WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS by Susan M. Garrett She didn't need to look to know that he was there-- LaCroix's anger proceeded him like the flash before the thunder. It would be an hour before the club became busy. Janette had locked the doors and sent the others out the moment the sun had set. There would be a scene--it seemed there was a scene--and the fewer witnesses, the better. Locks meant nothing to him; from where she was sitting, sipping a glass of blood at the empty bar, she could hear the groan of the metal as LaCroix tore the lock from the club's door, then the thump and snap as the dead bolt gave beneath his fury. Somehow, the door remained on its hinges as he slammed it back against the wall. "You'll replace that, I hope," Janette said, her attention on the glass before her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking at him, of catching the few lights that silhouetted him in the open doorway. LaCroix was beside her in a flash. He didn't touch her--didn't have to--but stood beside her, seething. "He found it, didn't he?" "His cure?" Janette closed her eyes then picked up the glass of blood and touched it to her lips. It was cold . . . cold and not at all comforting. "Yes," she admitted, after a pause. "Whatever good it will do him." "And he came here." There was no question in his tone, just simple fact. Janette dared to raise her eyes to him, letting LaCroix see her sorrow. "Yes. At noon, or later--who can tell, the sun was out and daylight means nothing to me." She shrugged with studied nonchalance, saw his lips tighten and gave up the pretense as a lost cause. "You thought he'd come to you?" LaCroix turned away. "I never thought he'd succeed. I thought I'd destroyed it all. I'd left the clues, of course. There were so many ways . . . but I'd closed every door, blocked every escape--" "Science." Janette blinked when LaCroix looked at her sharply. Waving the cigarette she picked up from the ashtray on the bar, she gestured around her. "It starts with something so simple--the wheel. And then aqueducts. Printing presses. Indoor plumbing. Electricity. And . . . cures for vampirism." "I knew she was trouble," muttered LaCroix. But I thought that this time I might be careful, that this one was too important to him, that he might--" "He have." Janette looked away, across the empty bar. "Who could have known she'd find an answer?" "She's with him?" Janette nodded slightly, her lips quirking into a smile as she abandoned her cigarette and sipped at her blood again--a question, rather than a statement. He'd decided she was an innocent victim, rather than an accessory. "Where did they go?" Her grimace was real--the blood hadn't been cut properly and was cold enough to have congealed into lumps in spots. Coughing lightly, she placed the glass hurriedly on the bar and dabbed at her lips with a cocktail napkin. "You asked, of course?" pressed LaCroix. His eyes were wide--he wasn't going to tolerate any delay in answering. Janette maintained the grimace and colored it with a look of annoyance. "Of I asked him. I said it quite plainly, 'Well, Nicola, now that you've fulfilled your little dream of being mortal, where you go?'" He waited barely a mortal heartbeat and took a step closer, the threat obvious. "And he said--?" "Disney World." LaCroix blinked. "What--?" "Disney World." With a sigh, she picked up the cigarette again and looked down at the top of the bar with an air of disappointment. "He said he was going to Disney World. Can you imagine? He's only been a mortal for a few hours and he's already gone mad." She was pleased to be free of that intent gaze for even a few seconds as LaCroix looked away, pondering her answer. "Was he serious?" "He seemed so. He called the airport from my office--something about an afternoon flight to Orlando. Two seats, first class, one way." She shrugged when he glared at her again. "I didn't catch the number. To be honest . . . I threw him out. He actually had the audacity to suggest that I go him, that I allow his doctor-friend to me." She shuddered as she returned to the cigarette. "The !" "Ah, yes," he chuckled. "But Nicholas has never been short of nerve, has he?" Janette almost jumped as his fingers rubbed the bare skin on her shoulder. "I'll bring him back to you.," promised LaCroix, with as much kindness as she'd ever heard from him. It startled her, that momentary lapse on his part. Her mask fell for a moment, but she was able to compose herself in time. "You'll forgive me if I don't go with you. I don't think I want to see him right now. We had . . . words." "Of course." The fingers tightened momentarily on her shoulder. "I'll bring him back for you. For both of us. And he'll pay for this--this " A moment more and he was gone, the door swinging free in his wake. Janette rose from her seat and crossed to the open door, then used her vampire strength to fix it into place as best she could, snapping the dead-bolt into position to jam it shut. No mortal could get through there. And any vampire that tried would make enough noise to alert her to their presence. She picked up her cigarette, but ignored the glass of blood she'd left on the counter of the bar--clots, for heavens sake! Didn't she have enough to deal with at the moment? Nicola turned mortal, LaCroix hell-bent to find him . . . what an evening! And it wasn't over yet. Nicola rose to his feet as she entered the office, her desk between them, his manner hesitant. It tore at her heart to think that he trusted her so little. But she wouldn't let him know that. Not now. "He's gone," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "He's off to the airport--so beside himself he never thought to listen for your heartbeat . . . I was prepared to tell him that I'd found a mortal toy with which I planned to indulge myself," she said coolly, as he drew in a sharp breath. "With the preparations you've made, he'll probably follow your dupes to Florida before he's discovered his error." Nicola looked away, a slight flush rising in his cheeks--his skin was so ! "If he hurts them--" "They were well paid. He's not so foolish--it's a different age. Although, when he grows angry--" She shrugged as Nicola gave her a sharp glance. "It was your decision, ." "I know," he said wearily. "I'm just--I'm tired of all of the blood." She turned her back to him and held her shoulders, crossing her arms. "Then go. I've done as you asked. You're free of him for a bit. He won't be able to track you-- not the way he's used to. He'll have to rely on others. Run fast and run far and he may not find you. Until--" Janette bit back on her unspoken 'until it's too late.' Because it would be. Nicola was mortal. Which meant that he'd age and die. LaCroix had chased him often, but time had always been on his side. That was no longer the case. She heard Nicola behind her, felt the warmth of his hands against her the cool skin of her shoulders, then his fingers entwined with her own. "He didn't suspect?" he breathed. His heartbeat thundered in her ears. How easy it would be to take him back . . . . "He didn't suspect a thing. I even think he felt--" She stopped again, not daring to finish the sentence-- that LaCroix had seen the sadness and hurt in her to which Nicola, in his happiness, was oblivious. Or not so oblivious. When he touched his lips to the back of her neck , she sighed and closed her eyes tightly at the words he murmured against her skin. "You're the only part of my past I regret having to leave behind." She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to leave, that she could bring him back into the darkness so easily, that if she'd been willing to lie to LaCroix for him, what wouldn't she do for him? But not that. Not a return to the sunlight, and aging flesh and decay. Not even for him. Janette escaped his embrace carefully--he was mortal now and might break--and turned to face him. "Go. You're wasting the time I've bought you." "He'll be angry." "He'll be ," she corrected. "But he's been furious before. And I've been a pawn between you for so long, he'll believe that you tried to mislead me." Janette stepped closer to him and touched a finger to his lips. "Go, Nicola. And never come back." She hadn't meant to kiss him. She told herself that he was only mortal, that her will and strength would more than match his. But with those so-very blue eyes staring into hers . . . she deserved a kiss good-bye. And she took advantage of the moment, memorizing the strange touch of his warm skin and lips, reliving the dream from so long ago when she'd last kissed the mortal crusader, Nicola. And now was mortal again. Lost to her, forever. Janette pushed him back and turned away. "Go," she said, then cleared her throat when her voice sounded less than definite. "Or I'll change my mind; you know how fickle I can be. And they'll be coming back, soon. They mustn't see you." He knew enough to back away; she heard him move toward the door, then pause there. "I'll never forget you." "Be careful not to tell that to your Natalie. I don't think she'd quite understand . . . ." When he chuckled, it was all she could do not to turn, to see him smile one last time. "No. She wouldn't. Janette . . . but I forget you." She waited, her hands clutching her shoulders, and closed her eyes tightly again. "Nor I you, . Nor I you," she whispered, straining to hear the last echoes of his heartbeat as he slipped out the rear exit of the club. And into a mortal life to which she could never belong. ****************************** An End.