERNOON The office was empty and quiet as summer smiled down upon Chicagoland. And what was she doing? Complaining to friends' answering machines and doing favors for her father. Robin sat at her desk, typing in the Bylaws and Constitution of the Paper City Kennel Club. And Barney still came popping up occasionally to sing his purple heart out. And she'd rebooted thrice in as many hours. Grrrrr... This was no way to spend a war. She wasn't getting all the mail, the network saw to that. But she did get enough. She wasn't a Knightie and didn't know of anyone else in the company who was. But then again, the network had been having major problems for a month or so, so maybe its immune system was down and it had just caught the first virus passing by. But why couldn't it have been a *mime* virus?! Or a pornographic semaphore virus?! The screen went blank. "I love you..." come out of the speakers. Robin peeled herself off the ceiling. An etch-a-sketch Barney briefly filled the screen. Which was better than the full color Barney. Maybe the IS guys were making progress. She sighed. IS was working on the network problems that had been plaguing the company, but it was still acting like Sybil on speed and thorazine, when it wasn't totally catatonic that is. The last time she'd seen the net admin, earlier in the day, he and other IS people were talking to a pair of priests. They couldn't really be serious about that exorcism stuff, could they? Asking about group admission rates for mental health facilities was one thing, or tips on recreational drugs, but exorcism?! "I love you..." Barney appeared again, but Robin was ready, and only jumped a foot or two. This time he appeared in full SuperVGA color and she could have sworn the eyes glowed. She frowned, a strange feeling starting in her middle and working its way slowly upward. Group rates for funny farms... Two priests... Talk of exorcism... Glowing (?) eyes... Robin looked down at her computer. Maybe it was time to log out. TOO LATE. The screen warped like oil on a puddle and bulged outward very unlike oil on a puddle. The bulge took the shape of Barney's head, dripping with thick maple syrup (!). It smiled as it thrust itself out of her computer screen and an arm reached for her. Robin shrieked, reverse leap-frogged out of her chair, threw the bylaws at the 3D image, and ran. She didn't stop until she realized she wasn't moving. Barney's paw brushed her shoulder, tightened its grip. Suddenly, like a skipping record back on track, the moment passed, and she could move again. She fell flat on her face. She looked back at her cube to see sheaves of paper laying in and around a small puddle of rainbow-colored maple syrup. She was running before she was standing. The IS office was a chaotic jumble of strewn furniture and dark blotches and puddles. The blotches, she discovered as she got closer, sniffed, and taste tested [how else to find out?], were raspberry-asparagus flavored icing. The puddles, carrot-broccoli-rhubarb baby food. Not bad actually, though both were a trifle too sweet. The occasional Barney-diaper-and-training pant-all-in-one and plush Baby Boo squeeze toy peeked out from under overturned desks and chairs. The net admin stood in the middle of the chaos, snapping his fingers in front of the surviving priest's face. The other priest was no where to be seen. The other IS staff were just beginning to emerge from the rubble when the net admin looked up. He wasn't smiling and his eyes had some sort of afterglow. He nodded to a sooty, sorrowfully dazed looking man, who took over trying to bring the priest around. He came toward her, still not smiling and with that curious afterglow. Robin did her best imitation of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. He stopped to push aside a chair and grab a full golf bag and a largish wrapped package. Robin blinked, released from her paralysis and turned to run. "Not so fast. I have a job for you." He was smiling, sort of. Sharks smile like that before they eat you, she thought. Robin looked back. The afterglow was gone. Good. "Such as?" She hoped he didn't plan to turn her into a one-woman Maids 'R Us crew. The rest of IS was not up to cleaning up after themselves--not even those who weren't listing to the totally horizontal. "A little trip." The smile deepened. Robin heard dinner bells. "To Toronto." Toronto?! Oohhhh.... "I, um, don't think that's a, err, good idea. There's, um... " Robin wondered, how do I write, er, talk, my way out of this? I can't go! I've got work! Besides, my life insurance isn't paid up, I haven't satisfied my medical/dental deductible, and the mental health benefits aren't that great. "A war going on? Yes, I know." He smiled. The dinner bells still rang out, but Robin had the hoped for feeling they tolled not for her. Or were they sirens? Either way. "I want you to deliver something to a subscriber. We've been unable to contact him since it started." He chuckled at some private joke or thought. Subscriber? Just what.... Oh, that's right. He was also head of some huge Chicago-area computer association that had its own BBS with all the trimmings. By why not just mail it? Foolish human, probably because he couldn't. Silly question with a nasty answer, in all likelihood. Robin pointed at the package and golf bag. "Is this going to get me in trouble?" "As is, no." Robin tried again. "Is this illegal or unsanitary? Fattening? Tastes great? Less filling?" "Not in and off itself, no. It could get that way real fast, though." This was going nowhere. "Okay, fine. Let's say I don't *want* to take this to Toronto?" He seemed to consider it for a moment. "That would be unfortunate." She glared. It didn't faze him. Anyone else, yes, but him? Nope, no luck. Grrrrrr.... "Let me get this straight. If I do this, I take a chance on messy, inconvenient confinement in the jail of the police officer's choice, with starchy high-fat food on the menu, for a long time. If don't do this, you'll make me a non-person to the networks of the world, or something like that, for an even longer time. "More or less." "You're a bastard." "Didn't I tell you that when you looked at my upstairs apartment?" True, but that was different. An small, extended pause later: "OK. I'll say uncle. I trust that you've made arrangements?" He nodded, and smiled. Dammit! Would he just quit smiling all the time. What did they say about people who smiled too much? Did she want to know? Probably not. As she was thinking this, the net admin went back to the spot where he'd fished out the golf bag and package from and grabbed a manila folder. He handed it to her. "It's all there." "Thanks. I think." He chuckled. "You won't regret it. Trust me." "Bullshit." But she smiled to herself. She was, after all going to Toronto. How bad could it get if she was careful? She had Nick Knight's address somewhere. Maybe she could go there after she delivered the package. Or, maybe before; she'd decide later. "Uh, what about the golf bag?" "Take it with you. You may need it." Okay.... But she did, not asking questions she *knew* wouldn't get a straight answer to, leaving as the fire department, police, and what looked like the National Guard converged. As several firefighters rushed past, she paused to open the envelope. Airline tickets for 3:00 (3:00! It was one already. Well, cut it close, will ya.) Coach and near the back. Probably wanted her to survive in the event of a crash. Hertz rental car reservation with note about asking if there was an OJ special (Yeck!). Confirmation for a Holiday Inn or something. A written address. That was the interesting part. It looked familiar. When the way was clear, she went on, stopping at her cube to pick up her purse and carryall. Someone had been nice enough to clean up the mess--and her papers. Oh, well, but she *was* going to Toronto, after all. He'd given her the excuse she'd not been able to give herself. As she walked out of the building toward her car, she realized where she'd seen the address. As a Die-hard with Cousin leanings, she'd gotten some conversion-oriented email from the Cousins once upon a time. They'd given her an address at one point. She reached her car and sagged against it. "I'm gonna die," she whispered. If I'm lucky, she thought. No, wait. I'm not gonna die, and I'm not gonna be lucky. I'm gonna be *dinner*. But it was too late to back away now. She looked back at the building. "I swear, as the asphalt and rescue vehicles are my witness, if I come out of this alive and without a hemoglobin fixation, I'll never...." She stopped. What am I doing? I hated that movie! to be continued... robin bonke rbonke@usr.com ---- oh, no! not another learning experience! ---- ---- there are never enough lunch hours in the day ---- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 19:33:46 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: Assignments & Rescue Assignments & Rescues --------------------- Mid-afternoon, 7/10 Cousin Tok considered her assignment. One way or another (Larry's computer hacking, perhaps), Uncle had found out that one of Nick's allies was due to arrive in Toronto this afternoon, from Newark. Tok was supposed to intercept her at the airport and dear Jude to see the error of her ways. Uncle would just love to have one of the Knighties turned. As she prepared to leave her room, Tok was surprised to see that the laptop was still on. "Damn, I'm usually more careful than that. I guess I was just in such a hurry ...," she muttered to herself as she switched the machine off. "Good thing there haven't been any thunderstorms." Tok was so absorbed in her own plans, she never noticed Gandalf and Merlin slipping out the door with her. They took off in the opposite direction as she got in her car to go to the airport. * * * * * * * * * * Gandalf and Merlin had been frantically busy since they'd hit Toronto. First, setting up their own e-mail access. Then, an important e-mail: To: Sidney Lambert From: Gandalf and Merlin Date: 94-07-10 04:30:21 EDT Subj: We gotta do something! Sidney -- Good thing you found a way to get your e-mail privately. We gotta help Mom! She's gotten into this thing way too deep. There has to be some way to rescue her from LaCroix's influence before it's too late. Any suggestions? Worriedly, Gandalf and Merlin Before too long, an answer arrived. To: Gandalf and Merlin From: Sidney Lambert Date: 94-07-10 05:14:01 EDT Subj: Don't worry Don't worry, my friends. Even now, more of us arrive in Toronto. Meet us at the Raven this afternoon and I'll tell you our plan. We can help your Mom. Sidney Somewhat comforted, Gandalf and Merlin still fretted until they were able to get out to make their appointment. Granted, a cat do anything, but had they waited too long to act? Quickly, they made their way to the Raven to meet the others. +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus tokaara@aol.com | | Cousin 'Tok' | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 20:15:27 EDT From: Panstygia@AOL.COM Subject: The "Joker" Strikes The "Joker" Strikes In a moment of quiet, Nan pulled out her lap top and took care of a "little" problem. Before she could start her new life, she had one last piece of business to attend to. Pulling out a disk she thought she'd never use in this way, she forwarded a copy of a couple of WAV files to her "friend", Cousin Tok. She sent them under the screen name GARTHFAN, a name she'd used to anonymously contact Tok before. Tok had no idea who Garthfan really was, and had certainly never suspected it was Nan. With the WAV files, she sent the following message: Tok -- Thought you might be interested in these, since I know how much you like the man. She make an interesting addition to your collection. Enjoy! Garthfan Then Nan sat back and smiled. Garthfan indeed. She only wished she could be there to see the look of pain and horror on Tok's face when she demo'd those WAV files. Instead of listening to the lyrical voice of one of Tok's favorite country western artists, she'd be treated to the thumping rhythm of the Steve Miller Band, singing one of Nan's favorites, "Fly Like An Eagle", a song Nan knew affected Tok like fingernails on a chalkboard. She chuckled to herself. "Mess with my Rick Springfield tapes, will you?," she muttered to herself and she triggered the download into Tok's mailbox. If there was one thing she'd learned from her time with Janette, it was that you don't get mad... you get even. Humming "The Joker", by Steve Miller, she punched the enter key with conviction. Panstygia ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 12:30:45 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2: A new beginning [part 1/2]------------------------ A New Beginning Sharon Himmanen July 9th, late afternoon. She sat on the plane, coach again. Right now she was somewhere in the skies above New York State. She'd be landing in Toronto soon. It had been another long day--she was still wearing the same clothes she'd had one when Nat had sent her onto her impromptu trip to Michigan. And she hadn't eaten in days, either. She was beginning to wonder if this was all worth it. And she couldn't get her conversation with LaCroix out of her head. Especially his question, about joining him. It was true--she had strongly considered it a few months back, had even admitted to Laurie that she was something of a Cousin at heart. But she'd not been able to take that final step. And until now, the triumph of that had sustained her. But LaCroix's simple question had considerably changed the equation. And reminding herself that she was exhausted, hungry, and nearly broke didn't help. With a sigh she opened up the computer. It would be better to find something to do, something to keep her from thinking until she could talk to Natalie. Nick's laptop went through a fairly standard boot-up procedure. But instead of going into Windows (wretch!) LaCroix's digitized face filled the screen. Sharon nearly dropped the computer and was thankful that the seats around her were pretty much empty or filled with dozing passengers. The image laughed. "I knew your curiosity would get the better of you, sooner or later. I'll bet you're in the air, on your way to Toronto right now. "By now you know that this *isn't* Nick's laptop. I'm afraid a bit of deception was necessary to help you find the truth. Did you believe me?" He paused and smiled sharply. "Of course you did," he said. But he wasn't mocking her. He was deadly serious. "You believed because you *wanted* to believe in me. Some part of you wants to trust me. You saw the truth during the last war--I showed all of you, but few learned the lesson. "It's taken time, hasn't it? "I speak the truth. I've *always* spoken the truth, but very few have the courage to listen to me. There was a time when Nicholas listened, when Nicholas believed in the truths I told him. But now . . ." The pain in LaCroix's expression was real, true betrayal and hurt. "And *she* encourages him, urges him to see the truth when all the while we all know she's lying. She's lying to herself most of all." There was a long pause. Sharon saw the truth. "There will be a car waiting for you in Toronto, *Cousin* Sharon." With that, the image of LaCroix nodded, smiled softly and disappeared. [end of part 1/2]----------------------------------------------------------- * * * * * Cousin Sharon o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Cousin | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 15:42:40 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FKwars2: Interruptions [part 2/2]--------------------------- Interruptions, part 2 thought Jennie, as she drove her rental car out of the Toronto airport late Saturday afternoon. She thought shed never make it to Toronto; there was far too much interference. The bed and breakfast she was staying at was in a lovely area known as the Beaches, full of Victorian houses and right near a wonderful park along Lake Ontario. The drive was uneventful (especially compared to most of the driving she did in Chicago) and she checked into the house she was staying in gratefully, then settled down to consider what she should do next. [end of part 2/2]----------------------------------------------------------- Jennie, Natpack jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 20:41:55 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWars2: Utterly Alone John lay quietly in the bed, but he could feel their heartbeats pounding insistently in his ears. There were so many of them now, downstairs...he could feel their warmth even this far away. And he was hungry... He could not push the image of the redhead from his mind. Valerie, yes...that was her name. Someone once mentioned her name, and now it was engraved on his perfect memory. In fact, everything now about being a vampire was so enhanced. His memories, perceptions, feelings, and even his deepest desires now burned with crystal clarity, and he wanted her blood. *Was it so very wrong?* he thought, and then tried to push those thoughts away. But the temptation was so very strong! How could Nick resist it? The allure of the hot blood was almost overpowering! Nick...yes, Nick had left him another bottle. Thoughtful, but it smelled stale and repulsive. This was the gift LaCroix had given him, the price of Immortality. * * * He allowed his mind to drift to other things. How long had he been here? Suddenly, his mind offered: *Soon, they'll be asleep!* ...their heartbeats, their heartbeats. He pressed his hands against his temples. Try to forget, try to forget. Soon, he fell asleep, but his dreams were of pain and blood. * * * He awoke with a start. How late was it? He should tell Nick, the others, about LaCroix's intentions. About Janette. But if he went downstairs, would he be able to control himself...the hunger? No, it was better to stay here. Isolated, where everyone else would remain safe. Hopefully Ivy and the others would remember the disks that he'd brought. They would explain a great deal. Then he thought about LaCroix. What would LaCroix say to him? He was once a Cousin after all. Their thinking didn't differ all that much...but LaCroix had done this to him. Would LaCroix now be his master? Nick had mentioned LaCroix's blood. He thought hard... No, he hadn't tasted his blood after all. Perhaps that would give him some small measure of resistance when he finally met the Master again... Downstairs, the commotion became louder. More and more people had arrived. There were so many now...and Janette had apparently gone. He hoped Nick could stop him, prayed that he could. But the blood...it *called* to him. How would he endure this madness? John E. Dencoff jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 15:39:36 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Just a Little Crisis Saturday afternoon, 7/9/94... Nick's loft was very quiet, at least to mortal ears, but there were very few of those about. One pair belonged to Ivy, who was still busily fiddling with the laptop Alma had delivered in an apparently-futile attempt to retrieve the translated copy of the Abarat it supposedly contained. Natalie had gone home to grab a few hours' sleep and check in with poor Sidney, and most of the remaining delegates of the Loft Summit, as it had been jokingly dubbed sometime before dawn, had either straggled back to their lodgings or gone off on various errands. Nick stood over Ivy's shoulder by the kitchen table, looking about as brain-fried as Valerie felt. She had relinquished the hovering position some while before when the characters on the screen had started moving of their own accord and she had decided that taking a seat on the other side of the table and providing moral support from out of the way would be more effective. "No, it's not an illegal command!" Ivy wailed, piercing the quiet. "It's *not*!" "Guess the laws have changed." Valerie's comment was punctuated with a cavernous yawn, and distinctly lacked the bounce her voice had held up to now. Of course, now was approximately 34 hours after she had gotten up on Friday morning, and she was fairly certain she had eaten a few times in there but wasn't entirely certain when. "You look ready to drop," Nick informed her. As if it was some sort of surprise. "I know you want to be here if we hear from Sharon or Betsy, but you're not going to do anyone any good if you don't get some sleep." Valerie tossed him an attempt at a brilliant smile, which fell a little short. "Sleep is for con wimps." "Well, this isn't a con. It's a war. And the last thing any of us needs is another avoidable casualty." Despite his own obvious fatigue, his tone had taken on a sternness that reminded her just who here knew what a *real* war was like and stopped her intended flip reply. "Agreed," she conceded instead. "So can I crash on your couch?" "I insist." "Right." Valerie eyed the very stylish but not terribly cozy-looking black leather furniture in question. "I don't suppose you have an extra blanket or something? I don't want to be a pest, considering I wasn't exactly invited, but my internal thermostat is kinda wonky and I get really cold when I sleep." "Nat keeps telling me I need a guest room..." he muttered. Aloud he continued, "Yeah. There's a linen closet upstairs, the door right past the bedroom." "Thanks." Valerie only had to haul herself up out of the kitchen chair and toward the stairs to know just how wiped out she really was. She reached the closet in question and pulled out a thick, slightly dilapidated blue quilt that reminded her a bit of the one on her own couch, which had been made by her great-grandmother. Blearily she wondered whether Nick knew any Welsh-rooted Arkansas farm folks as she turned to go back downstairs--and bumped squarely into John, who had stepped out of Nick's room without her noticing. "Yikes," Valerie noted, the alarming yelp this would normally have produced being squelched by exhaustion. "Sorry. I'm not real observant right now....ohmigod!" Her voice and perceived energy level both shot up as she registered that John didn't look like John, and she didn't like it one bit. *Eyesaren'tSUPPOSEDtobethatcolorIdon'tcareifI'musedtoitfromNick getridoftheblanketthrowitathimhe'sonmyrightgolefttrhowANYTHINGathim 'causethere'snobodyhomeinthereboltforthestairsOW!!!!!!* The last bit of that panicked burst of thought emerged aloud as John threw the quilt behind him and grabbed blindly with his other hand simultaneously, latching on to long flying red hair and yanking the fleeing mortal back toward him. Valerie thrashed and tried to squirm away for all she was worth, which was quite a bit under normal circumstances, but her flexibility and dancer's reflexes were no match for even a brand-new vampire. Less than a second passed before she was pinned any way she tried to move, face-to-face with those unnatural eyes in a face devoid of any hint that the John they knew was actually there. She screamed. It was the Patented Banshee Special she had perfected in countless high-school melodramas and a community-theatre _Dracula_, the sound that had been most accurately described as "Mariah Carey riding the Demon Drop on a really bad acid trip." And to a day-old vampire yet unaccustomed to the sharpness of his hearing, it was enough of a shock that Valerie managed to twist away and bolt for the stairs again, taking them three and four at a time before losing her footing and landing in a graceless heap at the bottom. She had *felt* him right behind her all the way down and instinctively she curled into a ball, tucking her head inside her arms and waiting for the killing strike. It didn't come. From above, outside her own arms muffling her hearing, she heard Nick's voice, low and harsh. "Stop. Now. John, listen to me! Stop." It was quiet for a moment, and cautiously Valerie peered up to see Nick pinning John against the stair railing only a couple feet away. In that instant the ex-Cousin's identity seemed to flood back into his face, his eyes returning to normal and horror settling on his features. Nick waited a moment longer before releasing him to sit, stunned, on the steps. Involuntarily Valerie scooted back a little at the movement, running into Ivy who knelt behind her and placed protective arms around her shoulders. Still placed so that he could grab John with little or no warning, Nick turned worried eyes to her. "Are you all right?" Valerie nodded shakily, searching for her voice and finding it after a few seconds. "I'll have some lovely bruises from the stair dive, but otherwise I'm fine." Turning to John, who immediately looked away, she added, "Should have asked, John; I would have told you there wasn't enough to spare! The Red Cross won't even take me..." [my machine is going down, part 2 later...] -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 19:16:00 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWar2: Little Crisis Continued... "Should have asked me, John. I don't have enough to spare--even the Red Cross won't take me. Could have saved you the trouble." Nick frowned. "It isn't funny." "No, it, isn't," Valerie agreed. "And if I don't make it that way real quick, when I really register how close I just came to dying I'm going to run screaming for the horizon, and I don't have the time." "All right, all right." Turning his attention back to John, Nick directed, "Ivy, make sure she's really okay. I'll be back in a minute." "That was a hell of a tumble," Ivy said, helping Valerie up and heading for the couch. "Yeah, I give it about a--oof!--nine-six, nine-seven. Mandatory deduction for not breaking anything." True to his word, Nick returned a few minutes later, carrying the forgotten quilt. "I don't know if you'll be able to sleep now, but..." He wrapped it around Valerie's shoulders, looking so dreadfully concerned that she burst out laughing. "But I think you'd better," he finished, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Uh-huh." He was still looking concerned at her, and she cracked up anew. "Nick, I'm *all right*. No harm done, honest, unless you count blowing my adrenalin quota for the next three months. And as soon as it's out of my system, which will be in about twelve seconds or so, I'm going to go kafoomp on your couch. But you *are* going to wake me up if you hear from Sharon or Betsy or Jennie, right?" "Is there any way we can avoid it?" "Nope." Nick finally cracked a real smile. "All right, then." "Nick?" Valerie's laughter faded along with the adrenalin rush. "Is John going to be...all right?" The detective's expression was less than positive. "I hope so." -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 22:42:31 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: The Rescue Is On The Rescue Is On ---------------- Sunday afternoon (7/10) To: Panstygia@aol.com From: Sidney Lambert Subj: Help us help a friend Nan -- my dear friend Merlin has told me that you are a good and kind person. He fondly remembers your visits and appreciates the back scratches. Now, to the point. You may be the person we need to rescue Tokaara from LaCroix's clutches. Gandalf and Merlin are worried about her, with good reason. Can we count on you? Please reply quickly. Sidney Nan looked at this new e-mail message suspiciously. Messages from Lambert? Then again, stranger things had happened lately. If vampires are real, why not cats sending e-mail? In any case, it might be the only way to get her Rick Springfield tapes back. Shrugging, she began to compose her reply. * * * * * * * * * * Tok trudged back to her motel room. How was she ever going to explain to Uncle that she'd muffed her assignment? "How was I supposed to know there'd be road construction?" she muttered to herself as she fumbled with her room key. LaCroix would not be pleased. Before she reported in, she'd check her e-mail one more time. Maybe something there would give her a chance to redeem herself. Either that or she needed to find a cast-iron neck protector. Tok had no desire to suffer ex-Cousin John's fate. "I'm back, guys," she called out to the cats. No answer -- they must have been napping. She went to the laptop and sat down. "Gee, some non-war e-mail." Tok almost decided to ignore it. Then again, there may not be another chance to enjoy it. She decided to read the message. Tok -- Thought you might be interested in these, since I know how much you like the man. Should make an interesting addition to your collection. Enjoy! Garthfan Well, the WAV files wouldn't take long to download at 9600 baud. Tok hit the "Download Now" button and waited. At least there hadn't been any communications from Uncle. She hoped he'd be in a better mood when she got back. Maybe if the electricity were back on ... Tok logged off and popped into one of her sound utilities to play the WAV files. She selected one called FRIENDS.WAV, expecting to hear the notes of "Friends In Low Places." Instead, what played on the computer's speakers was "Fly Like An Eagle." A tune that she'd hated ever since being subjected to it twenty-four hours a day continuously by a neighbor in her college dorm. "AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" * * * * * * * * * * By the time Nan and the cats arrived back at the motel room, they found Tok curled up on the floor with her hands clamped firmly over her ears. Nan walked over and shut off the computer. "Sorry about that, old buddy, but you never should've messed with Rick." She spied the tapes Tok had dropped on the desk and scooped them into her purse. "But since I've got them back, maybe I'll forgive you." She hoisted Tok to her feet. Tok was still mumbling "No, no ...", but Nan managed to steer her toward the door. Looking at the cats, she said, "OK, guys, come on. We've got to get her back to the loft." The whole gang went to Nan's car for the trip back to Nick's. +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus tokaara@aol.com | | Cousin 'Tok' | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 14:02:17 -0500 From: Betsy Vera Subject: FKW2: Surprise! ----------------------------------------------- Saturday afternoon: After a long wait, Betsy had finally received her instructions. She parked around the corner from LaCroix's apartment building. Nice neighborhood. Lots of money, from the looks of things. Once in the building, she didn't go directly to Uncle's apartment. Instead, she went to the one directly below it. She suspected there were things going on that she wasn't being told about, and she didn't like being kept in the dark. The apartment had a very flimsy lock *they probably couldn't find strong locks that matched the decor* and Betsy had no problem getting inside. There, she was surprised to find a sophisticated set-up of listening devices, all aimed upwards. After making sure there was nobody hiding in the apartment, Betsy made herself comfortable and listened to the conversation coming from upstairs. She didn't get to hear much, though. Despite the long wait at the hotel, she was still tired from the all-night drive from Ann Arbor, and listening to LaCroix talking baby-talk to his pet goldfish was hilarious at first but soon soothed her to sleep. In fact, she was so deeply asleep, that she never heard Ivy come into the apartment. Betsy jumped up, surprised and blinded, when Ivy turned on the lights. Ivy, surprised to find anybody there, jumped into a practiced attack position. "I warn you, I know judo, karate, and the names of 49 other martial arts!" Betsy, her mind still fogged, reached into her pocket, but before she could pull out whatever she was reaching for, Ivy, with a ear-splitting yell, pounced on her and knocked her unconscious. Black belts come in handy sometimes. Ivy searched Betsy's pockets and her bookbag, hoping to find some ID or something to tell her who she was and whose side she was on. In the bag, she found two thick binders. They seemed to contain printouts of every entry from the current war. Ivy turned to the last page. ----------------------------- To: betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu From: vmeachum@freenet.fsu.edu Subj: LaCroix Good work, Betsy. From the tapes received from Ivy, we know that LaCroix and the Cousins are convinced you are one of them. There's some confusion about the database, and we still don't know what happened to the fan mail. Go to LaCroix's, and see what you can find out. Good luck. ----------------------------- Ivy turned to the still unconscious Betsy. "Oops. Sorry about that." ----------------------------------------- Betsy betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 16:39:10 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARSII--PETS OR MEAT PETS OR MEAT Saturday Evening-- July 9th Peanuts. That was all they'd given her on the plane. Peanuts. Susan had been starving. With Diego under the care of her brother and Jude having arranged plane tickets (for which she was just as glad--having to make her way through the Dream County on the QT was cheap but not exactly safe), Susan had packed, gotten to Newark, and was aboard the flight before she could stop and get anything to eat. Jude, of course, had already eaten. So Susan had remained sullen, irritable, and hungry as Jude outlined her plans for her Toronto sortie. Once at the hotel, they'd checked in. Jude had disappeared almost immediately. Susan had bided her time until well after sunset by grazing through whatever appetizers room service could offer without bankrupting her, knowing well enough that there'd be little opportunity for real food at the Raven. It seemed more than diplomatic not to ask the denizens the location of the nearest steak place. The Raven was dark and noisy. The bouncer gave her a look as she entered--she wasn't enough of a regular to be ignored or enough of a strange to be barred. In fact, she wasn't all that fond of clubs to begin with. But every now and again someone had sense enough to play some Madness, or Oingo Boingo, or They Might Be Giants. And if you sat in the back booths, you could spend the whole night watching everything that went on around you without drawing too much attention to yourself. Great for research. But a bad place to be if you were hungry and weren't on a liquid diet. Susan wandered the length of the club, until she could make her way to the bar. Janette was standing there, stroking a cat who was perched atop the bar and licking a saucer of cream. Susan cleared her throat, eyes wide at the sight of the cat. Janette barely glanced at her, returning her attention to the feline, who'd abandoned the cream when she'd started scratching behind its ears. "You're here. Finally." "Well, if you'd bothered to send me a ticket--" She stopped herself and swallowed. "I thought you didn't like cats." "Most. But Goblin is one of ours. Not like those horrid creatures that attacked us." Susan sniffed and looked around. "Yeah--you said something about garlic." "Betsy did an admirable job of cleaning up. You should have been here to help her." "I don't do floors." This time, Susan didn't back down from the glare--heaven knew her life-long battle with her own kitchen floor was traumatic enough, without trying to scrape the unnameable substances off the Raven's dance floor. " I got here as quickly as I could. I assume the summit didn't go well." Janette turned her back to the cat, who continued to lap cream from the dish . . . although Susan got the feeling that he wasn't missing a word of their conversation. "That's the understatement of the century. Nicola hasn't done a blessed thing, as usual. They've got that EX-Cousin--" "John?" supplied Susan. "Yes." Janette smiled and looked away. "Nicola hasn't even begun to deal with him, yet. How hard it must be for the poor boy--all that warm blood within reach . . . . It's only a matter of time." "We, uh, don't happen to have anyone over there, do we?" Janette shrugged. "Who knows, with the way they're changing back and forth, left and right. How can you trust anyone, anymore?" She sniffed and picked up the cat. "Besides, I have the distinct impression that Nicola doesn't trust ." Susan looked down at the floor and didn't say a word--she might have been tired and hungry, but she wasn't stupid. "You, uh, don't want me to go over there?" "Into that snake pit? You'd be safer with LaCroix." Janette held the cat against her shoulder, tickling it beneath the chin. "Not that I have any plans for sending you to him." Susan let out the breath she'd been holding. "Okay. Do they have any of their people ?" "Oh, they've been in and out. It's so easy to spot them-- they just don't have right attitude. Ambivalence." Janette leaned down and placed the cat on the floor. "Now run and play, little Goblin. Earn your keep. I thought I spotted a mouse in the storeroom the other evening." Susan watched the cat scamper off, then her gaze moved back to Janette. "Are you going to do anything about them? The spies?" "Why should I? If they pay for their drinks and don't cause any problems, what does it matter?" She shrugged, then signaled to the bartender. "Besides, I have other concerns. I want my mail from LaCroix." "And what about Laurie?" "What about her?" Janette took the glass offered to her, giving the bar tender a slight nod. "Her attitude in all this has been very distressing. I half-believe LaCroix put her up to it. It would be so like him, to play me for a fool this way. She'll go back to him, they always do." It didn't take much insight to see through Janette's studied indifference--she was annoyed and angry, yet resigned in that way she often got when it came to anything dealing with LaCroix, as if there was no way she could win and she'd be foolish even to try. "About that truce with Natalie's people--?" "Forget it. They're in too much disarray--they keep looking to dear Nicola to do . And he won't. He's afraid to use the pawns he's gathered, yet he's afraid to act alone. And so he does nothing but pace and ponder. It's so . And the rest simply hurl accusations at one another and nothing ever gets done. As I said, I've half a mind to throw my lot in with LaCroix." Then she smiled, almost sadly. "But, no. He'll be angry with me as well--for using him to keep Nicola busy, for trying to spirit away one of his own." "Which means we wait to see where the chips are going to fall." "You learning." Janette sipped at her glass, then eyed Susan over the rim. "I've asked Alma to contact all of my own and have them come here. She's got some errands to run, but I think she'll get to it shortly. For safety's sake, it would be better, yes?" She sniffed again. "As if I can't take care of my own." Susan glanced down and saw Goblin skulking around the edge of the bar. "Looks like you've got an admirer." "He has his uses. As do all my 'pets.'" Janette picked up her cigarette case from the bar and opened it. "Speaking of which--I'd like you to run to my tobacconist. My shipment's come in." She hesitated, but only for a second. Then, without a word, Susan took the card that Janette withdrew from her case, and headed for the door. Maybe, if she was lucky, there'd be a steak place around the corner . . . . ----------------------- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 14:27:18 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Enemy Territory [part 2 of 2]------------- Enemy Territory Lounging against a pillar, striving to adopt the air of one who is entirely too blase to venture onto the dance floor, Tanaquil could feel the thrum of the music vibrating through the club. *Whoever does the music here really isn't half bad*, she mused. *Not like whoever did the decorating*. Good thing she could identify most of the vampires based on who she'd seen writhing in pain the night before. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been easy to distinguish the genuinely undead from the mere casualty of fashion. Some she could even identify from the show -- yes, there was Spike at the door, and Myra on the dance floor. But where was Alma? "My GOD! What did you put in this?" The sounds of enraged mortality attracted her attention to the bar. Spike was moving smoothly towards the offended skinhead. Oh, no. Janette *hadn't* put *her* in charge of mixing the drinks? Tanaquil attempted to limp gracefully closer. Alma was defending herself tearfully. "But he asked for a Bloody Mary!" she wailed. Tanaquil was intrigued. Surely she had seen some of the words Janette was using in one of those poems of Catullus. She wasn't entirely clear on the meaning, seeing that the Latin dictionaries always gave an equivalent in Greek and the Greek dictionaries sent you back to the same word in Latin, and the parallel translations always translated the poems into Italian instead of English, but she was fairly sure that Alma wasn't physically capable of *that*. Spike was escorting the injured gentleman to the door. If he hadn't had more drugs than an pharmacy in his body, he might have known that what Alma had given him wasn't V8 that had gone off. Janette was now making a noise that Tanaquil had always thought was restricted to offended cats. "Having problems with the help?" Tanaquil asked in her best bored, affected, supercilious drawl. Alma, hearing herself described in this way, decided that she had had quite enough for one night. She uttered a wordless sound of pure rage and stormed away, as only a vampire can storm. Janette was looking thoroughly fed up. Every vampire in the place, including herself, was suffering from a monstrous garlic hangover, half her human staff including all the bartenders had quit after the panther incident, and what with keeping an eye on rattled Ravenettes and Pan only knew how many bumbling NatPack spies, she had no time to spare on vodka tonics. She spun on this strange woman in a fine vampire rage. "This is all your fault!" she hissed. "I have no idea who you are and I don't care. Get behind the bar. Do you know the difference between a sidecar and a sloe gin fizz?" Now here was a piece of luck. Tanaquil moved hastily behind the bar. "Try me." Janette eyed her through narrowed lids. Mortal arrogance was so tiresome, but it could be amusing to puncture. "Give me a gin and tonic. With Bombay Sapphire gin." Tanaquil eyed her back, with the look she normally reserved for one of the cats after it had thrown up on her flatmate's bed. "I thought it was bad policy to serve someone who's obviously lost all judgment at the bottom of a shot glass. Or are you accustomed to cater to sober barbarians in this place?" Janette raised her eyebrows. "Tiens! Not bad. You're not looking for a job, are you?" "As a matter of fact, I am." "If you can handle this crowd tonight, it's yours." Janette began to withdraw. Tanaquil thought that she had never seen anyone look sardonically relieved before. "Bonne chance, ma petite chou." She disappeared lithely through the door Alma had slammed behind her. Tanaquil took a deep breath. She was in! Now, to put the next phase of the plan into action... S. Tanaquil Johnson [end of part 2 of 2]------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 12:30:45 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2: A new beginning [part 2/2]------------------------ Evening, July 9th They stood on the rooftop of LaCroix's apartment building. Lisa, Tokaara, Margaret, and the newest Cousin, Sharon. LaCroix stood before them, smiling at each in turn. "Things are progressing nicely," he said. "Phase 1 is complete." He glanced at Sharon's puzzled frown. "A week of scrambling, using resources, travelling. It's worn them out," he explained. "It's time to move to the second phase." "Which is?" "Lets look at our ranks for a moment, shall we?" LaCroix spoke in professorial tones. "Tokaara and Margaret, you've been with me since the beginning. You saw the way immediately. Margaret, especially. You, my dear, were among the First. And there were others, Sandye, Dennis." He moved next to Lisa. "And a former Die-Hard. One who found her way to me on her own." "My lovely Monica, who is off on other assignments. A former Ravenette." He stopped in front of Sharon and placed his hand on her shoulder. "And now, my most valuable prize. One of Natalie's friends who has seen the light, as it were. And the struggle only made this reward that much richer." "She isn't going to let me go without a fight," Sharon said. LaCroix grinned. "Good. But she won't win. She's only a mortal woman after all. No real threat." "I wouldn't be so sure of that," Sharon warned, then tried unsuccessfully to look away when he pinned her with a sharp gaze. "Perhaps your right," he said after a moments reflection. "But remember that you've burned that bridge. You can't go back to her. She'll never trust you again. None of them will." Sharon nodded. "I know." "Good." "Now, back to the discussion at hand." He paced about for a moment. "Original cousins, a Ravenette, a Die-Hard, and a NatPacker. What's missing." "A Knightie!" Margaret exclaimed. "And a FoD!" Sharon supplied. "Yes, and I really would like a complete set. I want a Knightie and a FoD, and anyone else you can convince to join us. Remember, they're tired, they've been using up their resources. And, they'll be looking for the Abarat. Nicholas doesn't realize the spell can only be used once. If he finds it and figures that out, he'll no doubt do the right thing and use it on that wretched John Dencoff." For a moment LaCroix's lip curled in disgust. "Isolate them. Use up their resources. *Then* move in and show them the truth. Point out their patron's weaknesses." He stopped in front of Sharon again. "If necessary, as it was for you, I'll step in." He looked at each of them in turn. "Also gather information. We can also use it for other battles if they don't prove useful here. You have your assignments," he said, then lifted in the air without a sound. They watched him rise in the air. Then they turned and looked at one another. "FoDs." Sharon said. "We all know that the fasted way to a FoD's heart . . ." "Is through the souvlaki supply!" they finished in unison. [end of part 2/2]------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Cousin Sharon o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Cousin | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 21:14:03 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2 : Natalie, help! ---------------------------------------------------------- Ivy stared down at Betsy's unconscious form. *One of us? Damn all this subterfuge to the nine hells and back and Nick was right.* She checked for a pulse, hoping she had some idea that what she was doing was right. Betsy looked fine, just knocked out. *What to do what to do*. She picked up the telephone and hit speeddial 7. "Hi, Kevin, it's Ivy. I've um, got a little problem. You see ... just come over I need you." "Sure, I'll be right there." Kevin, being a medical intern would surely know what to do. Kevin always knew what to do. Kevin lived a few blocks away, always knew what to do and would make everything okay again. *Stop that!* Ivy put an abrupt end to her mental babbling. Kevin arrived in a few moments. Ivy was glad he was able to figure out which address to come to, probably checked the apartment first then came here, she figured. "She was in the apartment. She's from the wars, you know about those, and well, I hit her." "I see." Kevin knelt beside Betsy and ran expert fingers along the bruise on her temple. "She'll be fine, she should be put under observation. I'll call an ambulance." "No," Ivy said. "It's not safe for her. LaCroix might try to hurt her." "Her, why?" "Why was she in here. If she'd strike against him or connected to me since I have he'll go after her out of spite. He doesn't need much of a reason. I know a doctor we can bring him to." Kevin nodded. "I'll get the car." ----------- Kevin stared at the odd elevator of Nick's loft. "Are you sure this is the place?" "Absolutely." Kevin carried Betsy, who was conscious but dazed up to the loft. "Natalie Help!" Ivy yelled as soon as the elevator doors opened. Natalie ran over and, with Kevin's help lay Betsy on the leather couch. Ivy shuddered remembering John lying in that very spot. Tears streamed unbidden down her cheeks. "I didn't mean it. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't know you weren't an enemy. Please, please be alright." Kevin pulled her away to let Natalie do her work. Natalie, though not used to working with living people had Betsy conscious, eyes focused, and walking in very little time. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 23:56:00 EDT From: 'Most Holy Subject: FK Wars 2: FOSsils by the Tails FOSsils by the Tails Late evening 7/10 Since the prank on Cousin Lisa, 'Most Holy had watched with interest the convergence on Toronto by the warring factions. So too did Chewie, the Siamese who had her own ways of keeping abreast of events. So it happened that as he had completed downloading the war onto the disks for future reference, he sat back to reflect on the events of the day. "You know Chewie, I'm just wondering if a little excursion to Toronto would not be such a bad thing after all. I mean the Die-Hards could use some help and...Oh, did I ever tell you about my trip up there last October?" With a deep sigh, the Siamese replied, "Only every time the Blue Jays are mentioned!" "Touchy. Okay what say we mosey on up there and see if I can be of use to anyone?" "You mosey. I'll fly." It never ceased to amaze 'Most Holy the manner in which Chewie could be so sarcastic for a cat. As he gathered up his gear for his morning bike ride, Chewie scurried up to the keyboard and sent a cryptic message to Gandalf & Merlin: To: Gandalf & Merlin From: Chewie < Chewcat@catnet.Washington.dc Date: 94-07-10 23:54:01 EDT Subj: Need a Paw? Have followed activities of your mom. Expect opportunity to arrive soon for meeting. My dad is seeking roll, I prefer bagels. See you in the dark. Chewie 'Most Holy Chewie (A Noble Siamese) Otter@DRYCAS.club.cc.cmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 16:45:11 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKWars2: Family Feud ends as Lisa leaves the Family Lisa stepped out of the shadows, blocking LaCroix's way. LaCroix smiled coldly. "I'm a great believer in cutting my losses. I never thought I could trust *you*." "Spoken like a true Cousin." LaCroix's smile widened, and he flourished it like a sword. Lisa shrugged. "Maybe. I've certainly deceived you. A few minutes ago a friend of mine -- not poor Anne Fraser, she's not speaking to me any more -- delivered my laptop with the copy I made of the Abarat to the Knighties at Nick's place. It's true *I* can't work the spell twice, but there's nothing to stop someone else from doing it." The vampire's eyes flared red. He purred, "That, my dear, was a fatal mistake." "Yes, because I was dying to know you," Lisa snapped. "And dying is just what you're going to do!" With which riposte LaCroix snatched Lisa into his arms, sank his fangs into her neck -- and fell back with a cry of agony, writhing on the floor. "No, dying is what you're going to wish you could do." Lisa was smiling again, icily. "Didn't you ever wonder why I never seemed to care if you or Larry bit me? I've got Polidori's Syndrome." She seemed to be searching for something in her purse. "What have you done to him?" Margaret screamed nearly as loudly as LaCroix as the rest of the cousins ran into the room. "Polidori's Syndrome. People who have it are poisonous to Vampyres. He'll get well eventually, but he's going to have a terrible bellyache for quite a while." One of two of the cousins made to grab her, but Lisa's hand came out of her bag with a Police Special, and the heroines took the better part of valor. "I'm leaving now. I hope the rest of you enjoy your war." Lisa began backing toward the door, the gun carefully pointed at her erstwhile friends. "Unless someone wants an exit, disguised as a corpse, I'd advise against trying to stop me." The sound of the apartment door slamming brought down the curtain. ----------------- Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 18:32:58 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKW2: An Arrival An Arrival Sharon Himmanen Saturday, July 9. Evening "He wants to see you," Cousin Margaret said from the doorway. Sharon looked up from the beginnings of her plans for making the lives of a few FoDs miserable. Not to mention Susan Garrett--she knew Uncle would like to have Susan Garrett in his collection and Sharon knew things. She'd planned on setting a few things in motion, then take a much needed shower, get a much needed bite to eat, and then settle in for a much needed night's sleep. "Now!" Margaret said, turning away. With a sigh she put down the phone and followed her down the hallway to the study. LaCroix was sitting in a chair. Although he seemed up and in control, she could still see the unusual pallor on his face. He'd fed well before being poisoned by Lisa, but it would take time. "You wanted to see me?" she asked nervously, stopping near the door. "Yes," he said airily. "I have a little assignment for you. One that's uniquely suited to you." She took another step further into the room and waited. "Nobody know's you've defected, do they?" "No." "And you've been . . . missing since Friday morning, after your visit to Betsy, correct?" "That's right." LaCroix gave her a chilly smile. "I believe your . . . friends at Nicholas' will be happy to see you again. To learn that you're . . . safe." Sharon smiled back with a lot more conviction than she actually felt. She didn't want to face them just yet, especially if they didn't know. What was she going to say to Natalie? How could she convince her? LaCroix must have caught some fleeing doubt in her eyes, for he leaned closer to her. As his smile grew sharper, she realized that that this was a test--LaCroix wanted to see just how strong her commitment to him was, and what better way than sending her to another camp as a false friend. He nodded, watching her work it out for herself. He relaxed suddenly and turned to the window, looking out over the city. "You'll be my eyes and ears. I don't usually go for spying, although many a conflict has been won that way," he commented, turning professorial again. "But I suspect that Lisa has some game afoot." "Lisa McDavid?" "Yes," he said. "She's sent them a copy of the Abarat. Now, I've given Alexandra the task of making sure the computer it's on is completely unusable, and that the copy is lost. Alexandra has her . . . charms, but she's basically incompetent. I want you to make sure she's done the deed." "And if she hasn't?" He didn't turn to look at her. "Then the task will fall to you, by default," he said simply. "But, if she did manage to actually do something right, then stay there. Report their activities to me when you can. And wait for me to arrive." "When will you come?" "In a few days," he said absently. "I'll be making a . . . mail delivery." She could hear the smile in his voice. * * * * * "Nick! Natalie! It's me, Sharon Himmanen! Let me in!" She spoke breathlessly into the intercom. It was a full 30 seconds before the door buzzed open. They'd figured out something had happened to her--she wasn't surprised. She'd been missing for days. Standing in the elevator, she tried to control her breathing, but the truth was, she was on the verge of panic at this point. She didn't want to be here. She didn't know how she was going to face any of them, or how she was going to convince them that she was on the level. She'd even seriously considered skipping town, disappearing into the night, slipping away. Could she really destroy the Abarat if Alexandra hadn't taken care of it? To deliberately destroy Nick's chances at mortality? Natalie would *never* forgive her then. LaCroix's words to her on the roof earlier that evening echoed in her head. *You can't go back to her. You've burned that bridge. She'll never trust you again. None of them will.* The ride to the loft was too short and too soon the door was sliding back. She was glad now she hadn't had time to clean up--it would lend a bit of credibility to her story. Taking a deep breath she stepped into the loft. There were a lot of people she didn't recognize. In fact, she didn't recognize *anybody* except for Nick. And Nat, who was coming forward now. All these people looking at her, it made her nervous and she took a quick step back. But Nat was there, grabbing her arm before she could get away. "What happened?" she asked. "Where have you been? We've been worried *sick*!" She nodded. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry. The laptop . . ." "Was a trap," Nick finished. "We know. Mine's been recovered." He was eyeing her suspiciously. "Where *have* you been?" he asked, eying her rumpled clothing, the bags under her eyes. She swallowed. "It's a really long story . . . but I did something that you might consider . . . a little . . . well, a little stupid." "You mean aside from going to PSU by yourself and not getting in touch with anyone for two days?" Nat asked. "Stupider than that," Sharon confirmed. She could tell them now, tell them that she'd switched sides and be done with it, out of here. But something in her couldn't do it, couldn't let LaCroix down, afraid of failing the test, afraid of what he might do. Afraid of seeing the disappointment in their eyes . . . "Do I want to hear this?" Nick asked. "Probably not. The laptop *was* a trap, as you said. But I didn't figure that out until after I sent you the telegram." She paused and looked around. "You did get the telegram, right?" "Yes, we got it, and if you ever send us anything so cryptic again, I swear I'll strangle you!" Nat said. And Sharon believed her. "Well," she continued, rubbing her face. Too many people were hanging on her every word. "I took the laptop and was on my way to the airport when I lost it." "Lost the laptop?" "Yeah. I'd sent you the telegram, then I was going to come up here, just like I said. But the cousin's intercepted me and took it. I spent most of Friday night playing laptop tag with them. Remember, at that point I still thought it was yours--I hadn't had time to check it. "But then, I got it back. Near . . . Columbus Ohio I think. I checked it, and *that's* when I realized it wasn't yours. He'd been leading me on a wild goose chase, wearing me out." "Was there anything on it?" "Just some really awful poetry," she said. Nick turned sharply away. "But no database, no other personal files except a little . . . digit ed image of LaCroix." "Oh no," Nat said. "Yeah, it was an offer." "And let me guess," Nick said, running his hands through his hair. "This is the *stupid* part, right?" She nodded, trying to act sheepish. She was better at this than she thought she'd be, she thought to herself. They seemed to be buying it. She figured if she could convince them, the other people in the room would buy it so she concentrated on Nick and Nat. "I pretended to switch sides," she said after a long pause. Nat closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. "You're wrong. That wasn't a *little* stupid. That was *a lot* stupid! Do you have any idea just how dangerous that was?" "Yeah," she said, nodding. "I'm sure he saw through me right away. We had a big meeting on the roof of his apartment building. He went on and on about phase one being complete, but he didn't go into exactly what that was. I tried to find out, but he said I'd find out when the time was right, after I'd proven myself. "I'm sure, now, that the whole meeting was for my benefit. I kind of panicked and got out of there as soon as I could. And I came here." Before she could continue, the intercom buzzed again. When Nick answered it, Lisa McDavid's voice drifted into the loft. | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Cousin | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 01:52:29 -0400 From: Robin Carroll-Mann Subject: Journey's End Sunday, sometime in the wee hours Robin looked up at Nick's building. She'd never really expected to be here. She hoped it wasn't too late for her to be of help. She hoped they that someone inside -- a FOD perhaps? -- had brought food. In her rush to the airport, certain things, like breakfast and lunch, had been overlooked. More importantly, she hoped that someone up there knew she was coming. She'd sent e-mail to Natalie before leaving, but didn't know if it had been received, and couldn't check, as she didn't have a laptop. Shaking her head to clear away the clouds of fatigue, she stabbed at the buzzer. A moment later, a muffled male voice, said "Yes?" She couldn't tell if it was Nick. "Ummm... this is Robin Carroll-Mann, from New Jersey? I'm a friend of Natalie's?" No response, but the door buzzed and clicked, allowing her to enter. A few minutes later, the elevator door rolled aside, exposing the loft and its motley inhabitants. She recognized Nick and Natalie, but the rest of the faces were one giant blur. Robin found herself stepping forward. "Hi," she muttered to no one in particular. "Don' mind me... I'll just sit over there and listen for a while, OK?" She staggered over to an unclaimed chair, and gratefully deposited herself in it, hoping against vain hope that she would not fall asleep -- or at least that she would not snore. Robin Carroll-Mann rcmann@delphi.com Nat Pack ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 20:36:54 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: The Snake Pit Saturday, July 9 The buzzer sounded. I needed to talk to Nick before anything else happened. I walked over to where he and Nat and Sharon Himmanen were talking, and touched him on the arm. As he turned towards me, I noticed with dismay how tired he looked. He wasn't used to being around this many mortals for such a long time, and the strain was showing. He had to be hungry, and he hadn't slept in days. "Nick, could I talk to you a moment?" He nodded and I went hesitantly on. "Just be careful, okay? Lisa is ... dangerous ... very, very dangerous. Don't trust her--she's changed sides once already." "I know that. And I know who she chose. And why. I'll be careful." I had to say it or die. "Nicholah, whatever happens ... you know ... " He whispered, "I know," and turned back to face the elevator. Heart pounding, I moved around the knot of people in the middle of the loft, and slipped back into the shadows under the staircase. My face felt hot--damn, I was blushing. Or having a hot flash. I had promised myself I would never utter those words that Alyce had used--"take me, Nick"--and I wasn't about to now. But just in case ... --------------------------- Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 13:07:11 EDT From: SusanG2522@aol.com Subject: FKWARSII--Anybunny Here? ANYBUNNY HERE? Late Saturday Night/Early Sunday Morning 7/09 Beth sat atop the hood of her car in the Toftrees Apartment parking lot at College Station. Binoculars poised, she peered upward at the balcony door, but the there was no light shining through the curtain. It had been quiet. Too quite. Janette had sent her up here with a mission--to spy on the erstwhile cousins and, perhaps, double-check that EX-Cousin Laurie was as EX as she claimed. She swung her binoculars to the opposite balcony. There was faint glow of a computer screen in Laurie's apartment --she could figure out that much through the curtain. But that was all. "Those also serve who only stand and wait," she muttered to Hazel, as she picked up her thermos of ice tea and poured herself a cup. Hazel, unhappily drowsing in his cage, merely twitched an ear at the observation. He'd had a harrowing few days, being kidnapped and rescued. What he needed was a nice long nap in a cool place. But a sound keep disturbing him. "Hsst! Hsst!" Hazel opened one bunny eye and peered beyond the rim of the car tire. Two very wide eyes peered back. Hazel's rear leg rose slightly, ready to thump a warning to alert Beth-- "Hsst!" said the cat, for that's what it was, the length of black fur sliding out from the shadow beneath the car. "I've got a message for you." Hazel paused and cocked his head, bunny eyes bright. He didn't really trust cats all that much. But after all he'd been through in the past couple days, trusting smooth skins other than his Beth wasn't such a good idea either. The cat rubbed against the bars of Hazel's cage, staying in the shadow of the tire. "You're supposed to go back to the Raven." Hazel's eyes widened. He twitched his nose and gave a bunny sneeze--he hadn't liked the smell of that place at all. "But you have to go anyway," said the cat, purring softly. Leaning forward, it stretched the length of the shadow, haunches high and belly brushing the ground. "I saw it on e-mail." Hazel's nose twitched again. The rabbit blinked, half- turning. "Maybe you trust me, maybe you can't," said the cat. His purr sounding like a laugh, he turned and sauntered under the car, swallowed by the blackness. "The name's Trouble." The cat seemed to disappear. Hazel watched intently, then saw a black streak shoot from beneath the car, across the tar, and onto the verge in front of the building. The cat continued upward, leaping from a tree onto the balcony, then giving a final swish of its tail before it disappeared from sight. For a moment, Hazel pondered the message. Yes, the Raven smelled funny, but it was cool and there weren't all these awful gnats there to ruffle one's fur. And that one fanged smooth skin had been awfully nice, feeding it green and crunchy things. Hazel thumped a foot against the ground. Immediately, Beth looked down over the fender of the car. "What's wrong, Hazel?" Now most rabbits had great difficulty communicating with smooth skins, but Hazel had trained Beth well. Pounding the same foot again brought Beth down to his level. She opened the cage, saying, "All right--but I can't let you out around here. I thought I saw a cat or something. You can sit on the hood of the car." Hazel waited as Beth put him down beside her. It was tough going on the warm metal, but Hazel made his way to the small folder where Beth had left her maps. Carefully, he peeked inside, then grabbed one at random and pulled it out with his teeth. Three tries later, he found the map of Toronto, with the location of the Raven circled. Beth had gone back to looking through the binoculars. Hazel thumped on the hood of the car again, then stood his ground on the Toronto map as Beth fussed and scolded him for playing with her maps. She left the Toronto map for last and tried to pull it out from under him, but he wouldn't budge. And when she tried to push him away, he nipped gently with his teeth, then thumped again. For a smooth skin, she was pretty bright. "I get the message," she said. "No biting, okay?" Head bowed meekly, Hazel hopped from the map. Beth picked it up, then looked down at Hazel. "The Raven, huh? Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. We're doing nothing out here. Maybe we'd better check in and see what's going on." Beth tucked the map back into her folder, then picked up Hazel. "I thought I saw an all-night mini-mart a couple of blocks away--they'll have a pay phone. And maybe we can get you some fresh lettuce, huh?" Hazel snuggled happily in Beth's arms for a moment, but was content to be returned to his cage. Message received and understood. And there was nothing to lull a bunny into a well deserved sound sleep like the thrum of a car engine during a long road trip. ------------------ SusanG2522@aol.com (With permission of LizHazel and her little friend, too) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 08:41:59 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: I'm In! Date: Sunday July 10 3:46 AM Toronto time (?) To: Nat Pack Cc: Knighties From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu Subject: I'm In! Hello all! I hope I haven't left anyone out. I feel a bit out of the loop. Valerie, what happened after I left Nick's loft last night? Looks like it was shaping up to be a wild party. The good news is that Janette has hired me as a bartender. Long story. She was so pleased with me for taking the alcoholic end of the business out of her hair tonight that she says I can work at the Raven as many nights as I want. She even gave me keys to the place so I can handle supply during the day. She says she's counting on me to keep the customers happy. I think I can manage that. How happy she and her faction are going to be, I don't know. ;) Those of you who are in Toronto, come visit me if you can. I'll be on duty every night until she throws me out. I'm planning some excitement for Monday or Tuesday night, depending on how long it takes me to get organized. Valerie, you can pass this on to Sharon H. if you see her. I don't dare send e-mail to an account that might be unattended. What's up with her? You did say pigeon post??!? Tanaquil P.S. I can always be reached by e-mail. Same bat time, same bat channel. Keep me posted! S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 23:23:25 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Blood on the Rocks Late Saturday/early Sunday BLOOD ON THE ROCKS Janette looked up from her place at the bar, clipboard in hand, as Susan came out of the back room. "And?" Goblin was slung around Susan's shoulders, beneath her long hair. "Beth just called in--nothing doing at State College, so I gave her your instructions to head here, pronto." "Good. Very good." Janette looked back to the clipboard. "My followers seem to be in short supply these days. You learn to travel faster." "We can't fly under our own power." "That be arranged." Susan gulped at Janette's warning, one hand going to scratch between the ears of the furry black cat. "Thanks, but no. My motto stands, 'I'd rather see than be one.'" "I thought it was 'I was misinformed.'" "That's an explanation, not a motto." "Whatever." Janette dropped the clipboard atop the bar and looked over the crowd--most of the mortals in the Raven had drifted away as the hour had grown later, which meant the vampire/human ratio of the club was increasing. "When will Beth arrive?" "Tomorrow morning, maybe afternoon. She'll probably have to take a rest stop for Hazel." When Janette arched an eyebrow, Susan added, "It's riding all that way in a cage." The other eyebrow went up. "Hazel is the rabbit," Susan explained quickly. Janette looked away. "Oh, yes. I remember. Alma seemed fond of it." She shuddered. "Reminds me too much of that 'Warren' business from the last war." She glanced over her shoulder suspiciously. "There's none of that going on, is there?" "Not that I know." "Good. It was all too . . . organized. Which is always a danger." But Janette was still eyeing her suspiciously. "You were part of it, if I recall." "Yeah. Blackbrain. Blackie, to my friends." Janette seemed content as she looked away. "Suits you, actually." Susan cleared her throat. "How's the new bartender working out?" "Well, she speaks English, which is a plus." A lazy smile stole across Janette's lips as she glanced at the large, blond Danish bartender. "And it does mean our other friend will have more . . . breaks." "I'll bet," muttered Susan. In response, Janette picked up the clipboard and thrust it into her hands. "Alma and I are taking some stock over to Nicola's place. I may be gone for some time. try to keep my bar intact until I return." She brushed by Susan, sparing a moment to stroke a nail down Goblin's back and tail. "Pretty kitty." As she left, she heard the faintest, "Me-yow," from Susan's lips, but decided to be magnanimous and ignore it. --- Alma had loaded the case of blood into the trunk of the car and was slamming it shut just as Janette left the Raven. She winced, then frowned, catching the keys Alma threw to her. "It's a delicate piece of machinery," she chided, running her hand along the black metal fender of the car. " a barn door." "Sorry." Alma's tone was sarcastic, but Janette decided to ignore that, too. She slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. There was something about driving in Toronto that relaxed her--excessive speeds being ignored in favor of caution. Janette was a fast driver, but a good one, and the Toronto police bothered her far less often than their American cousins had when she'd last spent any amount of time in that country. Cousins. Ignoring Alma, she slipped her sunglasses from the car visor, opened then with a flick of her wrist, and covered her eyes. She wondered what LaCroix might be up to. He'd been far too quiet. She'd expected some move against her by now, but he seemed occupied, almost distracted. Perhaps by dissension in his own camp? A smile stole over her lips as she considered the idea. Even if she lost Laurie back to her innate cousinhood, it was good to show LaCroix that his hold over mortals wasn't as strong as he thought, that his followers could lose interest in his leadership and his way of life-- As had Nicola. It was not a long drive to Gateway Lane from the Raven. Janette made a note of the added number of rental cars situated around the warehouse and sighed-- followers. Lovely. She popped the trunk, but kept her sunglasses in place, adjusting them slightly as Alma easily lifted the case of filled bottles from the back of the car. "Be careful," she warned, as Alma adjusted the neckline of her blouse downward, taking one hand off the crate. "If you drop any of it, you'll clean it from the sidewalk yourself . . . with your tongue." "The cow, too?" Alma grimaced and both hands returned to the crate. Janette decided not to startle Nicola much, buzzing at the door and smiling up at the camera. ", Nicola. I've brought a peace offering." "Janette." There was a whispered conversation in the background, a few words to his 'friend' Natalie, then the buzzer for the elevator rang. "Wonderful," hissed Janette. She waved at Alma. "Hurry, hurry!" she snapped. Alma scuttled into the elevator after her, crate of wine bottles in hand. Janette carefully reached over and adjusted one of the black silk bows--black for her, red for Nicola. He was still rather wary after the trick one of LaCroix's people had pulled on him during the last war. It had been that Laurie, hadn't it? Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Janette sighed. Ah, she would have made a splendid Ravenette . . . and been less dangerous in the long run. Nicola was standing there as the elevator door opened. Janette ran her nails lightly across his cheek in greeting, but paused, her bright and sarcastic welcome fading--his face was so drawn and pale. It was obvious he hadn't eaten in some time. Quickly, her eyes ranged around the room--there were even mortals there now, of all shapes and sizes. Couldn't they see what he was doing to himself? Without a second thought, she lifted a red ribboned bottle from the case as Alma passed and pressed it into his hands. "You fed me, I'm returning the favor," she said softly. "The refrigerator, Alma," she called, over her shoulder. Nicola took the bottle, but moved past her, following Alma. Mortals scattered before the vampires, if they had the energy. Natalie Lambert, who'd been sitting on a leather chair near that snippy redhead, rose to her feet and headed toward the kitchen. Chin high, Janette ignored all of them and followed Nicola. As he moved to put the bottle in the icebox, she caught his arm. "Nicola, you're hungry. Feed." "I'm fine." Again, he moved to put the bottle away, but her fingers wrapped around his arm, holding him in place. In a voice too low for mortals to hear, she whispered, "You're weak. You're no good to them like this. And if you don't feed soon, you'll be a danger." Those blue eyes met hers, suddenly fearful and she nodded, gesturing over her shoulder with her manicured nails. "I don't think you want an 'incident', no?" Nicola looked away quickly. "Don't tell me I'm too late?" asked Janette, but when he turned his head sharply, his denial on his lips, she heard the slightest sound from upstairs . . . and smiled. "Aaaah, not you. That other one--the new one." "Nothing happened." Nicola wrenched the bottle from her hand and slammed it into the refrigerator, then closed the door. Alma moved out of his way, posing seductively against one of the kitchen counters. Shaking her head, Janette followed Nicola, then let her eyes roam the room. She chanced upon the redhead again, then caught Nicola looking in the woman's direction. "But something have. And something --to the one upstairs. This fixation with mortals can only lead to disaster." Her voice had been louder than she intended, several of the mortals were watching her. Natalie Lambert stood before her, arms crossed. "You have mortals working with you." " me," corrected Janette. "They know their place. As I know mine." She shot a sharp glance at the redhead, as if daring her to repeat her accusation of the evening before. Then she looked over at Nicola again, saw the depth of his pallor, the way he looked around the room, as if not knowing where to rest his eyes. Janette took a step closer to Natalie and said softly, "Get him to feed. Outside, if he doesn't want to disappoint his groupies, show them what he is. But if he doesn't feed soon, you'll have a problem. And it won't be the one upstairs who attacks one of these pretties." She drifted away, back to join Alma. Natalie moved to Nicola, surprising him--not so odd since his concentration was so divided--and taking his arm. She whispered to him, her eyes going toward the refrigerator. Janette merely smiled and looked away, knowing that Natalie would succeed where she couldn't. It didn't matter to her. There were times when she agreed with LaCroix, Nicola denied himself, denied what he was, too often. It seemed amusing that a mere mortal could convince him to feed, when an older, dearer vampire . . . companion could not. And how it must rankle that stoic Dr. Lambert, to tell him to do just the opposite of what she had told him so many times before . . . . "Are we staying?" asked Alma. "For a while," said Janette. She glanced around the room again, at the number of mortals who followed Nicola, or Natalie, or no-one in particular. She saw many of their eyes light as he passed--yes, he could still do that even to her, just as he had for so many centuries. And, just as throughout those centuries, he never seemed to notice. Not unless the interest was returned. Not unless he was . " Maybe I should go check on the new guy?" asked Alma. She glanced upward, toward the second floor. "You'll stay here until I say so," snapped Janette. She watched Natalie guide Nicola to the refrigerator, then take out the bottle--wrong one, dear . . . he prefers the 'red' ribbon vintage--and press it into Nicola's hand. He corrected her mistake quickly. They conversed together in tones that were not low enough for Janette to hear. "--Back stairs, then?" pressed Natalie. And after a moment's pause, Nicola nodded. He walked away from Natalie, never raising his head as he passed Janette and Alma, then slipped out the door to the back stairs, closing it behind him. "It's boring here," whined Alma. Janette smiled as she met Natalie's eyes. The mortal turned away. "Oh, I find it amusing," she whispered. "More fun than I've had in a long time . . . ." ------------------------ SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 03:02:48 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--The Pause That Refreshes? Nick walked down the back stairs quietly. It was a relief to be away from the mortals. And he _was_ hungry. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, tossed it aside, and upended the bottle as he walked. He felt his eyes change as the liquid ran down his throat. He finished the bottle in seconds. He heard a noise near his car and his senses came alert. There was a woman standing there in the faint light of the garage--the married redhead, Sandra Gray. Her heart was racing and he realized with a start that his eyes were still changed and his fangs extended. He turned away to hit the light switch, composing his features back to normal. Then he turned back to her and said, "What are you doing here?" Her eyes flickered to the empty bottle he still held. He set it on a nearby bench. Had she been watching him drink it? "I--I just wanted to get away from all the people for a while." "So did I," said Nick. What _was_ she doing here? She had not given the others her affiliation, although her husband was a representative of the Die- Hards. Was she spying for LaCroix? He approached her. Her pulse was still elevated. Her temperature rose too. He frowned. "I'm--sorry." She licked her lips and added, "It must be hard for you having so many mortals around." Again Nick was reminded of his stripper dreams. He pushed those thoughts away. He halted his steps within a few feet of where she stood next to the driver's car door. "Why are you here?" "I told you. Oh, you mean--" She paused and brushed her hair back from her face nervously. "I--just needed to know it was real," she said. "And now?" "I don't know. Try to help." "Who?" He edged closer to her, watching her intently. "Why you of course!" Her body flared its sincerity. "Don't tell me you're a Knightie." She nodded, her face flushing. 'Not another one,' thought Nick, looking away. He leaned up against the side of his car and sighed. "Why do you all bother? I never asked for any followers." He didn't expect an answer, so was a bit surprised when Sandra said, "Because you're basically good. Because you're trying to hang on to your humanity instead of succumbing to--the beast." He looked at her. Her face flushed a deeper shade of red and she looked away. Nick pushed away from the car. "You should go home," he said. He turned to the stairs. "Why won't you let anyone else help you except Natalie?" said the woman in a stronger voice than she had used before. "Why can't you accept that other people could care about what happens to you?" Nick turned back to her. "Mrs. Gray, this is not some game. _I_ am a vampire. So is LaCroix. There is _real_ danger here." "I'm sure no one knows that better than Cousin John!" said Sandra. Nick frowned. "Why don't you _lead_ us instead of trying to protect us? We came here to _help_! You should be willing to take some responsibility!" Suddenly she seemed a bit shocked by her outburst and said, "Sorry." "No, you're right. I _should_ act." He paused. "But I can't let what happened to John happen to anyone else. You do understand that." "Sure," she said, dropping her gaze, which had turned cold. She headed for the stairs. Nick slumped back against the car and started thinking. (Will a stranger's talk help Nick to come to any decisions to act? Maybe time will tell...) --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 02:51:46 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Up on the Rooftop, Nick, Nick, Nick I couldn't take it any more. The loft reminded me of one of those television news segments showing the aftermath of a natural disaster--a flood, an earthquake, a tornado. Ivy was still trying to get the scrambled data off the laptop; Valerie was in a deep sleep on the couch; people were sacked out all over the loft. Alma was looking bored; Natalie was dead on her feet; Janette was nowhere to be seen; and Nick looked like hell. I was too nervous to sleep, and I'd already gnawed all my fingernails down to the quick. I decided to try the roof, in hope that the night air would clear my head. I trudged up the stairs and looked around for the access door to the roof. Found it, finally, around a corner I'd never seen on "Forever Knight." And, as I should have known, it was stout, and it was locked. Frustration got the better of me, and I put my palms against the door and leaned my forehead against the cool metal. I wanted out. Now. "Great minds ... " Nick's voice startled me. And it didn't help that he'd snuck up behind me so quietly that I hadn't heard him. But I'd recognize that voice anywhere. I just didn't have the energy or the will to turn and face him, so I remained where I was. "What mind? The mind went a few hours ago--now the body's about had it, too. It's been a long weekend." That was an understatement. "You wouldn't happen to have the key, would you?" "No." "Great. Does that mean you don't have the key with you, or that you don't have a key, period?" "I mean there isn't a key. Look to your left and you'll see a number pad. All you have to do is punch in the code." I tried to remember if we'd ever figured out all the numbers in his code. I didn't think so, but thought wasn't one of my best qualities at the moment. "*You* punch in the code. It's your door." "I will, if you'll move out of the way and hold this." I didn't think I wanted to know what *this* was. But I was afraid I was about to find out. I turned around and took the bottle and wine glass from him. He punched in the code, and as the door popped open, took the glass and bottle back, and motioned for me to go first. The air outside was warm and humid, but there was a breeze, and I finally felt like I could catch my breath again. "It's nice out here. And quiet." I walked over to the brick ledge at the edge of the roof and looked over. "Not a great view of the city, but the moon is beautiful." "The moon is always beautiful. Especially when it's full, like tonight." A line from a well-known movie came to mind, and I couldn't help but smile. "If you could just conjure up some wolves to howl at it, one or the other of us could utter those famous words about the children of the night and the music they make." "Have you ever actually heard a pack of wolves howling? It's not a pretty sound." "Another illusion shattered. Oh well. But, if wolves sound anything like coyotes, I'll have to agree." Nick put the wine glass down on the ledge and pulled the cork out of the bottle. With his teeth, of course. And then threw the cork across the roof. "Do you always open bottles that way?" "It's easier than trying to find a corkscrew." He poured the dark liquid into the glass and set the bottle down. "Salud. I'd ask you to join me, but ..." "No thanks." I shuddered at the thought of trying to swallow something that thick, and cold to boot. "I'll stick to Diet Coke, thank you very much indeed." "Would you like a Coke? I think there are some cans left downstairs, somewhere in those mountains of food. I could go ... " "Thanks, but I'm fine." Nicotine might help. I pulled out my last pack and lit up. "Those things will kill you." "You have to die of something. Everybody does." Well, that wasn't quite right, given the circumstances. "Mortals, at least." That wasn't right, either. A look of pain crossed his face, and he refilled his wine glass and took a long drink. "That's what has me worried. All these mortals, here, at my place, where they're in danger. They're perfect targets for LaCroix." I took a drag and considered. "Nick, I don't think LaCroix's the only problem we have right now." "Explain." "I watch the show. On tape now, but I watch it. I know a bit about your relationship with Janette. And, Nick, I think she's the biggest problem here." "You know nothing about my ... relationship ... with her. Nothing." Now I'd made him angry. "I'm sorry--but *we* think we do." "Who's *we*?" "All of us on the list. All of us who watch the show. And I have to tell you, Nick, we've discussed you and Janette. Often." He didn't look happy about that. "Sorry. It's the nature of the beast." Now he looked confused. I explained, "The beast of ... fandom. We discuss everything about the show in excruciatingly minute detail." He decided not to pursue that train of thought. "Whatever you say." He refilled his glass again. "But whatever relationship Janette and I have is not the point. I've got a building full of humans that have to be protected. Not from Janette--she's not going to hurt them. But LaCroix will, if he can. And she's the one who put them in danger--she started the war, by telling LaCroix about the mail, and about the database. Why did she do that? What did she hope to gain, other than my enmity? Why did she tell him?" "Don't ask me. Ask her." "I have. She hasn't given me an answer. Yet. But time is running out. She's going to tell me, one way or another." He drained the wine glass, sat it down very carefully on the ledge, and headed for the door. I didn't know if I wanted to be around for this confrontation. ------------------------------------ Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------