Snip! by Maureen Wynn "What do you mean, you can't open the door?!" "He's got it locked, I don't have my key, and the hinges are on the *other* side. I mean I *can't* open the door. We're just going to have to wait until he decides to come out." "We can't *do* that. In his state of mind, he might wind up destroying tape that we need to keep, for the episode to make any sense. And we have neither the time *nor* the money to re-shoot!" "What do you suggest, then? You want to *blow up* the door?" "Why not?" "Hey, I was just kidding! We can't do that!" "Again I say, 'Why not?' We can use small charges of plastique, placed over the lock, calculated to just blow out the bolt, without radiating much force into the room..." Maureen continued, as she dragged the protesting film editor down the hall. Inside the editing room... Mr. P. cackled with glee as he found another section of tape with the face of one of his tormentors on it. He carefully checked the film, frame by frame, to be sure he got it all, then cut those frames out of the reel. He dropped the film he'd excised on the floor, and went on to the next part of the reel. he thought, He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts to come more clearly. The fact that he'd barely slept for the last month was decidedly affecting him. The dreams... The dreams kept waking him, and then he'd be afraid to go back to sleep again, afraid of what would happen to him in the dreams. he thought as his producer's instincts kicked in for a brief moment. His thoughts wandered away again, and he went back to searching out the hated faces. Some time later, the floor of the editing room was piled with bits and pieces of film, as he sat in the midst of one large pile, desperately trying to set fire to one piece of film with a cigarette lighter. as the piece of film melted onto his fingers. He barely felt the pain from the melted plastic, as he grabbed up another piece of film and tried again to set it alight. He looked up briefly as he heard something at the door, then down again at the film, his post-traumatic-stress- demented mind not caring about anything but the need to *edit*... He looked up groggily as he heard someone calling to him through the door. "Mr. P.? Can you hear me, Boss? Come on, Boss, just answer me, please? Pretty please?" "Go away! I'm not opening the door, so just go away!" "OK, I'm not going to ask you to open the door. Just do me a favor, go stand over by the corner where the fire extinguisher is, OK? Please?" "Why should I?" he asked petulantly. "I don't *want* to!" he added, as he went back to the piece of film in his hand. "Come on," Maureen wheedled, "Just do it as a favor to me. You trust *me*, don't you? Don't I keep you safe? Didn't I get you that chocolate pudding that you like so much, but couldn't find in Canada? Right?" "Chocolate pudding..." he said, realizing for the first time how hungry he was. "You've got chocolate pudding for me?" "I promise you some chocolate pudding, if you'll just go stand over by that corner." "Oh, OK, if you promise," he said, as he got up from the floor and staggered over to the corner furthest from the door, then collapsing on the floor again as a wave of dizziness passed over him. "Boss? Are you there?" He could barely hear her through the door, and he tried to raise his voice enough so that she could hear him. "I'm here, already! What do you want?" There was a pause, and he started to get up, then decided that it was too much trouble, and decided to lie down, on the nice soft, comfortable floor, and take a little nap. There was a soft "boom!" from the door, and it swung open. Maureen was the first one through the door, looking frantically around for Mr. P. She ran over to him when she saw him on the floor in the corner, and started to check him over to be sure he wasn't hurt, when the film editor came in and screamed. She jumped up, startled. "What the...?" "Look at this! Oh my god, *look* at it! It's ruined!" Maureen looked down at all the pieces of film on the floor, then bent down and picked up one of them. "Well, can't they be spliced back together?" The film editor picked up a piece and shoved it toward Maureen, and she winced, seeing that it was half melted. "We can't splice *this*! And besides which," he moaned, looking at the chaos of pieces, "Re-ordering all this... If it can be done *at all*, is going to take *forever*. We're not going to have time!" And he moaned again, holding his head in his hands. Maureen looked again at all the pieces, and said, "Um, I hate to ask this, since I guess I know the answer, but... Isn't there a back-up copy of the film?" The only response from the editor was another moan. "I'll take that to mean 'no'." She sighed, and said, "Well, since we don't have much time, I guess we better get to work," and, stooping down, started to gather up pieces of film. She stopped for a moment, looking down at the weary producer, and smiled. He looked so peaceful, for the first time in weeks, as he lay curled up in sleep on the floor, with a sweet smile on his face. "Sleep well, Boss. You've earned it!" ************************************************************* Lawyers vs. Vampires (what, there's a difference?) by Maureen Wynn Briinngg... Briinngg..."Moriarity, Chicanery, Burke and Hare." "Hi, Judy Beth, can I talk to Clark?" "Oh, hi, Maureen! Long time, no see! Uh, oh, you're not in jail again, are you?" "No, no, nothing like that. I don't need to be in jail to want to talk to my lawyer, now do I?" "Well, no, but usually when you use that 'Ms. Professional' voice, it means you're in *some* kind of trouble..." Maureen laughed, but thought, "Sorry, I guess I'm just in professional mode right now; I have contracts I need to finish up, and not a lot of time, and I also have a small problem that I need to deal with right away. Speaking of which, I really need to talk to Clark. Is he in?" "Sure, let me connect you..." , , brriinngg!! "Yeah, what do ya want?!" "That's a charming way to greet a client." "Hey, Maureen! How're ya doin'? Drumming up lots of business?" "Enough to keep me busy. How about you--are the Mercenaries I sent your way giving you enough business?" "Can't complain. Weird contracts, though. I keep having to go back to my Contract Law and Torts books, to make sure that these things will actually hold up in court, if, gad forbid, it ever came to that." "Speaking of which, I need you to look up one of my contracts to check something for me..." ***** "...so that's the long and short of it, Mo. I'm glad we were careful enough to put in that 'termination at any time by either party' clause on all your contracts. Nice little escape clause, that, even if I do say so myself." "Yes, it does come in handy, you egotist--or is it redundant, calling a lawyer an egotist? Keep that contract close to hand; I may need you to back me up on it sometime soon. And I have something else I need you to do..." ***** "Sure, Mo. I'll call you as soon as I have all the pieces in place. This is going to cost you, though. It doesn't exactly fall under our "usual services" clause. Should I invoice it separately, or just add it to your monthly bill?" "Add it to the bill, you bloodsucker!" "Considering the company you've been keeping lately, you have the nerve to call *me* a bloodsucker?" "With a lawyer, that's considered a term of affection! And, Clark... Don't call me 'Mo'!" She hung up the phone with a feeling of relief. If anyone could provide the services she needed, Clark and his law firm would. she thought gleefully. ************************************************************* A LaCroixian April Fool's Joke by Dawn Steele Dawn stumbled into her apartment. She was dead tired, and yearned for the sweet softness of her futon bed. A quick brushing to the old teeth, a quick change of clothes, and she'd hit the sheets. Taking off her jacket, she tossed it onto the dining table, and collapsed into the computer chair. *email? I'm too tired tonight.* Dawn started to flip through her mail. *Bill, bill, ad, ad, ad, bill, forwarded T-slip--Good! I can finish my taxes.* She tossed the T-slip onto the table, and continued sorting mail. *I never get this much mail. Weird day. What's this?* She turned the letter over in her hands. No return address. *Who would use black envelopes anyway?* Hesitantly, she ripped it open. The single sheet of dark gray paper slipped out. Dawn read the instructions. Over, and over, and over. They didn't change upon repeated viewings. She glanced at the wall clock. With shaking hands she opened the desk drawer, and pulled out her secret stash of chocolate covered coffee beans. Ripping off the cover, she grabbed some and started popping them into her mouth. It looked as if the night was just starting. LaCroix leaned back into his luxurious (and expensive) black leather chair. Things would be getting hectic in the days to come. He could tell. He had a sixth sense about these matters. He thought back to the previous war, and his little showdown with that Die-Hard. *Ruin a broken-in pair of cowboy boots, will she?* Revenge was sweet. He'd already sent her the instructions. By morning she'd be on a plane trip to Tibet. Or he'd visit her personally. Poetic Justice that she'd be leaving on her on April Fool's Day. She owed him. BIG. And he planned on extracting every , ounce of punishment he could out of the situation. *I wouldn't mind being there when she finally reaches that remote temple, and finds out it's been a wild goose chase.* He chuckled, and reached for his goblet of blood. Warming it up in his hands, he studied the golden goblets intricate patterns. He'd picked it up on his little side-trip in Tibet last month. *The golden goblet of Shakmuor. I'm not going to let Nicholas get his hands on it.* Things looked good. Without their... unpredictable leader, it was unlikely that the Die-Hards would be a force in the upcoming altercations. *An entire faction taken care of, and all it took was a forty-three cent stamp.* ************************************************************* Formula 409 (1) by AC Chapin The secret to cleaning the bathroom is getting in the groove of the thing. The secret to getting in the groove of cleaning the bathroom is to leave the door closed and the hot water on so that the cleaning fumes get to you. AC had cleaned the bathroom that night, so it was hardly surprising that when her sight cleared and her breathing returned to normal she saw a tall blond man in a black coat standing in her room. She even got as far as starting to apologize for the itty bitty window of the dorm room he'd had to enter by before she realized that he wasn't there. "You're not there." she said, brightly. "You're a side effect of the formula 409." He smiled slowly, his sensual lips curving into a sweet, patient shape. He didn't disappear, or even turn into a stuffed animal or a Scotsman with a kilt and an oatmeal fetish. "LaCroix. Lucien LaCroix." He nodded his head in what was almost a bow. "Charmed." Hand into and out of the closet very quickly, picking up the katana hidden there. It wasn't her favorite; it was the decorative one, a little too heavy. But her favorite was by the bed, very near where Lucien LaCroix was standing, in fact. But he didn't know that; and it wouldn't do him much good if he did. "Now get out." Great, first attractive man to show up in her room all semester and it had to be Lucien LaCroix. "Unfortunately, that won't be useful." He took a step towards her. She held the katana up, still in its sheath. "From what I've heard, you'll remember when this sort of cross was the only cross there was, burning it's way down from Europe and across the holy land." LaCroix stared at the stubby cross formed by the pommel of the katana for a moment more, then snarled and flew (a little awkwardly) out the tiny open window. AC snatched up the telephone from under her desk and dialed a very long distance number. "Hi this is Nick Knight. I'm either..." the message droned. "Nick, I don't want to alarm you, but LaCroix had business in Washington DC tonight. I don't know what it was about, but he knows where I live." She hung up and the camera panned down the sword and into darkness. * * * In the screening room, AC winced as LaCroix moved beside her. "That scene was... not exactly played as written." "I guess there was a rewrite, you know what happens when things get to the editing room." "Your acting was not entirely off though, it had the kernel of truth to it. Your reaction to me, at any rate, was appropriate." "I've done a little amateur theatre." She pushed the hair out of her face, then let it fall right back over her right eye. "Is that how you met our Nickolas?" "No. He was looking for Pagan help." "His eternal quest for a cure." "Yes... I don't think he felt really comfortable around us though." "No, he wouldn't. But you were charmed." She looked away, nodded. "And in our little theatric offering, you seem to be playing a..." his expression twisted a little at the word, "... Knightie." "Yes." She started to stand. He stopped her with only his gaze. "You know better. You belong to me." She hurried away from his smile. ************************************************************* Once a Cousin... by Sarah Welsh He didn't knock. Knocking wasn't his style. He simply opened the door and stepped inside the apartment. It's a good thing the door wasn't locked, Sarah thought in a moment of stunned surprise; it would be difficult to explain to maintenance how the door got torn off its hinges. She had no doubt LaCroix would have done so in a second if he had met with the least resistance. She glanced warily around the apartment, trying to think of something she could use as a weapon. Everything in there was plastic, it seemed, cheap and mobile, which was what she had bought it for, but of no use against a vampire. The only wooden furniture was what had come with the apartment, and that was the old-fashioned kind, made of sturdy oak, so heavy she couldn't even move her desk, let alone break off a table leg. It looked like she was on her own on this one. LaCroix broke the silence. "Come now, surely you cannot be surprised at this visit. You must have known that I could not let a backslidden Cousin off so easily at the beginning of a War." Her eyes must have betrayed her surprise, because he continued, "Of course I knew you had disaffiliated yourself from me. Did you think I wouldn't notice when you stopped signing your messages `Cousin Sarah?' He eyed her papasan chair and apparently decided that sinking into it would compromise his dignity too greatly. "You seem to have a very short attention span. You were a NatPacker before you were a Cousin, weren't you?" As if he didn't know. "Yes. But you really threw me for a loop replacing Nat with Kate when Alix Logan visited the precinct." He smiled at the memory. "I knew you couldn't remain loyal to a woman who would obsess over such tripe. But even after Kate's part in that ploy was revealed, you didn't go back over to Dr. Lambert's side." "No. It got me thinking. A NatPacker is supposed to be pulling for Natalie to find the cure so she and Nick can be together. But I started asking myself, what do I get out of this deal? Assuming she succeeds, she gets Nick, but what's the NatPackers' reward? Serving cake at the wedding? Providing free baby-sitting? I couldn't go for that. As long as Nick's on the prowl, so to speak, the rest of us can at least fantasize about him with a clear conscience." "So you came over to me." "Well, there's something very seductive about evil incarnate." "But you still maintained sympathy for Nicolas?" "Well, there's something very seductive about eternal despair." "And Schanke?" "Well, there's something very.... All right, there's nothing *seductive* about Schanke. But he's Nick's partner and a nice guy." "So even when you claimed the name of Cousin, you were not completely loyal to me." He took a few steps toward her, and Sarah edged nervously away. "And then you denounced me entirely. I do not take kindly to such usage, my dear." She was in for it now. Might as well stand on her principles. "I couldn't keep calling myself a Cousin, not after what you did to Nick and Natalie on Valentine's Day." He emitted a short, harsh laugh. "You are a shocking hypocrite. You just told me that the very reason you could not remain a follower of Dr. Lambert was that you did not want to see she and Nick entangled romantically. You should have applauded my actions." "Well...." She struggled for an explanation of the way she felt. "It's different. I didn't want to place any actual impediment in their way. It seems like there's a large enough one there already. I didn't want to see anything to actually happen to Natalie. I just couldn't wholeheartedly work on her behalf." It sounded feeble even to her own ears. LaCroix seemed amused at her attempt at rationalization. "You have a dark side you are not willing to admit, ma chere. Give in to it. Come back to me. Once a Cousin, always a Cousin, hmm?" He lifted an eyebrow, that delectable eyebrow, the "What have you done now, Nicolas?" eyebrow, and she teetered. For a brief moment, she could feel the current pulling her down into the dark depths of Cousinhood again. But then she broke eye contact with him. "No, I can't." "Can't?" His voice was dangerous. "What do you mean?" "Well," she explained nervously, "officially I'm unaffiliated. But in a sense, I've become a Mercenary. I've promised my services during the War to another listmember should she need them. I don't know if she's going to call on me for help, but if she does, I have to fight on her behalf. It's the least I can do after what she gave me." "Gifts?" LaCroix sneered. "I have it in my power to give you the ultimate gift of immortality. What could a mere mortal offer you of any greater value?" "See for yourself." Sarah gestured to a table against the wall. He crossed to it and picked up the objects that lay there, examining them one at a time. Then, with a howl of rage, he threw them back down and stormed out the door and into the sky, leaving the ex-Cousin slumped in relief. For once, LaCroix had been utterly defeated. It was true that he could offer immortality, but that was nothing compared to what Sarah had been given. The entire first season and Rick's Nick on videotape. It was a crushing blow. ************************************************************* A Business Deal is Concluded by Dawn Steele D.L. Steele (known as "Deal" to her friends) walked into the Tiki room of the Royal Constellation Hotel. It was just after sunset, and the bar was almost unoccupied. Seeing her client, she heading towards the far corner of the room. The bar was only faintly lit, and the few lights in this corner has obviously been either deliberately broken, or not turned on. Deal gave herself a resigned smile. This wasn't the first client who wanted confidentiality. She didn't try too hard to discover their identities either, it was usually safer that way... Especially with the information she was about to impart. "You're early." The voice was soft, and faintly husky, giving no hint to it's gender. The background music covered up any traces of a distinguishing accent. The body was similarly shrouded in a large enveloping trench coat, with the head shadowed under a brimmed hat. "So are you." Deal slipped into the booth, and faced her client. Slipping a thin legal sized envelope out of her carry-all, she slid it across the table. "My report on Joe Stonetree." The envelope lay on the table. "Your impressions? I paid you to be thorough." "Stonetree was writing up his memoirs on his days in the Toronto police force--but then you knew that already. The information you want is all there. Stonetree managed to discover the predilections of a certain 'Nicholas Knight', and planned on including that information in the book." "Predilection? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." The voice had become even fainter, and acquired an almost reptilian hiss. Deal voice was also soft, but calm with assurance. "Nicholas Knight, the one with the very nicely manufactured background, and a certain... Taste for blood." Silence. Deal watched as her client assumed a menacing, yet oddly protective air. "Don't worry. I get paid, I do my job, and I talk about past clients." She hesitated, "the money's in the bank?" "Yes." Deal gave into one of her vices, curiosity, and tried to cajole a bit more info from the client. "Southern Ontario's a weird place. I wasn't surprised. You wouldn't believe some of the cases I've heard rumors of... Demons, mummies and even werewolves." "Our deal is finished." Deciding to slip away while she still could, Deal left without a backward glance. ************************************************************* The Premiere by Jennise Hall and Karin Welss TEASER- FADE IN INT. ROYAL CONSTELLATION HOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT SHARON SCOTT follows MARGARET NEWMAN up the hall. She smiles patiently at Margaret's excited burbling. MARGARET Do you think he remembered me from last year? SHARON Yes, Margaret. MARGARET He wore the T-shirt I gave him. SHARON He always wears the T-shirts you give him. You have good taste. Now, hush up. We've got to get some sleep. Margaret opens the room door, stops dead in her tracks her mouth gaping open. SHARON Margaret, what is it, girl? Margaret begins to scream. INT. ROYAL CONSTELLATION HOTEL - ROOM 1657 - NIGHT Sharon and Margaret huddle against one wall. SUSAN GARRETT has her arms around Margaret, comforting her. NICK KNIGHT caresses Sharon's cheek. She steps into his arms crying on his shoulder. NICK Are you okay? SHARON (she shakes her head "no") Why would someone do that? MARGARET And why in our room? Nick continues to stroke Sharon's hair comfortingly. NICK I don't believe we've met. SUSAN I'm Susan Garrett. This is Margaret Newman. We're here for a writer's conference. NICK Did anything unusual happen tonight? SUSAN You mean other than the dead body? BY THE BED NATALIE LAMBERT, hands gloved, bag beside her, ready to work, stares down at the sheet draped body, shell shocked. She jumps when CAPTAIN COHEN lightly touches her shoulder. COHEN Are you okay, Natalie? NATALIE Why? Uh. Yes, Captain. I'm fine. She leans down and lifts the sheet. Cohen studies her a moment, decides that she's telling the truth and moves over to SCHANKE. SCHANKE stares at the body. He's barely in control of his emotions. He notices Cohen heading his way, forces his attention to an open suitcase and pretends to take notes. Cohen joins him, peers into the suit case and gingerly lifts a pink fur-trimmed teddy. She glances over at the women. SHARON glances up embarrassedly at Nick and hastily steps back from him. She opens her mouth to say something then changes her mind. MARGARET (sniffing) That's Sharon's. COHEN drops the teddy and turns to Schanke. COHEN I know this one is difficult. I need professional detachment. Can you handle that? SCHANKE I just wanna get my hands on whoever did this. COHEN We all do. Just make sure you play by the rules. In the background, Nick heads over to Natalie. BY THE BED NICK Nat? NATALIE (she takes a big breath) His throat was slashed, but there's not as much blood as you'd expect. He could have been killed somewhere else or ... NICK Or what? NATALIE I'm not sure yet. His throat is so ripped up that I can't tell if it was one of you guys. (beat) I can't believe it. I can't believe something like this would happen to him. Not him. She lifts an evidence bag containing: A BLACK VELVET CHOKER. THE CORNER Susan's mouth drops open. SUSAN (whispers) That's Janette's. BY THE BED Nick stares at the contents of the evidence bag. NATALIE Recognize this? Natalie holds up the evidence bag. Schanke, Cohen and the ladies gather around the bed. SCHANKE What the hell was Cap'n Stonetree doing with Janet's necklace? PULL BACK TO REVEAL Captain Joseph Stonetree lying face down across the bed partially clad in a black negligee. EXT. SKYLINE TORONTO - NIGHT The opening credits run. LACROIX(V.O.) He was brought across in 1228. Preyed on humans for their blood. Now he wants to be human again. To repay society for his sins. To escape from his endless Forever Night. ACT ONE INT. PRECINCT - NIGHT The normally chaotic room seems just a bit more sedate than usual. SCHANKE We've got nothing. NICK We've got something. We just don't like it. SCHANKE Do you think it'll be difficult to keep...uh... how he was found out of the papers. NICK No one here is going to talk about it. Stonetree was one of the good guys. Cohen sticks her head out of her office. She pauses a moment. Closes her office door and heads for their desks. COHEN Knight. Schanke. My office. As they rise. COHEN (quietly) Internal Affairs is involved. SCHANKE (under his breath) I'm not surprised. INT. PRECINCT - COHEN'S OFFICE - NIGHT Cohen heads behind her desk. She gestures towards a corner. Nick's eyes go wide for just a second. He regains his composure as she says... COHEN Gentlemen, Lucas Cross. Internal Affairs. Captain Cross. Detective Knight. Detective Schanke. LACROIX It is a shame to meet under these circumstances. Captain, we have a potential time bomb on our hands here. COHEN How so? LACROIX Your lead detectives on this case not only reported to the victim, but an acquaintance of theirs has been implicated. Startled, Cohen stares at the detectives. LACROIX You can understand why my office would be concerned? SCHANKE Are you accusing us of killing the Captain!? LACROIX If that were so you'd be off the case. However, I do expect your full cooperation or things may change. EXT. PRECINCT - PARKING LOT - NIGHT Schanke walks a few paces ahead of Nick and LaCroix. They walk toward Nick's Caddy. SCHANKE Can you believe someone could turn a profit selling negligees for MEN!! NICK (softly) What the hell are you up to, LaCroix? SCHANKE Darkangel's Dangerous Liasions Boutique. Geez what a name. LACROIX (softly) Why Nicholas, more than one kind of internal affair is being investigated here. SCHANKE It's.... They reach the car. Schanke leans the front seat forward and stands aside for LaCroix. LaCroix stares at him a moment, glances at an amused Nick, then climbs into the back seat. Nick turns the key and looks to Schanke. NICK Where to? SCHANKE Haven't you been listening, Knight? Darkangel's. On Yonge. They might have something in your size. LaCroix chuckles, low as Nick peels away from the curb. ************************************************************* It Was A Joke by Sharon S. Scott Margaret couldn't stop crying. Every time she'd think about the body in *her* bed, she'd start up again. She looked over at Sharon in a confused daze. "Why? Why? Why us? Why here? Why *him*?" "I don't know, Margy. It's just too weird." "Why did everybody leave?" "Well, Susan went to her room to hit the bottle of Amaretto, Nick & Schanke have their jobs to do, just as Nat has hers. I think Captain Cohen said she had to go talk to Stonetree's wife and child." She got up from the sofa, lit a cigarette, and went to the window. Because of the... Mess... In their earlier room, they'd been moved. This was the same room they'd had the year before, and if you turned your head just the right way, you could see downtown Toronto and the CN Tower from the window. "I wish this damn window would open. I need some air." Margaret kicked off her Reeboks and pulled her feet up under her. She smelled of Icy Hot, an odor which would soon be covered by the pungent smell of cigarette smoke. "*You* need some air? What about me? I'm the one who saw him first." She started crying again. "It's hot in here. Where's the thermostat?" She found it hiding behind the door. "Damn, it's in Canadian. Should I turn it down to "25"--whatever that is?" Margaret was freezing, but she thought it was in her best interest to humor the Texan. You don't want to piss off a Texan. Laurie had found that out the hard way last year. "Whatever. If it's too cold, we'll turn it back up." She blew her nose and tried to regain her composure. Which was difficult, since watching Sharon pace back and forth was driving her bananas. She ventured a question. "Will we have to go down to the police station and get interrogated?" "I would imagine so, but then what do I know? This is Canada, not Texas. In Texas you get the death penalty for not cleaning up after your Chihuahua, remember?" "No need to bite my head off." "I'm sorry. I despise that episode. I just keep thinking about poor Captain Stonetree. Who could have wanted to hurt him? He was such a sweet guy. And you have to admit he went way beyond the extra mile for Nick. Why did they dress him up like that?" She shuddered. Pink fur-trimmed teddies weren't her style *at all*--but somebody had sent her the hideous thing, and she'd brought it with her to Toronto to try to find out who. Thank God Nick hadn't tossed her other suitcase and found the other things she'd brought. There was a knock at the door. She peered through the peephole, just in case, and found Susan Garrett standing there. Opening the door, Susan thrust a bottle of Amaretto at her. "Thought you could use some of this." "Come on in. And thanks, but no thanks. Gives me migraines. But I could use a Diet Coke. Be back in a minute." She grabbed her set of room keys, kicked the door shut, and started down the hall in search of a soft drink machine. Susan seemed puzzled by her abrupt departure. Margaret said, "She'll be okay. She just needs some time to herself. She wants to remember every last detail about Nick holding her." A wicked grin accompanied the last remark. "Yeah, she's got it bad for him, that's obvious." Susan sat down, opened the Amaretto, and poured both of them a drink. This could be a *long* night. ********************************** Sharon knocked on the door when she got back to the room. Her room key was in her pocket, but her hands were full and she couldn't reach it without dropping something. She heard footsteps, then quiet. "Margy, let me in." All she heard was a giggle. "What are you two up to in there? Let me in. Now." She kicked the door for emphasis. More giggles, then a muffled, "Okay, okay, hold on a minute." When Margaret finally opened the door, Sharon came in and put the bag she'd been holding down on the table. "What've you got?" "Stress relievers." Margaret looked at Susan and sighed. "She's from Texas. They're different down there." Susan giggled. Sharon started taking stuff out of the bag. A two-pounder of peanut M&M's, a bag of toffees, a heap of Snickers bars, several bags of Reese's peanut butter cups, a white chocolate rabbit with one of its ears nibbled off. "It's comfort food, Margy. We've had a major shock. We need chocolate in a big way to help us get over the stress." Susan looked more than a bit doubtful. "You bought the rabbit pre-nibbled?" Sharon closed her eyes and bit back her retort. "I got hungry in the elevator." "Shouldn't we eat dinner before we start in on all this sugar?" Margaret had a Snickers in one hand and was trying to open the M&M's with the other. "The hotel restaurant is having Mexican food night again. Do *you* want to eat Mexican food with squid in it?" Margaret made a disgusted face. "Chocolate, here we come." ******* Thirty minutes later they were all three on a sugar high. And getting silly. "So, tell me, why *did* you have that dreadful teddy in your suitcase?" Susan asked innocently, then fell off the sofa laughing. "Don't ask dumb questions. She was planning to entice Nick with it. Go running out into the hall in it, screaming, "Nick! Nick! Save me, Nick!"" Margaret joined Susan on the floor, giggling uncontrollably. "It's not funny. Somebody sent me that thing in the mail. I don't know who. There wasn't a return address on it, and the postmark was so smudged I couldn't read it. No name inside, no card. Whoever sent it probably thought it was a big joke. I wasn't amused. But I *am* going to find out who sent it-- *that's* why I brought it. Not for any other reason." Margaret and Susan looked at one another and went into spasms of laughter again. "S-u-r-e. We understand. It had nothing to do with Nick. Right," Margaret managed to gasp. "I swear it! You've got to believe me!" "Uh huh. And Cleopatra had herself rolled into a carpet just for the ride, not to entice ol' Julius, right?" "I should have known better. Rooming with a Cousin ... " Suddenly there was another knock at the door. Margaret and Susan were still on the floor, in hysterics, so Sharon went to answer the knock. She was *quite* surprised when she saw who it was. ************************************************************* Scorpio Rising by Lisa McDavid Lisa McDavid flung herself into the room. "Shut the door, quick! They may be --" She took a deep breath and started again. "Thank you," she added as Sharon closed the door. "I'm sorry to bother you after all that's happened, but would somebody mind taking my key and looking in my room, *very* carefully?" Lisa was leaning against the wall, but she was still swaying. "Here, you look like you need to sit down," said Sharon. "Have some chocolate." Susan snickered. "What Lisa needs is black coffee. Lots of it." "I do not! At least, I don't think I do. Feliks and I didn't quite finish that magnum." Lisa nearly fell over her own high heels, swore under her breath, and kicked them off. The shoes became entangled in the long skirt of her evening dress. Lisa was obliged to sink down on the foot of the nearest bed and work them loose. She began to hum the triumphal march from Aida. "There were elephants in that scene," she remarked, talking about the opera performance she had attended with Feliks Twist. "One of them got out of control for a few minutes on stage. I'd like to borrow that elephant and turn it loose on whoever designed these shoes." Lisa giggled. "We were in the front row. Feliks stared the beast into submission." "Feliks?" asked Margaret "I thought you were working for Dorian." "I'm on vacation," said Lisa. "Dorian's interviewing Larry. Larry won't talk if I'm in the house." Lisa's younger brother was master computer hacker and vampire Larry Merlin. "So I decided to come up to the writers' conference. Feliks invited me to stay with him, but I'm allergic to most of his plants. Please, won't *somebody* look in my room? And tell me what you see?" "Oh, well," said Sharon, ever the kindly soul, "tonight can't get any worse. Unless -- Lisa, on your word of honor as a fellow southerner, this thing in your room isn't a frog?" Lisa bit into a Snickers bar. "No. I wouldn't mind frogs. And there may not be anything. Just crack the door and tell me if you see anything unusual in the room." Sharon still looked dubious. Susan smiled craftily. "Well, if she is drunk, you've got another excuse to call Nick." "Huh?" asked Sharon, taking the Lisa's key. "To get the emergency number for 12 Steps." Sharon let herself out. Margaret and Susan finished the Amaretto. Lisa sat hunched over, eyes closed, humming the Triumphal March from Aida. The door exploded open as Sharon vaulted through it, then slammed shut. "What the hell?" "Sharon?" "You saw them too?" Sharon glared at Lisa. "This better not be your idea of a joke!" She reached for the phone. "Her room was full of scorpions. There must've been thousands of 'em." "Thank God," said Lisa. "I was afraid I was having the dt's." Susan held up a hand for silence. "Wait a minute. There aren't any scorpions in Canada." "Yeah," snapped Sharon. "Nobody told *them* that." Margaret had gone to look through the peephole. Now she gave a yelp. "They are scorpions! They're swarming down the hall towards us!!!" At the night table between beds, Sharon tried wildly to convince the front desk that she was not attempting to be funny and did not need to be reminded of the strictness of Canadian drug laws. Meanwhile the first scorpions made it under the door. Dropping the phone, Sharon joined Susan in stomping the invaders while Lisa and Margaret jumped onto the beds. The scorpions pushed the bodies of their mangled comrades away and continued to march under the door. Lisa switched from humming the Triumphal March to the Sorcerer's Apprentice. Finally Susan and Sharon were obliged to take the better part of valor and join the refugees on the bed. Susan was climbing aboard when Lisa suddenly asked Sharon, "do you have your lighter on you?" "Yes," said Sharon, with the flat calm of incipient hysteria. "Why?" "Just let me hold it for a moment." Lisa took the lighter, flipped it on, and held it directly under the smoke detector. Alarms blared, sprinklers came on, and best of all, the hotel staff arrived in time for the young smart alec on the desk to get bitten. ************************************************************* Investigation by Sandra Gray Nick pulled the car out of the police parking lot and headed for Yonge Street and "DarkAngel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique". All the while his mind was working furiously. Who had killed Captain Stonetree? And *why* was LaCroix posing as "Captain Cross" from Internal Affairs? And Janette's choker on the scene? Even if she didn't wear them anymore, if Nat found Janette's prints on the choker... Well, it would then be obvious that someone was trying to frame Janette for Stonetree's murder. He pulled up in front of the lingerie shop. That was the strangest thing of all. What possible reason could anyone have to dress Stonetree in that... That... *Thing*? Unless it was to make Janette look guilty of seducing him? Schanke opened his car door and Nick said, "Schanke, why don't you see what you can find out here? I've got something else I want to check out." Schanke frowned, and LaCroix clapped a hand on Nick's shoulder. "No, I think not," said LaCroix. Nick glanced at the other vampire. "I wish to observe all the elements of this investigation. I'm sure you understand." He smiled urbanely. Nick looked back at Schanke. "Sure. No problem. I was... Just trying to save some time," he said. Then he got out of the car. Nick walked around the front of his Caddy to join the other two men on the sidewalk. "I must say I am wondering why we've come here first instead of going to speak to your friend, Janette... DuCharm, is it?" asked LaCroix. "We have to follow up on all leads," said Nick. "The... Attire... Captain Stonetree was found in carried this shop's label. Besides, there's no real evidence yet that Jan--Ms. DuCharm... Is involved." "There is circumstantial evidence," said LaCroix. "We know our jobs," said Schanke, "...sir. We'll talk to Janet." "Well, I should not need to remind you gentlemen that should she be... Missing... When we go to speak with her, it will not look good for you." Nick didn't reply. He put a hand on Schanke's shoulder and pushed him gently in the direction of the shop. LaCroix stood by the car and watched for a moment, then followed. Nick glanced back at LaCroix, then said in a very low tone to Schanke, "I got a bad feeling about this case." "Me too," muttered Schanke. "You don't think Janet--ow!" The last word was a tiny yelp as Nick squeezed on his shoulder, then released him. Schanke saw that Captain Cross had come up close behind them. He smiled at the man and then opened the door to DarkAngel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique. ************************************************************* Once Upon a Forum by Dianne T. DeSha Dianne arrived at the studio just as the screening began, having stopped only long enough to drop off her luggage at the Mercs' lair. She was dressed in black and blended easily with the shadows at the back of the darkened auditorium. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she scanned the audience as the flickers of light and shadow on the huge screen played out the discovery of Stonetree's body and the inevitable chain of events that would lead to the investigation of the lingerie shop. Just as the three detectives (no...that was "two detectives and a vampire"... No, wait... Make that "a detective and two vampires"... Uh... "1 1/2 detec..." ...oh _forget_ it!) entered Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons Lingerie Boutique, Dianne caught sight of the unnaturally still figure presiding over this event from his throne in the back. With a start she also noticed Abby sitting very near him. Dianne shook her head in disbelief, Knighties could really be _much_ too trusting. She had really chosen that spot, considering what was coming? But it was too late. As Dianne recognized the lead-in to her first little contribution to this evening's entertainment, she found her eyes glued to the silent figure--so imposing, so controlled, so intimidating... And a truly wicked grin spread over her face. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.* With a certain degree of trepidation, "Captain Cross," Nick, and Schanke entered Darkangel's. As the two detectives paused just inside the door--in awe or shock, or both--the faintest hint of an exotic perfume caught at LaCroix's senses. His eyes lost focus as the scent pulled him back into memory... <*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.> Lucius glanced up from his seat on the temple steps at the sound of sandals slapping against the hot pavement of the Forum. Recognizing the sedan chair instantly, he jumped to his feet, self-consciously straightening his toga. Standing at attention just to one side of the path the bearers would take, his anxiety was evident in every line of his body. As they passed, a woman's hand parted the silken curtains of the litter and brought the bearers to a halt with a slight gesture. Lucius' sigh of relief was audible. The curtains were slowly pulled back and Lucius got his first close look at the dark-haired beauty whose fair countenance had haunted him for months. The scent of her exotic perfume enveloped him as he fell to his knees beside her chair. "Oh Great Lady!" he began, his voice cracking with emotion. "From afar I have loved you; in your divine presence I worship at your feet!" Abby looked at him for a moment, then turned to consult with the tall, redheaded, Celtic barbarian who served her as a lady's maid. But Dianne just shrugged, then rolled her eyes descriptively. Turning back to her ardent admirer, Abby asked him, "And who are you?" "One who, stirred by the beauty of your voice, almost forgets his own name!" Because he apparently dared not raise his eyes higher than Abby's feet, he missed Dianne expressively circling her forefinger at her temple, and he continued, "I am Lucius, a common foot soldier, whose heart you may have to trample upon!" Abby paused for a moment, then gestured to Dianne, who handed her a coin from her purse. Dropping it to the kneeling man, she called out "Continue!" to the bearers and let the curtains fall. In a moment she was gone, leaving behind only the trace of her scent. Lucius picked up the coin and clasped it to his breast as he stared after the one whom he would never have--and whom his heart could never forget. <*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.> As LaCroix returned to an awareness of his surroundings in the boutique, he quickly wiped a single blood tear from his cheek. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Dianne watched out of the corner of her eye as a few of the braver Cousins in the audience sneaked looks over their shoulders at the figure behind them. But all they could see in the darkness were two terrifying eyes, glowing bloody fury... ************************************************************* Rendezvous With Dangerous Liaisons By Sandra Gray and Heather Parks Heather Parks was working the counter at Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique. Well, business was slow so she was reading the latest Dean Koontz novel. She was not happy to be have been called in. She had gotten a call around 9:00pm to break her date because Darkangel planned to be busy that night. But it wasn't a bad place to work, after all. The shop was cozy and intimate, with dark red brocade fabric walls and an exotic scent always in the air. It was not as tacky as a Frederick's, but not as classy as a Victoria's Secret since they carried some tasteful "toys". She glanced down at the bondage items in the glass case that she stood behind, then briefly adjusted some fur-lined collars and cuffs on display on top of the case. When three men walked into the shop, she wondered if she knew why Darkangel wasn't available. They had cops written all over them--well, except for the tallest one, who looked more like he had thug written all over him. Hoping she was wrong, Heather smiled and said, "Can I get you something? We have a great selection of items. Male, female depending on your tastes." She smiled up at the handsomest man, who had blond hair and the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen. Sure, he looked a lot older than her--she was only 19--but... He interrupted her before she could go further. "Information. We just need to know who bought this." He held up a plastic bag. Inside was what looked like a black teddy with pink accents. "A gift from a secret admirer, Mr..." Again Heather smiled at the man. He was almost a head taller than her. She pushed back a stray lock of her brown hair. "No, found at a crime scene." He showed her a police badge and said, "Knight. Detective Nick Knight. And Detective Schanke and... Captain Cross," he said, indicating his companions. "Oh, well I have no idea if it was bought here or not." "The tag said it was," said Captain Cross. Examining the label visible through the bag, Heather had to agree. "Well it appears to be a product we carry. Let's see now." She walked off to the wall racks and rummaged through the lingerie there. She pulled out a black teddy with pink accents and came back over to the checkout desk with it. "Yes, I think it's like this one." "Looks the same to me," said Detective Schanke. "Yes, it is. Same label, see?" She held it out to Detective Knight. Detective Knight smiled. "Well, do you have a list of who has purchased this particular item?" "Well, I'm just an employee. The manager isn't here right now." Detective Knight leaned on the counter and gazed at her with those so blue eyes. She almost wished her own blue-gray eyes could be so blue. "But... I can check in the back and see if the records are there." She smiled at him again and tugged at the bottom of the brocade vest she wore. Then she walked into the back office area. Darkangel had apparently taken the day's receipts out to deposit in the bank and the safe was locked. Heather knew the Teddy was not a common store item. As she recalled, they hadn't sold many lately. She remembered special ordering one for someone on the Forever Knight Erotica List. Someone named Janette Du Charme or Duchene or something like that. But there was no way to be sure without being able to check the receipts, which she couldn't currently do. Heather walked back out into the sales area. The dark-haired policeman was examining a woman's lace night shirt. "This would look good on Myra," he was saying to Detective Knight. Mr. Cross was looking mildly pleased with himself. Detective Knight was playing with a choker, wrapping it around his fingers and then unwrapping it. "A gift for your girlfriend, Officer?" she asked him. "No," he said and put it back on the rack. Mr. Cross picked up a pair a black fur-lined hand cuffs. "We did have some pink ones but they sold out this morning." Detective Knight interrupted her sales pitch. "Miss..." "Parks. Heather Parks." "Did you find anything out?" She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I tried to check the receipts but Darkangel must have locked them in the safe before she left. You can get them when she gets back." "When will that be?" "Probably not until tomorrow." Captain Cross didn't look pleased. In fact, he looked livid. "Well, tell her I'll come back tomorrow for those records," said Detective Schanke. Then they departed. ************************************************************* Lurker (4) by Maddog After deciding you could be at two places at the same time as long it wasn't the same place at the same time and you didn't eat lentil soup for dinner, the Lurkers decided to check out the action at The Raven. They noted the other fkficlisters hanging out at tables, plotting and going deaf from the loud music and blind from thinking about their proximity to their favorite obsessions. "Can I have another Diet Coke and Amaretto," Maddog instructed the waitress, having to shout over the pounding music of The Raven. "And I'll have another wine cooler," Rastro added. They'd been sitting in The Raven watching various Ravenette's report in to their Boss. It was interesting and the War certainly seemed to be progressing well. "Hey, Rastro, look at this!" Maddog held up the play dough sculpture she'd been working on for the last hour. It was an Iron Maiden made out of yellow playdough with blue play dough spikes. "Not bad, how'd you get the spikes to stand out?" "Heated them a little over the candle on the table. What you make?" Rastro held up a white play dough coffin with a large red spike driven through it. "Wot you think?" "Great, it not only represents the Vampiric fear of death but man's inhumanity to trees," Maddog said as she accepted the drink from the waitress and gulped it. "You know the action seems to be moving again. Shall we join our fellow Lurkers over there somewhere?" Rastro nodded and tossed back her wine cooler with an experienced hand. The two walked over to the bar and then left The Raven. "Merde!" muttered Janette as a knock on the door distracted her. She looked up from her computer with a threatening scowl as Miklos came in. "I told you I was not to be disturbed," she hissed at him. "I'm in the middle of a war!" She had a really bad feeling that the rather private note she'd just sent out had been posted to the whole list instead of just one person. It was NOT something she wanted Nicholas to find out... "Oh well, what is it?" Miklos smiled slightly. She only ranted like that when she was embarrassed or Nick was around. "This just arrived for you," he said, putting a package on her desk. "I thought it might be important so I brought it right in." Janette looked at it suspiciously. The package was done up in gilt paper and gold ribbon, and smelled faintly of something. She pulled it closer. It was fairly heavy and she couldn't quite identify the odor. But at least it wasn't garlic. In wartime it paid to be careful. "You open it." She pushed it back to Miklos. He shrugged and picked it up. "You might want to read this." He tossed the card to her and proceeded to tear the paper from the box. "I thought you might find this useful", it read. "Signed, Your Secret Admirer," she finished aloud. Puzzled, she looked at the box Miklos was holding out to her. She took it and stared in bewilderment. "Dremel Tool?" She tore the box open and ripped off the plastic. Pieces flew everywhere. "Ugh, it's all greasy. What is it?" Miklos was laughing. "It's called a 'power tool'. It has many different uses and lots of attachments. See?" he handed her the catalogue. She perused it slowly, her look of bemusement and annoyance fading as she considered the possibilities... "Why Nicholas," she purred softly, a wicked smile on her face, "I didn't think you had imagination." How did Nick know that she wanted to install vanity molding, loosen sticking doors, face plywood shelves and build a squirrel guard? All could be done with this marvelous device. "Maybe it's from LaCroix," Miklos suggested, a look of total innocence on his face. "Oh no!" she dropped the Dremel tool in horror. Suddenly those little sandpaper discs took on a sinister aspect. "Don't you have any idea who it came from?" "Well," said Miklos, "I did find this sitting on the bar..." Janette stared at the empty Diet Coke can, her face once again a study in total bewilderment. ************************************************************* Sun Tzu by Lane Lombardia The haggard wino tottered out of the alley. He drunkenly tripped over his own feet. Dragging himself to his feet, using the Cadillac as a handhold, he stood and shuffled off into the darkness. Later, drenched in shadow, Lane (aka Long Path) listened to the small wireless microphone planted in the Cadillac on the Walkman, testing the bug. He wondering what he'd learn, who he could sell that information to, and for how much. Having read Sun Tzu, he knew, as any Mercenary would, that one must know both friends and enemies at least as well as one knows oneself. He clutched the "space" blanket around him hoping to conceal his body's heat signature. He didn't want to alert the vampires when they exited the boutique. ************************************************************* Lurker (3) by Maddog Rastro and Maddog exited from the Tesseract. It had been a long day of lurking for both of them but they had one more item on their non-list of non-things that they could not do. Dr. Natalie Lambert's apartment was lit from the sunlight streaming in the windows. There was no one about except Sidney, who ignored them because they weren't food. "I think she'll like the Mocha Raspberry Cheesecake," Maddog said as she looked around the apartment, noting the cat hair laden bookshelves. Wondering if Natalie would notice a book or two missing. "Probably, I mean, we ate an entire one by ourselves last Saturday and it normally takes us two days to polish one off. Do you think she'll like the hat?" Rastro held up a ten gallon white Stetson. She'd wanted to keep it herself but decided a black one would be more fitting. "Sure she will, it is the proper kind of hat to eat cheesecake by," Maddog grabbed the hat and put it on her head. "Cheesecake, I've got you in my sights. Surrender now or be eaten!" "Your calories or your life?" Rastro suggested. "These here jeans aren't big enough for the both of us, cheesecake." "Stop me, Marshall, before I overeat again." "I got it," Maddog grabbed the cheesecake and held an imaginary gun to it. "Cheesecake, one more move and you're on my hips forever!" The two Lurkers began giggling uncontrollably. Then, one of those events that often happens when the probability fields are never in your favor occurred. The cheesecake jiggled itself out of Maddog's hands onto Natalie's carpet. "Uh, oh," said Rastro. "Uh, oh," said Maddog. "Meow," said Sidney as he started helping himself to the mess of tasty dairy product on the floor. "What are we going to do?" Maddog asked, carefully putting the Stetson down on the table near the fallen cheesecake. "Won't the cat get sick from eating all that?" "Yeah, he'll probably barf all over everything," Rastro shook her head judiciously, after all, didn't she have barf cats as well as fart cats. "Think we'd better go lurk elsewhere before he does," Maddog suggested as Rastro activated the Tesseract and the two Lurkers found themselves elsewhere. ************************************************************* A Little Help From My Friends by Mark Elliott The Magister, Vampire and Raven, pulled up outside the Raven in his silver Chrysler New Yorker, got out and went around to open the passenger door. Out stepped a young lady who took in her surroundings, and said worriedly, "Are you sure Nick won't mind that we're here, together?" Magister slipped his arm around his new paramour and guided her to the door and said, "My darling Darkstar, as I explained to you when I picked you up in Milwaukee, our relationship mirrors that of Nick and Janette. We are the next generation, so to speak." He nodded to the bouncer at the door who seemed surprised to see him and proceeded on into the club. "Heather, you know that Nick and Janette help each other out all the time. We will need your connections with the other Knighties. I am sure Nick would approve. He cares for Janette as much as the rest of us." They had by this time reached the bar. Miklos greeted them with an open-mouthed stare. "Bon apres-midi, Miklos. Ou est Janette?" It took Miklos a few minutes to respond. "She's in the back. Wait... You two didn't exactly part under the best of circumstances." "I know. But, she's in trouble. I had to come." While this exchange was going on, Heather Templeman was wandering around the inside of the club. She was having a hard time believing that she was there. She was having an even harder time believing that her NetPal, The Magister was actually a vampire. She wondered how she was going to explain running off to Toronto with a man she barely knew to her mother. "Heather, dear, would you like to meet Janette? Come with me." She walked over to The Magister and together they walked to the back room where Janette's private office was. A knock on the door was followed by another and after a few minutes, the door was opened by Susan Garrett. Susan looked just a surprised as Miklos had. The couple strode into the room and Janette said, "Look, the prodigal son returns at last." As she said this, she looked past him to the young girl and said, "What's this, cherie, a peace offering... Or... A snack?" The last said with much sarcasm. The Magister ignored her insult and said with a flourish, "May I present Heather Templeman, aka Lt. Darkstar. I thought she might come in handy considering the situation." Susan spoke up and said with a nervous laugh, "Another Knightie. We're getting a real collection here." Janette looked the girl up and down. "You may join the others out in the bar. Magister and I need to have a little chat." After Heather walked out, Janette looked at her Raven Mage and said, "What is your relationship with the mortal girl." "Our relationship is akin to yours with Nichola. Please, mon amour, I am only here to help, not to open old wounds." "Very well, we need all the help we can get." Janette said with a sigh, she then gave him a look that Susan had seen her give Nick many times. "Susan will bring up to speed and then we will decide what we are going to do and to use your new toy to it's best advantage." Magister started to say something, but, the look Janette gave him then could've froze steam, so he remained silent. ************************************************************* A Fly In The Ointment by Lt. Darkstar Heather Templeman aka Lt. Darkstar tried to make herself blend into the background while Nick had been talking to his Knighties. Especially since she was supposed to be one of them. Nick would know in an instant that she wasn't one of them. However, she did envy Scottie throwing herself at Nick the way she did. Nick was dreamy. Uncle caught her eye at that moment, scowled and slightly shook his head. She immediately banished her wayward libido back to its cage and nodded her head back. As Magister walked out of Janette's office, he almost ran into Dirk Giles. "Hello, So-Krates. Comment-allez vous?" "Bonsoir, yourself Magister. How's the Boss?" The man with the military air about him, asked, inclining his head towards the door. "Things are getting weird around here. Let me fill you in." They wandered over towards the bar as they talked in low tones despite the blaring music. Magister looked up with a start as he heard his name come across the club's PA. He then relaxed and smiled broadly as his dedication was broadcast. Heather had managed to work her way over to the pay phone and placed her call to the radio station. She just had to know what was going on. She received a busy signal on *both* lines the station had. This *was* really strange. She then placed a call to her contact in the Cousins. She knew this was a risk, but, her curiosity was getting the better of her. She finished her conversation, turned around, and slammed straight into her vampiric paramour. "Oh! I'm sorry!" she said and then all the color drained from her face as she realized who it was she ran into. "So, cherie, you have friends amongst the Cousins?" he asked dryly "It seems a bit odd to me." She looked at the floor for a minute and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Well, you see, it's like this... I... Ummm..." "So now I know why you weren't with the other ladies when Scottie launched herself at Nick like a pro halfback. Socrates," he glanced over his shoulder at his Raven brother. "I believe we have just caught a Cousin Spy in our midst. What are we going to do with her?" Socrates walked over to where they where standing and glared at the young girl, and said menacingly, "Do you know what we do with spies around here?" Darkstar looked at him and said stammering, "You... You... Can't hurt me, I'm under Uncle's protection." "Ma petit chou, we don't intend to hurt you. But, I do think that it's time we capitalized on our advantage, eh mon frere?" He said with a nudge to Giles. "Yes, Magister, I think you're exactly right." With that they each took hold of one of the girl's upper arms and led her into the back room. ************************************************************* Interrogation by Dirk Giles The Magister and Socrates carried Lt. Darkstar into the back room, ignoring her protestations about the situation. After closing the door and bolting it shut, the Magister pushed her into the solitary chair in the center of the room. "A spy among the Knighties, no doubt using her position to shift blame away from Oncle", the Magister said. "For all we know she's trying to frame Janette *again* for the murder." Heather glared at the two men. "I have done nothing wrong!" Socrates nodded thoughtfully. "That is true; you have done nothing wrong *yet*. Who will take the blame next? Perhaps Nick?" At that Lt. Darkstar started, shock showing on her face. "No, I would never frame Nick! He's..." "He's what?" the Magister asked, standing behind her. "No *Cousin* would think they way you are thinking now." She closed her eyes and thought to herself, *why did Nick have to be so cute? I don't know what to do!* Opening her eyes, she said, "You can't make me talk!" Her defiance faded as she saw that Socrates had retrieved a worn, black leather case from a table in the corner. "I'm afraid this calls for extreme measures," he said. "We *must* know your true loyalty. Since you won't talk..." The Magister spun the chair around so that Lt. Darkstar was facing him. "You must understand that Socrates was in the military and was introduced to torture methods at survival school. If you talk, I will prevent him from using his implements of torture on you!" he said. "No!" she replied, "I'm not afraid of torture!" "You will be," Socrates said, and opened the case, revealing the hideous torture instruments within. Heather screamed, as she realized she would not be able to withstand the torture. The Magister smiled, glad that the black leather case of chocolate poptarts had been stashed away for just a situation as this. ************************************************************* Decision Time by Dirk Giles Socrates closed the door behind him, leaving Lt. Darkstar inside, and found the Magister waiting for him in the hallway. "I can't believe she didn't crack," he muttered. "You made a mistake, letting her get her hands on one of those poptarts too soon," the Magister replied. "Once she fortified herself with a poptart it was all over." Socrates stared at the floor and said, "Yes, but I still don't know how she was able to get the rest of them. They were locked in the desk!" The Magister laughed. "Never underestimate the power of a chocolate poptart!" His face became serious. "So now what?" At that moment the door from the bar proper opened, and Janette walked in. "Hey, boss, um, Janette, you're back! How'd it go at the station?" Socrates asked. Janette's fangs retracted, and she smiled, knowing she could still unsettle even these cocky Ravens. "The evidence no longer implicates me in this *mortal* affair," she said. "Somehow the internal affairs *inspector* has become implicated." "What inspector?" asked the Magister. "Lucien LaCross, or something like that, is what he's going by," Janette smirked. Socrates look bewildered. "You don't mean..." "Yes," she replied, "LaCroix has got himself arrested." With that she headed off to her private apartment. The Magister suddenly turned to Socrates, and said, "I've got an idea on what to do with Darkstar." "Don't worry; we're taking you to see Oncle," Socrates said to Lt. Darkstar as the Magister and himself escorted her into the station. Finding a mass of confusion inside, with many civilians milling around the harassed police officers, they were able to make their way back to the cell area. Socrates looked back into the squad room. "You know, I think I recognize some of those people. It looks like a FORKNI-L (pronounced fork-nile ;) ) convention in there." Searching around, they found the door leading in to the cell area ajar. The Magister looked in and saw Nick pacing in front of some cells. "There's Nick," he said. At the mention of Nick's name, Lt. Darkstar looked up happily. *This won't be so bad,* she thought to herself. "Is Oncle there as well?" Socrates asked. "Yes," replied the Magister. Lt. Darkstar's face fell. *This will be bad.* The two men pushed her through the door and slammed it loudly. "We'll just let *them* take care of the problem!" Socrates said, and the Magister and he left the station for the Raven. Nick spun around so fast he blurred to Lt. Darkstar. "What are you doing in here? What a minute, I've seen you before. Weren't you at the Raven not too long ago?" She started to swoon as he came up to her. As the world started to spin, Nick caught her. "Thank you," she said, smiling dreamily up at him. "Nicholas, I think you should know that she is *mine*," LaCroix spoke from the cell. "And Heather, I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps you are too Knightie-like for your own good." Uncle's voice brought Lt. Darkstar back to reality. *Oops, now I'm in trouble.* Nick helped her to her feet. "LaCroix, you have no influence over her. She belongs to no one." "She is a *Cousin*!" LaCroix snarled, "and does what I say. If not, she will do nothing ever again!" Nick turned to Lt. Darkstar. "You don't have to follow his commands. If you do, he will use you and then discard you. If you wish, I can place you under my protection." "Take care, Nicholas!" LaCroix snarled. "She *is* a Cousin, and belongs to me!" "Let's let her decide," Nick replied. To Lt. Darkstar he asked, "what do you want to do?" Lt. Darkstar thought, and decided. ************************************************************* Rescue by Vicki Merriman Catherine Bond, Vicki Merriman, Dianne Sudduth and the other Die-Hards opened the door and entered the cell holding area. LaCroix and Nick barely noticed them. "She is a *Cousin*!" LaCroix snarled, "and does what I say. If not, she will do nothing ever again!" Catherine and Vicki glanced at each other and nodded slightly, as though in agreement. Nick turned to Lt. Darkstar. "You don't have to follow his commands. If you do, he will use you and then discard you. If you wish, I can place you under my protection." "As Susan Garrett was under your protection? That was a fine job you did, Nick," Dianne pointed out. She received a glare from both LaCroix and Nick for her pains. "Really, Nicholas," LaCroix sniffed disdainfully. "I had no idea that your mortal jails were Grand Central Station. First those Ravens come in with *my* follower and now this rabble intrudes. No wonder the mortals have a problem with criminals." Nick just glared at him and the Die-Hards universally. Then he looked back at Lt. Darkstar. "I can and will protect you from LaCroix," he said. "Take care, Nicholas!" LaCroix snarled. "She *is* a Cousin, and belongs to me!" "Let's let her decide", Nick replied. To Lt. Darkstar he asked, "what do you want to do?" Catherine reached out her hand to Lt. Darkstar, who looked torn and confused between both Nick and LaCroix. She was still buzzing from the sugar overdose of the chocolate poptarts. "You know, you don't need to choose either one of them. Come with us and we will take you to a safehouse the Die-Hards have set up. You'll have time to make a decision if you want to or to simply recover." "You may NOT go with them," LaCroix stormed. "You're a Cousin and I demand that you affirm it." "You are behind bars and aren't in a position to demand anything," Vicki retaliated swiftly. "You two are pulling her shoulders out between you like two little boys with a toy. That is why we Die-Hards have arrived to protect her from being forced into a premature declaration. You might call us 'pro-choice'," she finished with a small smile. "Besides, Lt. Darkstar needs rest and to recuperate from her ordeal at the Raven. She is in no condition to make a rational decision." "What ordeal at the Raven" Nick and LaCroix said almost simultaneously. "She has been tortured to get information and to try to force her into declaring where her loyalties lie." Both Nick and LaCroix frowned at that. "She can't leave," Nick said. "I've questions to ask her and I want to know about her loyalties also." "Is she under arrest for anything, Detective Knight?" Debbie Martin asked sweetly. "You know she is not, but we don't want her where she can't be questioned." "Not to worry, Detective Knight," Vicki said, "Heather won't be leaving town anytime soon. We are just going to take her so she can rest and relax. Anyone is welcome to come to our safe house. Heather is just the first. If she wants to leave later she is free to do so. However, anyone who tries to take her or anyone by force from the safe house will be defended against quite forcefully, and we've a few surprises for both a vampiric and mortal invasion attempt." "Where is this ," LaCroix asked. "That would be telling," Catherine pointed out. "You will find out soon enough but we need a little more preparation time. "She is MINE. I won't allow you to take her." With his frustration limit reached, LaCroix snarled and reached through the bars to grab Lt. Darkstar. Vicki pulled her swiftly into the group of Die-Hards and stood in front of her, growling in her throat, to the surprise of all present except her. Her fellow Die-Hards looked especially startled. "You can't stop it LaCroix. If she wants to be a Cousin she will return to you, but right now she needs rest, food and some time out." With that the Die-Hards turned as a group and left the holding area with Lt. Darkstar, walking quickly through the police station to the van which Vicki had borrowed from her father. She hadn't volunteered that it was going to war, however. "Can you drive, Dianne?" "Sure." Dianne didn't want to disagree with someone who growled. "Great," Vicki replied. "Pardon me while I collapse in a small puddle in the backseat of the van." She felt very shaky now that she was actually out of sight of LaCroix and Nick and the crisis was over. "You're frightened?" Debbie Martin asked. "Terrified" "I thought you weren't afraid of LaCroix at all." "That is what I wanted him to believe. Adrenaline can do wonders, but there is a price to pay," Vicki said in a rather shaky voice. "How did you growl?" Catherine wanted to know. "Did you think that vampires were the only creatures that could growl? Decidedly not." The rest of the Die-Hards didn't seem to want to say anything to that remark, and the rest of trip to the safe house passed in silence. ************************************************************* Random Acts (2) by Diane Echelbarger Nick noticed the package as soon as he opened the door to the Caddy. It was about 18 inches square, one inch thick, and wrapped in plain white paper. "Nick" was block-printed across one corner in black felt pen. He picked it up gingerly. The shape and feel were unmistakable. A book? Why would anyone leave a wrapped book in his Caddy? Curious now, he unwrapped it quickly and turned it over to see the title. _LOST CITY OF THE TOLTECS_ _An annotated photographic record_ He opened the big volume and read the blurb on the flap. "This meticulously researched collection of photographs from the Altun Kinal excavations..." Altun Kinal? Who had sent *him* a book on the Altun Kinal excavations? He checked the inside cover, the flyleaf, the title page... No inscription. He riffled through the pages and a small white envelope fell at his feet. Nick dropped the book on the Caddy's seat and retrieved the gift enclosure. The card inside was plain white, with "A Gift For You" in gold print on the front. He opened it. It was blank. ************************************************************* Safehouse by Vicki Merriman and Catherine Bond The Die-Hards and Darkstar piled out of the van after Dianne parked it on a nearby side street. she thought. Catherine followed along with her car. LtDarkstar was starting to look a little worn, coming down as she was from her overdose of chocolate poptarts. "This is your safe house?" she asked in confusion. "Sure is," Nicole replied cheerfully as she led her up through the door and up the steps to the second floor apartment. "No one will think of looking for you here. It's very snug and defensible. You're welcome to stay here until the murder is solved or you may leave anytime you're ready." "Right now all I want is a shower, a change of clothes and a nap." "That we can do." Catherine said, putting on her mother-hen hat, "You should, however, eat something before you sleep, some protein and starch, perhaps a glass of milk. That will help your system with the sugar overload." "I'm too sleepy..." LtDarkstar replied. "Nevertheless..." Vicki wandered into the kitchen in search of milk and bread for her own adrenaline shot lag. LtDarkstar obediently followed her. After everyone had had a quick bite to eat, LtDarkstar was given a change of clothes and went to take a shower. Catherine had fetch the supplies from the trunk of her car. As the Die-Hards sorted their weapons and went over their defense plans for both vampiric and mortal attacks. "Where did you get this?" asked Nichole. She held up a plastic jug filled with a pungent brew. "There's a health food store around the corner that sells the stuff by the gallon!" smiled Catherine. "Fill the squirt guns with it. It won't kill a vampire, but it will blind them long enough for you to get away." "I know it is best to be prepared but I hope that we can use reason," Heather commented. "Reason doesn't seem to be much in evidence right now amongst the factions or the police force," Nicole observed. "Right," Vicki agreed. "Then let's finish the other preparations. I'm feeling wiped and want a good night's... Er, day's sleep before we face Karaoke tomorrow. With a little luck we can use the Karaoke evening to have a rational discussion with all the other factions. After all, it will be at the hotel and we can hope that no one will cause too much trouble in public." ------------------------------------------------------------- The next evening "And Away we Go!" They were tanned. They were rested. They were ready to go! Ok, so maybe they weren't tanned, but they were dressed to the hilt! Except for Catherine. Still dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she had hooked up the computer and was surfing the Net, keeping an eye out for signs of trouble or Dawn Steele, whichever came first. She hoped the missing Chief Die-Hard and bottle-washer appeared on the scene soon. Playing den- mother to a bunch of Die-Hards during wartime was like (what was that phrase her friend, Allison, used? Oh yes.) "herding cats." "Aren't you going?" asked Nichole. "No, I sing like a wounded cow and the only songs I know all the words to are 17 th and 18 th century tavern songs. Not exactly Karaoke material." answered Catherine. The other Die-Hards and LtDarkstar headed out the door. Then Catherine thought of something. She ran out the door after them. "Hey! Are all of you over 21? What are the drinking laws in Canada?! Don't forget to designate a driver!" she called to the back of the van as it drove off. *************************************************************