Forever Knight
Reverberations
** Authors note - If this seems a lot like the Transition Series story, 'Millennium', one of the main plots - a world wide meeting of vampires - and many of the characters and subplots from that story are also in this one. (Is it possible to plagiarize your own work?) **
**********
Lucien LaCroix stared at the gold edged envelope in his hand. It was in his postal box. The private one that only a handful of people knew about. There was usually nothing in this particular box. His bills, he had put on autopay through Feliks Twist, the vampire accountant, as soon as he found out that such a thing existed. The junk mail never got this far. That went into another postal box that he regularly emptied directly into a nearby recycling bin. To be recycled into more junk mail. He rarely had personal correspondence in the form of letters. Since he discovered the computer, almost everything was done by E-mail and fax. Because there was no return address and no stamp or postmark, it should have been impossible for it to get where it was. Even stranger was the name on the envelope. It was sent to Lucius Gaius Pletano. His mortal Roman name.
**********
Screed climbed the stairs to the choir loft of the abandoned church that Vachon called home. " 'Ey, V-Man." He called. "Did youse gets one of these 'ere little billiet duckses?" He held up a gold framed envelope addressed to J. Thaddeus Screed. "An' 'ow did 'oever sents it to me knows exaceticalley where to posts it so's I'd finds it right offhandedly like. I means when I camed back to me digs from cleanin' out of the Raven this mornin', there it was 'angin' on me clothes line right in th' middle o' all me fav-o-rite squeakers, it was."
"I know all about those envelopes." Javier Vachon told his Carouche friend. "I got one too." He held up his gold trimmed envelope. This one was addressed to Senor Javier Diego Philippe Dos Santos y Vachon.
**********
Janette DuCharme came into the main room of the Raven. She held a gilt edged envelope in her hand. As Miklos set a glass of her favorite vintage in front of her, she noticed that he had a gold bordered envelope folded and stuck in his shirt pocket. "I see you have one, too?" She asked.
"Yes, Miss Janette. It was in my postal box when I checked it this evening. And from what I understand from the patrons here, every vampire in this area received one. And I'll venture to guess that every vampire that exists got one too. And as far as anyone can tell, none of them came through the post."
**********
Ben Harstein stared at the envelope addressed to Avrum Ben Harsen. It had been almost two millennia since he had used that name.
It was shortly after 35 CE that he had been brought across. He had been a member of the Zealots, a radical group that had been overtly fighting the tyranny of the Romans for several decades. He and his group had taken part in an ill fated assault on the Roman garrison outside of Bethesda. He was mortally wounded and left for dead. The next thing he clearly remembered was first hunger. He had been brought across by a vampire named Tyrosine Bar Ishua. Shortly after that, he left Judea with Tyrosine and began roaming the world. Over the centuries, his outlook changed and he realized that violence was not the solution to the world's problems. Tyrosine, unfortunately, was killed during the Inquisition. Whether it was because he was a Jew, or because he was a vampire, Ben was not certain. Maybe it was both.
Although he had taken various names in his numerous lifetimes, Ben always kept the Jewish connotation. As far as he was concerned, he was still a devout Jew, and he always would be. The fact that he was a vampire was secondary.
The envelope was in his call box at Ohio State University. He had been a student there when the vampire news broke, and he had been, for all practical purposes, expelled. A few weeks later, due in great part to the efforts of some of his 'classmates' and the members of Alpha Rho Epsilon, his school fraternity, he was offered an associate professorship in the Ancient History department. After all, who better to teach history than someone who had lived through it?
**********
Nick Knight picked up the days mail. There was the usual amount of junk mail. Three more requests for personal appearances. (He had to find an agent. And soon.) A handful of grocery and discount store ads, a catalogue from Victoria's Secret (Why him?) a checque from a local car dealer for $1,000.00 off on the purchase of a new car, and a notice from a magazine company proclaiming that he might have won their all expense paid trip to sunny Jamaica. And two solicitations for credit cards. Then there was his electric bill, his gas bill and the ever present tax bill.
One piece caught his eye. It was in a large gold rimmed envelope. The writing was in elegantly hand scripted gold ink. It was addressed to Mssr. Nicholas de Brabant. There was no return address and no stamp or postmark. That meant it had to be hand delivered. But by whom? And why?
"Aren't you going to open it?" Natalie Lambert asked. She had been spending the majority of her free time at the loft since they had returned from Council Headquarters.
"Oh. Yeah. I guess I better." He slid his index finger under one corner of the flap and ripped the envelope in half.
"What did you just do?" She asked in mock horror. "You destroyed that envelope. That's what letter openers are for. Or in desperation, you could always use a steak knife. But not your fingers."
"I knew you always ironed and kept the Christmas wrapping papers for reuse the next year, but I didn't know that extended to envelopes as well. I promise. Next time I'll use an opener." He bent and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"Thanks." She replied, returning the kiss to his cheek. "Okay. Now that you've got it open, what does it say?"
He drew out a gilt edged card. "It says. And I quote. You are hereby summoned to attend a General Conclave of Vampires to be held in Cairo next month. The subject is the revelation of vampires to the mortal world. And it's signed by all the members of the High Council."
"So. Are you going?"
"I don't have a choice in the matter. You ought to know by now that when the High Council summons you, you better comply. Or else."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No. It would be much too dangerous. When it says Conclave of Vampires, it's for vampires only. Any mortal would be looked upon by some of the members as a possible late night snack. That includes you, Schanke, and Tracy. I doubt if even Ratface will be allowed to attend. Don't worry. I'm taking my laptop with me and I'll keep you up to date on everything that happens."
**********
Logan Grainer stood before the door to the High Council chambers. He had wracked his near perfect vampire memory and he could not find any infractions that he or Edmund Gloucester had committed in the last two months. Ever since they had tried to bluff their way out of the 'sentence' imposed on them by Lady Zera for their part in the revelation of vampires, they had been model vampires.
Then, out of the blue, the Enforcer they had nicknamed 'Chuckles' not-too-gently escorted the two of them to the anteroom. Naturally, there was no explanation from the cantankerous Enforcer guard. Only the gruff command. "Wait here."
The door opened and another Enforcer and 'Chuckles' escorted them inside. Lady Zera sat alone at the Council table.
"Do come in, gentlemen." She said. From her elderly, gentle grandmotherly look, it was hard to believe that this ancient vampire was the leader of the world's vampires. "Please be seated." She indicated two brocade upholstered chairs by the side of the table.
"Whatever it is we did, My Lady." Logan began. "We are humbly sorry. I can assure you, it was purely unintentional." He surreptitiously kicked his 'partner'. "Wasn't it, Edmund?"
"Yeah ... Yes ... Yes, Ma'am." Edmund replied, rubbing his shin and giving Logan an irate stare. "Purely unintentional." <Whatever it was. >
Lady Zera smiled softly. "You have done nothing wrong to my knowledge. However, if you have, we could find out about it with a simple blood test." She let her fangs show ever so slightly. "That is not why I brought you here though. I am releasing you from your confinement ... "
"You are?" Logan said. "Believe me, Lady Zera. We have learned our lesson. You won't have any more trouble from us. None at all. I swear." He had practiced the art of contriteness ad infinitum during his confinement. He now had it down pat.
"You did not let me finish." Lady Zera interrupted. "I am releasing you from confinement, but you will still be in custody. There is a general conclave of vampires in Cairo next month and you two will attend. You will be accompanied at all times by Everett and Norton." She indicated 'Chuckles' and the other Enforcer. "When the conclave is over, depending on your behavior there, I will consider releasing you on indefinite probation. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Edmund replied.
"Yes Ma'am." Logan echoed.
**********
Frank pulled the envelopes from the doorsill of his shack. "Hey, Willie!" He called to his roommate. "I thought you said that nobody knew that we were on this island except your friend and a few others. And that they're all here with us."
"Yeah. So ... " Willie answered.
"Then how do you explain these?" Frank held up two gold edged envelopes.
**********
Jean-Pierre Brabant, the Elder of the French Community, opened the gold framed envelope. It was addressed to Mssr. Jean-Pierre DeLaBarre. He read it and picked up the telephone. "Jeanette, mon ami ... " He said when the phone was answered.
**********
Alex Roman saw the envelope as he opened the door to his photography studio. It had been shoved under the door. He studied the address carefully. It was addressed to HIH Alexei Nikolaievich Romanov. In his mortal life, Alex had been the son of Nicholas II, the last Czar of Russia.
**********
Los Angeles
Jeb Puckett stopped in the lobby of his apartment complex to pick up his mail. The gold edged envelope attracted his attention immediately. It was addressed to Jebediah Stuart Puckett, and had no return address or stamp. "Dang!" He said in a strong good-ol'-boy drawl. "Who'd be sendin' me highfalutin' mail like this?"
Jeb was a fairly young vampire, less than 50 years old. He was from Havens Corners, a tiny backwoods town in rural Georgia where he had made a hardscrabble living on the family farm. He had been brought across by an evil vampire who abandoned him. He intended to leave Jeb to take the blame for the crimes and murders that he had committed. Jeb was rescued by Clarissa De Mer, who rebonded with him and taught him the things he needed to know in order to be a good and positive vampire.
**********
"Are you sure you have enough?" Natalie asked.
"I've started new lives with less than this." Nick replied, looking at the suitcases stacked beside the lift door. "I'm only going to be gone for a week or so."
"I just don't want you to get to Cairo and find that you've forgotten something."
"If I have forgotten to pack something, which I sincerely doubt, I can always buy it there. Cairo is, after all, a modern city. They do have department stores, you know. I hear they even have the equivalent of a 7-11."
"I wish I could come, too."
"So do I, but as I told you before, it's for vampires only. I have my laptop. I'll E-mail you every night and send lots of pictures and any news I can."
Natalie handed him a small lunch cooler. "This is something for you to remember me by." She said.
"NAT!" He said, opening the cooler and taking out the blood bag in it. It was sandwiched between two frozen gel packs. "You didn't have to do this. This is much more than you can afford to lose."
"It's no more than a person would normally lose when they donate blood. I can easily afford that much. Take it. If you don't, it'll only go stale and then it'll be wasted."
He gathered her into a gentle bear hug. "You're the greatest. What did I ever do to deserve you in my life?" He said.
"You've got that all wrong. I wonder what I did to deserve you." Nat replied.
"I'll take just a little bit every day and think of you and miss you terribly."
**********
The DeBrabant jet taxied to the Executive terminal at Cairo International. From the window, Nick could see several other jets belonging to other vampires or Communities parked on the tarmac. At the far end was a Boeing 747. Although there were no markings beyond its ID numbers, there was a red rectangular ellipse on the tail with a stylized silver graphic of a diamond in the middle. There was no doubt that this aircraft belonged to the High Council. A ruby with a diamond in the middle was the setting of Lady Zera's ring, as well as most of her jewelry. It was her symbol.
The Toronto party disembarked and headed for the string of limousines waiting in the covered entranceway of the terminal. Lucien LaCroix had determined that their entourage would go in style, so he had uncharacteristically ordered a fleet of limos to transport them to the Conclave site.
The High Council had used their powers of 'persuasion', and a few well placed members of the Egyptian Community, to convince the Egyptian government to allow them to use an abandoned military base for the Conclave. It was in the desert about fifty miles from Cairo.
It afforded excellent security from both the outside and inside. It was isolated enough that there was little chance of any incidents with the mortals, but close enough that those who wished to do so could take in all the sights and tourist activities that the area had to offer.
There was even a facility for satellite TV hookup. Although there had been strict instructions that this meeting was for vampires only, there was still a small army of reporters and journalists encamped in a tent city just outside the gates to the base. Among them naturally, was Edgar Rathman. He had appointed himself as the 'official' spokesman for the Conclave.
**********
Toronto
"KNIGHT ! ... " Joe Reese bellowed. " Oh, I forgot. You're not here. You're in Egypt." He said barely above a whisper. "SCHANKE! VETTER! MY OFFICE." He bellowed again.
"What's wrong, Cap?" Don Schanke said as he entered. Tracy Vetter was right behind him.
"Just answer one question. Do you know when the last time anybody saw Jason Moore was?"
"I don't know." Tracy replied. " Let me think. The last time I remember seeing him was at the Parliamentary Legal Committee hearing. That was what? Three weeks ago."
"You're right Tracy, that's the last time he was around here." Don thought a moment. "You know, now that I think of it, that's really strange. Given his personality, you'd think he, or at the very least that creepy crud of a lawyer of his, would be bugging everybody to get himself reinstated, or at the very least, giving us all kinds of grief because he was kicked off the force. Never mind that it was his fault. After all, he's the one who ... " Don Schanke held his hands in a position of surrender and shook his head. " ... Don't get me started down that road."
"Why do you ask?" Tracy added.
"Because I just got a call from the Coast Guard." Reese handed Schanke a report form. "Seems a couple of fishermen out on the lake reeled in a body. Officially, it's a John Doe. No ID, no nothing on the body. Unofficially, the police on the dock think it might possibly be Jay Moore. I want you two to be the investigating officers."
"Why us?" Tracy asked.
"Just in case it is Jay Moore, I want to make sure that this is handled correctly. I don't want just anybody investigation it. I chose you two because you've been more or less involved in this case from the very start. I mean Doctor Lambert is your friend and she's the one he tried to rape. And your partner was the one he and his shyster lawyer went after the hardest. I know you're both top professionals, and to spite your involvement, you'll do the best job possible."
**********
The red and blue lights from the squad cars and the glare from the high powered spotlights gave the dock area a surrealistic appearance. Like something out of a Sci-Fi show. Don Schanke and Tracy Vetter pushed their way through the throng of curious onlookers and media that had assembled outside the barrier of yellow crime scene tape that surrounded the pier.
Natalie Lambert was hunched over the body that was lying on one of the morgue stretchers. It was obvious that this was not an easy case for her. Given the person she was working on, and the circumstances, that was somewhat of an understatement.
She looked up as Don and Tracy came to her. "Victim is Jason Moore. Age 40. Male. Caucasian." She said in her most professional voice. Even so, Tracy could hear the strain in it. She had to be keeping an extremely tight leash on her emotions even to be here. "I am the one who made the ID on him. Cause of death, undetermined at this time, although there are several things that could be the fatal element. He had a five foot section of two inch wide cast iron pipe tied to his left leg with his belt. It must weigh fifty pounds at least. And it had been bent in several places as well. The pipe, that is, not the belt. That's what kept him under water until the fishermen brought him up. As near as I can tell without further examination, he's been in the water approximately three weeks. That doesn't help matters either. I'll know more once I get him back to the morgue."
"You're sure it's Moore?" Don asked. "I mean, the face is so bloated and distorted, it could be almost anyone." He knew that the identification was probably correct, but he had to ask. For official purposes.
"Don." Natalie said, her voice only slightly betraying her inner turmoil. "As many times as I've seen that face in my panic attacks and in my nightmares since that fateful night, there's no question in my mind. It may be bloated. It may be discolored. It may be partially decomposed. But it is definitely Jason Moore. Of course, fingerprints and a DNA test will prove it conclusively."
"Any witnesses?"
"From three weeks ago? Not likely. The men who reeled him in might know something, though. Constable Graham has already questioned them. You might want to talk with him." She pointed to a young red headed officer leaning rather unsteadily against one of the pylons at the dock's edge. The shade of green on his face was in perfect opposition to his hair.
Tracy guessed that this was probably his first encounter with a dead body.
"I questioned the fishermen." Constable Graham said, trying to be very professional about it. The unintended sing song voice however, betrayed him. "Their names are … " He consulted the clipboard in his hands. " … James Belkins and Wallace Johnson. They seemed to be nothing more than two guys who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They thought they had snagged a log, but when they pulled their line in, there was the body. They were pretty shaken up by all of this. I'm afraid they did about the same thing I did when I saw him." He blushed deeply. That wiped away the greenish tint to his face and replaced it with an all too rosy pink tone. "I let them go home. They were in no condition to stay here." He handed Don his clipboard with the witness report on it. "You'll find all the pertinent information here."
"Thank you, Constable Graham." Tracy said. "If you want, you can leave too. We'll take it from here."
"Thank you, Detective. I think I will. I just have one question. If that really is Jason Moore, wasn't he one of us?"
"He was a cop, if that's what you mean." Schanke replied. "But he was never one of us. He was a dirty cop."
"In that case, I'm kinda glad he's dead. We don't need any dirty cops walking around."
"GRAHAM!" Tracy said. "NEVER say that. No matter how bad a person is, no one deserves to be murdered. EVER! And no one should ever say they're pleased when someone dies. Especially like Moore did."
"I'm sorry, Detective. You're right. Death, no matter whose it is, is not something to be glad about. I wasn't thinking. I apologize." He thought a long moment. "Are you going to report what I said to my supervisor?"
"How long have you been on the force?"
"Six months, Ma'am. This is my first real crime. Up 'till now, I've been on security patrol."
"No. I'm not going to report it. This time. But if I EVER hear of you saying or doing ANYTHING like this again … " Tracy deliberately left the sentence unfinished.
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am." Thoroughly chastised, Graham headed back to his squad car.
"You can think it ..." Tracy said as soon as the rookie patrolman was out of range. " … Just don't say it."
"TRACY!" Don said.
"Don't tell me you aren't thinking the same thing."
"Okay. I won't tell you." Don Schanke looked over Graham's report. "It appears the Constable was right. Our fishermen just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." He glanced over to where the technicians were loading the body of the late Jason Moore into the Coroner's wagon. "Since there's no more we can do here, what say we return to the precinct and bring the Captain up to date?"
**********
Cairo
Nick and LaCroix sat in the Officers Club, sipping on a house special. Janette and
Vachon had gone to their rooms in the Officers area. Screed had said he was going to see if there was any Las Vegas style action in the area. He had traded in a thousand dollars from his 'stash' for Egyptian Pounds at the airport, and it was burning the proverbial hole in his pocket.
The Council members, Elders, and Ancients were billeted in the Field Officers
Quarters, a series of miniature mansions complete with all the amenities. Other ranking members were given suites in the Officers Quarters. Rank and file vampires were housed in rooms in either the Non Commissioned Officer or Enlisted barracks, depending on their status in the Community. LaCroix's quarters, naturally, were in the FOQ.
Although he was considered an Elder, Screed, because he was a Carouche, was relegated to an abandoned building that once had been the storage area for food and supplies for the mess halls. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he rather liked it there. "It sorta sometimes reminds me of me diggins back in Toron-ti-o, it does. Besides, I don't 'ave far to go to gets me a scrump-didilly-ichious meal, I don't. 'Cause of the lefted overs foods an' such, there's a plenty o' the fattest 'n' juiciest squeakers I done ever seen. As well as lotsa other goodies creatures to dine on, too." He gleefully announced when he had been shown to his quarters.
**********
"Ancienne Homme (Old Man)!" A voice behind Nick called out. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought for sure someone would have staked you by now."
"As I am with you, Petit Enfant (Little Child)!" Nick called back. "If anyone needs staking, Jean-Pierre, it's you. Are you still taking my name in vain?"
"That name is just one of many that you've used over the centuries. You weren't using it at the time, so I thought I would borrow it for a while. If I remember correctly, you weren't using any name at all during that time. I still don't see why you were so put out. I only used it for a few months. Then I gave it back." Jean-Pierre said, embracing Nick and pounding him firmly on the back.
Seeing the quizzical look of some of his companions, Nick turned to them. "This is Jean-Pierre. He claims to be a relative of mine. A very distant relative, I might add. And the more distance between us, the better. By the way, whose name are you abusing now?"
"My own. Brabant. I am entitled to it, you know. After all, my great-great-if-you-go-back-far-enough-grandmother ... was your father's sister. Besides, it's much more respectable than my true ancestral name, DeLaBarre. I've read about his exploits. Not the type of person a respectable man like myself would want to be descended from."
Nicholas choked loudly. "Talk about the pot and the kettle."
"Tell me, Ancienne, are you still pretending to be a policeman?"
"If you would learn to read someday, you'd know that I am not pretending, Enfant. It's been in all the papers, even the overseas ones. I AM a policeman. And what about you? Are you still playing backup for that has-been pop singer? What was his name again? Rich Springmeadow?"
"For your information, Mr. Living-In-The-Past, he's never been hotter. Right now, he's on tour throughout the States and Canada and he will be for well over the next two years. He finished a TV movie in England earlier this year, and he just inked a contract to star in a TV pilot. And for gravy on the train, his latest album went platinum in Australia three weeks after it was released. Doesn't sound very has-been to me."
"You don't have to get defensive, Mon Amis. Where is that lovely Jeanette of yours, and that blackguard that brought you across? Last I heard, he was using the name LaCroix, wasn't he?" Nick pointed to Lucien LaCroix. "I believe you know Lucien LaCroix, here ... the real LaCroix."
"My Jeanette is here, too. She'll be along in a few minutes, but LaCroix ... my LaCroix,
that is … is dead."
"How did it happen?" Lucien LaCroix asked, blanching noticeably.
**********
"Damn you, LaCroix. Burn in Hell. " Nick (Jean-Pierre) Knight yelled at the vampire coming toward him.
"I'll save you a spot right next to me, Jean-Pierre." LaCroix (The Younger) hissed at his son. He slowly walked toward Jean-Pierre. "You have no choice in the matter." His eyes became glowing yellow and his voice slow and hypnotic. "You cannot go on with this foolish quest of yours ... You must give in to your instincts." He reached for a broom and thrust it into the fireplace. He pulled it out and shoved the blazing straw at his son.
Jean-Pierre stumbled back from the fiery mass and tripped. He managed to steady himself on the edge of the paint table, but not before it overturned and several cans of paint and turpentine were spilled onto the floor.
LaCroix took another swipe. This time though, Jean-Pierre caught the end of the broom and pulled it hard. Ignoring the agony that the flames were causing to his hands, he managed to turn it around and point it at his master.
"Va au diable! (Go to the devil!)" He thrust the stake at him. By now, most of the burning straw had fallen off and some of it had ignited the volatile liquids on the floor. The tip of the wooden handle was now aflame as well.
"That's it, Jean-Pierre." LaCroix coaxed as he backpedaled toward the door. "Give in to your true nature. You know you want to. Now, put down that annoying little toy and let's get out of here while we still have a chance."
"Never!" Jean-Pierre pulled back his arm and tossed the stake as if it were a javelin. True to his aim, the burning projectile went through LaCroix and pinned him solidly to the wall. There was a look of astonishment and pure terror on the older vampire's face as he realized that there was no escape. Jean-Pierre watched in dismay tinged with awe as the burnt-paper like remnants of his master drifted to the floor. Outside, he heard the sirens approaching the abandoned theater that had been his lodgings for the past six months.
*********
He sloshed through the still smoldering remains of what was his home. There, still securely fastened to the wall was the makeshift stake. At the base, was a pile of soggy ashes that were all that remained of his sire. Carefully, he scooped the gooey mass into a plastic bag. Then, he went out into the theater's parking lot. He sat the bag on the ground and spilled the contents onto the asphalt. He then retreated into the safety of the abandoned parking lot collection booth. It had been boarded up when the theater closed, and there were only a few thin slivers of light admitted through the cracks in the plywood. It was a perfect place to watch as the rising sun incinerated the remaining particles of LaCroix. That evening, he scattered those to the four winds.
**********
Lucien LaCroix stiffened as Jean-Pierre recounted his master's demise. He remembered Nick's ill-fated attempt to stake him in almost the same manner. He could never let Nicholas know how close he had come to succeeding. The flaming lance had missed his heart by centimeters. If the elder vampire hadn't managed to get the stake out in time, he, too would be dead. Even so, it took many months for him to heal.
"Did you know the other LaCroix?" Nick asked his master.
LaCroix nodded. "Yes, I knew him. I was the one who brought him across. He was my first." LaCroix said flatly. "And now he's dead."
"I'm sorry." Nick said.
"I'm not. Not entirely. I am sad that he is no more, but I am glad that he cannot continue his evil ways any longer.
He had all the qualities that I wanted in a child. He was strong willed, fearless, decisive, and with no particular moral scruples. I felt that he would be the perfect companion for me throughout eternity. I could not have been prouder than when he took my name as his own."
He sighed heavily.
"You were correct, Jean-Pierre. He did embrace the dark side much too enthusiastically. While I, myself, do not necessarily adhere to accepted moral teachings, even I could not condone many of the things that he did. I banished him from me shortly before I found Janette … my Janette. After that, I lost track of him for many centuries. The last time I heard of him was about four hundred years ago. It was better for everyone that we did not keep contact."
"That must have been just before he brought me across. Speaking of Janettes, where is your Janette now?" Jean-Pierre asked.
"Right behind you." Janette DuCharme said. She put her arms around Jean-Pierre and hugged him tightly. "It's been too long. Or maybe not long enough."
"And look who I found on my way here." She pointed to the woman sitting at a nearby table "Jeanette Marchand." She pointed to the stunning brunette.
"Jeanette." Jean-Pierre called. Two heads, one brunette and one raven, turned to him.
"Oh dear. I see we will have a real problem on our hands with the names."
"Not really." Jeanette Marchand said. "You can call her Janette D. and I will be Jeanette M. That should not be too confusing."
"Why don't we go to my quarters and continue this conversation in a more comfortable setting?" LaCroix suggested. "It's not every day I find a branch of my family that I did not know still existed."
"Excellent idea." Jeanette M. said. "All these years, except for Nicholas, we thought that Jean-Pierre was a virtual orphan and now we find that he has quite a large family."
**********
Toronto
Shaking, Natalie Lambert started to pull back the sheet from the remains of Jason Moore. Then, she pulled it back up. "Grace." She called to her assistant. "Take over for me. I … I can't do this." Her voice trembled and her face was as pasty white as some of her 'patients'.
"No problem." Grace Balthazar said as she began to scrub. "I was surprised you wanted to do this one anyway. I mean, considering what he tried to do to you. If it were me, I'd want to be as far away from the case as I possibly could get."
3
"I know I shouldn't be here, but I had to make sure that it really was
him. I thought I could handle it, but … " She held her head in her hands
and sat on the chair by her desk. By now, she could barely hold back the sobs
that were starting to shake her body.
"Why don't you go home, girl." Grace said, putting her arms around her colleague and her friend as well. "It's almost end of shift, and I can handle anything that comes in from here on."
"I know what you're saying. But I have to be here. I have to know just how he died. I know it sounds sick, but there's a little part of me that hopes he suffered."
"He did suffer."
"What?"
"I mean if these wounds are any indication, I'd say that Jason Moore suffered a whole lot. I won't make you leave, but I want you to stay right there at your desk." Grace put on her best mean-mama look. "You move one fraction of an inch, and I'll have a patrol car take you home in handcuffs and shackles. You hear me, girl?"
"Yes mother."
**********
" … And you're sure of this?" Don Schanke asked Natalie Lambert. She had brought the autopsy report to the precinct as soon as it was finished.
"Positive. DNA confirms that it is ... it was Jason Moore. And the few fingerprints Forensics was able to lift matched the set in his personnel file.
Although Grace Balthazar did the actual autopsy, I was there the whole time. I couldn't believe it myself, and I was there. As I said at the scene, he was weighted down with a length of pipe. Inn addition, we found two .9mm bullets lodged in his lungs and another in his spleen. A fourth was in his bladder. There were seven stab wounds from a large knife, either a butcher knife or possibly a hunting knife, in his back. Nearly every major organ had been pierced at least once. The right side of his skull was caved in from repeated blows from a large blunt object. The indentations matched the pipe. There was considerable lake water in his lungs, but it's possible that it got there through the bullet wounds to his lungs. And the weirdest of all, there were two small round puncture marks on the left side of his neck."
"Vampires?" Tracy asked.
Natalie only shrugged.
"So, what killed him?" Don inquired.
"Considering how long he was in the water, determining the exact cause of death is nearly impossible. Any one of his wounds could have done it. All I know for sure is, just like in the movie, Jason Moore is not just merely dead. He is most sincerely dead."
"I guess we had better let Nick know about this latest wrinkle." Tracy said.
"I believe Captain Reese has already taken care of that." Natalie replied.
"Now what do we do, Mr. Wizard?" Tracy asked her partner after Natalie had left. "I suppose we should start by questioning everyone who had a reason to want the late Mister Moore dead."
"That would include nearly half the population of Metropolitan Toronto, as well as most of the rest of York County. Moore was not exactly Mister Congeniality, after all."
"Then how about those who said it out loud?"
"That narrows it down to several hundred that I know of, and most of them are right here in this precinct. Starting with you and me. I know I didn't do it, and I sincerely doubt that you did either."
Tracy smiled broadly. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, partner. Just for the record, I did not kill Jason Moore."
**********
Cairo
LaCroix poured another drink for the group. Javier Vachon had joined them and they had spent most of the evening reminiscing and bringing everyone up to date.
"P-P-S-S-S-S-T-T!" The noise came from the window and was accompanied by the sound of small pebbles being thrown against the pane.
"P-P-P-S-S-S-T-T-T ... V-Man ... Derfective Knightie ... Mr. Lay-Craw ... Out here." A voice whispered. This time there was a faint tapping to go with the whispering.
Nick went to the window and looked out. Screed was standing outside the window, with only a small rug covering his groin area.
Nick opened the door and Screed scurried inside.
"What are you doing out there?" LaCroix asked. "And dressed ... or should I say undressed ... like that?"
"I thought you were going out to find some action." Nick added.
"I was." Screed said, clutching the rug tightly to himself. "And I did. Sorta. Would yew droogs mind terribly if I put some clothes on meself firs' afore I tries to explain? It's a mite chilly bein' bare nekkid like this, and a bit o' embay-rass-ment like, too. I means, there are ladies o' the female pers-u-asion 'ere an' all."
"Of course not." Nick said. "Why don't you wait in the bathroom while I go to your place and get you something to wear? I don't think you'd want to risk being caught in the open like that any more than you already have."
**********
Screed paced the floor. He was dressed in his only other outfit, a reasonably clean pair of jeans and a scruffy, but serviceable shirt of indeterminate color. Minus shoes. Unfortunately, he had brought only one pair with him. Nick's shoes were too small. Jean-Pierre's were the right size, but much too narrow, and he did not want to even think about asking LaCroix for a pair of his.
.
"Well, I was away down in the lobby of this 'ere in down like town 'otel what I foun' on me wanderin's, tryin' to finds me way to some of the better like pickin's this 'ere burg 'as to offer, I was tryin' to be gettin' me some in-for-may-sh-ion like from the desk clerk there. 'E said 'e spoke the Queen's H'inglish, but 'e sure didn't speak no lang-u-age that I could understan'."
He continued his explanations. "That's when these two real nice like ladies comes in an' offers to show me around to the sights. They wasn't too 'ard on the ol' baby blue peepers neither. They said their names was 'Ermionie and Liza an' that they 'ailed from Liverpool, they did. Said they knowed the area round 'ere real good and all 'cause they'd been 'ere lots o' times afore. I figured I could trusts them, seein's as 'ow they was one o' us and all. At least they was one of your kinds o' vampires.
Well, the first thing they asks me was if'n I'd never seed the pyramids by moonlight. When I tells 'em that I ain't never even been to Egypt afore, they offered to take me right out. I figured that weren't their real reason. I figured it was probly somethin' like watchin' sub-may-reen races or going din-o-saw-yer 'untin'. I ain't exactly a novice in 'at respec', ya knows. ... I mean ... I done the mattress dance a couple a times in me life. In me mortal like life I was say-lor, after all, y' know. Girl in every port pinin' fer me and all that jimmy jam. But I ain't never done it wit' no two wenches at a time. I means, bey-ins the sexy lusty bloke what I am, I 'ad two or more in one evenin' but not together like.
They said that they didn't usual do it wit' Carouche types, but seein's 'ow I was a right proper Elder an' all that, they supposed it would be all rightey.
Well anyways, I said yes like to the girls. To make a long story kinda short, while 'Ermionie and me was you know ... doing the ... 'or-i-zontal 'okey-pokey, Liza, she was supposed to be waitin' for me with our things. We'd already did it. She was a real bit o' sweet stuff, too. So was 'Ermionie. Instead, she ... Liza, that is ... tooked me clothes and all me money and 'igh tailed it outer there. 'Ermoinie said she'd go after 'er and get my things back. I waited over an 'our, but she never comed back neither.
I final snucked around to this 'ere wanderin' nomad's tent and kinda sorta borrowed this 'ere rug to cover me new-dit-idy in order to gets back to 'ere. Why would anybody expec' a itty bitty thing like this to cover the 'ole tent floor?"
"Screed. That's not supposed to cover the floor. That's the man's prayer rug. He uses that when he kneels and prays facing Mecca." Vachon explained
"You means it's like a religious thingie?"
"Yes, I'm afraid it is."
"OH! Sos 'at's why there's these powerful rashie thingies on me little dingle dangly. I thinked mebbe them womens 'ad given me a dis-sease, like some sorta vampire Vee Dee or somethin'."
Nick looked at LaCroix. LaCroix looked at Jean-Pierre. Jean-Pierre looked at Vachon. Vachon looked at Nick. Suddenly a look of recognition came into each of their faces.
"What do they look like?" LaCroix asked.
"Well, theys kinda red and scaly like … an' they itches real bad, too." Screed emphasized his point by scratching his pubic area
"No, not the rash ... The girls. What do they look like?"
"Oh! 'Em. Now, lemme see. 'Ermionie, she was tall and not awful skinny like and she 'ad long brown 'air and eyes kinda colored like a pint o' Guinness Stout. And her legs went all the way up, if'n ya knows what I means."
"And Liza?"
"She 'ad curly sorta reddish 'air sumpin' sorta like a Irish setter puppy, or maybe a 'ittle bitty golden retriever. And green eyes like a jade stone in the 'ilt o' a dagger, and the prettiest li'l bit of a nose. Kinda just sat there on 'er face real sassy like. Oh an' she 'ad like freckles, too."
**********
Lucius Pletano walked dejectedly along the Street of Thieves. His thoughts were still on the tomb of Re'-Atum where he had just interred the decapitated body of Divia, his mortal daughter and vampire mother. Although he knew that he should have left her for the desert sun to finish, he could not bring himself to do that to his own flesh and blood.
Divia had brought him across while Mt. Vesuvius was erupting. After traveling together for twenty years, she told him that she wanted him to take her as his lover. This was something he could not do. She was his daughter, after all. To him, this was incest. Then, when she confessed that she had killed her master because he wanted to control her vast evil, he knew that he had no choice. He had to destroy her.
He went into a musty tavern, not much more than a covered space between two structures. While he couldn't drink the liquors, perhaps he could find a suitable beverage in the veins of one of the customers. He was more than pleasantly surprised when he felt the vibrations of others of his own kind.
Eventually he was aware that there were two lovely ladies on either side of him.
"A handsome man like you should not be by himself." The taller one said. "My name is Helena and this is Octavia. Even though you are wearing an Egyptian tunic, it is obvious from your speech and mannerisms that you are connected with the Thirty Eighth Legion in some way. We are from Tuscany. We Roman vampires have to stick together when in a foreign land."
"Could we interest you in a little trip to the pyramids?" The smaller one suggested. "They are exquisite under the full moon ... "
**********
Nicholas felt the vampire emerge. The moon shining down from above the tip of the Pyramid of Cheops seemed to heighten all of his senses. He wanted this willing creature in his embrace. He wanted her bad. Hurriedly, he disrobed as Marie-Louise gently pulled him toward the base of the mammoth structure, shedding her clothes as well as she went toward the base. Mimette had offered to stand guard while he and Marie-Louise completed their romantic tryst. The thought of taking either one of them was dizzying, but the fact that there were two exquisite women, not only wanting him but more than willing to share, was more than enough to push him over the edge.
LaCroix had business in Egypt and had brought Nicholas with him. It was a very uncomfortable time for the former Crusader. The landscape reminded him all too painfully of the Palestinian lands where he had been wounded, imprisoned, and tortured as a mortal less than a century before.
Then he had met the two female vampires at the retreat where they were staying. A vampire friend of LaCroix was the owner. Marie-Louise and Mimette were staying there, too. They said they were from Flanders and they sympathized with a lonely fellow Frenchman. They offered to take his mind off his troubles with a relaxing ride to the pyramids. He immediately accepted.
**********
Cairo, 1801
Jean-Pierre searched the area where he had left his clothes. There was nothing. No clothes. No money belt. No Yvonne or Madeline either. How was he going to explain this to General Napoleon?
The campaign had gone badly from the very beginning. Jean-Pierre was certain that the Emperor had made a bad choice in invading this hostile land, and as one of Napoleon's trusted advisors, he had told the General just that. After several initial victories, the British fleet, under the command of Admiral Nelson, had all but destroyed the French fleet in Alexandria Harbor. Now, stranded in the desert and his army decimated by desertions and disease, Napoleon realized that his days in Africa were numbered. That did not put him in a very congenial mood.
Jean-Pierre had gone to the French Compound to find some peace and quiet from the General's rantings. There, he found a table with several of the vampires that had joined the ranks of the French army. Some, like himself, were there for patriotic reasons. The majority of his kind however, were out for the easy pickings among the dead and dying on either side.
When he entered, Yvonne and Madeline were snuggled with two of the vampires who were with the Bordeaux contingent. When they spotted him, they almost immediately attached themselves to him. They offered him a quiet ride in the desert and two willing and eager recipients for his attentions. It was an offer he could not refuse.
**********
Javier Vachon cursed as he plodded along a culvert beside the road to Cairo. It was bad enough he was buck naked, but to add insult to injury, he had to spend the day burrowed under the desert sand. After his 'encounter' with the two 'ladies', there wasn't time to make it back to the quarters that he had rented above the dingy tavern before the sun rose. While the mound of sand kept out the sunlight, the temperature inside the burrow had easily reached over 120 degrees Fahrenheit. Not exactly the most pleasant of experiences.
In 1931, it became clear that the Spanish people no longer wanted the monarchy ruling over them. In all the large towns, the candidates who supported the monarchy were heavily defeated in the elections. However many country towns supported the monarchy and, in those places, the Monarchists kept power. Javier's home, a small village near the Basque territories, was one of them. In the key cities of Barcelona and Madrid though, support for Republicans was enormous. Angry crowds protested, frequently violently, and King Carlos's most trusted advisors finally convinced him to abdicate.
The Regime that followed was ridden with every kind of political, economic and social conflict. This split national opinion into two irreconcilable sides. Those who supported the Republic and those who did not. The climate of violence grew and in 1933 there was a military uprising, which turned into a tragic civil war.
In 1936 General Francisco Franco took over as Head of State and
Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces. He pursued a ruthless extermination of
all those who had opposed the Republic. Vachon, of course fought on the side of
the Monarchists. Not that he was in favor of the Monarchy, he had no
particular love for either side, but these were his fellow countrymen that were
being butchered.
He had reluctantly fled to Egypt when he found that the Inca had followed him back to Spain and was fighting with Franco's forces.
He was nursing his third powerful bloodwhiskey when the two ladies approached him.
"I can see by your dress you are a fellow Spaniard." One of them, a lanky brunette, said.
"And I would speculate that you are an expatriate, just as we are." The redhead added. "I am Teresita and this is Paloma. We are from Segovia. This war has taken a terrible toll on our fellow countrymen. Even though we are vampires, we are still Spaniards."
"Perhaps you would like a little diversion for a while?" Paloma asked. "Tell me, have you ever seen the pyramids by moonlight? ... "
**********
"You mean they done did this to others?" Screed said. " 'Ow old are these two lay-dies anyways? And I means to use the term loosely."
"Who knows?" Javier said. "And who knows how many others were taken in by them."
"Then why ain’t somebody 'ad the gooney-aids to 'ave done something about 'em already, you know, like maybe reported 'em to the Enforcers or somethin'?"
"Again. Who knows?" LaCroix replied. "Perhaps, like us, the others were too ashamed and embarrassed to admit that they had been taken in. And by two females at that."
"Then maybe it's the time for us gentlemans o' the male gender to play a little game wit' these two 'ores." Screed said determinedly.
"A game?" Jean-Pierre asked. "What kind of game?"
"You know. Like payin' 'em back time. Gives 'em a dose of their own medicines I says. I forgets what color they calls it, but it's the rule that says 'Do others in the same way they done did you'."
"I think I get your meaning."
"And I think I have the plan." LaCroix said, pulling them together.
For the next several hours, the five of them roughed out and expanded on their scheme.
"Now all we need is someone to act as bait." Nick said.
"Since they know all of us, none of us can do that. Therefore, I move we adjourn to the Officers club and see if we can find someone there who might be willing to fill the bill." Jean Pierre suggested.
**********
Toronto
Natalie studied the marks on Jason Moore's neck. Vampires? No, it might have been one of the undead, but something just wasn't right. For one thing, there was not a significant unexplained blood loss. But then again, the vampire in question might not have meant to drain him. Trees or nails? No, the wounds were too clean and symmetrical for that. But that still left the question. What was it that caused the punctures?
On a hunch, she decided to experiment. But she would need two volunteers. She knew just who she would get.
**********
"Back so soon?" Tracy said as she saw Natalie Lambert come into the bullpen.
"Yup. Remember earlier we were talking about the possibility that vampires might have killed Jason Moore? Well, I thought of a way to either confirm or disprove that theory." She took out a ruler. "Tracy, mind if I measure the distance between your teeth?"
"Will it hurt?"
"Not a bit. Just open wide."
Tracy choked as Natalie measured the distance between her left and right canine teeth.
"I thought you said it wouldn't hurt."
"Okay. So I lied."
She compared this with the measurements of the puncture wounds. "Nope. Not even close. Even accounting for individual differences in a person's mouth, the wounds are much too wide to be from a female vampire." She looked at Don Schanke and crooked her finger to him. "Next."
"Oh, no you don't." Don protested.
"Since my favorite male vampire guinea pig is in Cairo at the moment Schank, you'll have to be his stand in. Open your mouth."
"What do you think you're … G-A-AC-ACK!" Don gagged as Natalie measured his teeth.
"Wider than Tracy's, but still too narrow to make those marks. Definitely not made by biting. I guess that lets 99.44 /100% of the undead off the hook."
Sgt. Vera Williams, the desk sergeant at the 96th precinct came into over to them. "Dropping off the latest in the never ending line of useless paperwork." She quipped. "At least it keeps me out of trouble when there's nothing to do at the front desk."
Natalie stared at her gun belt. "What's that?" She pointed to a weird looking sidearm.
"That's a taser." Vera said, drawing the weapon. "We've only been carrying them for about a month now." She pointed to the prongs on the front of it. "It shoots these prongs at the person. Anywhere from point blank range to up to fifteen feet. They imbed themselves in the soft tissue. Usually in the abdomen or the back. There's a small electric line attached to them and anchored to the taser. It then sends a burst of 50,000 volts of electricity down the line for about one tenth of a second. That's enough to disrupt the perp's nervous system and disables them for up to ten minutes. By that time, the officer should be able to get the person into handcuffs or other restraints. According to the manual, the effects aren't permanent, and it's much more humane than a bullet to the gut. Personally, I don't see how having your synapses fried could be considered humane."
"Can I see it?"
Sure." Vera handed the Coroner the weapon.
Natalie put the ruler against the prongs. "Are all the tasers the same?"
"Uh. Huh. Pretty much so. At least the ones that the department issues are." Vera replied, reholstering the taser. "Why do you ask?"
"Because the distance between these prongs is exactly the same as the distance between the puncture wounds on Jay Moore's neck. This is what made those wounds. Now, the question is, who has access to a taser?"
Natalie thought she saw the officer's face turn from bittersweet to milk chocolate.
"You mean other than a cop? You don't think a cop killed Moore, do you?"
"I'm not thinking anything … yet." Natalie said
"Vera. Do you know something that you aren't telling us?" Don Schanke asked as he led the officer to one of the interrogation rooms.
"What do you know about those taser wounds?" Don Schanke was in Vera's face.
"Nothing. I swear. All I know for sure is that three weeks ago, the evening weapons count for the weapons locker came up one taser short. Mace, I mean Sgt. Terrance and his men turned the place upside down looking for it. By the start of the next shift, the count was correct. Everybody chalked it up to an inaccurate inventory count. Nothing more was said or done. That was just about the time that Moore died, wasn't it?"
"And nobody saw anything out of the ordinary?"
"Detective Schanke. You know as well as I do that the weapons locker isn't exactly in plain sight. In fact, if you don't have any reason to be in that hallway, nobody would even … Wait a minute! Maybe there is a way to tell if someone who shouldn't be there, was there around the time Moore was killed. Surveillance cameras. There's one at each end of the hall. Nobody checked them when the taser turned up missing because we thought somebody had just miscounted. Records should still have those tapes."
"The only problem is we don't know exactly when Moore died." Natalie said. "The best guesstimate of the TOD is a three day range."
"And I don't remember exactly which day the taser turned up missing either, but I'll bet it was one of those three days." Vera said.
"Then we look at the tapes for all three of those days." Don Schanke said as he headed for the door.
"Do you realize just how long that's going to take?" Vera asked.
"You got anything better to do?" Don replied.
"Me?"
"Yeah you." Don said. "As senior investigating officer, I am formally requesting that you be made part of the team looking into the death of Jason Moore. If necessary, I can have that put in writing."
"When do we start, Boss?" Vera gave Schanke a salute.
**********
Cairo
Ben Harstein sat at a table in the nearly deserted Officers club. With only a few hours until morning, most of the vampires had retired to their quarters for the day. Tomorrow was to be the opening of the Conclave. From the rumors on the grapevine, it was going to be a spirited and most likely, an unpredictable meeting.
Slowly, he became aware that there were four vampires at the bar who were looking at him very suspiciously. Two of them, Lucien LaCroix and Nicholas Knight, he remembered from the first meeting that the members of the High Council had with the Community Elders. In light of subsequent events, that had seemed like an eternity ago, not less than a year.
They came to his table. He was acutely aware that they were still staring at him. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He said, checking his clothes. "Did I leave my fly open or something?"
"No." Lucien LaCroix said. "There is nothing wrong with your clothes. We just need to ask a ... a ... ask a ... " This was not the Roman General's way. He ordered. Not asked.
"We need to ask a favor of you." Nick completed the sentence. He briefly explained what they had in mind.
"In that case, I'm not the one you need. I was in this area in the ninth century CE. I met the 'girls' while I was here. They called themselves Miriam and Rebecca and they said they were from Megiddo. If it's all the same to you, I would like to be in on the action, though. They ripped me off during the High Holy Days, and that is an unpardonable sin where I come from."
Jean-Pierre looked to the General for approval.
LaCroix nodded. "Of course, Benjamin." He said. "For something like this, the more the merrier."
"I do know someone who would be perfect for what you have in mind, though. If he's willing, that is. He's sitting right over there." Ben pointed to a young vampire at one of the other tables.
"Yes." Nick said. "He will be perfect. I know him. He's young, only a little over seventy years old as a vampire, and he's handsome to boot."
Alex Roman looked up from his glass of bloodwine to see a group of vampires approaching him. He rose and grasped one of them in a bearhug. "Dyaada Nicholai! (Uncle Nicholas!) " He said to Nick, kissing him on both cheeks. "It has been a long time."
Then he turned to LaCroix. Without warning, he planted a roundhouse right squarely on the elder vampire's left cheek.
LaCroix's eyes turned scarlet and his fangs dropped. He started for Alex, but Nick and Vachon restrained him. "Let me go! I have drained others for far less than that." LaCroix hissed.
"Leave him be." Nick ordered.
"He had no right to strike me." LaCroix growled. "At least I deserve an explanation!"
"Gregori Rasputin." Alex replied coldly. "Because of your misguided attempt to use him to control the destiny of Russia, my family and nearly every one of the nobles in the Royal Court were assassinated by the Bolsheviks. If it weren't for Nicholas here, my sister Anastasia and I would have been killed as well. As it was, we barely escaped."
At Rasputin's name, LaCroix stiffened momentarily and then slumped as though in surrender. Reluctantly, Nick and Vachon released the Elder vampire.
"I admit Gregori Rasputin was a mistake on my part." LaCroix said, straightening his jacket. "True, I thought I could use him to influence the Royal Family, but he was too insane and too unstable to control. By the time I had ... rectified that error, the damage was already done. Believe me, I had no wish for things to end the way that they did. As bad as the Russian nobility was, they were far better than either the Bolsheviks or the Communists. I am truly sorry that your family was butchered that way.
As I understand things though, now that the Communist regime has fallen, the current government has exhumed the bodies and given them the royal funeral they deserved. Unfortunately, two bodies were missing. Czarovich Alexei and the Grand Duchess Anastasia. Also, it seems that the Russian Orthodox Church has recently canonized the Czar and his family for their part in defending Russia against the atheistic mobs."
Alex shook his head sadly. "I know. I watched the entire process on TV. It saddened me that Anastasia's body could not have been returned to our homeland to be buried with our family. Unfortunately, the Grand Duchess Marie would never acknowledge that Anna actually was Anastasia, so she couldn't be buried in the Royal Mausoleum. Instead, Anna Anderson Manahan is buried in a simple grave in Richmond Virginia alongside her husband.
Who knows? Perhaps some day, they will find the remains of a hemophiliac 13 year old boy in some forgotten mass grave and declare that they have found Alexei Nikolaievich Romanov. And maybe one of the descendants of the Grand Duchess will admit that they made a mistake and that Anna Anderson is who she really is. Then they will put this entire horror story to rest once and for all. "
"And maybe pigs really will fly." Ben commented.
"Or maybe I'll come out and announce myself to the whole world."
"In that case, you would then be the Czar of all the Russias." Jean-Pierre said.
"No, thanks!" Alex laughed. "I'm very content to be just a small time photographer shooting pictures of nocturnal animals for National Geographic. Then again, maybe I won't come out."
"So. Do I call you Saint Alexei now?" Nick asked, tongue firmly planted in cheek.
"Not flippin' likely. I am far from being a saint."
"How did you get from a Russian firing squad to here?" Javier asked.
"In a sense, it was because of Gregori Rasputin. I owe my life, such as it is, to the 'treatments' that Rasputin had been giving me for my hemophilia. Rasputin, claiming to be a holy monk, was in fact a vampire, and his so called treatments consisted of slowly replacing my blood with his own. By the time of the assassination, I was well on the way to becoming a vampire myself."
**********
He lay there for what seemed like hours. Although to a terrified thirteen year old, time had virtually stood still.
After his father, Czar Nicholas II had abdicated the year before, the royal family had been taken first to Siberia and then to Yekaterinburg where they were now lodged in a large, but ill kept mansion.
Alexei and the others had been forcibly taken from their rooms in the middle of the night by the Bolshevik rebels who were supposed to be guarding them. The Czar and his family were unceremoniously lined up in the damp cellar of the house, and shot multiple times by a firing squad. Because of Rasputin's 'treatments', most of the bullets had passed harmlessly through Alexei. Only one lodged in his thigh. And it was little more than a flesh wound. He was losing blood at a rapid rate, though.
He heard a moan a few feet away and crawled toward it. It was his sister, Anastasia. She too had been wounded, but any shots to her heart or other vital organs were deflected by her heavy steel boned corset and her jewelry. As far as Alexei could see, her wounds were mostly superficial, and mostly on her arms and legs.
"Stasia." He whispered. "Hold on. Help will arrive." He prayed that his lie would come true.
Moments later, there were footsteps on the staircase to the basement. Alexei pulled himself to his father's side. The gun with which the now dead Czar had tried unsuccessfully to defend his family was still in his hand. Carefully, the Czarovich took it and leveled it at the figure on the steps. The man was dressed in a Bolshevik uniform.
"You can use that if you wish." The man said. "But it will do you no good. I am a friend of a friend of yours. Do you know a Nicholai Cossakov?"
Alexei fainted.
**********
Nicholai Cossakov waited impatiently outside the Yekaterinburg gate. He had heard about the shooting earlier that day. Because it was still daylight, there was nothing he could do until the sun set. Except to contact a friend of his who happened to be in the area.
After what seemed like forever, he spotted the man in a Bolshevik uniform driving a horse and wagon approaching the gate.
"Did you get them, Connor?" Nick asked as the man brought the wagon to a stop beside him.
"I only managed to rescue two of them. The others were …" He shook his head slowly and placed his hand on Nick's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Nick."
"I understand." Nick whispered. "Thank you."
Connor pulled the tarp off the two figures in the bed of the wagon. They were concealed under bales of hay and straw. "I had to do it this way to get through the checkpoints." Connor explained. The boy was unconscious while the girl, or more appropriately, young woman, was tied and gagged and was struggling hard against her bonds. "The boy was no trouble. Don't worry, he's not dead. He's just out cold. Blood loss. You did say he was a hemophiliac, didn't you? I gave him a pint of blood. Mine. He should be all right in a couple of days.
The girl is a different story altogether. Be careful with her, Nick. She's a real wildcat. She came to while I was treating her wounds and ... " He held up his bandaged right hand. "It's a good thing I heal quickly. Are you sure she's had all her inoculations?" He asked with a wide grin.
**********
Alex continued "Nick then nursed us back to health, such as it was. He saw to it that Anastasia was sent to Germany to recuperate. He didn't bring me across immediately. He said there was a possibility that I could get better as I got older. He explained that he wanted me to grow up as normally as possible, so he left me with a family he knew in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. There was a large ethnic Russian community there, and many of them were recent immigrants, so I fit right in. Jaiacom and Margarithe Dzrojehmn passed me off as their recently arrived son. When I was twenty years old, it was obvious that I hadn't outgrown it. In fact my 'condition' had nearly driven me insane. I was trapped between two worlds. Neither completely vampire nor completely mortal. There was a very good possibility I would become a hunter. Nick had no choice but to complete the task that Rasputin had begun."
He smiled softly. "Of course, you didn't come over here to inquire about my life's story." He looked at Nick. "What is it you want from me?"
"We need your help." Ben Harstein said. "But first. Have you ever been to Cairo before this?"
"No. Not exactly. I did have a three hour layover here a decade ago on my way to the Valley of the Kings for a night photo shoot. Why do you ask?"
"One more question." Javier Vachon said. "Do you by any chance remember meeting two female vampires while you were here? One is a tall brunette and the other a redhead with green eyes."
Alex thought a moment and shook his head. "No. I definitely would have remembered them."
"Good." LaCroix replied. "Then here's what we have in mind ... "
**********
The opening ceremonies of the symposium would be held in one of the cavernous warehouses on the base. It was the only place large enough to accommodate the several thousand vampires who would be attending. It was nearly packed by the time Nick and LaCroix arrived with Screed and Vachon. Ben Harstein and Jean-Pierre had stayed behind with Alex in order to put their scheme with the two ladies into place. Jeanette M and Janette D were busy in town giving their credit cards a workout. Something they had been doing almost non stop since they arrived.
Fortunately, opening ceremonies were the same the world over. Dull. Boring. Monotonous. The first part was essentially a roll call of all the vampires. Considering the large number present, it took several hours just to count heads. Naturally, the four of them took turns answering for their missing companions. When that was over, there was to be round after round of excruciatingly dull speeches by nearly every vampire of any standing from all around the world. After about three hours, Nick got the call he had been waiting for. He, Vachon, Screed and LaCroix quietly slipped out of the storehouse and headed for the pyramids.
**********
Earlier that evening
Alex Roman sat at the bar in the Officers Club, sipping on a bloodwine. Jean-Pierre and Ben Harstein were seated in a nearby booth where they could keep tabs on him without being seen.
After that seemed like hours of waiting, they were ready to give up and call it a day, or evening, as the case may be. Just as they were about to leave, two ladies came in and sat down at the bar on either side of Alex. One was tall with brown hair and eyes. The other, slightly shorter, had wavy red hair and jade green eyes. There was no doubt. These were the ones they had been waiting for.
"You must be here for the Conclave." The taller one said in fluent Russian.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." Alex replied, also in Russian.
"Where are you from?" The redhead asked.
"St. Petersburg."
"What a coincidence!" The tall one said. "I'm from Moscow and Ivana, here, is from Kiev. By the way, my name is Natasha. What's yours?"
Even Alex had to admit her Russian was impeccable. Right down to the regional accents. If he hadn't been briefed on the deal, he would never have guessed that they were con artists. "I am Alexei Nikolaievich Romanov." He said extending his hand.
"Alexei Nikolaievich Romanov?" 'Natasha' said. "Like the Czarovich?"
"One and the same." Alex said with a fake smile.
"Real royalty." 'Ivana' gushed. "I've never met royalty before. Tell me, Your Majesty, have you ever been in Cairo before?"
"Please. Do not call me 'Your Majesty'. It's just plain Alex now. And no, I've never been to Egypt before." He lied.
"Well, then, since this is your first trip to this country, why don't you let us be your guides?" Natasha said, taking his hand in hers. "We have been here many times before and we feel as though Cairo is our second home."
"I think I'd like that." Alex said.
"I think the first thing we ought to do is to show him the pyramids." Ivana suggested. "They are absolutely a sight worth seeing when the moon strikes them at just the proper angle."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Alex said as he offered each of them an arm.
As they followed a discrete distance behind the others, Ben dialed Nick's cell phone number on his phone. "Mission Ridiculous underway at 2330." He whispered when Nick answered.
**********
Natasha parked the car in the shelter of a small oasis, and Alex got out and held the door for her and Ivana. Each of them took one of Alex's hands and led him to the base of Cheops Tomb. He stared in awe at the immense structure before him. This close, it was infinitely much larger than he had remembered from the last time he had seen them. That time he had been driving at a distance of about twenty miles. Now he was standing less than twenty feet from them.
Natasha gently pulled him into a soft embrace and began to nuzzle his neck.
"Should we be doing ... this ... in front of your companion?" Alex swallowed hard, tugging at the collar of his shirt.
"Oh please don't be shy." Ivana said, suggestively massaging the area between his shoulder blades while Natasha began unbuttoning his shirt. "We are both here to see that you have a very good time."
"I ... I ... don't know that we ... we should ... I mean ... Should she ... I mean ... I've done it before, but I've never done it with someone else watching."
"I won't be exactly watching." Natasha whispered huskily as she toyed with his chest hair.
"You … won't?" Alex gasped, swallowing hard.
Ivana smiled broadly. "Don't tell me you've never experienced the pleasures of a menage a troi?"
Alex shook his head. "Nyet." He whined sheepishly.
"If that's the case, just relax and let us do all the work." Natasha said, an anticipatory gleam in her eye. She gently eased him to the ground and began nibbling his ear as Ivana released his belt.
In the shadows, Nick, Screed, Vachon and LaCroix joined Ben and Jean-Pierre
"Do you think we ought to break in?" Nick whispered.
"Nicholas." LaCroix whispered back. "You truly are a brick. If, as he says, Alex has never had a sexual encounter with two women at the same time, what better way for him to become initiated into its delights than with two exquisite creatures who are so obviously experts in that area. There will be plenty of time later to give the ladies what they so richly deserve."
"I know, but I still feel like a voyeur."
**********
Alex lay in the soft sand. Although the night was chilling and he was naked, he felt the warmth of the encounter within him. He was both exhausted and exhilarated by Natasha and Ivana's ministrations. He had never had such an erotic experience in his life, either as a man, or as a vampire. Just when he thought he could not continue, Ivana left and Natasha continued to work on him. His body quickly responded to her … attentions. Now Ivana was back and Natasha had left. As the red headed vampire began to seductively massage his bare abdomen, he felt his ardor start to grow again. Along with a certain other 'attribute'. He passionately pulled her face to his face and captured her lips with his ...
**********
Staying in the shadows, Nick and Jean-Pierre followed Natasha to where Ivana had stashed Alex's clothes. From there, she took the clothes to the oasis where they had left the car. The group silently watched as she searched his pockets for valuables. She deposited his wallet in her purse, and placed a ring first on one of her fingers, and finally on her thumb, and his Rolex watch on her arm. From the under the seat of the auto, she drew out a large plastic bag and put his clothes in it. She closed it with a length of duct tape and placed it in the trunk of the car. She then settled in the front seat, lit a cigarette, and waited for her companion.
Several minutes later, Ivana came strolling over.
"Where's our pigeon?" Natasha asked, handing her a cigarette from her pack.
"Purring like a kitten." Ivana said as she got behind the wheel. "You know, maybe we should concentrate on newbies from now on. That was incredible, being the initial menage a troi." Ivana replied, lighting her smoke. "I told him I was going to get some refreshments from the car and that I'd be right back."
"I know what you mean. It's really a rush, being the first to double team someone. Even the Carouche was exciting."
"Oh Puh-LEESE!" Ivana made a face.
"Let's get going before Prince Charming gets wise to us."
Don't worry. In the blissful condition he's in at this moment, he'll be lucky if he notices the sunrise."
Natasha reached over and kissed Ivana fully on the lips. "In that case, how about we go for a quick one before we leave?"
"Sounds good to me." Ivana began massaging Natasha's breasts.
They were so engrossed in their actions, the two con artists did not see the vampires who had surrounded the auto until it was too late. Jean-Pierre and Ben pulled open the doors as Nick and LaCroix yanked the ladies roughly onto the desert floor. Before they could react, the elder vampires had them pinned against the car.
"Good evening ladies. We meet once again. Let me see, you are Octavia, are you not?" LaCroix asked the dark haired vampire in his grasp. He smiled sinisterly and let his eyes glow yellow.
"And you told me your name was Marie-Louise." Nick said through his fangs. He fixed his florescent stare directly at the redhead as he not too gently lifted her off the ground.
"Who? … We never heard of those people." Ivana gasped.
"I ... I ... don't know what you are talking about ... " Natasha stammered.
"This 'ere is what we is talkin' about." Screed said. "An' youse told me yew was 'Ermionie an' Liza, you did." He had opened the trunk. In addition to Alex's bag, there were several others. He opened one of them. "That 'ere is me stuff what they done tooked from me when we was out 'ere yesterday in the night like time." He called, pulling his shirt and pants from the bag. He quickly removed the pair of running shoes that Janette had bought him and replaced them with his own well worn pair of laceless high topped hunter's boots. While the athletic shoes were the right size, they just weren't HIS shoes. "And I'll be thankin' yew to gives me back me thousand smackaroos … or whatever youse calls your monies over 'ere."
Natasha reached into her purse and withdrew a roll of bills. "I think this is yours. We found them on the desert floor after you left. We were going to give them back."
"Sure you bloody were!" Screed grabbed the bills and eagerly began counting. "Yup." He chortled when he finished. "Theys all 'ere." He put one of the bills to his mouth and kissed it loudly.
"But we didn't do any real harm. We were only ... only out for a little fun." Ivana said.
"Perhaps we, too are ... only out for a little fun." LaCroix said.
"Yes." Jean-Pierre added. "Why don't you … ladies start the entertainment by removing your clothes?"
"Why didn't you say you wanted a little bit? We'd most happy to oblige." Natasha said as she began to seductively unbutton her blouse.
"We are always happy to help out lonely vampires far from home." Ivana said as she ran her fingers through Nick's hair.
**********
Ben Harstein walked over to where Alex sat at the base of the mighty pyramid.
"Mission accomplished." He said as he handed the Russian vampire his clothes. "Come and see our prize."
The ladies sat on either side of one of the palm trees in the tiny oasis. They were naked. Their mouths were sealed with several layers of duct tape and their arms were bound to each other and to the tree with rope.
"M-M-M-G-W-F-F-R ...!" Natasha protested.
LaCroix placed his hand under the female vampire's chin and lifted her face to his. "Do not waste your breath, my dear." He said. "There is no one who can help you way out here. By the way, the ropes are made of Kevlar. Eventually you will get them off, but by then, we will a long way from here."
"You'd better hurry, though." Javier added. He looked at his watch. "Sunrise is in two hours and forty nine minutes, and it's a long way back to the base. You would probably be wise to consider spending the day buried in the sand. The desert sun, I understand, can be most relentless."
"Incidentally, we have every intention of reporting your actions to the Enforcers when we return." Jean-Pierre added.
"Don't worry about your clothes." Nick said. "We've got them safe and sound in the trunk. We'll leave them with the security guard at the base gate. You can retrieve them when you get back."
"If'n yew gets back, that is. Mayhaps the two a' yew might be to thinkin' about mebee startin' over somewhere's else way far away from 'ere. Like maybe the South Pole." Screed said as he, Alex, and Nick drove off in the ladies' car. LaCroix, Ben, and Jean-Pierre followed in the van they had rented.
**********
Toronto
Don Schanke took another bite from his half eaten donut and washed it down with a sip of the now cold vending machine coffee. "Lesee. Those cameras are on 24 hours a day. Each tape has four hours on it. That's six tapes a day. Times two cameras. Times three days. That's … "
"Thirty six tapes." Tracy said pointing to the stacks of tapes sitting between the four viewers. "So far, I've only seen the first two and a half tapes."
"Speak for yourself." Natalie said, putting in another tape. "This is my third one."
"How'd you do that?" Vera said. "I'm just finishing my first one."
"I'm not on the police force. I don't need all those coffee and donut breaks." She blew on her fingers and rubbed them on her shoulder. She was bombarded with wadded up sheets of paper.
**********
Cairo
Janette D escorted the others into one of the smaller warehouses. Before them were a myriad of tables and booths set up and displaying a huge amount of diverse wares. "Well ... " She asked. "What do you think of this?"
"First, tell me what it is." LaCroix asked.
"A dealer's room, of course. Jeanette and I came across it yesterday while you men were out in the desert chasing those two ... ladies." She said the last word as though it were an epithet.
"They have everything any self respecting vampire could ever want on display here." Jeanette M added. "Why don't you look around? 'D' and I will be at the clothier's stand over there."
"D?" Jean Pierre asked.
"But of course." Janette D replied. "It was too tacky calling each other Janette D and Jeanette M, so we shortened it to just 'D' and 'M'."
LaCroix walked through the area. He paused at one of the booths. On a table were stacks of books and behind the table was a large wall map with many multicolored pins in it.
He picked up one of the books and idly skimmed through it.
"That's the latest edition." The man behind the table said. "It's as complete as possible, but if you know of any others, please let me know and they'll be included in the next run." He handed the elder vampire a pen and a form. He pointed to the map. "There's a graphic display of all of them."
"All of what?" LaCroix asked. Then he looked at the title of the book. 'Drake's
Guide To Accommodations Around The World'.
"Oh!" He said. He thumbed through it, and sure enough, there were listings and descriptions for numerous vampire establishments around the world. Under Toronto, the Raven was listed, as well as several other safe houses that LaCroix knew about. And a few that he did not know about.
"Would you like to purchase a copy?"
"No." LaCroix smiled coldly and replaced the book on the table.
Jean-Pierre, Alex, Vachon and Nick, meanwhile, ambled over to one of the other booths. A red headed vampire sat on a stool behind a mock bar lined with numerous sixteen ounce cans bearing the label 'Red Deer Premium'.
"Evenin' gentlemen." He said with a Southern drawl as the group came by. "Would y'all like to try a little taste?"
"Taste of what?" Jean-Pierre asked.
"Why Red Deer Premium, of course. Best drinkin' there is. Made from the finest vintages, and all donated willingly, by the way. We, my partner Tino and I that is, done came up with a way to put blood in cans. That way, vampires can drink right along with mortals and ain't nobody knows the difference. After all, how many good ol' boys you know of do their drinkin' out of wine bottles these days?" He held out his hand to the group. "My name is Jebediah S. Puckett. But y'all can call me Jeb."
"Jeb Puckett?" Vachon asked. "You aren't by any chance related to the race car driver, are you?"
"I ain't just RELATED to him. I AM Jeb Puckett!" Jeb said proudly. "I drove number seventy one on the circuit clean up 'till last year. But how'd you know about me?"
"I am a pretty fair follower of the NASCAR circuit myself. Just answer one question. How do you manage to drive in the daytime?"
"Aw shoot. That ain't nuthin' special." Jeb said. "Miss Clarissa De Mer, she's my vampire ma, she's got this friend who knows this here fellow who works for ILM. That's the company that makes all those great prosthet ... persthet ... presthat … you know, them masks an' costumes an' things ... for the movies. She talked him into making me a mask just like my own head. Complete with red hair, freckles and the whole nine yards. It's made of this here high density stuff that lets air in but keeps sunlight out. Even so, its real light weight and when I got it on, it feels like I ain't wearin' nothin' at all. That, along with my kevlar drivin' suit means no sun can reach my skin. An' that means I can go out in the daytime."
At another table, Rico Valentz sat in front of a large banner with huge drop of blood painted on it. On the table were several sample sized cups, each containing a red liquid.
"Hi, there. Like to try one?" He asked as Nick approached the table. Rico was one of the technicians who helped out at a vampire clinic at in Los Angeles. "It's a synthetic blood substitute. Doctor Tom Nichols perfected it. He's been working with a Doctor Romana Baker who got the idea from the notes of a Doctor Lambert in Toronto. Since he's a mortal, he couldn't be here so he asked me to show it for him." He handed Nick one of the cups.
Nick drank it and made a face. "There's no taste to it at all." It was definitely Natalie's formula. He had drunk enough of it while she was developing it. He'd know that taste, or rather lack of taste, anywhere.
"I know. It's completely nourishing, cheap, and easy to manufacture. But the taste ... or lack of it ... is one of the bugaboos we still have to work out. If you're worried that we stole the formula from her, don't be concerned. Dr. Tom and I intend to see that Doctor Lambert gets her share of the profits. If there ever are any profits, that is."
"Wait here. I think I might have the answer." Jeb said. He went to the booth that he and Tino had set up and returned with a red can. He popped the top and poured a small amount into the cup. "Try that."
Jean-Pierre took a sip. "I think you've hit on something. Mixed half and half like this, it's actually quite good. I can hardly tell the difference between this and whole blood."
Jeb was busy talking with Rico. " ... And we maybe could work out some sort of mutual back scratching agreement, me and you. Y'all can help us increase our Red Deer production and cut costs with this here blood stuff of yours, and we'll provide the market for you." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. "Have your Doctor Tom give me a call when y'all get back."
**********
LaCroix and the others spotted Larry Merlin sitting in one of the booths.
"What are you doing in this room?" Jean-Pierre asked as he approached the computer wizard. "Are you trying to compete with Aristotle's business?"
"Good grief, no." Larry replied. "As a matter of fact, Aristotle and I work hand in hand in helping vampires relocate. I'm here on an entirely different matter."
Alex picked up a pair of what appeared to be new age sunglasses.
"Try them on." Larry said. "They're the latest design in Virtual Reality technology games."
"I've heard of hi tech games like X-Box and Gameboy, but how do these work?" Alex asked.
"Instead of being put on a screen, the picture is digitized and micro projected onto a specially coated transparent surface on the inside of these glasses. The result is that you believe you are actually in the scene." He held out a pair of gloves with numerous wires sewn onto the fingers and palms. The wires led to a small box fitted into a pouch at the wrist. From this dangled a USB cable. "These gloves enable you to electronically feel what is going on at the same time. I won't bore you with the technical explanations, but it will appear to be quite real. Try them on and I'll show you."
Alex put on the glasses and gloves. Larry took the cables from each glove and plugged them into USB ports on a laptop computer. He typed in a few commands and the image of a young lady appeared on the monitor screen of the computer. "I'm also projecting the image onto the laptop's screen so we all can see your experience too."
"Did you come to work or would you like to play?" The beautiful dark haired lady said in a sultry voice.
Nick took one look at the monitor and gasped. "Where ... Where did you get this?"
"I salvaged it from a company in Toronto that I bought out when they went belly up a few years ago. It was called Virtual Dimensions. One of the owners had been killed and the other one is in jail for his murder. You should remember the case. You were the investigating officer, as I recall."
Nick winced noticeably. He did remember, and it had nearly cost him his life as he had been dragged into playing the deadly game by the sexy killer.
"Most of the stuff was pretty good, but nothing to write home about, as they say. But this ... this was cutting edge. The schematics and programs were most intriguing. I worked with them a bit and came up with this version of the game. According to the notes, there was also a prototype that was completely portable, but it's been lost. I'd give my fangs to find it. Imagine what could be accomplished with something like that." Larry beamed. "Imagine all the thrill of the hunt and the chase. Imagine the satisfaction of the kill, but without any danger to anyone, mortal or vampire. Imagine!"
Nick knew where the prototype was. He and Natalie Lambert had destroyed it after the killer had been caught.
"I have even gone so far as to talk with several of the software companies about marketing a toned down version for the mortal population. Can you believe it! A vampire in collaboration with mortals!"
A number of other booths had food and pseudo-food products for sale, all of them made with blood products. There was Bludwurst, a blood sausage, and Haggis, a Scottish pudding made primarily of sheep's blood and milk. There was one booth that even offered a blood flavored candy, shaped like a heart. These booths had a sizable throng sampling their wares. Even LaCroix grudgingly admitted that some of these products might possibly have merit.
The two Janettes joined them as they left the trade show. Their arms were loaded with bags and boxes.
"What's all this?" Jean-Pierre asked, giving Jeanette a quick kiss. "Don't tell me you have been shopping again. What could you find here that you two don't already have?"
"Souvenirs." Janette D. held up a black athletic type shirt with 'Vampire Conclave' emblazoned on it.
Jeanette M fished into one of the bags and held up a resin miniature of the Pyramids. Across the base was also 'Vampire Conclave'. "And they have so much more. Wait until we get back and I'll show you everything. You'll just love the daytime photos!"
LaCroix only rolled his eyes upward. Nick thought he heard the elder vampire whisper a solemn prayer to the god of tolerance.
**********
In his quarters, Nick studied the E-mail from Captain Reese. This was not the best news. An earlier E-mail had informed him that Jason Moore had been found. Or to be more precise, his body had been fished …literally … from Lake Ontario. He had been stabbed, shot, bludgeoned and there were two suspicious marks on his neck.
According to this latest E-mail, the marks apparently not made by a vampire. They were made by a taser. That was good news. Natalie, Don, Tracy and Vera Williams were trying to track down exactly who made what wounds.
There was nothing Nick could do from here. He replied that he would be back in
Toronto by the end of the week.
**********
Willie and Frank sat at a table in the Enlisted Men's bar.
At another table not far away, Jeb Puckett, Javier Vachon and Screed sat nursing their respective beverages. Because Screed was a Carouche, he was not welcome at the Officers Club, and was barely tolerated at the Enlisted Mens Club. And then only because Jeb and Vachon vouched for him.
"Jeb." Vachon asked. "One thing I don't understand. If you are the same hotshot driver that I've been reading about, what are you doing here peddling canned blood? Why aren't you burning up the track?"
"Well, it's like this." Jeb drawled. "My sponsors dumped me after last season, and I ain't found nobody else with the kind o' money I'd need to bankroll me. I'm hopin' I can get enough from the marketing of Red Deer to do it myself."
"You mean they let you go just because you're a vampire?"
"Shoot no. They ditched me 'cause I'm a good ol' boy. They wanted someone more high toned to represent them so they replaced me with one of them muscley Hollywood toy boy types. I gotta admit, he cleans up real good, but he don't know which end of the dipstick goes where. Ain't won a race all year. It jus' makes my blood boil."
"I knows what you means." Screed sympathized. "Kinda makes yew wanna go an' break somethin' don't it?"
"It sure do." Jeb agreed.
**********
"I still don't see why we came here." Frank said as he downed his glass in one gulp. "I thought we had cut ourselves off from the vampire Community in general."
"We have." Willie answered. "But we're only a very small splinter group. I'm willing to bet there are many more like us than we realize. If we can unite all of the vampires who think that the Council is leading us to our destruction, maybe we can reverse this trend before it gets too out of hand."
"I still say it might not be as bad as you say." Frank replied.
"Not so bad?" Willie shook his head. "That's just asking for a stake through the heart. Maybe we should let those mortal kissing weenies do their thing. That way, they'd take all the heat and the rest of us could live in peace and quiet like we have in the past."
"Peace and quiet?" Frank said. "You call it peace and quiet, being hunted down with pitchforks and dogs? You take pleasure from being tortured and staked? You like hiding in the fringes all the time? You enjoy continually looking over your shoulder? You're really keen on being afraid that somebody would find out what and who you are?"
"Don't tell me you're one of them!" Willie spat. "Can't you see what this would mean? I'd rather live in caves and cellars than in a cage like a laboratory animal. That's what they'll do to us once they find out what we are. You know that as well as I do."
"Others have come out and have been given their rights. Gays, blacks, and other minorities are now accepted into the mainstream."
"Yes, but at what price? Have you forgotten the Concentration Camps of Germany? Or the race riots? Negroes being sprayed with high pressure fire hoses and attacked with dogs? What about gay bashing? I hear that's very popular nowadays. The Israeli - Palestinian clashes? Just look at what's happening between the Sunnis and the Shiites. If we come forward, we'll be next. You really think they'll accept you? Remember, it wasn't that long ago they were our main source of nourishment. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food? No, thank you!"
"But a nearly everybody knows about Nick Knight and many of the others already. They don't seem to have a problem with them. Isn't it just possible that we could be accepted, too?"
"Yes, it's possible, but then so are the chances of former President Clinton becoming a Trappist Monk.
"Excuse us for interrupting." Logan Granier said to the two vampires. "But we could not help overhearing your conversation. You are not alone. My companion here, Edmund Gloucester and I feel the same way that you do. Perhaps we could discuss this more fully somewhere more private."
"And how do you plan on getting rid of 'Chuckles' and 'Bobo'?" Edmund pointed to the two Enforcers who were sitting at a nearby table.
"Simple. We sic them on some troublemakers. While they're taking care of them, we go out through the back door."
"Troublemakers?"
"Take notes. There will be a pop quiz." Logan blew on his fingers and rubbed them on his shoulder. He went over to a table where several rough looking vampires sat minding their own business.
"Hey." He said just loud enough that the people at the table heard him but no one else. "How did you get in here without your mothers to guide you?"
"What the ^%$@ do you mean by that?" One of them said as he stood up. He was well over six feet tall with a spiked haircut and numerous rings in various parts of his face and body.
"Just what I said. You guys couldn't have a wet dream without explicit written instructions."
The vampire bared his fangs and glowered at Logan.
"You need a map to find the jugular vein."
He growled menacingly.
"You're all nothing but bunch of lily livered, limp wristed wusses."
"Oh yeah! I'll show you who's a ^%$@#+~ wuss!" Another of the group stood up. He was every bit as tall as the first one, and weighed at least 300 pounds of lean muscle. His head was shaved bald and wore a leather biker's jacket with the sleeves cut out. He had no shirt over his hairy chest. A heavy chain anchored his wallet to the back pocket of his low rider jeans.
Logan fingered the jacket. "Nice jacket. What dumpster did you get it out of?"
The biker vampire fangs lowered and his eyes started to glow. He growled something unintelligible as he took a hefty swing at Logan. Logan expertly ducked, and the vampire caught one of the persons at the next table in the back of the head. A certain red headed good-ol'-boy vampire to be exact.
Jeb stood up and squared off at the offender. "I been itchin' for somethin' like this to come my way ever since I got canned from the circuit." He said with a wide grin plastered on his face. He looked skyward. "Thank you, Lord. As it says in the Good Book ... 'Ask and ye shall receive'." He balled his fist and cold cocked the vampire standing before him.
Within seconds, there was a full scale riot.
No one noticed the four vampires leaving by the back door.
**********
"What was that all about?" Frank asked as the four headed toward an abandoned maintenance shack.
"That ... was a diversion. This way we could slip out and nobody would be the wiser. I've used it many times before, even as a mortal. It always works." Logan said. He leaned against the locked door of the shack and seconds later, the door opened. "We can talk in here. Don't worry. No one will come looking for us."
"Do you know any more who think like us?" Willie asked.
"Oh yes." Logan replied. "I know many vampires who are unhappy with the way things are going. Unfortunately, due to certain ... circumstances ... Edmund and I cannot contact them openly. You two however, are free to do it for us. I have a list of people to see. Come to my quarters early tomorrow evening and I'll give it to you." He looked at his watch. "I think we had better get back to the Enlisted Club. The ... fun ... should be just about over. It wouldn't do for us to turn up missing."
**********
LaCroix, Nicholas, Alex and Jean-Pierre crossed the compound at almost vampire speed. Several persons had informed them of the melee going on. They heard the shouts and the sounds of breaking furniture long before they arrived at the Enlisted Mens Club. LaCroix quickly sidestepped as someone exited the club. Head first. Through a closed door. Above the din, he heard the unmistakable sounds of a Rebel yell followed by an eardrum piercing screech that could only have come from a Cockney. From another part of the room came the distinctive rolling, trilling, shout that only a person of Hispanic origins would make.
"Gentlemen." LaCroix said as the vampire at his feet struggled to get up and charged back into the fray. "I suggest we get Jebediah, Thaddeus, and Javier out of here as soon as possible."
Alex ducked as a chair came hurtling at him. Jean-Pierre planted his fist into the face of the first person he saw. Slowly, they fought their way through the mass of fists, furniture and bodies to Screed, Javier, and Jeb. LaCroix grabbed the rebel race car driver unceremoniously by the collar and raised him several inches off the ground. Nicholas did the same to Screed. Jean-Pierre gripped the struggling Conquistador firmly in a bear hug. Holding their charges in this position, they began to make their way to the door. Alex walked in front of them and acted as a battering ram.
"But we ain't finished in there yet." Jeb protested. "They's still a heap more of 'em that needs to be learned a lesson." He rubbed his jaw where a bruise was beginning to form.
"An' we's jus' gettin' inter th' feel o' it." Screed added. " 'Sides there's a coupla o' Enforcers types in there whats is over-whelm-ed a little an' we was jus' sorta givin 'em a 'and, we was. Doin' our good deed like fer th' day like we was."
"You gotta believe me. I tried to remain neutral." Javier unsuccessfully tried to explain. "In fact, I was getting ready to leave. But when somebody slid across the table and knocked a nearly full bottle of bloodwine all over my brand new jeans, all of a sudden it became very personal."
They reached the door just as a large contingent of Enforcers, with stakes at the ready, entered the club.
**********
Toronto
It was nearly morning when Natalie put the last tape in her viewer. "It's got to be on this one." She rubbed her eyes. "After sitting through eight hours of watching essentially an unoccupied hallway at fast forward, everything is starting to blend together. I'll be lucky if I don't see this hall in my dreams,"
"I know what you mean." Tracy agreed. "I'm ready to scream."
"Me, too." Vera added.
"Wait a minute." Don said. "Slow that down and rewind the tape a few feet. I think I saw something."
Natalie did as Don asked. Suddenly, her face went ashen. "Oh … my … God!" She gasped. "It can't be."
**********
Cairo
"And just WHAT did the three of you think you were doing?" LaCroix shouted at the vampires standing before him.
"I guess this means we're in a lot of trouble, aren't we?" Javier said, holding an ice bag to his left cheek. He could feel that it had been broken. At least once.
LaCroix nodded coldly.
"But it was worth it." Javier continued.
"Yeah! It certain-a-mentally was." Screed chimed in. He winced as Alex cleaned the blood from a rapidly healing gash over his right eye. "It's a really 24 cay-rate hoot when we gets th' oppor ... oppayer ... the chance like this ...to let off that kinds o' steam, ain't it!"
"We didn't start it, though." Jeb added as he delicately massaged his jaw. It was probable it was broken, but even if it was, it would be healed in a few hours. "But if'n y'all thinks we was gonna walk away from a good fight, y'all got another think comin'. Right, partners?"
"Yew done said it good, Jeb, ol' pal." Screed acknowledged.
"I couldn't have said it better myself." Javier agreed.
"A HOOT!" LaCroix shouted. "I ought to drain you where you stand! ALL OF YOU!" He shot menacing stares at them. "Do you REALIZE what you just did? Lady Zera and the Council have been preaching a policy of control and harmony. This conclave is to show that we can be dignified law abiding members of the countries we inhabit. In ONE thoughtless act, you MISGUIDED REPROBATES may have undone ALL that they have tried to accomplish." For emphasis, he allowed his fangs to drop and his eyes turned yellow. "The media is camped outside the gates and they are watching our every move. They in turn, report EVERYTHING that goes on in here to the mortal world. What kind of a picture do you think this fiasco paints of the vampire Community? I'LL TELL YOU. It only confirms their worst fears about us. That we are nothing more than bloodthirsty mindless monsters."
"But ... " Jeb gasped.
"We ... " Screed wheezed.
"Didn't ... " Javier whispered.
"If you EVER try ANYTHING like this again, I WILL not only DRAIN you, I'll STAKE you in the middle of the Sahara in BROAD DAYLIGHT and then scatter your smoldering ashes to the four winds. DO ... I ... MAKE ... MYSELF ... CLEAR?"
"Yes ... Sir." They said practically in unison.
**********
Toronto
Grace Balthazar was putting the linens from the laundry delivery away when Natalie and Don came into the office.
"What are you doing here, Girl?" She asked. "I thought you were off today."
Natalie did not reply. She just laid a printout of the picture from the surveillance tapes on the desk. There was a long silence. "Is there something you want to tell us?" She asked.
Grace stared hard at the floor.
"You're the one in this picture, aren't you?" Don said softly. "You stole the taser gun, didn't you? Who did you steal it for? And who used it on Jason Moore?"
"This is strictly off the record, Grace. We want to hear your story before we do anything. Only four people know about this and we won't tell unless we have to." Natalie assured her assistant.
Grace kept her eyes glued to the floor. "I … I didn't steal it for anyone." She paused for what seemed an eternity. "I'm the one who used it on Moore." She said softly.
"What happened? Remember. This isn't official in any way. Just between friends." Don repeated.
"I was walking over to that new restaurant that opened down on Queen. You know the one. They have an all you can eat buffet every Thursday. Only $8.50 per person. Anyway, that's when I heard these shots coming from the alley by the bank about a block away. I ran in, and saw Jason Moore lying there bleeding to death. I know I should have done something. I am a doctor, after all. At least called 911 or something.
But all I could think of was the horrible things he tried to do to you. That's when I remembered the taser demo that Mace Terrance gave a couple of months ago. I came back and got one of the guns from the weapons locker and went back to the alley. By the time I got back, he was already dead, and by then, he had also been stabbed several times. I guess something snapped. I started cussing him. Called him every name I could think of. And that's a lot of names. Even made some up as I went along. And then I tasered him even though he was dead. When I was finished, I snuck back and waited until Mace and the others had gone and put the gun back."
"But why did you shoot him in the neck?" Don asked.
"That wasn't the part I was aiming for. That part was a lot lower. Those things have a helluva recoil on them. The prongs went into his neck and I wound up on my … let's just say it's a good thing I'm black. The bruises don't show that much."
"And how did you manage to get a key to the weapons locker?" Natalie asked.
"What key? In the neighborhood I grew up in, you learned to pick a lock right about the same time you learned to pick your nose." She hung her head.
"Natalie … Doctor Lambert, you'll have my resignation on your desk as soon as I can write it up. I probably should have done this right after it happened, but I was scared. Then, when no body turned up … well, I didn't forget about it. I mean, how can you forget something like that. I just sort of went with the flow, so to speak. And Don … Detective Schanke, I'll come straight to the precinct to turn myself in."
Natalie looked at her friend. "Why? If what you say is true, Moore was already dead when you tasered him. You didn't kill him. Besides, I know you too well. You're not a cold blooded killer. As far as I'm concerned, all you're guilty of is unprofessional behavior. That deserves a reprimand at worst. And I can't even in all good conscience give you that. I can't punish you for doing something that I probably would have done if I had been there."
"She's right." Don said. "The most we could get you for is theft of a weapon. And since the weapon technically was never missing in the first place, it would only be your word against the entire Metro Police Department that you took it at all."
"What about the tapes?" Grace asked. "They show me going into the room."
"And you really think the department is going to spend half the day reviewing those tapes for some non existent crime?" He shrugged his shoulders. "No way."
"You guys did."
"We DID?" Tracy said in mock surprise. "Who told you that?"
Grace smiled broadly and pulled them into a bear hug. "You guys are the best." She said through the tears streaming down her face. "And here I was sure I was going to go to prison."
"No way." Don said. "Not on my watch."
"You didn't by any chance see anyone else there, did you?" Natalie asked.
"Well, not exactly. I do remember seeing someone on Queen right by the bank. But she might have just been walking by."
"She? Do you know who it was?"
"I wouldn't swear to it in a court of law, but it looked an awful lot like that friend of Nick's. Janey … Jilly … Janice … something like that. "
"Janette."
"Yeah. That's her. But if it was her, she was dressed awful funny. As I remember her, she's a very classy lady and all that. Real uptown, if you know what I mean. That night, she looked like she was a hooker. Real short black leather skirt. Top that barely covered what it had to. Spike heels. Made up like a … well, like a hooker."
"Was this before or after you heard the shots?"
"Actually, it was when I came back with the taser. I didn't see anyone when I heard the shots. I just ran to the alley. I wasn't looking for anyone."
"And Moore was dead when you came back, right?"
Grace nodded.
**********
Cairo
"How do you think they'll react to this news?" Etrian asked Lady Zera as they stood behind the curtain of the portable stage. He peered nervously at the throng of vampires assembled for the fifth day of the conclave. He estimated that there must have been over two thousand crowded into the huge room.
The first four days had been relatively peaceful. There had been extensive revisions made to the Code in order to facilitate the integration of vampires into the mortal population. There had been an undercurrent of discontent, but so far, calmer heads had prevailed. Etrian hoped that today would be more of the same.
"Hopefully, they'll take it in the spirit that it is meant. There's only one way to find out." She motioned for the rest of the group to follow her onstage.
"What are THEY doing here?" One of the vampires called out, pointing to several members of the entourage. "They are mortals. This is supposed to be for vampires only."
"It is." T'Mutu replied. "These men have something to say that affects all vampires."
"This is the Secretary General of the United Nations." Lady Zera pointed to a distinguished white haired gentleman. "The others are members of the UN Commission on Vampire Affairs. I strongly suggest that you listen to what they have to say."
"I'm afraid that the news I bring is not good." The Secretary began. "We have studied all the information that the High Council has given us and the information gathered by the UN Special Investigations Team.
As far as we can tell, there has never been any sort of a homeland for vampires at any time in history. Also, except for the vampirism itself, there does not seem to be any common connection between vampires. They ... you ... come from every ethnic, social, cultural, and historic background. In addition, most of the older ones of you have moved so often and have taken so many different identities ... illegally, I might add ... that it has become impossible to classify you in any sense of the word.
At this point, all we can do is to work with the individual countries and vampires involved in order to permanently settle you where you will feel most comfortable and accepted."
"That is NOT acceptable!" One of the vampires called out. It was one of the ones that Willie and Frank had recruited from Logan's list.
"We are entitled to our own homeland." Another from the group called out.
"The entire earth is ours. Vampires have been here long before there even were nations." A third shouted.
"Let those who want to live in concentration camps and reservations accept the UN's offer of resettlement. That's where you all will end up. Trust me on that. Let those of us who want to be left alone have someplace to call our own." Another called out.
"If you can't or won't find us our own place, we'll have to make one. I, for one don't intend to be locked in a cage like a lab rat for the rest of eternity." Logan bellowed as he jumped onto the stage. "You talk about protecting us. From whom? I was one of the so called ... subjects of your own investigation teams. They did all sorts of unspeakable things to me and to others in the name of science and of truth. If you are going to let your own people do this to us, how can you promise to ... protect ... " He spat the word. " ... us from outsiders."
"Mr. Grainer!" T'mutu shouted. You are out of line! Sit down! IMMEDIATELY!"
"Or you'll what? Sic your goon squad on me? That's what the so called Enforcers are. Nothing but a bunch of mindless goons. They're the ones that the mortals should be referring to as the bloodsucking monsters. Not us."
'Bobo' and 'Chuckles ' started for Logan, but several of the other vampires in their group restrained the Enforcers.
"MR. GRAINER!" Lady Zera shouted. "GET DOWN from the stage this instant! You are in enough trouble as it is. Do not make it harder on yourself than necessary."
"Why? So you can lock me back in that tiny room in the cellar of the headquarters building for the rest of my unnatural life? I don't think so. I no longer recognize you or the High Council as representative of the vampires of the world. You no longer have any authority over me. I WILL NOT be bound by your pathetic excuse for a Code from this day forward! Any of you who feel the same as I do are welcome to join me."
He jumped off the platform and stormed to the exit. About four hundred vampires followed him. The Enforcers at the doors tried to stop them, but there were too many.
"Let them go." Chek Kai Chang said. "There's been enough strife already."
Lady Zera came over and whispered something the Chinaman's ear.
"It has been suggested that, considering what has just happened, we adjourn this conclave. I fear that there will be nothing we can do at this time to repair the damage that Mr. Grainer and his compatriots have done. As a result, tomorrow will be the closing ceremonies. While I know that many of you are anxious to return to your homes, I do hope that you will attend." Slowly, the vampires filtered out of the building. Many of them were fearful that Logan and his followers would be waiting. Fortunately, they were nowhere in sight. Across the compound, they could see a cavalcade of vehicles heading for the gate. Overhead, many more vampires left the complex through the air.
"I'm sure glad that's over." Jeb Puckett whispered to LaCroix. "I was afraid there was going to be some powerful bloodshed from them."
"You are wrong, Jebediah." LaCroix replied solemnly. "It is not over. I fear it may be only the beginning."
**********
Toronto
"Now where do you think she could have gotten an outfit like that?" Tracy said as they sat at their desks.
"I doubt she went to a costume shop. That's not like Janette. She'd want the real thing." Don answered.
"In that case, the only place she could have gotten it would be from a real hooker."
As if on cue, the officers from Vice escorted Monica de Fontaine and several of her 'associates' into the squad room.
"Monica de Fontaine." Don Schanke said, going up to the Madame. "Just the person we want to talk to." He put his arm solidly on her shoulder and led her to Interrogation Room 2.
"I keep telling you Detective, I'm a legitimate businesswoman. And so are my … associates." Monica protested.
"That's not what we want to talk to you about." Tracy asked when the door had been closed. "What do you know about the murder of Jason Moore?"
"Jason Moore's been killed?" Monica blanched. "Who are you going to pin the medal on?"
"You know something, don't you?" Don Schanke asked.
Monica nodded. "I wish I didn't. About three weeks ago, a … a friend of mine came to my place … "
**********
Three weeks earlier
Janette DuCharme hesitated at the door to the house. It was almost identical to the other large turn of the century houses in the neighborhood. Immaculately decorated. Quiet unassuming colors. Expertly landscaped grounds. The perfect setting. Unless you knew, you would never guess that this was the home of Miss Monica's House of Pleasures.
As she was about to ring the bell, the door opened and Monica de Fontaine answered. "Janette DuCharme. To what do I owe this pleasure?" She gently embraced the owner of the Raven.
"How did you know I was at the door?" Janette asked.
Monica pointed to a miniscule camera mounted above the door. "Latest thing in webcam technology. Can't be too careful these days. All those criminals running around. Never know who's going to show up at your door."
"I … I need a favor." Janette said as she followed the Madam into the living area. Several of the … ladies greeted her or waved to her.
"Of course. Ask anything you want. You have done so much to help me and my … ladies. As well as many of the other working girls in the area. Anything we can do to repay your kindness, we’ll gladly do."
"You know that Jason Moore got off with only a technical slap in the wrist from the legal system."
Monica nodded. "So I heard. It's a crying shame, too. They hound people like me and these … girls, while he walks the streets a free man."
"I want to see to it that he gets what's coming to him. To do that, I'll need something to lure him with. I was thinking. If you or one of your ladies could let me borrow an outfit like you did for Doctor Lambert, I could get to him a lot easier."
Monica smiled. "All you have to do is ask." She studied the ladies on the room. "Candice. You and Ms. DuCharme are about the same size. Give her one of your outfits and help her in any way you can."
A few minutes later, Janette came into the living area. She was dressed in a short black leather skirt and a beige tube top that barely covered her breasts. She wore strap stiletto heels over thigh high fishnet stockings.
"I thought I'd never be wearing anything like this again." She mused as she checked her appearance in the full length mirror.
"Again?" Monica asked. "You mean you were one of us at one time?"
"At one time." Janette nodded sadly. "But that was a … very long time ago."
**********
Present
"I thought she was just going to work him over. If I had known that my … friend was going to murder Jason Moore, I'd have done everything I could to talk her out of it. She's a real elegant lady. One of the good people in this world."
**********
Cairo
"Y'all take care now." Jeb said as he, Rick and Tino headed for the boarding tunnel for their flight to Los Angeles. "Been a real pleasure hookin' up with you. I'll be sure to send you a crate or two of Red Deer Premium when we get home."
"Do that, Jebediah." LaCroix called. "We will be looking forward to it."
"And if it's any good, I'll be giving you a standing order for the Raven." Janette DuCharme said.
"Yew don't have nothin' fer droogs of my kind, Carouche types that is, to be im-bible-in on now, does you?" Screed asked.
"As a matter of fact, we have been looking into the possibility of incorporating the blood of wild animals such as bears and wolves and possibly cougars into our line of drinks." Tino said. "We plan to call it Red Deer Wild. So far though, the cost has been prohibitive. Now perhaps with Dr. Tom's blood substitute, we can bring the price comparable with some of the better whole blood vintages. If it works, I'll see to it that you get the first crate, Screed. I promise you."
They waved again as they handed their boarding passes to the attendant. Then they disappeared down the tunnel.
A few moments later, Jean-Pierre and Jeanette came through.
"Where to now, Petit Enfant?" Nick asked as they said their good-byes.
"I'm going to catch up with the Springmeadow tour in Arizona. Jeanette is coming along, too. It seems one of the backup singers had to take an extended leave of absence. She said something about nine months, I think. Jeanette is going to fill in for her. And I suppose you are going back to your mortal job playing policeman?"
Nick nodded. "As I said before, I'm not playing. I AM a policeman. Now that you are legally and gainfully employed Enfant, see that you keep in touch. I want to keep track of you at all times, so you don't get into any trouble I can't get you out of."
"You, Ancienne Homme? Get me out of trouble? What about that time in Rio? Who pulled who's buns out of the fire? Literally?"
Before Nick could answer, the flight to Phoenix was announced.
"What was that all about, Nick?" Javier Vachon asked.
"Yes, Nicholah. Do tell us about Rio and how Jean-Pierre pulled your gorgeous buns out of a fire." Janette patted his backside.
Nick blushed as much as a vampire could blush. "I'll tell you the whole story on the way back to Toronto." He smiled enigmatically, a faraway look in his eyes.
The De Brabant plane was waiting for the group in its hanger.
**********
"I think we had better E-mail this latest development to Nick." Tracy said when they returned to their desks. Tracking down hundreds of dead ends had them no closer to solving the Moore case than they had been when his body had been fished out of Lake Ontario the week before.
"No can do." Don replied. "There was a message waiting on my E-mail from him. The conclave was called off when some of the vampires walked out. He's on his way back as we speak. Haven't you read your mail yet?"
"No not really. But if he's due back anytime, I guess we can wait and tell him then."
"Tell me what?"
Tracy jumped. "NICK!" She screamed. "Why do you guys do that? You just aged me three years."
"Because we can." Nick said with a mock evil grin. "Seriously, what do you want to tell me?"
They quickly filled their partner in on the latest developments.
"I guess then, the next step is to have a talk with Janette. Do you want to come with me, or do you want me to do it alone?"
**********
Janette DuCharme was sitting at her usual place at the Raven when Nick entered.
Miklos put a glass of human blood on the bar as he approached. Since Nick was more or less cohabiting with Natalie, he had been drinking whole human blood almost exclusively. Etrian was correct. Gorging himself on human blood managed to keep the vampire at bay when he made love to her. Lately, it only took the actual piercing of the skin to trigger the orgasm.
"Janette." He started hesitantly. "There's something I have to ask you. I'm afraid it's very personal." He took a large sip of the blood. "It's about Jason Moore."
"He's dead. I know."
"Now comes the hard part. Did you kill him?"
**********
Three weeks earlier
"Oh, no you're not!" LaCroix shouted. Thankfully, the Raven hadn't opened for the night, and there was no one there to hear the ceiling rattling tirade. "Moore belongs to me! If anyone does anything to him, it will be ME!"
"I doesn't thinks so, your Eldnerlyness." Screed out shouted the Roman. "I made me a promise to Baby Jane that I'd take care o' the little slimey creepy meself, so's I 'ave first dibbies on 'im. 'Sides, like I told V-Man in Vegas, a piece o' crud like 'im needs a Carouche to do 'im in right proper like. You wouldn't want to dirty your pearly white pointies on the likes o' 'im now, would ja?"
"YOU promised Baby Jane … I mean Tracy!" Javier Vachon interrupted. "I seem to recall telling her right after Dr. Lambert was attacked that I'd take care of Moore."
"I don't care who promised who first." LaCroix shouted again. "I'm telling you for the last time. Moore is MINE!"
Janette rolled her eyes and headed for her office. She opened her desk drawer and began rummaging through the slips of paper in it. "Now where did I put her address?" She said half aloud. She held up a piece of paper and tucked it into her pocket. "If you want something done right, never trust a man to do it."
**********
Present
"But did you kill him?"
Janette shook her head slowly. "I wish I could take credit for that, but I didn't get the chance. When I found him in the alley beside the bank, he was already breathing his last. He had been shot four times and he died as I knelt beside him. I had taken a bowie knife from my trunk in the cellar and I was going to use it on him. I guess I lost it at that point. I rolled him over and began plunging the knife in his back. I don't know how many times I stabbed him. Then I heard someone coming. It was Natalie's assistant. I left before she got to the alley."
"And you didn't hear any shots?"
"No. From the amount of blood on the ground, he had been shot for quite a while before I got there. What a waste, but then, Moore's blood would have probably made me sick to my stomach. Just like the thought of him does."
"Where's the knife now?"
"I threw it in a dumpster somewhere between the bank and here. By now, it's probably buried under tons of dirt and debris in the landfill."
"That still doesn't explain how he got to the middle of Lake Ontario, or how his head got bashed in."
"I'm afraid I'm responsible for that." Miklos said. "I followed Miss Janette when she left here that evening. I can verify that she didn't kill him. In fact, I can give an alibi to the other person as well. He was nearly dead when Miss Janette got to the alley. She left when Dr. Lambert's assistant came in. I watched from the shadows as she used the stun gun on the body.
When I was sure that no one else was going to come in, I picked up the body. I was going to dump it in the lake. But after I saw what Miss Janette and the other woman did to him, I just had to do something as well. After all, what he did was inexcusable. There was a length of pipe lying on the ground. I picked it up and started working out on his head. Then I did what I had intended to do in the first place. I tied the pipe to his foot and flew him out into the deep part of the lake and dropped him in.
**********
" … And that's the whole story." Nick explained what he had found out at the Raven. "We now know who did what to Moore. That is, all except who shot him in the first place."
"And without any witnesses and without any other evidence than what we already have, we may never know that." Don said. "In fact, as far as I am concerned, we've never even found out as much as we have found out. So far, none of what we learned about Grace, Janette, and now Miklos, has been given to anyone outside of this office. I think I'd like to keep it that way."
"I'm with Don." Tracy added. "As it stands now, unless the shooter comes forth voluntarily, this is going to be one for the unsolved file. This is strictly off the record. I'm sorry, but a part of me is glad. I'm not sure how to phrase this so it comes out right, but I hope that Moore's killer is never caught. I mean he was such a snake. It would be a pity to see someone spend the rest of their life in prison for doing the gene pool a favor and offing him. As far as all the others involved, I go along with what Natalie said earlier. I can't say that if I had been there, I wouldn't have gotten in my licks on him too."
"I know it's highly unprofessional, and it violates everything we've ever been taught about law enforcement." Nick took a deep breath. "But this one time, I have to agree with you. What good would it do to prosecute the people who didn't kill Moore while the actual killer goes free." He typed the words 'UNSOLVABLE' in a large red font on the top of the file and hit print. When the document was finished, he took it off the printer and signed his name to it. Don and Tracy did the same.
"I guess this makes us accessories after the fact." Vera said as she added her signature to the report.
"Now, all there is left to do is give it to Reese." Tracy said.
"And I don't think he's going to be too terribly broken up about it." Don said as he picked up the report and headed to the Captain's office.
**********
Gently, he brushed a stray hair from her forehead. "I missed you." He whispered, kissing her softly on the cheek. He pulled the comforter over her bare shoulder and draped his arm around her waist.
"You were only gone a week." She said nibbling at the base of his chin.
"And that is a week too long. After waiting all this time to be with you, I cannot bear to be apart from you any longer than necessary." He said. The scent of cinnamon and roses filled his mind. "In fact, I have every intention of making our relationship truly permanent."
He reached over to the drawer of the nightstand and took out a small highly lacquered and polished brown box. He opened it and took out the ring inside. It was an obvious antique. The band was thick by today's standards, and was exquisitely carved. The one carat ivory-yellow diamond center stone was surrounded by alternating rubies and sapphires.
"It's beautiful!" She exclaimed. "It looks like it's very old."
"It is. It belonged to my mother. It was her wedding ring. My father's mother had given it to him for their wedding. It had been passed down from mother to eldest son for generations. She gave it to me on my twenty first birthday with the explicit instructions that I was to give it to the woman that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. That woman is you." He got out of the bed and got down on one knee.
"Natalie Ann Lambert." He intoned solemnly. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
**********
The end
Far from it!