Under the Influence By Susan Garrett As far as police custody went, it wasn't so bad. Susan sighed and read the beer list on the table placemat again, for lack of something better to do. Not that The Jekyll and Hyde wasn't a great pub--it was! There were all sorts of neat things hanging from the walls. She sort of liked the skeleton that played the piano, and the gargoyle that made announcements and chatted to guests occasionally. In fact, there were even lots of neat things up here, in the Cannibal Room. And, ordinarily, she would have been out of her seat in a shot and examining all the oddities, including the talking masks. But things weren't ordinary. She really didn't feel like moving. Nick had said to stay here and she'd stay here until he told her otherwise. He was only watching out for her, after all, trying to protect her from-- >From . . . somebody. Susan shook her head, still a little hazy on that part. She knew Nick was a Toronto Metro Homicide detective and that he was trying to protect her from someone or something. Taking her to this party seemed a strange thing to do, but maybe it was some sort of trap or something. She didn't mind being bait. Nick had said he'd protect her and, with Ron's help, he would. She trusted him. Ron was talking to some women over by the steps that led downstairs. They seemed familiar to Susan, at least one she was almost certain, but she couldn't quite remember where she'd met them before. During a trip to Toronto, maybe? Yeah, maybe at T. Trek in July. It would have been polite and walk over and say hi, but she really didn't feel like moving. So she waited, glancing around the room, until a waiter came by, his uniform consisting of a club T-shirt and a brown adventurer's fedora. "What can I get you?" Susan looked down for her purse, then realized she didn't have one. Nor did she have any money. Nick said he'd take care of-- The waiter smiled, seeming to understand her distress. "That's all right, everything's covered during the private party. Even the tip." "Well, that's thoughtful. I'll have an Amaretto. And do you still have that chocolate pie thing with the ice cream?" "Yes, we do." The waiter scribbled down her order. "You're gonna start with dessert, then? No dinner?" "I think I've eaten--" She hesitated, remembering that she eaten anything before leaving Ron's apartment-- where they'd been hiding her--even though both Nick and Ron had insisted on it. She'd been too nervous about . . . maybe this a trap after all? "Just the ice cream," she told the waiter, after a pause. Settling back against the seat as he moved away, Susan wondered momentarily just how much Toronto PD detectives made. Nick couldn't be fronting the money for this party. Maybe this was someone else's party . . . . After a time, Ron wandered back. He pulled a chair out from the table and turned it around, then sat down and leaned his hands on the back of it. "How are you doing?" "Okay, I guess." The waiter arrived and placed her drink on the table, then the chocolate pie. Before he could move away, Ron held up his hand. "A Newcastle--half a yard. And one of the house specialty--straight up." The waiter hesitated a moment, his smile suddenly growing grim. Then he nodded and walked away. Susan picked up her fork and pried a wedge of chocolate from the pie--it looked like a shark fin. "You want some?" "Me?" Ron said in surprise, then grinned. "No. But thanks for asking. You still nervous?" "A little." She picked at the pie with her fork. "But I know you and Nick will protect me. I'm just not sure what's going to happen. I'm not even really sure who this--this-- Dorian- -" was the name. "Who this Dorian is and what he wants with me. I mean, if he collects information, what could know?" "You mean . . . that he already doesn't?" Ron looked away as the waiter walked up. The waiter put down the half-yard of ale--the glass nothing more than a long test-tube with a bulb at the end, which rested in a wooden holder--and another glass with red liquid in it. Ron withdrew a couple of bills from his pocket and pressed them into the waiter's hand as he pointed to the red-filled glass, "And keep `em coming." He picked up the glass from the table and sipped at it, then frowned slightly. "Ugh--what an aftertaste! Janette's stuff is usually better than this. Probably gave us the bad end of the stock on the off chance Nick dropped the choir boy routine and fell off the wagon. Although this crap would put him right back on it." "Nick's . . . got a drinking problem, doesn't he?" asked Susan hesitantly. "He thinks he does. Me--I don't think it's so much a matter of you drink, but who." The answer didn't make any sense, but Susan shrugged it off and picked up her glass. She sipped at the Amaretto for a second or two. "You want to try this?" asked Ron, as he picked up the half yard of ale from its holder. Susan frowned and shivered. "Beer? Uck! Sharon's been trying to find one that I can actually drink, but it all tastes the same to me--disgusting." She glanced over at the other glass. "I'd like to try that, though." Ron chuckled. "Yeah, on a bet, maybe." Then, when she didn't share his joke, his eyes widened slightly. "You're serious?" "Why not?" "It's the real stuff, not the animal crap Nick drinks." He carefully returned the half-yard of ale to its holder--Susan vaguely remembered something about having to put a deposit down before they'd serve the larger glasses--and stared at her suspiciously. "You said you weren't interested in being brought across. What was it--'I'd rather see than be one?'" Again, he wasn't making any sense. Susan just shrugged. "If you don't want to share, I'll just order one and try it. As long as it's free--" "No. No. That's okay." Still hesitant, Ron picked up the glass and handed it to her. "Just . . . just try a sip. And have a napkin handy--I didn't think to bring any spare clothes and this stuff stains like a bitch." Susan took the glass with a slight smile, not understanding his hesitancy. She sniffed at it--it had a very odd smell and seemed thick. Maybe it was a version of a Bloody Mary. That wouldn't be bad, because she liked tomato juice . . . . The smell had put her off and she decided to take Ron's advice and took only a small sip. Almost instantly she placed the glass on the table and picked up a napkin. Spitting the liquid out, she said, "God, what's that?" "It's what's in ." Susan picked up the Amaretto and took a large swallow, the fiery alcohol burning away the sour-salt taste of Ron's drink. Still shivering, she replaced her glass on the table then handed his back to him. "I'm definitely ordering one of those, even if somebody else paying for it. What's it called?" "Blood." Susan stared at him, then smiled, giving him credit--not everybody could hold a serious expression like that without breaking up. "Yeah, funny." She sipped her Amaretto again. "Must have celery juice in it. It has that kind of flavor." Ron rose a little from his chair and leaned across the table, staring into her eyes. "What?" she asked, suddenly alarmed. "What's wrong?" When she moved her head to see what was on the wall behind her, what he might be looking at, he caught her shoulder to stop her from turning. "Did Nick . . . uh, say anything to you on the way over here?" "On the way over--" Susan blinked. "No, I don't think so. We . . uh, we took a cab. Didn't we? I mean, I remember that you went ahead. And we . . . we must have taken a cab." Ron leaned forward in his chair and picked up the wine glass. He held it up to the candle on the table, as if watching the colors run through the glass. "He didn't try to hypnotize you, did he?" "Hypnotize?" Susan blinked again, then shook her head. "No, of course not! I mean, why would he do that? He's a cop, not a side-show performer." "Okay." Ron put down the glass very carefully--Susan had a feeling he was just short of slamming it to the table and shattering it. Then he rose to his feet. "I think old Nicky- boy and I should have a little one-on-one." "He went downstairs," said Susan, helpfully. Besides which, Ron was acting very strangely and she wasn't certain that she wanted to spend much more time in his company. Ron paused as he pushed in his chair, then looked over his shoulder. "But I can't leave you here alone, not like this. Not with the others--LaCroix has too many of them working with him. Damn!" Reaching across the table, Ron grabbed Susan's wrist. "You have to come with me." Panic flooded through her. Susan drew back, even as he tried to pull her to her feet. "No, I have to stay here. Nick said I have to stay here and I have to stay here!" When Ron released her suddenly, she fell back against the cushions of the booth and rubbed her wrist. "Nick said he'll be back in a while. Why don't you wait for him?" "Yeah. Maybe I'll do that. Maybe I'll just . . . do that." He stared at her for a moment longer, frowning, then gestured down at the table--her drink and his ale had spilled. "I'll have the waiter bring you up another drink and clean up this mess." "Just tea," said Susan, in a small voice, deciding that alcohol might be part of Ron's problem. As he righted the spilled yard of ale, she added, "At least it didn't break, so you won't have to pay to replace it." He picked up his wine glass from the table and met her eyes again. "I'm not so sure. If . . . if it broken, somebody's gonna pay. In spades." Susan shivered as Ron turned his back and walked away. For a moment, his eyes had seemed to go gold, the color of the ale that had spilled on the table. It was a trick of the light, of course--what with it being so dim in here, the candles and all this stuff on the walls causing reflections- - When the waiter returned with a cloth and a new paper mat for the table, Susan helped him clean up as best she could and settled back in the corner of her booth with her cup of tea, declining the waiter's offer to move to another table. Nick had told her to stay here and she'd stay here. But she was just as glad that Ron remained with his back to her, glaring down the stairwell. The Enforcer Makes His Move By Ronni Katz Nick, you little shit, Ron thought to himself. Hypnotizing Susan *was* a good idea, the Enforcer had to admit, but Nick did such a *clumsy* job of it that Dorian was sure to catch on. He would have to do something - and fast - before Karin and Jennise got there to escort Susan to her Interview. Ron turned back to look at Susan. Her back was to him and her attention was focused on her cupof tea. Ron *felt* Nick - he was downstairs and was in the midst of getting over a case of foot in mouth disease. The elder vampire also *saw* what had caused Nick to get so bent and smiled. That dress did look incredible! Natalie would be in danger from any vampyre that had no self-control, which was what had concerned Nick. Ron, on the other hand, could resist *that* tempation. However, there were other desires an outfit like that stirred in a man and the Enforcer quickly put *those* thoughts out of his head. Natalie *was* tempting and he had succumbed to her charms in the past but tonight he had to remain focused. The sound of fabric rustling caught his keen ears and Ron turned to see Susan adjusting the dress that was a size too large for her. The *real* dress was no doubt on its way - she was supposed to be *dressed to kill* for her Interview. And the Killee was to be Dorian! The Enforcer went back to join Susan at the table. She hadn t heard him approach and jumped slightly when he sat down opposite her. God, Ron, you scared me! she told him. I didn t hear- I know, the Enforcer interrupted. This isn t going to make any sense but you will have to trust me, okay? She looked at him puzzled and he continued, I know I asked you before if Nick hypnotized you and you said no. Well, he did. She was about to protest and Ron continued quickly, Let me finish. He made your *forget* some things, classified information if you will, that, if you revealed you knew, could cost you your life. I knew classified secrets? she asked incredulous. Well...things that would have that heading in certain circles. And Nick made me *forget* these things? Ron nodded. Yes, but you ll get the memories back *after* the Intrerview. What you have to let me do, though, is fine tune what Nick did to you. His technique is, well, *obvious*. And will be detected by Dorian, which could cost *both* of you your lives. I want to help but, to do so, you have to let me. How? Relax and just look into my eyes.... Susan did what he asked. As she looked into his deep green eyes they appeared to change color, going from sea-green to emerald to a bright glittering gold. The odd compulsion she had to stay where she was faded and so did the desire to listen to Nick and Nick alone - although his words would be ones she would heed first *but* the choice to obey him would be hers. Her will was her own again but the memories that had to be kept masked were deeply buried in her unconscious. After the fine tuning was done, Ron set the release trigger in an obvious place - Clueless the Vampyre would *never* find an encrypted trigger! - and, once Nick tripped the switch, so to speak, Susan would get back all that information she used to write her *wonderful* stories. More tea? the waited asked. Susan looked up at him feeling a little disoriented for a second before shaking her head no. She looked across at Ron, who smiled slightly, and then gazed around the room. She felt much more relaxed - the butterflies were still there but a *lot* less active - and she *knew* Ron had done *something* to her but what it was she wasn t certain. The waiter looked at The Enforcer asking, Another yard? A bottle of the *special* and bring the lady with the test tubes full of alcohol around. I *need* a drink, Ron told him and the waiter left. Test tubes? Susan inquired. Yeah, a babe decked out like a mad scientist walks around caarying a rack full of test tubes that have in them these potions that are basically pure alcohol with some flavoring to fool you into thinking you are safe until...well, until you ve had too many and by then it s too late! Susan chuckled softly. Her excpression demurred and she asked, What did you do to me? Nothing. Just a little relaxation technique I picked up while studying *Escrima stick fighting* in the Phillipines, he explained, then added when he noticed her unsure expression, It s a martial-arts thing. Centering yourself. If you ve ever seen Kung Fu on TV- I get the idea, she said. I didn t know you were into that stuff. Have to be. Self-defense was an important part of the training I had for my current position, he told her. Although, I have to admit, I am a better shot than I am a street fighter. Susan was about to comment when she spied two young women approaching out of the corner of her eye. Ron saw them as well. It was Karin and Jennise and they appeared to be carrying something in a box. Well, thought the Enforcer, I think it s time for Cinderella to get ready for the ball.... Treachery Afoot? By Sandra Gray I watched Nick approach Natalie. Gee, where had she gotten the gorgeous dress? I moved forward a little to try to get a better view. Natalie seemed embarrassed, then looked angry. She turned on her heel (a bit unsteadily) and stalked away from Nick. After a moment Nick strode off after her. He caught up with her. Then suddenly Janette was there. I frowned, wondering what she wanted here. To complain about the Knighties? I wondered whether I should try to get closer and see if I could hear what they were talking about. Some people passed in front of me and when I could see them again, Nick was looking at Natalie. Funny, but his eyes looked... Janette looked at Nick and he dropped his head, his hands going to his eyes. But soon he dropped his hands and walked over to the bar. Before long the bartender set a glass of blood before him, which he downed in one gulp. Then he motioned for another. He drank the second drink a little slower, then walked back to Janette and Natalie. The three of them headed for the back of the club. Was it something to do with Susan? I looked back to the stairs, wondering whether I should go back up and try to speak to Ron the Enforcer and Susan. I really wanted to talk to Susan--tell her how much I'd enjoyed her stories. Maybe I could find out why Nick and Ron had brought her here. A black woman was ascending the stairs with a large garment bag. She looked familiar. Then I remembered her-- Jennise, LaCroix's scriptwriter in the summer war. What was she doing here? And why was she going upstairs? Susan! She was here to try to get Susan! I moved toward the stairs warily and started up them. I unzipped my handbag so I could easily get at the protections I had there (just in case). Although surely the Enforcer would be able to handle the younger vampires. When I entered the Cannibal Cafe, it was to see the Enforcer in conversation with Jennise and two other women, one of whom had another garment bag. Then they approached Susan and she rose from her seat. What was the meaning of this? Was Ron the Enforcer really an enemy instead of a friend? The Enforcer turned and looked at me. And in the blink of an eye, he was beside me. "Relax, Sandra. They're only here to dress Susan for the Interview." "But I thought you were supposed to be protecting her from Dorian," I said, watching as Jennise and her companions took Susan into the bathroom. My hand closed around the teakwood knife in my purse. "We are. Nick's--taken care of Susan and I've-- refined a bit on it. Don't try it." I looked at him. You can't possibly get that knife out fast enough." He paused, then smiled and said, "Trust me. I'm on *your* side--or should I say *Nick's* side in this. I won't let Dorian harm Susan." I wondered whether to trust what he said. "Look, if you're concerned, stick around and watch. You'll see. No one's leaving here until Nick returns. But Susan will be `dressed to kill' for her Interview." He grinned. I looked toward the bathroom door. "Do you mind if I--" "I don't. They might." I stepped carefully away from the Enforcer and walked over to the bathroom door. I took a breath and opened it. "Um, you might want to try the downstairs bathroom," said Jennise. "We're trying to get dressed here." It *was* cramped in there, what with four women amid what looked like a profusion of silk. I nodded and shut the door again. "Join me for a drink?" came the Enforcer's voice behind me. I was startled by his silent and quick movement to my side. We were of a similar height--almost eye to eye. He wore tinted aviator glasses and his eyes...looked a bit odd somehow. I looked away from them and at his attire. He was dressed in leather; his pants particularly snug. I quickly looked back at his face. "Sure," I said. He took me by the elbow and lead me over to a booth seat. A glass of red liquid sat on the table. He motioned to a waiter and ordered two beers. After the waiter left, Ron said, "What can I say to convince you I'm on your side?" "I have no idea why you are--if you are." Ron picked up his glass of--blood--and looked at it. His eyes took on a touch of gold. "I've got a score to settle with the Archivist," he said grimly. Then he took a drink. The action was both arousing and repulsive. I shivered and looked away. If he was being honest with me, I didn't have anything to worry about. If not...well, I hoped I hadn't wandered into a very BAD situation. Karin and Jennise Make a Delivery By Karin Welss "Turn here!" Karin ordered, intently studying the map clutched in her hand. The rental Honda swerved around yet another triple- parked car, darted in the narrow gap between a taxi and a Lincoln TownCar, veered around the corner, and sped down a narrow, tree-lined street in Greenwich Village. "Turn right at the next intersection," Karin continued, looking up briefly as Jennise hit the brakes, and squeezed the car through the approximately six inches of space left by two double-parked cars. "Are we getting close?" Jennise muttered, her hands white- knuckled around the steering wheel. "Jeez, and I thought that driving down 880 was an adventure. Where did these people learn to drive? And why did they even to paint lanes-- no one pays any attention to them anyway." "Oh, stop complaining," Karin said cheerily, no longer showing any effects from her ill-advised snack on Lisa Merlin McDavid. "The tracking device and my map both tell me that Susan's in one of the pubs. Sounds like she managed to talk the Brick-- er, Nick-- into letting her show up for the Interview, after all." "You mean I can stop driving soon?" Jennise asked hopefully. "I'm swear I'm sweating blood. This traffic is vicious. Like, take no prisoners." Karin looked up, then squinted back at her map. Vampire vision was a plus when trying to follow directions at night. "I'd say, if you spot a parking place around here somewhere, grab it. We can't be more than three or four blocks away from the Slaughtered Lamb... and the Jeckyll & Hyde's just around the corner from there." Luckily for the two vampires, a car just ahead of them vacated a place on the crowded street. Jennise expertly backed the Honda into the tight parking space with an audible sigh of relief. As the two women climbed out of the car, into the mild, misty Halloween night, Jennise tossed Karin the keys. "Here," she said firmly. "I got us here. You can drive us back to the airport... afterwards." Karin poked her head into the back seat of the Honda, where a very pale Sally Norton was uncramping her fingers from the back of Karin's seat. Neither of the vampires had heard more than an occasional whimper from the back seat during their wild ride from New Jersey, through the rain- slicked streets of New York. "I think you finally found a way to shut me up," Sally said shakily, as she climbed out of the car. "Fine," said Karin, opening the trunk of the car, and hauling out the first of two bulky garment bags. "I'm used to driving in this kind of traffic-- goes along with having the commute from Hell." She turned and thrust the large bundle into Jennise's arms. "Here, you carry the walking dress. I'll get the Worth ballgown." "Don't drop it," ordered Sally, pushing back her thick golden mane, and pointing at Jennise. "I spent a -- night and day, no sleep-- sewing that gown. Thank goodness for espresso." "And off we go..." said Jennise, sourly. "I just hope that Susan's really at the pub." * * * A quick check of the Slaughtered Lamb, with its full-moon banner displayed on the street corner, yielded no sign of Susan Garrett. Plenty of Cousins and wanna-bes, though. "On to the Jeckyll & Hyde, then," said Karin, shifting the bulky garment bag in her arms. She was rewarded by the rustle of silk satin, and a stern glare from Sally. Sally angrily snatched the bag out of Karin's arms. "How you!" Sally squeaked indignantly. "It's getting all scrunched." Karin shrugged. "Whatever." And strode hastily away as Sally exploded. "Whatever! A week of my life, and she says, `whatever'!" Jennise snickered, but was very careful not to scrunch the walking dress she carried. "And you," Sally whirled around to glare at the black vampiress. "had better stop snickering, or I'll put in pink polyester!!" * * * True to the directions, the Jeckyll&Hyde was just around the next block. Karin grinned as she looked up and saw the row of jauntily hatted skeletons sitting on the pub's roof. Loud music drifted out of the large, open windows, and several Goth- looking people were sitting outside at the sidewalk tables, enjoying the unseasonably mild if somewhat wet weather, and watching the crowds. There was a large sign at the entrance to the pub. CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY, it read. "I'm sorry," the handsome blond guy staffing the front door began to say as they walked up. "But this is--" "-- a private party," Jennise took a deep breath, and caught the man's eyes in her own amber gaze, matching her heartbeat to his. "And we're invited guests," she suggested, exerting her vampire powers. "And you're invited guests," echoed the blond, vacantly. He stepped aside, and waved them in. "The hostess will seat you--" "No problem," Karin said, as she walked by. "We'll be joining a friend of ours. No need to bother." They entered the candlelit pub with its amazing collection of old bones, stuffed animal heads, African masks, and general oddities. Karin looked up to see a sign pointing the way up a set of stairs to the "Cannibal Cafe"-- and her eyes encountered the golden-red glare of a angry vampire standing at the top of the staircase. Karin gasped, and reached out to dig her fingers into Jennise's shoulder, hauling her around. Karin pointed at the vampire, a slim man with a mustache. "Who's ?" "I might ask the same of you." In an eyeblink, the vampire was standing in front of them. Sally jumped, startled, and Jennise put a steady hand on her arm. "We're friends of Susan Garrett's," Karin said, firmly, meeting his red-gold gaze with her own clear hazel one. "We know she's here. And we're here to make sure that she shows up for her Interview-- appropriately attired. Who are you?" The male vampire smiled sardonically. "I'm Romulus-- an Enforcer. You can call me Ron." "Shit." Jennise said distinctly. "An Enforcer. Dorian's gonna kill us." "We need to talk," Ron and Karin said simultaneously. * * * After ten minutes of intense whispered discussion, during which Karin and Ron managed to come to an agreement of sorts about Susan's Interview, Ron led them all upstairs to the Cannibal Cafe. Susan was sitting at one of the tables, toying with the remains of a chocolate mousse cake and ice cream, looking inutterably bored. She looked up, somewhat glassy-eyed, when she saw Karin, Jennise, and Sally coming towards her. "Karin!" she said, waving vaguely in their direction. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" Karin shot a cautious glance at Ron before replying, remembering what he'd told her about Nick's heavy- handed use of his vampiric coercion and hypnotic powers. "Uh, Nick kinda let us know where you were," she said, settling on a half-truth, and exerting a touch of her own vampire hypnotism. "You forgot your costume, and so we decided to come to the party and bring them with us. Jennise and I have brought Sally along to help you dress and do your hair." "Costume?" Susan frowned. "Oh, yeah, right. Dorian's throwing a costume party at the Slaughtered Lamb. I remember now." Fuzzy thoughts swam slowly though Susan's mind. If Nick had let Karin and Jennise know where they were, then it must be okay. Nick's hypnotic suggestion whispered comfortingly in her head. <"This isn't going to work,"> Karin muttered at Ron and Jennise in a voice too low for mortal ears to overhear. <"We can't possibly send her to Dorian when she's been whammied by Nick."> <"Don't worry,"> Ron assured them. <"I've got a plan."> Jennise thought, biting her lower lip. She only hoped that Ron's plans wouldn't mess up Pop's little scheme. It might get pretty ugly. Meanwhile, Sally was urging Susan towards the ladies' room, cleverly concealed behind fake bookcases. "But I can't get dressed now," Susan was protesting. "I just had all that cake and ice cream!" "That's what corsets are for, my dear," Sally said in a no- nonesense tone, just before the two of them vanished behind a bookcase. Karin, Jennise, and Ron sat down to hammer out a game plan for Nick's return. One at a Time By Susan Garrett Janette hurried behind Tara, for once finding her heels troublesome as she dashed down the steps from the Jeckyll and Hyde and into the tunnels beneath the streets of Greenwich Village. She disliked rushing--centuries had taught her that little was ever gained by tearing about in a mindless frenzy. Well, then again, there had been that one night Nicola had chased her through Prague . . . . Her enjoyment of the memory was crushed as the edge of her heel slipped through the wrought iron of the spiral steps that led from the tunnels up to the club her followers now inhabited, the Jack the Ripper. "Who ever decided that I should be stuck with this tiny, hole-filled, cracker box of a club--" Tara looked down over the wrought iron railing, several steps above her. "I think Valerie suggested it." Janette yanked her heel from the metal slot that had captured it and very carefully made her way up the steps. "The red-head, wasn't it? One of Natalie's chicks?" Tara nodded as she stood to one side, holding the door open for Janette. "Yes." Janette reached out and ran her fingernail lightly along Tara's cheek. "You seem inclined toward mischief tonight. Do you think you can avenge this slight, taking Miklos away from his duties?" she asked lightly, as Tara's eyes gleamed. "He's been attacked once tonight and we're busy." "You know me." Tara shrugged, wearing a studied air of indifference. "There be something I can come up with--" "Then go and have your fun." Janette sighed as she stepped through the secret entrance into the small club, knowing that Tara would take care of the matter. She stood to one side and let the Ravenette slip by her and pass into the throng, then paused for a moment and contemplated her current domain. It small, but the size meant there was an intimacy in her club that the others seemed to lack--too intimacy, from the look of some of her Ravens and Ravenettes. She'd have to put a stop to that . . . after a while. The dance floor was busy, the tables were packed, and the bar-- He was at the bar. Janette touched her hair lightly and licked her lips, then made her way through the crowd that ebbed and flowed between the tables, the dance floor, and the bar. They parted before her, those who knew not to cross her pulling aside the newcomers who weren't quick enough to get out of her way. She graced some of her old and new followers with a smile or a word, making note that some were absent- -probably up to deviltry at the other clubs. Well, it would be good for them to have their fun, now. Who knew what might happen before the evening was over. This might be the last time they might meet so safely, in the open. Which was one of the reasons the news she'd received of the interest in her followers, and those of the others, so distressed her. Mortals require a certain amount of maintenance, but one grew fond of them after a time. She would miss their little gatherings at The Raven, their plots and plans during war time, the amusing phone calls, the tragic love affairs, the shopping triumphs . . . and the stories. The stories, perhaps, most of all. And that was why she had to be at her best, she had to make this work. If she could make them all see and understand why they should protect the followers they'd gathered . . . well, they could continue to have their fun, couldn't they? That's what it was all about, wasn't it? Fun? Dorian looked up--he'd sensed her before he saw her. His dark eyes widened slightly and, she hoped, appreciatively, at the sight of her. He raised his glass and inclined his head slightly, but she waved at him, indicating that he should stay where he was. The corner of the bar that he'd found was furthest from the rattle and boom of the dance floor or the cacophonous chatter of her followers. Miklos had a glass waiting for her. Dorian lifted it from the bar and placed it in her hand. "Expanding your business?" he asked, gesturing at the decor. "A rental, for the night only." Janette leaned back against the bar, standing quite close to him. She lifted her glass and sipped at it, doing a much better job of pretended disinterest than Tara had managed. But then, she'd had more practice . . . . "I expected you some time ago." "I'm surprised that you expected me at all." When she glanced up, she saw that Dorian's eyes had narrowed as he looked at her. "I've an interview at The Slaughtered Lamb, but my assistants appear to be behind schedule. I heard someone say that you were in charge over here and thought I'd come by to pay my respects." She managed a charming smile. "How thoughtful." Then she glanced down at his suit, her fingernail trailing along his tie. "It explain why you aren't dressed for the party." "I don't attend parties," he answered carefully. "But you used to. And quite often." He sipped from his glass, but she felt his eyes still watching her. "Not for a long time," he said, after a pause. "Our parties. Mortal parties. You could be such a social butterfly back then." Janette touched a finger to her lips and frowned as if trying to remember. "Let me see, when was that last one. Italy, I think--" "You knew about my interview at The Slaughtered Lamb." There was a click of glass on wood as he placed the glass of blood on the bar. Janette raised her hand, gesturing behind her so that Miklos wouldn't come by and top off their glasses. She turned to face Dorian. "I your interview at The Slaughtered Lamb." Dorian raised an eyebrow. "My assistants said--" "Not the where . . . the who." Janette tilted her head and swayed slightly, letting the music catch her. "Susan is one of mine." "One of . . . yours?" Dorian followed her gesture toward the rest of the club, then nodded. "Ah, I see. One of your ." "One of my Ravenettes," corrected Janette, with just a touch of pride. Then, she sobered. "We seem to have a problem." "Yes, I agree. Your story-teller--" Janette waved her hand, dismissing the matter of Susan. "Not just her. The lot of them." Dorian reached past her to pick up his glass and shook his head. "I knew it would come to this. You've been too public, too lenient with them. You tell them too much. Your followers--" "And yours," said Janette, with a sharp smile. "Mine?" Dorian's eyes opened incredulously. "Of course." She gestured out over the club. "There are a few, here and there. You spend so much time with mortals and you don't understand--they love a sad story. And your stories tend to be among the saddest." As he shook his head in disbelief, Janette touched his shoulder lightly, half-slipping behind him as she gestured at the crowd again. "Yes, Dorian, even have your followers. And we must find some way to protect them from this new threat." "We?" He turned his head to look at her. "You and I?" "And the others. LaCroix." His head turned to look back across the club and she leaned her chin on her shoulder, whispering in his ear. "Nicola, of course. And his Natalie . . . ." "Na--Dr. Lambert is ?" asked Dorian, arching his neck, as if scanning the crowd for her. Janette slapped his shoulder lightly and bit back her smile- - she wondered what Dorian would think when he saw the Natalie created for the evening. "Not here. Another club. But she'll be attending the meeting." "The meeting." Dorian glanced down at his watch. "I have an interview--" "You said they're late. You have some time to kill." She stepped away from him and picked up her glass from the bar. "It might even change your perspective on things." Dorian picked up his own glass from the bar and ran the stem through his fingers. Then, as if on impulse, he tossed back the remaining blood in the glass and nodded toward her. "Shall we go, then?" Smiling, Janette took his hand and started back toward the tunnel entrance, pleased that she'd made her first conquest of the evening. . . and had the first piece of her solution almost in place. Odds and Ends By Tara "LJC" O'Shea Tara was deep in thought. Since Janette had charged her with meeting out a suitable punishment for the size of the Ripper (considering the Ravens were the largest group, it had been particularly uncomfortable in the smallest pub), she had been wracking her brain trying to think of something clever, fitting, and fast. Feeling just a little guilty (after all, as a rule the NatPackers don't attack, hence revenge seemed a bit harsh) LJC squelched as much of her conscience as she could as she took stock of her situation. Standing with her back against the wall of the tunnel, noise from all three pubs mingling and echoing around her, she decided to settle for two out of three. Fast it was, then. First, there was the matter of the suitcases propped rather conspiciously against the wall in the J&H. That would be simple. Next was Valerie her- self. She must be made to feel just as uncomfortable as the Ravens, and in the volumous satin outfit, that too should be simple. Ducking into the J&H, Tara prayed for invisibility as she peered through the semi-darkness, pleased to note Amy and Jennie were over by the bar, admiring Nat's outfit, and Valerie was heading for the ladies room. Falling in behind her a few steps, Tara waited until she had stepped inside, and tiptoeing in, slipped a chair under the doornob, and reached for the light switch. "Hey!" Valerie cried out as the room was pitched into darkness. She reached for the stall door, but it wouldn't budge. Starting to mutter and swear, she was taken aback completely as about a bucket of warm water poured down on her from above, and as she shook with anger and sudden chills, there was a flash of light, and thens he was back in darkness, the sound of the door slamming echoing in her ears. Outside, LJC hung a "Out of Order" sign that had been stored beneath the sink over the sign on the door, and pulled the masking tape between the door out, hearing the satisfying click as the door locked from the inside. Until Val could get the chair wedged against the stall door pushed away, and unlok the room from the inside, the door couldn't be opened fromt he outside, and no-one would be able to hear her yells above the music. The uncomfortable part completed, LJC then quickly located Val's suitcase with all her nice warm, clean clothes, and inching along the wall to the front door, slipped out into the chilly New York night to hand the suitcase off to Angel at the door of the Ripper, who secured it in the upstairs office. Smiling the two Ravens went back downstairs to see how the rest of the evening unfolded, Tara's eyes dancing in anticipation of reporting to Janette everything was taken care of, all the odds and ends wrapped up. Water and Sabotage and Theft, Oh My! By Amy Hull and Jennie Hayes "Wow, Nat looks *great*," Jennie enthused as Nat walked away. "Yeah, she does; it's a great color, and she should do her hair and wear makeup like that more often!" Amy agreed. "I hope she didn't get offended or uncomfortable when I first met her. I mean, `What are you wearing?' was just my instinctive response--she looked great, but I *never* expected to see her wearing something like that; it's just not something I'd think she'd agree to." "And she didn't," Valerie observed. "True," Amy and Jennie chorused, then glanced at each other, smiling over the stereo effect. "I'm going to make a bathroom run, guys," Valerie said. Amy and Jennie watched Valerie walk away and then sat quietly sipping their drinks for a moment. "Go, go, Power Rangers," Jennie began to sing quietly. "Don't!" Amy pleaded. "I *hate* that song; it's bad enough that it's playing on a continuous loop with the other bad songs, but *please* don't join in. I don't think I can handle that right now." "Sorry," Jennie said contritely, surprised at the strength of Amy's reaction, "it's the repetition, I don't think I'll get that song out of my head for weeks now!" "You know, it's weird, too," Amy added. "I could deal with Power Rangers if it weren't for that music. I can even handle the worse-than-Doctor-Who-effects, but that music just irritates me too badly for words." "I can see that." "I wish we could shut this system off." Amy said, looking around as if an off switch might present itself if she were vigilant enough. "Well," Jennie began conspiratorially, "we could try to MacGyverise it off; I do have my Swiss Army Knife along." "Yeah, *and* the entire contents of my purse." "Yeah! Here, give me that," Jennie said, reaching for the purse. "Let's see what you've got and what we can use." "Well, I've got a nail file, nail clippers, paper clips, safety pins...." Amy continued the list for some time as they emptied the contents of her large and ugly black purse on the bar and rooted through for useful equipment for sabotaging electronics. Noting the high volume of useful stuff, Jennie stuffed it all back in the bag and began to walk to where she had left her purse with the luggage; they hadn't been very worried about theft because although this *was* New York City, it was also a small pub being guarded largely by Knighties--the helpful type who would stop a thief, and NatPackers--the type who would help confront a scary person and get help from the Knighties to apprehend the offender. Amy followed Jennie a few steps, the touched Jennie's arm. "Valerie's been gone for quite a while now. Do you think you can handle the MacGyverising alone?" Jennie nodded. "Okay, then I'm going to go see if Valerie's fallen in or something." Amy grinned and headed toward the restrooms. Jennie shooed some Jeckyl & Hyde patrons off the luggage--it had been rapidly converted into extra furniture some hours before--and found her own purse sandwiched between two suitcases. As she hauled it out of the heap, she realized something looked odd. It took her fully two minutes of staring to realize that the pile had decreased in size. Jennie took quick inventory and determined that Valerie's suitcase seemed to be the one missing. No one, not even the folks sitting on the suitcases, seemed to have seen it leave. "Well, it didn't just get up and walk away on it's own!" Jennie declared in frustration. "You never know, do you?" one of the patrons asked with a supremely innocent look. Jennie just shook her head. They would have to deal with the pub having lost the luggage later. //Still,//Jennie thought absently, //it's probably still in the area, so this *is* better than the airlines losing the suitcase or sending it to Transylvania or something.// Shaking her head quickly, Jennie began to evaluate the layout of the room and guess where the controls to the sound system might be located. "Valerie?" Amy called. Valerie didn't seem to be find-able *any*where. Amy had tried the bathroom, but it said `Out of Order', and she didn't really think that Valerie would have struck off on a campaign against another faction without at least letting someone know where she was going. "Valllllll-erie!" The fruitless search was soon aided by sudden silence falling in the rest of the pub; the sound system had stopped playing the Power Rangers theme. "Thank you, Jennie,"Amy breathed. It was a full minute later that Amy simultaneously processed that there was no other music playing either and that she was hearing a voice from the direction of the bathroom. She turned to see Valerie emerging from the room. Valerie's dress was wet all over and hung in a strange formation about the still-stiff crinolines. Her hair was drenched and plastered to her head, neck, and face, and her eyeliner was dripping down her cheeks. "Valerie??" Amy asked. "What happened to you??!??" "Someone locked me in and poured water over my head." Amy began to giggle. Valerie just glared at her until Amy gasped out, "I'd have thought that after the last time you got water thrown on you in costume you wouldn't wear that kind of eyeliner anymore...." Valerie grinned and headed back into the bathroom to check herself out in the mirror. When she saw her reflection, she laughed too. "Let's go get you dry clothes,"Amy suggested. As they headed for the main section of the pub she asked, "Do you know who locked you in?" "Not a clue. I don't even know which faction would want me." Jennie was waiting for the pair when they entered the main room, wearing a wry expression. She handed Amy her purse. "This came in handy. Thanks. I used several of the paper clips and I took your wallet apart, but everything else is intact. I'm out a pair of copper earrings, though. The sound system isn't gonna do that song anymore, but we have a problem..... What *happened* to you???" she interrupted herself as she finally noticed Valerie. "Bucket of water. Could have been worse--could have been ice water; this was at least a little warm." Valerie shrugged. "I'll just grab clothes and change. "Uh, that's the problem," Jennie replied. "Your suitcase has vanished." "What do you mean--vanished?" Amy asked. "I mean it's not with the rest of our luggage. I think someone took it. Any idea who, Valerie?" "No. I was just telling Amy I don't even know who got me with the water. I suspect it's the same person, though." "Well, let's get you some dry clothes anyway," Amy said, quickly crossing the room and plunking herself gracelessly on the floor in front of her suitcase. She rooted through the clothes and extracted her list shirt, ready with it's safety pin in the "NatPack" box, and a red, heavy slip that had never been finished and had an adjustable elastic waist. "Let's get you changed." The three went to the restrooms together so they could keep guard and prevent further attacks. Valerie changed fairly quickly and looked her regular self in the over-sized t-shirt. "This is kind of cold," she commented as a draft blew through the hallway. "And that's all I have since I left my big white sweater at school Friday," Amy apologized. They went back to the main room and stuffed the damp dress in the suitcase, returning the bag to the person who had taken it up as a perch. Almost immediately, they attracted Nat's attention. "Valerie, you changed....you're *wet*." Nat commented. "Yeah. A prank. I don't know who did it." "What's on the back of your shirt?" Nat asked; she had seen Valerie's back for a moment before she spoke. Valerie turned around, "Affiliations. This has yours checked off." "NatPack?" Nat giggled. "That sounds so silly...." "But it's so descriptive!" Amy's eyes widened as she noticed Janette entering the Jeckyll & Hyde. "Uh, we gotta go." She nudged Jennie's elbow and pointed. "Oh, yeah, and you probably need to go greet the recent arrivals," Jennie told Nat, who looked suspicious but went to head them off anyhow. Jennie turned back to the other two. "So, should we go look for Valerie's suitcase?" "It's payback time." Valerie looked like she was going to enjoy this. Two to Get Ready By Susan Garrett Janette led Dorian through the secret door at the back of the club and was assaulted almost instantly by a fishy smell. "Are you that close to sea-level?" asked Dorian, with a slight smile. "I'd hate to ruin these shoes--" "I'll have it attended to." Janette passed through the secret door and down the steps, avoiding the bits of fresh fish that were scattered along the spiral staircase and pooled at the floor. She cleared her throat and said lightly, "Mortal pranks. They keep us amused." "Amused? And is that . . . is that tuna?" Dorian slipped past her, then gallantly offered her his hand, assisting her down the last of the tricky and slippery wrought iron steps. "Janette, you tend to live dangerously." She forced a smile and he gestured for her to lead on. It wasn't far to the large central chamber, where the three tunnels met. Janette placed her hands on the table and looked around at the stone walls and shields. "What do you think?" "A bit too open for my tastes. Three exits . . . or entrances?" She moved quickly to one of the stone walls and tugged on an iron ring at about the height of her neck. The section that appeared to be part of the brick work was actually a fake length of brick, running floor to ceiling, which served as the edge of a heavy wooden wall. Janette tugged it easily across the tunnel until it met and locked against the far wall. She walked back the length of it, to the hole near the slot from which it had appeared--it formed a natural doorway, with the crossbeam running straight to hold up the wall. "There's one there," she pointed to the wall to his left, "and there," indicating the wall to his right. Janette walked to stand beside him. "It forms a triangle. There's a door into the enclosure in that wall, while these holes allow passage through the tunnel." "Ingenious." Dorian walked over to the wall. "A traitor's paradise." He ran his hand against the wood, smiling thoughtfully. "How many secrets this room has held . . . ." Then he turned toward Janette. "If I may, I'd like to use this for my interview, later?" She shrugged. "As you wish." Glancing back toward the tunnel that led to the Ripper, she sighed. "Would you mind if I left you here a moment? I have an errand--" "Certainly. I'll--I'll just assemble the rest of the room." "Thank you." Turning, Janette dashed for the spiral staircase, knowing the hidden walls would keep Dorian busy for a few minutes. She'd counted on him falling victim to the male fascination with toys and was pleased to not be proven wrong. Grabbing the handrail securely, she made her way up the spiral staircase. There had been a few pranks already this night and she was beginning to doubt the wisdom of allowing their followers free access through the tunnels. It should be all right, just as long as no one started playing with fire. Janette rather want her deposits back on all three clubs, although she'd known it was a faint hope at best for the club in which the Cousins and LaCroix resided. Once she passed through the closet and out into The Ripper, she looked around quickly. Angel was nowhere to be seen--damn the girl. She'd proven to be so useful, too. Turning, she caught a flash of light-colored cloth from the corner of her eye and grabbed the girl's forearm. "Kat, is it?" "Yes." Kat met her eyes steadily, then looked down at the cream-colored dress she was wearing. "I thought I might be different this evening." "Yes, well, a crowd needs variety, now and again." Janette pointed toward the bar. "Tell Miklos to give you a few bottles--I'm having a meeting downstairs. I'll need--" Janette straightened thoughtfully for a moment. "Hmn--I'll need at least four straight, three mixed with wine, two cow for Nicola, and . . . oh, a diet-something for his mortal friend. Glasses, of course. Napkins." She waved her hand, dismissing the obvious details. "Take them downstairs to the center room." "Nine bottles? Janette, I'm--uh--going to need some help." "Then get one of the Ravens to assist you. They seem fit enough. Too-fit, by half." Shaking her head and sighing, Janette gestured toward the bar. "Go on, and quickly. Talking is thirsty work. And although Nicola has some reservations about feeding from mortals, LaCroix and Dorian do ." Kat nodded solemnly, getting her meaning quickly. "I'll take care of it." "Good." She reached out her hand, catching the girl's arm again, before she turned away. "And tell Miklos to send someone down to clean up those fish. They're . . . disgusting. Preferably the guilty parties--my Ravens and Ravenettes are all too well-dressed for such menial labor." She adjusted the v-neckline on Kat's dress, then nodded approvingly. "Go on." Grinning, Kat nodded. "Sure." That was one task accomplished. Janette turned back to the crowd of mortals and chose one, an auburn-haired young woman, wearing a red and black dress and silver jewelry. "Lorelei?" she called, using just enough volume to be heard over the crowd. She crooked her finger, then turned and moved back into the closet. It took the girl a moment to reach her--with all those bodies in the way. But she peered into the closet hesitantly. "Janette? You wanted something?" "I certainly do." She placed her arm around the girl's shoulder. "Now, you you've been asking Miklos too many questions lately, about what we are?" Janette heard the mortal's heart beat a little faster and Lorelei swallowed nervously. "It's--uh--research. I just needed to know some things--" "It's dangerous to know too much. Which is why we're having this little gathering." She sighed again. "But that doesn't concern you. What I'm going to do is give you a little test." "A . . . test?" asked Lorelei, in a small voice. Janette released her, pushing her back to arm's length, then placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I don't think you know Dorian. Or him." "I'm not really--" "He's the Archivist of the vampires." When Lorelei's eyes widened, Janette nodded. "Yes, he knows just about everything there is to know about us. He also has, or had, close ties to the Enforcers. Who take a dim view of mortals knowing about us." Lorelei swallowed again. "Yeah. That's what I've heard." "I need him to be . . . occupied for a few minutes, while I find Nicola and LaCroix. I'd like you to stay with him, talk with him." That small voice grew suddenly smaller. "Me?" "Nothing elaborate, don't try to impress him. Casual conversation. If you ask him questions, he might answer. Or he might ." Janette tapped her nails against the girl's neck significantly and smiled at the shiver she gave in response. "Don't forget, he eats little girls like you for breakfast. You may ask what you'd like, but if you ask him the wrong question--" Shrugging, she walked away. "I couldn't protect you." Janette glanced over her shoulder at Lorelei. "Are you still interested?" "The Archivist of the vampires?" Lorelei licked her lips, her heartbeat thundering in Janette's ears. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like to. It would be great for my research project. I'd never find stuff like this anywhere else." "Good. Very good." Janette grabbed her wrist quickly and hurriedly pulled her through the hidden doorway and out to the staircase. "Mind the fish--they're a bit slippery." She'd given the girl no chance to catch her breath. Lorelei hurried behind her, unable to release Janette's hold on her wrist. It was best to do these things quickly, she knew, because mortals so often changed their minds. The girl would keep Dorian amused and not come to any harm . . . if she behaved herself. Better to discover that now, than wait until the Enforcers were pounding on the door of The Raven, wanting to know why one of her followers knew so much. When they reached the base of the stairs, Janette straightened her own dress, then touched up the girl's hair lightly with her fingers. "Don't be nervous," she said kindly. "Think of it as an adventure." "I'm not nervous," protested Lorelei. But her heart was still beating quickly. It was Janette's turn to swallow--she pushed the girl to arm's length, realizing how hungry she was. She'd been so busy, she hadn't fed yet. But she could drink her fill at the meeting . . . . Grabbing Lorelei's hand, she hurried down the corridor. Dorian had set up all three of the wooden walls. Janette led Lorelei around to the doorway, then held the girl back with a warning hand as she peered inside. He'd taken off his jacket and was in his shirt sleeves, running his hands along the joining of two of the walls. Then Dorian looked back quickly, giving Janette the grin of a satisfied child. "Definitely ingenious. I'm impressed. You must give me the name of the management, I'd love to use this place for local interviews." "Later," promised Janette. She entered, dropping her grasp on Lorelei and transferring a hand to the girl's shoulder. Dorian's eyes narrowed when he saw the newcomer and he returned to the chair over which he'd thrown his suit jacket. "Refreshments should be down shortly," said Janette, giving him a moment to recognize the girl as nothing more threatening than a mortal. "I'm working--" "I thought that might be the case. So I've ordered some mixed with wine and some straight." She glanced down at Lorelei. "I have to fetch the other guests, so I brought down one of my own to entertain you for a few moments. Lorelei, this is Dorian. She's very interested in us, you know." Dorian raised an eyebrow, then regarded the girl thoughtfully as he shook her hand. "A pleasure." "Yeah. It's uh, good to meet you, too." "I'll be back in a few minutes," said Janette, heading for the door. She paused there, saw that Dorian was pulling a chair from the table for his mortal guest, then headed out into the tunnels with a smile. He could be charming. She hoped that the girl remembered he also had fangs . . . . Dorian Gets Cornered By Lorelei Feldman Lorelei scrutinized the rather handsome-looking vampire in front of her. *So,* she thought, *this is Dorian. Oh great. NOW what do I say?* She'd been hoping to corner him all through the war, knowing that if anyone could help her out on her grad seminar assignment, he could. So now, here she was, she had him all to herself for a few minutes, and she just didn't know where to begin. Keep it casual, Janette had said. *Ok. Fine. CASUAL? Who the hell was she kidding?! I'm stuck in an underground room "babysitting" a VAMPIRE! Casual by definition ceases to apply here.* Well, she could always try, though. After all, they could hardly just sit and stare at each other until Janette got back. She stuck a hand out. "Hello." *Well, so far, so good.* He took her hand and nodded politely. "Hello." His eyes narrowed just a little, and he spoke to her cooly. "So, you're interested in us, are you?" Oops. Well, it was as good a place to start as any. *Bad footing is better than none, I guess.* She swallowed and smiled nervously. "Oh, no, nothing compromising. I'm just supposed to be finding books on the theories that have been written about vampires. They don't even have to be right, they just have to be `scholarly'. I'm doing a bibliography. I just figured that someone like you might be good to ask." He appeared to relax just a little, and raised an eyebrow. "A bibliography? Why?" "It's for my graduate seminar. We have to do an annotated bibliography of at least around 200 items. And our professor TOLD us to pick something interesting. Don't worry, he just thinks vampires are manifestations of latent oral and sexual urges repressed by our society." She resisted the craving to add, "Funny, you don't LOOK like a repressed urge!", but it was really hard, and she just couldn't keep back a snicker. Dorian gave her a half-smile. "Then just why does he wish for you to study us? What is the use of it?" "Oh, there doesn't have to be any USE to it. This is folklore degree!" She said, brightly. "We make a career out of studying things everyone else thinks is just useless! Hey, by the way, are you really an archivist? I mean, you don't really keep physical archives, do you?" "I'm afraid not, miss." He frowned. "That would not be wise." She sighed. "Oh, well. I was hoping if you didn't have books for me to use, maybe you could at least offer some organizational tips. I mean, you've been around for a while, right? You must have learned a better way than what we've got. It's not even computerized! Anyway, speaking of books," she continued, barely pausing for breath, "do you know of any really well-written ones? Any language. If I can't read it, I can still copy the author and title down. Are there any about vampires world-wide, not just Slavic ones?" At that moment, Kat rushed in, gamely juggling an obscene amount of green-glass bottles in a just-barely-together cardboard box. Cursing the interruption, but realizing it wasn't her fault, Lorelei ran to help, and Dorian lent a hand as well, and between the three of them, they managed to get all of the bottles situated without breaking any. After that, with Kat there, there was little time for book- talk until Janette returned. *Oh, great, you idiot,* Lorelei thought to herself. *Motormouth strikes again! The number one perfect opportunity, and he never even got a word in edgewise! So much for the great folklorist. I'll end up talking all my informants to death! At least this one was already dead....* Sighing, she gave up and resorted to polite conversation until it was time to leave. *Well, there's always after the war! Maybe I'll be less nervous then....* Three to the Show By Susan Garrett She'd considered going to get LaCroix before Nicola and Natalie, but realized that leaving LaCroix and Dorian in such a small room and unattended for even two minutes was simply asking for trouble . . . and there'd be enough of that later. So Janette headed up the steps and into the Jekyll and Hyde for the second time that evening. When she reached the top of the steps and pushed the bookcase back into place, she again realized just how unfair the distribution had been. She had the most followers and they were stuck in the smallest of clubs. It the only one with a dance floor, but still . . . . She waded her way through the crowd, smiling to see her visiting Ravens and Ravenettes shining in their splendor. The Knighties and Nat-Packers were making an attempt but, well, one was either fashionable or one was . Some attempts better than others, of course. Spotting Natalie, she hurried over to her, her smile fading. "What happened to your make-up?" she asked in distress, reaching forward to touch Natalie's face. "Angel is so much better than that--there's barely any !" "If you're talking about the stuff she troweled onto me, it's in the bathroom sink," replied Natalie sharply, backing away. "Look, maybe this wasn't such a great idea. I'm getting my people and--" "Nat? Wait--!" They both looked up at the sound of Nicola's voice. He barreled through the crowd, somehow managing to apologize for stepping on and over people. "Nat, I--" Then his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Janette. "Did you plan this?" he asked, gesturing at Natalie, but seeming to avert his gaze from her. "Because I don't think it's funny in the--" "Funny?" Janette placed her hand on Natalie's shoulder proprietarily. "Your manners, Nicola! I think it's quite effective--well, it loses something without the makeup, but still, she does have raw material to work with." Slipping out from beneath Janette's hand, Natalie muttered, "I'm gone!" and pushed past Nick, heading for the door. "Not dressed like that, you're not." Nick clamped his hand down on Natalie's forearm and drew her back to him. "This is New York, Toronto. This time of night, God knows what would happen to you--" "Well, I know exactly what's going to happen to if you don't let go of me," threatened Natalie, as she failed to dislodge his hand from her arm. "These heels are lethal in the right hands. And even if it doesn't kill you, it will hurt like hell for--" "You can finish that later," declared Janette, pushing between them and freeing Natalie. "It's time for the meeting." Nicola stared at her. " meeting?" Janette turned toward Natalie, who growled, "I wanted to tell him, but he started fixating about this dress. And I couldn't get a word in edge-wise." "Then let explain," hissed Janette. Grabbing Nicola's arm, she drew him to one side of the club and out of the traffic flow. He glared at her, then switched positions, pinning her against the wall, his hand on her shoulder. "You had no right to--" "Nicola--can it!" When he stopped, stunned, blue eyes wide, she grabbed his shirtfront in her hand. "There's a meeting downstairs. I will be there, you will be there, Natalie will be there, LaCroix will be there . . . and Dorian will be there." His eyes narrowed. "Why?" "Why the meeting? Or why Dorian--?" She released him and waved her hand. "Never mind. We have to discuss a problem that's developed with our followers. These ," she waved around the club, "are in danger because they support us, believe in us." His petulant frown disappeared, replaced by concern as he glanced to the left, then to the right. "In danger from who? LaCroix? Dorian?" "Dorian, to some extent--which is why he's here. I think he'll see reason once he understands that has followers, too." Nicola's eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head. "Oh, come, Nicola--if LaCroix can have followers, certainly Dorian must have a few as well? They only mortals after all and so easily fooled. LaCroix will protect his own, just as we will." "Then . . . who?" He took a breath and looked down at the floor. "Janette, if this is some sort of scheme to get us here--" She slapped him lightly on the chest. "This is serious. And I resent your accusation. Your Natalie is concerned for her people, just as I'm concerned for my own. If you care, fine. Stay here. We'll handle it--" She moved to push past him, but Nicola caught her arm, stopping her. "Wait," he said softly in her ear. "I'm sorry. I . . . I believe you. But I find it hard to accept you're that concerned about protecting your people when you left Susan defenseless against Dorian. You didn't even to help her." "I knew she'd be safer if I did nothing." Janette swallowed and wouldn't look at him--he'd only be angry if she explained that she'd set the Archivist on Susan to bring Dorian to the meeting. "I think he may change his mind about what he wants from her, once we've met. And his assistants wouldn't let her come to any harm until the interview started. They wouldn't dare. She's safe enough in their hands." " have her." She looked back at him quickly, not quite believing until she saw his smile. "You . . . fool," Janette said softly. "Do you want to get her killed?" "I promised that I'd protect her." Janette raised her hand to her forehead and looked down at the floor, shielding her eyes. "Never mind--we'll deal with this later. Nicola, whatever this costs me with her, you pay for it, I assure you." "If you'd taken care of her in the first place--" He cleared his throat and looked away, then his gaze rested on Natalie. "And what about Nat? That dress--" "Is quite stunning. And if you don't tell her so and quickly, you're an even bigger fool." She leaned against his shoulder as he watched Natalie. "Admit it, Nicola--she look stunning." "She ," he said softly, after a long pause. "She looks . . . ." His voice was hoarse, strange. Janette looked up at his face and frowned. "Nicola, your eyes?" He dropped his head to his chest quickly and shaded his eyes with his hands. "You haven't fed!" Janette accused him, pushing him back against the wall. "You there'd be mortals here and you didn't feed?" "I didn't think it would be so hard--" He shook his head and flinched away from her, as if he'd been struck. "Never mind. Go to the bar--your eyes are fine now, drop your hands--and order the house specialty." Then she sighed, as Nicola met her gaze. "Tell them who you are. I've got bottles on hand for you. There's more at the meeting, but you should get a stiff drink under your belt before we go down there. You'll be dealing with LaCroix, after all. Dorian." "I don't want Nat there," he said sharply. "I'll go, but only if Nat stays here." "That you discuss with Natalie, me," countered Janette. "Although she has every right to be there. She wants to protect her `friends.' And if you force her out of this--she may not wear high heels often, Nicola, but from her tone of voice I should think that she'll be more than ready to use them and every other weapon she possesses to hold her place in this. If I were you--" she tapped his chest lightly, "I let her play. Besides, you'll be there. You can keep on eye on her. And Dorian." Nicola glanced at Natalie again, then turned his gaze quickly to Janette. "All right," he relented, his voice taut. "But you and I will have a long talk about that dress, later." She smiled. "I'll look forward to it. Now, go feed and quickly. I've got one of my own amusing Dorian and he won't want to wait long." After Janette pushed him off to the bar, she approached Natalie, who been examining one of the plaques on the wall. Natalie turned, then looked around quickly. "Nick?" "I sent him to the bar. The fool hasn't fed yet and I thought he needed a quick one before we got down to business." She adjusted the neckline of Natalie's dress, letting the black netting reveal just a bit more cleavage. "He's still having difficulties with your dress, although we'll sort that out later. A few drinks will help." "I knew it." Frowning, Natalie pointedly readjusted the dress, covering up Janette's revelations. "He it." "The reverse, actually." Janette leaned closer and whispered, "I think you're--how should I put this?--'turning him on'?" Natalie cleared her throat loudly and took a step away from Janette. She pushed back the hair that hung down to one side of her face, a nervous movement. "Uh--what about the meeting?" "As soon as Nicola joins us, we'll get LaCroix and then we'll begin the meeting." "And Nick didn't try to make you exclude me?" "With Dorian there? Of course he did." Janette smiled and lowered her eyelids slightly. "I simply made him see the error of his ways. And warned him that you'd be unhappy if he tried anything that foolish." "Thank you," answered Natalie, after a sigh. "I'm not--I'm not certain I should even be there." "Of course you should!" Janette straightened regally. "We girls must stick together. Besides, we have to watch out for our own, don't we? And . . . I should warn you that there's apt to be some trouble later, between yours and mine. Nothing serious, just high spirits, I would think-- Nicola are you ready ?" Her words ran together quickly as Natalie begun to frown at her warning. But Nicola's arrival saved her. There was a sparkle in his eyes and a bit more color to his face as he approached them. "Don't complain," he said lightly, taking Nat's hand. "I've waited long enough for you in the past." Janette raised an eyebrow and turned away, muttering, "Not half as often as I've waited for you," just loud enough for him to hear and mortal ears to miss. She pushed the release lever on the bookcase and stood to one side, Nick giving her an annoyed look as he escorted Natalie into the tunnels. After the door closed behind the three of them, Janette hurried down the steps. When she turned, she saw Natalie shiver and heard her say, "God, don't these people have heat down here? It's freezing." Almost instantly, Nick slipped his long black coat from his shoulders, saying, "Here. Try this." Janette gave her the barest nod of acknowledgment as Natalie slipped her arms into the coat--it was an elegant solution that would protect her from both Nicola's and Dorian's interest. Of course, she had no way of knowing that the center room was very warm and that she'd probably have to remove the coat at some time or she'd drown in her own sweat . . . . "Wait for me at the end of this tunnel," cautioned Janette as she headed away, as fast as her heels could carry her. "I'll only be a moment. I have to fetch LaCroix--" Four to Go By Susan Garrett The steps down from The Slaughtered Lamb were large and made of marble, with an ornately carved balustrade on either side. Janette was impressed. Almost as impressed by the fact that LaCroix was waiting for her, sitting on one of stone seats carved into the staircase and speaking in very quiet but severe tones with one of his followers--that young man who'd been turned into a vampire during the last war. John, wasn't it? But she was noticed almost immediately. LaCroix looked down the steps and into the darkness of the tunnel, no doubt seeing her quite clearly. "That will be all for now," he said to the young vampire, his gaze still fixed on her as she waited just out of sight. "You'll follow my instructions to the letter?" "Of course," answered John. "And I can't apologize enough for--" "We'll discuss it later." LaCroix's imperious wave and his tone of voice sent a shiver down even Janette's back . . . and she was used to them. It was no small wonder John paled and hurried back into The Lamb, easily opening the heavy stone door and slipping past it, into the club. Janette stepped forward, then hesitated at the base of the steps. "Are you ready?" "I've been waiting. You're late." LaCroix took his time as he descended the steps, his eyes on her. "So, your plan worked?" "I've gotten everyone here, haven't I?" "Quite an accomplishment. Especially Dorian." He paused at the base of the steps and rested his hand on the griffin carved at the end of the balustrade, towering above her. "And this interview nonsense? You'll put an end to that, surely?" Janette paused, smelling a faint residue of garlic coming from LaCroix? She was about to ask, then stopped herself as she saw him raise an eyebrow, warning her off that topic. Instead, she turned her back to The Lamb and looked back at the tunnel. "That's Dorian's affair." "Is it?" LaCroix walked down the last two steps and stood beside her. Taking her arm over his own, he led her toward the tunnel. "I thought she was one of yours." "She is." "And you aren't going to protect her?" Janette shrugged slightly. "She'll be safe enough." "Because managed to protect her." Janette looked at him quickly. "Nicola has her now." "Nicholas has her because I allowed him to have her. Dorian's assistants are working for ." He smiled as she turned her gaze to the tunnels ahead. "You aren't the only one with plans, Janette. Remember that. And also remember that my plans will take precedence over yours." Janette swallowed, but wouldn't look at him. "We have other concerns. The meeting--" "Yes. The meeting. To discuss how we might protect what we've built." LaCroix stopped, then moved toward the wall, herding her toward it until she was pinned against the stone. He leaned his hand against it, staring down at her. "Because we built our own little empires, haven't we? And we don't want to see them crumble. So let's save them, by all means." She managed a slight smile. "So, we're in agreement?" "On that much." LaCroix examined the fingernails of his other hand. "Do you remember the last time, in the amusement park? One of yours had abandoned you, come to me for protection. You asked me not to hold her, to let her do as she would, if she wanted to return." "Monica. Yes. She . . . she came back," said Janette slowly. "You promise to let her return." "Yes, I did." He adjusted the collar of his shirt, then smiled. "Don't you think you might owe me something, or some, in return?" Before she could say anything, LaCroix touched a finger to her lips and said, "Sssh, softly, Janette. As you said, we can discuss this later. You don't want to keep Dorian waiting, do you? You how he hates to be kept waiting." She let her eyes blaze just a little as he removed the finger he'd held to her lips, but then she allowed him to take her arm again. They met Nicola and Natalie at the end of their tunnel. Nicola eyed her with concern, no doubt having heard at least part of her conversation with LaCroix, but she ignored him. "Nicholas--quite a nice suit," noted LaCroix, "a bit too staid for a party, but a nice attempt. And Natalie--that's a new hairstyle for you, isn't it? That dress is becoming." LaCroix grinned at Janette. "I see your hand in this." In answer, Natalie pulled Nicola's coat closed and Nicola stepped closer to her, his arm moving around her waist protectively. "It a party, isn't it?" asked Natalie sharply. She sniffed and added, wide-eyed, "And is that a new aftershave? Or vampire repellent?" Nicola smiled and quickly hurried Natalie past them. LaCroix seemed stunned for a moment, then looked down at Janette. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I her. I really like her." Janette kept her expression carefully neutral as they followed Nicola and Natalie to the triangular room at the center of the tunnels. She left LaCroix and passed Nicola and Natalie, pausing at the doorway. Dorian and Lorelei were still talking, although Dorian looked back at the doorway as soon as he finished his sentence. "I think our time is up," he told Lorelei, taking her hand. Moving behind her, he pulled the chair from the table after she rose, then walked with her toward the door. "I don't often get a chance to speak about such things. Thank you for the conversation." "Maybe, we could talk later?" Lorelei asked hesitantly. "I'm afraid I may be occupied . . . later." Dorian took her hand, raised it to his lips, then released her. At that, Janette moved behind the girl and took her shoulders, guiding her out the door, past Nicola, Natalie and LaCroix. She saw Lorelei's eyes widen as she recognized each of them in turn, but Janette whisked her past them, down to the place where two of the room's walls met, then placed her against the wall, out of their sight. "It went well?" she asked. Lorelei seemed somewhat stunned, dazed almost. "He was very nice. I can't believe what he knows--" "Believe it. And also believe that no matter how charming he may be, Dorian is very, very dangerous." She touched Lorelei's shoulder. "You did well. I'm proud of you. Now run upstairs and tell Miklos that I'll need someone to stand by in case we need something. I think it's time you enjoyed yourself." Lorelei nodded after a moment. "All right." Then she headed down the tunnel at a run. By the time Janette had returned, LaCroix, Natalie, and Nicola had already entered the room. Since the table was round, no one had the prime position and the refrehments had been gathered at the center of the table. Nicola had placed his seat between Dorian and Natalie, leaving the other seat beside Natalie open for her. Janette closed the door carefully, then threw the iron latch into place. She walked to her chair, which LaCroix gallantly held out for her, then seated herself with as much dignity as possible. "Well, then," she said, glancing around at them. "Shall we begin?" All Hyped Up and Nothing To Do By Lorelei Feldman Lorelei came back up into the Jack The Ripper, her heart and stomach still fluttering from the excitement and nervousness of speaking with Dorian. After probably boring him to death before Kat's arrival, she'd actually managed to get HIM to do some talking when Kat had left again. With all this energy she had now, though, she desperately needed something else to do! She looked around for someone she knew, but didn't see anybody immediately, since the crowd was so thick. She walked over to the bar and ordered a pint of Guinness to calm her nerves, then proceeded to wend her way through the mass of bodies, looking for anyone she recognized. Not knowing many people, she didn't really want to "mingle" by herself; it would be much easier with another Ravenette at her side. Kat at least ought to be able to find; that cream kind of made her stand out in a crowd like this. *That was really a good idea. If you can stand wearing colours that light. Besides, I'm in her debt for interrupting my motormouth routine.* Soon, she spotted a light-coloured blob on the other side of the club, and headed off to grab a collaborator for a little mingling. Surely, even though the pranks were supposed to be halted, there HAD to be a little good, not-so-clean fun to be had in a place like this... Counterpoint By Susan Garrett It had gone well, or so she thought. Janette leaned back in her chair--very comfortable, these chairs--and waited for LaCroix to continue. He'd served as moderator for the meeting, but had been prevented from completely controlling the agenda by the others. She, of course, had remained on the outskirts of the skirmishes, content to watch the fray. "Then, we're agreed about these mortal `Nightstalkers'?" asked LaCroix, as he glanced around the table. "Although I still think we should have the Enforcers eradicate--" "No!" protested Natalie sharply, half-rising--but Nick placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back into her seat . . . and into her dress. "I agree to whole- sale slaughter. And I can't say I disagree with their aims. You people tend to disrupt lives, the way the mortal world should develop." LaCroix leaned forward, hands clasped around his half- empty wine glass, his smile sharp. "So, you sympathize with them, do you?" "This argument is pointless," said Dorian evenly, glaring at LaCroix. "We've agreed to watch them--and only watch them-- until they become more strident or aggressive." "I'd call killing off one of the list-members `aggressive,'" countered Nick. "Do you mean we should wait until these people threaten `us,' and just stand by while they kill off our mortal friends? Don't mortals count?" Janette raised an eyebrow, seeing Natalie supportively place her hand over Nicola's at his comment. "As I told you," said Janette softly, "that was an aberration--even the group appears to have been shocked by that outrage." "So, we watch," repeated Dorian, with a nod toward Natalie. "I would appreciate being kept informed of their movements." "All right." Nick raised his chin defensively, then nodded after a moment. "We watch for sign of trouble. And I'll go along with it if it means keeping the Enforcers out. We've got one of them working with us, but I think he'll want to keep this--and his involvement in it--off the record." "Excellent." Dorian placed his hands flat on the table, beginning to rise. "I believe that concludes our business. If you'll excuse me, I have to attend to final arrangements for the interview--" LaCroix reached out and caught Dorian's wrist. "A moment of your time--I think we have more to discuss on that matter." Dorian looked down at the hand on his wrist, then at LaCroix. Janette could feel the chill from those cold eyes even where she sat, but LaCroix never flinched. He simply met Dorian's gaze with an even, almost casual glance. And it was only after Dorian looked away and seated himself again that LaCroix released him. "The interview has been scheduled," announced Dorian. "You have no right to interfere. The Code--" "I know the Code," countered LaCroix. "But you're the Code. The regulations on interviewing mortals are sketchy, at best." Dorian shrugged dismissively. "It hasn't been necessary. If a mortal appeared to be a threat, and the local vampires didn't attend to it, the Enforcers would be called and--" He stopped in mid-sentence, then nodded toward Natalie again. "My apologies. I don't wish to offend." "That's fact," answered Natalie, her voice steady despite her sudden pallor. "Facts don't offend me. They scare the hell out of me . . . ." "I wouldn't wish to frighten you, either." "Wait a minute," said Nick, leaning forward and cutting Natalie off from Dorian's line of sight quite effectively. "Are you telling me that there's no basis on which he can interview Susan?" "I understand why Janette would know--since my subject is one of her own, but . . . . How many know about this interview?" asked Dorian, his tone annoyed. LaCroix smiled and held out his hands. "I would assume everyone. Word travels faster than the dead, in these parts." "According to the Code, he interview Susan?" Nick asked LaCroix. "I can interview anyone I wish," countered Dorian fiercely. " anyone." LaCroix's correction was soft, but there was steel in his voice. Dorian looked down at the table in front of him and placed his hands flat against the wood. "Yes," he said, in an even quieter voice. " anyone." Then he looked up at Nick, his dark eyes showing the barest hint of red. "And I interview this woman, whether she wishes it or not." "I don't think Susan will object to being interviewed," said Janette quickly, thankful that Natalie had placed her hand on Nicola's arm and was whispering in his ear--she had a feeling he was about to do something very rash and very foolish. "In fact, I think she might appreciate the chance to actually meet with you." Dorian seemed startled. "You've . . . told her of me?" "She's written about you," corrected LaCroix. He leaned back in his seat, amused at Dorian's stunned expression. "She's written about all of us, upon occasion." Then he lowered his eyelids and regarded Dorian with a thoughtful expression. "Don't tell me your assistants failed to send you her fiction? Or even summarized portions--it can get quite lengthy at times." He shook his head. "I hardly think you're adequately prepared for this interview." "So it would seem," said Dorian, after a pause. "My assistants have proven to be . . . less than capable." "Ah, well, it hard to get good help these days," commiserated LaCroix. Natalie cleared her throat, getting both Dorian's and Nick's attention almost instantly . . . which caused her to blush slightly. "Does that mean you'll have to cancel the interview?" "No. An interview cannot be canceled. This may . . . change the intent of it." Dorian steepled his fingers and stared at the point of his clasped hands thoughtfully. "As will our previous discussion. I'd been concerned that Janette's story-teller was aligned with these `Nightstalkers.' It appears I was mistaken." "Which means you may be `mistaken' about other things," pressed Natalie. "I think you're too close to the problem to see it clearly. Susan's fiction, and the fiction written by the others, isn't a threat to you or to any of us. It's just `fiction.' That's what the readers think." "And if we, and others in the Community should know differently," said Janette quickly, "what can it matter? We all enjoy reading about ourselves. Well, most of us," she added, glancing at Nicola. "It amuses us. And if it amuses us and doesn't endanger us, what problem could it cause?" "Still, I will interview her." Dorian nodded slightly. "I think our discussion will be . . . interesting." "I want to be present," said Nicola forcefully. Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You know no one else is permitted to be present during an interview. That's the Code--" "LaCroix just said the Code doesn't cover this--" LaCroix straightened in his chair, glaring across the table. "Nicholas, it would be better if you--" "It would be better if someone was willing to stand up for Susan," he protested. "And it's the knight-errant to the rescue again?" said LaCroix, his tone oozing sarcasm. "You have no claim on her. She's a Ravenette, not one of yours--" "That's the point, isn't it?" Nick turned his angry gaze on Janette. Just suppressing the urge to snarl back at him, Janette hissed, "Well, you do well with your own, don't you? Your little friends have been causing me difficulties all evening. And now you want to protect one of my people when you can't even control your own?" She froze as LaCroix reached out his hand and caught her arm. "Stop this senseless bickering," he said, his tone quiet, but strong. "It's beneath you--squabbling like children! She's only a mortal." "Since she's a mortal," asked Natalie, sharply, "maybe I should sit in on the interview? After all, only a mortal, too." There was silence for a moment. Nick managed a warning, "Nat--," but was cut off when she jabbed her elbow into his chest, her eyes still on Dorian. And Dorian hadn't looked away from Natalie--in fact, Dorian hadn't looked at anything but Natalie for most of the meeting. "The Code says that no vampire may be present at another vampire's interview, or an interview with a mortal. A mortal at another mortal's interview, however--" "No," said Nick quickly, placing his hand on Natalie's shoulder. When she tried to squirm away, he turned toward her. "I don't want you in here alone with ," he told her. "Oh, for God's sake, Susan's going to be there--" But Dorian waved away the matter. "No. It won't be allowed. And I'll remind you," he turned a steady gaze toward Nick, "that the punishments for interfering with an interview are quite severe. Even your Master won't be able to intervene for you." But then he frowned and glanced over at Janette. "However, this appear to be an exceptional case. Janette, you're her master--" "She's ," said Nick, glaring briefly at LaCroix before turning his attention back to Dorian, "she no master." Janette placed her palms flat on the table, the sound loud enough to get even Nicola's attention. "She follows me." "Then if you wish to wait outside, if anyone wishes to wait outside," Dorian said, looking first at Janette, then at Nick, "to assure yourselves that no harm has come to her- -I could allow that. I will not object to her interview being . . . overheard, as long as she permits it. Would you find that acceptable?" Nick seemed surprised by the concession. He glanced over at Janette, then back at Dorian suspiciously. "Will the door be locked?" LaCroix chuckled lightly. "Would it matter?" "It might, to Susan." Dorian paused. "The door will not be locked. But if interrupts the interview without permission, for any reason- -" "Short of fire?" asked LaCroix. Dorian ignored him, "--The penalty will be severe. I demand a forfeit. Do you all understand?" For whatever concessions he had given, for whatever weakness he had shown when momentarily corrected by LaCroix, Janette was suddenly reminded that Dorian was, indeed, the Archivist. She nodded solemnly, as did Nicola and Natalie. LaCroix simply waved his hand and yawned, as if bored. "I believe that we're done with the business at hand," said LaCroix, rising to his feet. He moved to Janette and pulled the back of her chair away as she rose. Nicola did the same for Natalie, using his proximity and his body to block Dorian from attending to her. "I like the dress," said LaCroix to Natalie, over his shoulder, as Janette slid back the bolt from the door. "Very . . . revealing. Of your true nature." Janette bit back a smile as she entered the tunnel, hearing Natalie's muttered, "I'll show him `true nature'! Why don't we take him on a little trip down to the tuna hatchery some time--" Close Encounters By Sharon Himmanen She eyed Ron and Susan warily at the top of the steps, then glanced over at the Cafe's other occupants. Two women sat in a back corner deep in conversation. In fact, they appeared to be arguing quite strenuously with each other. Another woman, a red head whom Sharon thought might be Sandra Grey was standing in the corner dividing her time between watching the two women, Ron and Susan, and Perri and her charges. Sharon really wanted to talk to Susan . . . But Selma had to be her first priority, and so she turned toward the opposite corner of the room. It looked as though Dawn was still trying to escape from her bonds. And Selma was still out cold on the floor. Setting the glasses down on a nearby table, she pulled the table cloth off of another and knelt down beside Selma, covering her. Then gently turned her head to get a close look at the wounds on her neck. It was just as she suspected and why she had wanted to get Selma away from the rest of the crowd. There were two puncture wounds on her neck. Selma had been bitten by a vampire. Her color was pale, but not too pale, and her fingernails were still a healthy pink, so Sharon didn't think Selma had lost much blood. But the loss had been sudden, in addition to the shock of being attacked, and that might explain why she was out. At least, Sharon hoped that that was the case and that Selma wasn't in the process of coming across. The thought made her insides churn as she checked Selma's pulse once again. There was a steady rhythm, but she was still worried, and under the circumstances, calling 911 was probably out of the question. What she needed was someone who knew a little bit more about these things than she did. But everyone who could legitimately help her was still downstairs in the meeting. Almost everyone, that was, Sharon realized as she leaned back on her heels and looked back over her shoulder at Ron. He was sitting at the table with Susan, a satisfied smirk on his face as he sipped his half yard of ale. Feeling her gaze, he turned and fixed her with a heavy and cold stare, but that sharp smile never left his face. Sharon swallowed, feeling cold sweat suddenly trickle down her back. Her mind briefly registered that this was fear sweat and she flashed briefly on her undergraduate physiological psychology with Marci where they'd learned about this stuff. Ron's sudden appearance during the last war had caused her to flee Nick's loft, not even caring if she incurred LaCroix wrath by doing so. Of course she had gone back after a brief discussion with LaCroix, and by that time Ron had thankfully left. She had not seen him since, and had rather hoped to avoid him altogether. But right now he was her only option. She glanced quickly at Perri who was silently gazing at her and who realized her intent because she quickly mouthed the word "No!" to her. Sharon pretended not to understand her, and walked over to Ron and Susan. As she approached the table she took a deep breath. "I was wondering . . ." she began. The Enforcer looked up at her, raising one eyebrow and taking a slow sip of his beer. "Um, Selma . . ." she gestured over her shoulder toward the corner. "She's . . ." "Not in any danger," Ron finished for her. He suddenly rose. "I'll take a closer look, if you'd like," he said, his voice congenial, oily. "Why don't you sit with Susan for a few moments?" "Huh?" Sharon asked, the sudden shift in topics unnerving her a bit. She took a step back. The wide grin Ron gave her could only best be described as shit-eating. "You won't mind some company, would you Susan?" Ron asked, turning away from her, the smile slipping only slightly. Susan leaned back sharply at his expression. "Uh, no." "Good," Ron said, holding out his chair for Sharon. "I'll only be a few minutes." She waited until Ron was on the other side of the room and talking to Perri before she leaned forward and hissed at Susan. "Where have you been?" She had no doubt that Ron could hear every word. Susan's smile faded, then she frowned. "With Nick. He asked me to wait here." "Why'd you just disappear like that?" She stopped suddenly, taking in the enormous and beautiful ball gown Susan was wearing. "And why are you dressed like that?" "Because I have this . . . this interview." Susan was beginning to look disturbed. "He's here!" Sharon said. Then she leaned back and frowned. "At least I think he's here. They're in a meeting." "Who's here? Dorian?" "Yeah. Which is why *you* shouldn't be here." Sharon didn't like the anxious expression on Susan's face as she looked at her. Shaking her head as if puzzled, Susan started to say something, but stopped abruptly. Instead, she asked "What's wrong with her?" motioning with her head toward the corner where Ron was leaning over Selma examining her wounds. Sharon scowled deeply, deciding to let the obvious shift in subjects pass for the moment and set her mouth a grin line. "She got bitten." Sighing, she continued. "I don't think he took much blood. I just wanted Ron to make sure she isn't coming across." If anything this seemed to disturb Susan even more. "Somebody bit her?" she asked, a disgusted look on her face. "Why would someone do something like that?" Then, staring at a glass Ron had left at the table, she added, "And he drank some of her blood? What? Does he think he's a vampire or something?" Susan asked incredulously. Sharon turned and frowned at her. "What?" Suddenly, Susan paled. "This Dorian . . . is he the one who did this? There's a police detective here and . . . " Her eyes widened. "He's a serial killer or something, isn't he?" Sharon stood slowly, realizing that something was very, very wrong. She didn't even hear Ron approaching her until he put a hand on her arm and spun her around to face him. He was still grinning although his eyes sparkled angrily and Sharon had an insane desire to run away. Ron seemed to have that effect on her. They stared at one another for a second, then Ron looked sideways at Susan who was gazing at them with wide, frightened eyes. "No, Dorian wasn't the one who hurt Selma," he said, trying to calm her. "It was an accident. Someone was playing a prank," he assured her. "It got a little out of hand, that's all." During the exchange, Sharon's mind reeled as she tried to figure out what was going on. Shaking Ron's hand off her arm she moved over to the steps, watching them, her eyes narrowing in concentration. And then it suddenly dawned on her what had happened to Susan. The thought made her so angry it was like all the breath was driven from her body and she lunged at Ron before another coherent thought could form. In the blink of an eye he caught her wrist and pushed her backward until she was pinned against the far wall. "You really put your foot in it," he hissed at her, the tips of his fangs showing through his parted lips, flecks of gold in his eyes. "I thought I'd play nice and let you talk to her because I knew you were worried." He gave her a small shake. "All you managed to do is scare her." She was trembling, but somehow managed to glare at him anyway. "Did you do this?" she asked, her voice quivering. Glancing back at Susan who had risen in alarm, he released her suddenly, taking a step back, but Sharon was still hemmed in betwen two tables and unable to move away. He gave a small laugh. "Not me, babe." he said, shrugging, confirming her suspicions. Sullenly she rubbed her arm knowing that she'd have bruises there tomorrow, but just as glad to be free. It occurred to her that Ron might be lying, although he'd have no real reason too. If he *had* done this there was little she could do about it, especially now that he had her blocked off from escape. Then she remembered who Susan said she'd been hiding out with and her eyes widened. "Nick?" she whispered. Ron smiled and nodded. Sharon felt the blood rush to her face as anger filled her again, only to feel it drain away in fear when she saw Ron lick his lips. Moving suddenly, she slipped past him and toward the stairs. For his part, Ron let her pass and made no move to stop her. As she saw that same devious grin appear on his face, the thought that he knew something that she didn't barely registered, only to be swallowed up by another sharp stab of anger when she turned her head and saw Susan, who was staring at her, her expression a mix of fear and curiosity. Without another backwards glance, she ran down the steps and toward the secret entrance to the tunnels. *** Ron began to laugh to himself as he watched Sharon move down the steps. It was going to be fun watching Nick catch all kind of shit for hypnotizing Susan. And with the secret trigger he'd set in place, Susan wouldn't be able to remember anything until Nick triggered it. And he'd be around to make sure that that didn't happen until the proper time. Still chuckling, Ron went back over to Susan's table and picked up his half yard of ale, raising it to her in salute after motioning for her to resume her seat. Yep, it was definitely turning out to be an interesting evening and the fun should be starting in just a few minutes. Thanks for the Memories By Sandra Gray Sharon paused in the tunnel as the door to the circular room opened and people started to come out. Nick was slipping what looked like his coat over Natalie as they walked forward followed by LaCroix and Janette. Natalie spied Sharon and strode forward (a little unsteadily in those high heels that Janette had provided her), a look of concern on her face. "Sharon?" she asked when she reached her. Sharon ignored Nat, pushing past her to lunge at Nick, who grabbed her by the wrists and held her away from him. "Sharon, what is it?" asked Nat in an alarmed voice. Sharon's face was red and she struggled with Nick. "It's Susan! She's here, but he's messed with her mind!" "What?" asked Nat. "How?" she asked, looking at Nick, her expression taking on as angry a look as Sharon's. Nick looked at her, then at the others. Janette looked angry too; LaCroix merely smiled slightly, amused. Nick glanced back toward the circular room worriedly, then, releasing Sharon, pushed past Natalie and Sharon and strode quickly for the stairs to the Jekyll and Hyde. "Nick!" said Natalie. "Nicola!" said Janette. He could hear them hurrying after him, but he didn't stop. He dashed up the steps and through the secret door to the Jekyll. He had to pause to wait for some people to pass in front of him, during which time Natalie caught up to him and grabbed his arm. She'd lost his coat and had her shoes in one hand. "Nick! What did you do?" she said. "Took away her knowledge of vampires!" interjected Sharon, joining them. "At least!" She still looked at Nick murderously and started toward him again. "Nick, how could you?" said Nat, holding Sharon back. Nick glanced around. They were starting to attract attention. "I did it to save her life," he said in a low voice. "Well, you will undo what you did!" Then she paused and added, "What exactly *did* you do?" "What I had to do," he said in a low, angry voice. Janette had caught up to them and said, "Nicola!" Nick glanced at Janette, then headed quickly for the stairs to the Cannibal Room. The three women followed him, trying to get him to stop. In the Cannibal Room, Nick was confronted with the image of Susan in a ball gown, Karin and Jennise on either side of her. Ron the Enforcer whirled and, seeing Nick, said, his eyes going gold, "You and I need to have a--talk." Also in the room were four other women. Sandra Gray stood beside a table where two other women sat (one of whom seemed to be tied up) and another woman lay unmoving on the floor. "Who the hell is that?" asked Nick, distracted by the woman. Nat dropped her shoes and went over to kneel beside the woman. "Selma! My God, what happened?" she said, and started to check her pulse. Sharon stepped forward and said, "She was attacked by a vampire downstairs. Don't worry. The Enforcer said she's going to be okay." Nick probed the woman with his hearing. Her heart sounded strong. "He's right. She'll be okay, Nat." The woman on the floor looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he'd last seen her. Natalie rose from the floor and said, "She'd better be. And Susan better be put back the way she was, too!" "What have you *done* to her, Nicola?" said Janette. Nick looked at the women, then at Ron. "I--took away her knowledge about us, like Sharon said." "What else?" asked Nat, recognizing the signs that he wasn't telling her everything. "Her--memories of *those* stories." Nick looked away from her guiltily. "You raped her memory!" said Sharon. "Nick, how *could* you?!" said Nat. "Nicola, *why* did you do such a thing?!" said Janette. Nick looked at them, then at Ron, who for some reason seemed amused. "I didn't see any other alternative. I didn't want her to be killed." "You didn't think Dorian wouldn't have noticed, did you?" asked Ron, more serious again. "Nicky, boy, you should have discussed this with me." "I didn't--want anyone else to be blamed, if it--" "Well, she *has* to be restored for the Interview," said Janette. Nick turned angry eyes on Janette. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you! When you didn't lift a finger to help!" "You know why!" "You think we can really trust Dorian not to harm her?" "It's those mortals, the Nightstalkers, behind this. She's not in danger. Restore her!" "Yes, Nick. It's wrong! You've taken away part of what Susan *is!*" said Natalie. Nick looked at the floor and frowned. "I agree with the ladies, Nick," said Ron. Nick looked at the Enforcer. "I've read Susan's stories and enjoyed them. If she doesn't write any more--" "What?!" said Janette and Natalie in unison. "You took away her desire to write vampire--" said Janette. She punched his shoulder. "You will undo *everything*--this instant!" Natalie punched his other shoulder. "Fine!" said Nick, his eyes getting a hint of gold. He stalked over to Susan and took her face in his hands. Then he hesitated. Ron came over to him and, smiling wickedly, said, "We'll make sure he doesn't harm her." Nick glanced at Ron, then looked back at Susan. He exerted his hypnotic powers, matching his heart- beat to Susan's heartbeat. "Susan, listen to me. You will remember that you know about vampires. You will remember the stories that you have written about vampires. And you no longer have any ban in your mind about writing future stories about vampires. Do you understand?" "I...," said Susan. "Do you understand?" repeated Nick. Susan just stared blankly at him. "Stop this nonsense, Nicola, and undo what you've done," said Janette. Nick looked at her in some confustion. "I'm trying," he said. "This is no time to be funny," said Janette. "I'm not!" Nick protested, looking at each of them in turn. Ron seemed to be very amused, something that puzzled Nick. "And it's no time for you to hang on to that misguided idea that you know what's best for her, either!" continued Janette. "Nick, you'd better listen to her! And to me! What you've done is *wrong!* And if you don't undo it this instant--" Nick looked at Natalie in some bewilderment and then anger tinged his eyes gold on the edges. "What?" he said tensely. "I'll--I'll take a sledgehammer to your Caddie!" said Natalie firmly. Both Susan and Ron made sounds-- Susan a small cry and Ron a disgusted "Damn!" which was almost too low to hear. "And I'll help her!" added Sharon. Nick looked angrily at them, then noticed that Ron had backed up some. Releasing Susan, he grabbed Ron by the shirtfront. "*You* did something, didn't you?" Ron shrugged and lifted his eyebrows. "I only tried to disguise what you did," he said, then added with a tinge of gold in his eyes, "Well, you weren't subtle! Besides, she needed to get dressed." "What did you do?" Nick persisted. Ron smiled like a cat. "You figure it out." Nick looked at him in frustration. "Remove what you've done," he ordered the shorter vampire. "You gotta do that," said Ron, continuing to smile. "How do I *do* that?" "C'mon Nick, show `em you got a clue." Janette, Nat, and Sharon had fallen silent during Nick's exchange with Ron. Perhaps none of them wanted to tangle with the Enforcer. Nick briefly considered trying to wring the knowledge of whatever he'd done out of Ron. "Then again, maybe you *don't* have a clue," said Ron, smirking. Nick released the Enforcer and looked at Susan. What could Ron have done? Made her act more normal and obviously she hadn't stayed where he'd told her to stay. He thought back over the last few minutes. Ron had put some kind of block in Susan's brain that was resisting his suggestions, but what? There was that one time he'd said "Damn!" and Susan had... A trigger of some kind. That must be it. But what? Something someone said, something that wouldn't be common. Both of them had made sounds after Natalie had talked about damaging his car. The car! Nick took Susan's upper arms and looking into her eyes, said, "Caddie." Beside him, Ron clapped and laughed. "You *do* have a clue, after all!" Susan was shaking her head slightly. "You figured out the trigger. I fixed it so it would only work when *you* said it." He pushed Nick aside. "But I guess it would be quicker if I helped remove my suggestions for you." Nick watched as the Enforcer removed what he had done and stepped aside again. "She's all yours again, now." Nick captured Susan's gaze and, matching their heartbeats, hypnotized her again. He repeated his former commands to her. "Do you understand?" he asked, hoping Ron hadn't left any *more* suggestions. "I...understand," said Susan. "You will also no longer need to do what I say here at the party. Do you understand this also?" "Yes," she replied. Nick released her from his control. Susan shook her head slightly again, then looked angrily at Nick. "You, you--" she sputtered, then finished, "You son of a bitch!" Nick looked down at the floor. "Susan," said Janette firmly. "Dorian is ready to Interview you." Susan took a deep breath and looked around at the people near her. Nick cleared his throat and said, "Ron and I will still protect you, if you wish." "I've had enough of your `protection!' I just want this whole thing to be over with." Ron smiled and slipped an arm around her. "We'll keep nearby anyway." His expression got grim and the gold reappeared in his eyes. "Besides, I've my own score to settle with the Archivist." Susan shook herself from Ron's grip and started for the door. Ron followed, then Karin and Jennise. Susan pushed past Janette who, after a moment and one last glance at Nick, also left the room. Nick looked at Natalie. "You should stay here," he said. Then he started for the door too. Bewitched, Bothered, and Bedraggled By Valerie Meachum, Amy Hull, and Jennie Hayes "I'm gonna get `em," Valerie muttered over her second Sex- on-the-Beach, having abandoned the secure realm of Dr. Pepper hours before. "I've *gotta* get `em." She eyed the forlorn heap of soggy pink satin and chiffon she had been so proud of earlier. "I'm gonna NAIL `em!" "Nail whom, Valerie?" Amy inquired. "We still don't know who's responsible." "And anyway, you're not doing anything without us!" Jennie added. "Oh, I didn't plan to. You guys are definitely in on this." Valerie downed the last sip of her drink and swirled the icecubes around in her glass. "Mind you, we can't go calling it revenge. Nat would yell at us." "She wouldn't be the first," Amy reminded her. "The famous Valerie Meachum tact goes byebye in wartime, if you haven't noticed." "Don't remind me," VAlerie groaned. Jennie grabbed the glass before the spinning ice cubes could drive her *totally* insane. "So if it's not revenge, what is it?" With a shrug, the wet redhead replied, "Just ruffling a few Ravenette feathers." Amy stared at her for a moment. "Gracious, that sounds like Cousin talk!" "Your point?" Jennie looked nervously at AMy, then back at Valerie. "So a minute ago you were worried about being yelled at by Natalie, now you don't mind sounding like a Cousin? ANd how do you know it was the Ravenettes, anyway?" Valerie blinked, the snatched her glass back and started crunching an ice cube before replying, "Could only have been them or the Cousins. And I used to *be* a Cousin, remember? I know what they `feel' like." "Valerie, you're babbling," the other two informed her in stereo. "`Course I am. That's what I do best, isn't it?" A crooked smile slowly crossed Valerie's face, causing one of thetiny rivulets still trailing from her hair to pool in a dimple in her left cheek. "C'mon, you guys, we've got work to do." (The Jack the Ripper, shortly thereafter) "Jennie, you're a *genius*!" Amy enthused, trying several times to swing a stray dark ringlet out of her line of sight before giving up. "I would *never* have thought of this!" "I do my humble best," the blonde chemist replied with a grin. A well-dressed and rather smug-looking corbie of the gentlmanly persuasion was looking them over appreciatively, his look turning quizzical when he caught sight of VAlerie's drowned-rat-in-slob-mode appearance. "You keep twisting your face up like that, pal, it just might get stuck that way." Valerie widened her green eyes, stepping slightly forward to be certain the dance floor lights would make them look decidedly eerie. "Stranger things have happened. I spent the last few weekends making and breaking the King of Scotland." "And I think you're taking the role a little too much to heart," Jennie noted as the guy shook his head and wandered off. "Come on, let's get this accomplished." "This" was accomplished in blindingly short order--"this" consisiting of liberal application of vegetable oil to the dance floor, followed by liberal application of gaudy spray glitter to the floundering Ravens and Ravenettes. Soon the aerosol cans were empty, and the three giggling NatPackers made a beeline for the nearest exit, the one that led to the tunnels. Their progress was impeded, however, by the very sudden appearance of Miklos in front of the door. The normally laid-back bartender was anything but laid-back at the moment, and couldn't have been mistaken for such even without the broad swath of multi-coloured glitter decorating him from left shoulder to right knee. "*What* is going--" He stopped short as he caught his first real glimpse of Amy, a moment that the evening previous encounters with people who actually knew Janette indicated would be very brief. Taking advantange of the vampire's momentary confusion, Valerie grabbed her companions by the hands and barreled past him, burbling, "Sorry, must dash!" They kept going until they were fairly certain no one was following, at which point Amy's luck deemed it reasonably safe for her to tumble in a heap of purple taffeta on the floor. "I don't *like* it down here!" she grumped. "I didn't like it down here *before*. Why are we back down here?" "Because it was the quickest way out," Jennie replied matter-of-factly. "Hey, aren't the leaders supposed to be having their big meeting with Dorian down here somewhere?" "Is this where it is?" Valerie looked around in the gloom as if half-expecting to see them. "I wonder how that's going? I'm so tired of not knowing what's going on...at least Nat convinced them not to pull the need-to-know-basis garbage on her this time. She can fill us in when it's over." Amy nodded agreement. "I know. I'm starting to feel like Mulder with people telling me annoying little bits of things. I didn't sign on for this!" "Of course not." Jennie grinned. "We dragged you kicking and screaming." Amy was about to answer, but Valerie pointed down the corridor. "Look! Isn't that Sharon? Maybe she's heard something." The intrepid trio trooped off in pursuit of their fellow NatPacker, who was stomping quite purposefully. As they neared her, they heard snatches of grumbling--"of all the fuzz-brained...whammy Susan before her interview...probably didn't even NOTICE she wasn't making sense!..." At that moment the the various major players emerged from the central tunnel room, and Sharon strode right up to Nick and started lambasting him. It took several moments, during which the eavesdropping threesome made a silent unanimous decision to hang back until they could figure out what the heck was happening, before it became clear *what* the lambasting was about: Nick had actually made Susan Garrett, the Empress of FKFIC, forget about vampires! Stunned for a moment, the adventurers hung back while the meeting crew followed Sharon en masse back to the Lamb. "He's a brick," Valerie finally ventured. "He's a brick with fangs. He's a *blond* brick with fangs." She was shaking her head at the sheer idiocy of the move. Amy was no less aghast. "Is there anything even *left* in her head if she doens't know about vampires?" "Sure," Jennie replied. "She's still an expert on getting bullets out of laser printers. Come on, you guys, I love Nick too, but he *does* dumb things. Let's go see the fireworks!" (outside the Cannibal Cafe, immediately following the restoration of Susan's memory) The girls stood somberly as a number of people, familiar and unfamiliar, trooped out of the room that had become the center of all attention. "The Interview is officially beginning," Dorian informed the small crowd. "Here. Now. There will be *no* interference." No one was about to argue any longer. Even LaCroix stood speechless as the announcement was made, though his slight, amused smile never left. As everyone settled in to wait, some returning to the festivities downstairs, Valerie noted that "Uncle"'s attention was fixed primarily on Natalie, who was busy reading Nick the riot act in hushed tones. "Be right back, guys," she muttered to Amy and Jennie, crossing to the tall vampire. "You know," she began conversationally, "Nick has probably told you this, but maybe not. Either way, I'm telling you now. Don't even think about it. Natalie is nobody's property and nobobdy's pawn and nobody's toy. Leave her alone." The amused look turned very slightly toward her. "Or what?" Just as calmly--though Valerie had no idea how she managed it--she replied, "I didn't give you an `or'." "Brave words. But they are your stock-in-trade, aren't they?" LaCroix chuckled slightly. "Be careful. Words are what started this mess, after all." Valerie had more to say, but thought better of it, especially when Amy and Jennie dragged her away bodily. "Are you out of your *mind*?" Jennie hissed. "You're just lucky they haven't tried too hard to get you back in the Cousins, Miss `Orphan'! What are you baiting him for?" "Seemed like a good idea at the time," Valerie shrugged. A familiar voice to their left startled them, and they turned to see Janette looking Amy up and down. "Natalie," she called, "where did you manage to get this one? She must be very useful indeed." She cocked her head to the side. "At least for a second or two at a time." "It wasn't planned that way," Nat objected. "Amy is Amy. There aren't any hidden agendas here." "Oh, I hope not," Janette agreed, shaking her head as her attention turned to Valerie. "Oh, dear, this red-headed witch of yours seems to have had an interesting evening." Nat frowned. "I don't think we need to be insulting each other, Janette." "But she *is*, my dear doctor. I'm not insulting her, simply stating a fact. Didn't you know? She's studying with that Enforcer's pet wizard." "You're *what*?" Valerie felt her cheeks turning crimson as several pairs of eyes turned to her. "I'm not. Not yet, anyway. *He* seems to think so, but there hasn't exactly been a chance to properly discuss it." She looked helplessly at Natalie. "I didn't want to throw it at you on top of everything else. I wasn't sure what you'd think." Nat sighed. "Well, it's not for me to judge. You have to take learning where you can find it, and if Dragutin..." She made a slight face. "Can I talk to you about this? ONce this mess is over?" "Sure." "It seems it's as foolish to underestimate your allies as it is your enchanting self." LaCroix placed his hands on Amy's shoulders as he spoke to Nat, leaving them there a moment longer in spite of--if not because of--glares from Natalie, Nick, and the other NatPackers present. "But we will be waiting some time, I think. Why don't you young ladies return to the party." "Returning to the party is *good*, Valerie!" Amy half- pleaded, rocketing toward the stairs the second LaCroix released her with Valerie and Jennie close behind. Interviewed by a Vampire (Part 1 of 2) By Lisa McDavid Lisa McDavid was meditating at the bar in the Slaughtered Lamb. The fifth Zombie Beachcomber had clarified everything. It was all LaCroix's fault. All of it. He'd reached through the screen that momentous night in May two and a half years earlier and fascinated Lisa's old friend Ellen. Six months later Ellen had told Lisa about Forever Knight and nagged her until she set the vcr. Hadn't Ellen asked her, before she'd looked at a single episode, to see if she could find out anything about the actor who played LaCroix? Yes, it must have been LaCroix. Lisa hoped momentarily that LaCroix hadn't done anything to Nigel Bennett. He was a nice man. Wait a minute. Lisa finished her drink and set the glass down with a snap. LaCroix *had* done something to Nigel. He'd turned his hair mouse-colored. Beatific, perfect enlightenment dawned on Lisa's face. So that was what all that byplay with turning everybody green had been. LaCroix must be experimenting until he could turn everybody's hair different colors. He was not going to get away with this! Not bloody likely. Hey, not bad, thought Lisa, mentally nudging herself in the ribs. Bloody -- vampires. Very good. Susan would enjoy that. Lisa got ponderously to her feet just exactly as LaCroix and the vampire with whom she'd had the nice chat earlier passed by. Her vision still beachcombing, Lisa walked head on into LaCroix. "Oof!" She complained. "Why don't you watch where I'm going?" LaCroix caught her shoulders. "Because I'm a vampire, not a clairvoyant. Having a high old time, are you?" He added to his companion, "It's all right. She's Cousin Lisa." "That's a good one, too! High old time, bloody vampires." Lisa was giggling. "Evidently Larry's not the only Merlin who can't hold his liquor," observed LaCroix, amused. "Merlin?" the other vampire asked. "Please, Dorian, this is no time for one of your historical accuracy fits. Lisa Merlin McDavid. Larry's sister. I don't know whose wife." "Ex-wife," Lisa snapped. A button from a dealer's table at Toronto Trek floated into her memory. "I miss my ex- husband ... but my aim is improving. It was right over a picture of a bloody knife." She snickered. "That's funny. I'll tell Susan that one, too." "You do that." LaCroix gestured to the bartender. "Right after you have lots of nice, black coffee." "You're calling *me* drunk? You're the one who's going the wrong way!" Lisa pulled out of his grasp. "Susan and Karin and Jennise are in the Jekyll and Hyde." "Indeed?" asked LaCroix. "You know, my dear, sometimes you redeem yourself." Lisa and Dorian followed in his wake as he strode back down into the tunnels. Voices were coming from around a bend, and they did not sound happy. Lisa recognized Jennise, Karin and Susan's before they hove into sight. "It feels like I'm being pinched in two!" Susan said. "Besides, I can't breathe." "I know," Karin answered, "but Sally said the dress won't hang right without a corset." Jennise, apparently less of a believer in soft soap, retorted, "So if you can't breathe, how come you can complain?" "But you look beautiful," soothed Ron, as a party consisting of Dorian's errant assistants, Susan and Nick followed him into view. Deep in argument, they failed to notice LaCroix, Dorian or Lisa. "Susan, you don't have to go through with this," Nick said urgently. "I'm sure Aristotle can find you somewhere to go." Susan stopped short. "No. I'm not spending the rest of my life running. Look, Nick, this isn't 1228. I don't *need* anyone to fight my dragons for me. God knows I've got enough metal in the corset to make a suit of armor." "It's for your own protection," Karin added. "It's --" "What is the meaning of this?" Dorian's quiet manner was far more frightening than any display of red eyes or vampire snarls. He stared at Susan with a caught-in-the-headlights expression. LaCroix gave vent to a rip of laughter. "Lucinda to the life! Or should that be to the death? Be careful, Dorian; we wouldn't want her to run away and trip, now, with all these stairs to fall down." Dorian glowered at him. Jennise stepped desperately into the breach. "We've brought Susan for her interview," she said calmly. "Susan, this is Dorian. Dorian, Susan." "I see. LaCroix, there'll be a reckoning for this later. Karin and Jennise never came up with this on their own." Dorian stepped toward Susan with his hand outstretched. " Now, Miss Garrett, it's a simple procedure --" Nick blocked his way. Susan, whimpering incoherently, clung to Nick's back. "THAT'S ENOUGH!!" Fully fanged and red-eyed, Ron launched himself at Dorian. "We made you archivist and we can damn well unmake you. Into little pieces if necessary!" Dorian's eyes turned gold; a snarl began to gather force at the back of his throat. LaCroix, laughing, started forward to separate them and found himself forestalled. Lisa marched out of the shadows to set herself between the archivist and the enforcer. Allowing her glasses to slide down on her nose, the librarian glared over the lenses and blasted "Shushhh!" For good measure she shook her finger under their noses. Everyone froze in astonishment. Then LaCroix burst out laughing and Ron followed suit. Nick stood, open-mouthed. Karin took the opportunity to peel Susan away from him. The vampire attributes vanished from Dorian's face. He turned to Karin and Susan. "I call for the interview of Susan Mary Therese Garrett of Brooklyn. How say you? Will you stand?" His presence suddenly filled the tunnel. No taller than Nick and several inches shorter than LaCroix, he was nonetheless the dominant force. "Yes, I -- I'll stand," said Susan in a small voice. Dorian offered her his arm, with a formality that matched her gown, and led her into the wooden room. The door closed behind them. Interviewed By A Vampire (Part 2 of 2) By Susan Garrett The first thing she'd noticed about Dorian was his eyes-- Janette had said they were dark, but hadn't mentioned dark. Susan had assumed they were dark brown or dark gray, but the irises were as well and truly black as the pupils. They were disconcerting . . . and more than a little scary. As was standing beside someone she'd never met, but had written about extensively. Not to mention the fact that she was wearing a ball gown whose construction definitely defied the laws of physics and possibly defied certain statutes in the public obscenity laws in three states. But he was careful, somehow able to walk beside her without tripping on her dress, resting her gloved hand over his arm with the ease of practice well remembered from an earlier age. Dorian led her to a chair at the round table, then held it out for her, giving her enough time to settle herself and her dress comfortably. Even as Susan smoothed down the edge of her dress with her glove, he walked the long way around the table. She felt his eyes on her, watching her. Of course he was watching her. She must look like Lucinda, between the dress and the earrings. Unconsciously, she lifted her hand up to her ear and touched one of the earrings--the delicate silver with the garnet set inside. Only the rapid beating of her heart and the rustle of silk had interrupted the silence, but she heard an intake of breath from Dorian. Susan looked up--the length of the round table sat between them. He stood, for a moment, simply watching her. Without her eyeglasses she couldn't see him clearly. Somehow that made it worse. "Do I--do I really look much like her?" she asked hesitantly. "Enough. At a glance. In the whole, not in the details." He continued walking around the table, then drew up the other chair, no more than a few feet from her. Dorian seated himself, then reached for the teapot. "Tea?" he asked. Susan suddenly realized that there were things on the table- -a tea service and plates and all sorts of interesting scones and sandwiches and afternoon tea things. "Oh, yes," she said fervently. He poured and moved the teacup over to her. She placed her fingers through the delicate china handle, then paused. "Is something wrong?" asked Dorian. "I just realized--if I spill anything on this dress, Sally's going to me. She made it," she confided, after a sigh. "And on short notice, too." He laughed for a moment. "I'm sorry, forgive me," he said very apologetically. "But . . . you're about to be interviewed by the Archivist of the vampires and you're more terrified of your couturier?" " haven't met Sally," warned Susan. But as she carefully lifted the cup of tea and took a sip, she managed a smile. "I guess it does seem kind of nuts, doesn't it?" She looked down at the dress. "And I guess I should apologize about this. I didn't know--they had this crazy idea--" Sighing, she put the cup of tea back on the table. "It must have hurt. And I'm sorry." He was still watching her with that careful, thoughtful expression, as if he were weighing each of her words. "LaCroix said you've written about me." Susan was very glad she'd put down the cup of tea-- because she would have dropped it. "Yes. I didn't know he'd seen that . . . ." "And Janette told you who I was?" "I'd guessed that you'd existed." Susan stared down at the elbow length gloves on her forearms, running her finger along the stitching on one sleeve. "It only seemed logical that there'd be someone to keep the history. The Enforcers couldn't do it--they dispense justice, enforce the Code. There had to be someone else. And when I mentioned that to Janette one day, she told me a little about you." "And . . . Lucinda?" It was the first time he'd said the name to her--he'd swallowed before he said it. "No. She'd never mentioned Lucinda. The others told me . . . a little bit of the story, when th