FKWAR III: All Things Fun The Members of FKFIC-L@psuvm.psu.edu A fictional war of epic proportions created during the months of October and November of 1994. Editor's Note Editing a War is a major undertaking and certainly not for the faint of heart. Volunteering to edit such a massive tome of information may have been considered insanity my some, but it was well worth the effort. What you see on the pages that follow are the hearts and souls of many wonderful people dedicated to an incredible show: Forever Knight. Without this show, no Wars would be possible. For that matter, no fiction would be possible. For these reasons, we would all like to thank the entire cast and crew of the show for a job well done. They have been our inspiration. Several things must be said about this War. First, the order in which the posts have been fixed in this volume is not the order in which they were written or posted to FKFIC-L during the War. This is the best order they could be put in given the often overlapping story lines, frequent computer problems, and various and sundry other amazing happenings that always manage to creep up during the War. Second, there was a week long hiatus during the middle of the War that necessitated the changing of dates throughout the first half of the postings. While the text says that the War began on October 14 and ended on November 2, in truth it began on October 6 with the last official post arriving sometime around November 14. If there are any date error, mea culpa. Third, the introduction included here was originally posted after FKWar III: All Things Fun had started. It has been included so that future readers of the Wars will be able to understand the few rules that are in effect during a fiction war of this proportion. Finally, several people need to be thanked, as always, when it comes to editing a project this large: Sandra, you managed to tie some threads together that I thought were irreparable and you put in a lot of hard work. Tara, you kept a bunch of stories straight for me when I was panicking. Ron and John, you made me laugh a lot (that's a good thing, really!). Susan, you always are an inspiration to us, even when you're hypnotized and being dragged around the continent like a sack of beans. Everyone who participated, you all did a fine job of making an incredibly readable and likeable story come to life. Thank you. I hope you enjoy. Jasmine (a.k.a. Gaylin J. Walli) March 24, 1994 How to Play By Susan Garrett Read This! The FK Wars are round robin fan fiction. Which means that a basic plot is started and then other people add written parts to the story. Anyone may participate in the war, if they follow certain rules and guidelines, the first among which is that this is all for fun and not a serious attack. In fact, this is probably the only place in fandom where a `war' is not a `war' and doesn't mean tons of flaming e-mail scorching fiber optics. The point of the wars is to learn about each other while creating a slightly odd, cracking good story (like how Cousin Margaret became the Barney-Bride). Last year's Dead of Winter convention in Boston was a meeting of old friends who'd just met--we knew each other and made fast friendships because of what we'd learned about each other from the war. Important All participants (especially new ones) should read wars 1 & 2 before playing. This will give you an idea of how the round robin happens, how you interact with it, how it comes together at the end, and what has happened before. We are not kidding. Read them! Or at least read the summary posts for War #2. I don't want to read it or play in it To Quote our illustrious Listowner and Mistress of the Knet: Anyone who doesn't want the war posts, send this command to listserv@psuvm.psu.edu in the body of the mail: SET FKFIC-L topics: -WAR This will let you get all other FKFIC-L posts, but will ignore all the war postings. If it gets to be too many posts (and we warn you-you MAY get swamped), contact the listowners or check your FAQ on how to set yourself to digest (to get one or two postings a day that consist of everything posted that day) or nomail (to shut down completely until the war is over). How to enter the War People enter themselves into the war by writing themselves a small scene. Perhaps they get a phone call from a friend, see an on-line message asking from help from one of their own group . . . when reading the summary, watch people's opening posts to see how to do this. Occasionally, stuff happens, which is why we have at least three vampires and one Enforcer in our midst, from previous wars. Please be aware that we ask that all incoming players play themselves--don't show up as vampires, super- powered mutants, etc., or plan on turning yourself into same. Kick back and be you. People will like you. Trust me. Please don't post messages to the list saying `I'm in' or `Use me.' If you want to be in, simply post your opening story. If you want to be used but don't have the time or wherewithal to write for yourself, contact the person who appears to be heading up one of the groups. The groups are as follows: Table 1: Forever Knight Affiliations Cousins: LaCroix (They refer to LaCroix as "Uncle") Knights/Knighties: Nick Ravenettes/Ravens: Janette Nat-Packers: Natalie Fods (Friends of Don): Schanke Die-Hards: Fans Who Won't be Forced to Choose FoSsiLs (Friends of Sidney Lambert): Sidney and cats If you don't have an affiliation, it's safest to hang with the Die-Hards. They have laser defenses (read the last war!). How to Play This is fiction. Which means that this is a story. Sandra Gray has graciously agreed to write up a summary of the war postings so far (we suggest you download the originals and read them before playing). After the summary will be posted a listing of who is sort of leading each group. [Ed. Note: Neither the summaries not the group leaders have been included here.] 1. If you're a member of a group, contact the person who seems to be leading your group with any ideas for posting you might have before you post. This saves lots of heartache later on and will give you some idea of what your group is trying to accomplish during the war. 2. Follow the threads of the story that's been posted. Please don't introduce major new threads or ideas to the story without contacting someone in your group first. And if anyone shows up with the Abarat this time out, I'm going to hurt them. (Sorry, joke from the last war--said you should read it). 3. No fair pulling in players who haven't posted an opening story and put themselves into play. For example, during the last war, Cousin John kidnapped Beth's rabbit, Hazel. This meant that John was open to attack and potential rabbit rescuers. 4. If you have questions, please e-mail an individual, not the list. The list is for fiction and occasional bits of nonsense like this, to clarify posts (especially for those people who forget to sign them ahem), or clear up problems. If you have questions and you don't know who to send them to, send them to the FORKNI-L list. Someone over there will help you. 5. Send private e-mail. Send lots of private e-mail. Talk to the other people in your group. Make friends/try to subvert (same thing for a Cousin) people in other groups. Make plans and follow through on them. Ask for help. Offer help. 6. Very Important-all war posts must have WAR: as the beginning of the subject. This will protect people who don't want to play from having to deal with this nonsense. 7. When you post, we ask that you include a title for your post, your name, and maybe a time or general date for when the action happens (this makes it easier for people to follow the war and who later collect it and organize it . . . as well as those of us who work with systems that take years to post something *grumble*). 8. Please don't `back date' too many posts. You may see some of these as group leaders try to cover for errors in timing or contradictions, but it really frazzles the people who have to collect these things later. You are Confused Well, of course you are. Rules are nasty things. So just watch what happens when the war starts. When you feel comfortable, jump in. We'll catch you. Or just sit back and keep watching ------------ List of Authors These names were taken from the headers of each post unless otherwise requested in private e-mail or as indicated in the body of the post itself. All errors are my fault-Jasmine B Berghoff, Annette Bradley, Jill Burkey, Linda C Carey, Jeff Chisholm, Sandye D Dempsey, Ruth Dencoff, John Denton, Amy F Feldman, Lorelei Feline, Kat G Garrett, Susan Gray, Sandra H Hall, Jennise Hayes, Jennie Himmanen, Sharon Hughes, Eryka Hull, Amy J Johnson, S. Tanaquil Jorgensen, Risha K Kane, Caile Donachaidh Katz, Ronni Klarmann, Robert Knight, Karen Kong, Patsy M McCrory, Selma McDavid, Lisa Meachum, Valerie Miller, Andrea Moon, Hyo Morgan, Simone "Angel" N Nelson, Dionne Newman, Margaret Norton, Sally O O'Shea, Tara "LJC" R Rhodes, Dotti Rush, Pam S Salopek, Laurie M. Scroggs, Elizabeth A. Seiler, Monica Smith, Michael Smith, Perri Steele, L. Dawn T Treese, Windy L. W Welss, Karin ----------- CHAPTER 1 Friday, October 14, 1994 All Things Fun By Laurie M. Salopek "I don't believe you," LaCroix snarled at his wanton follower. "You are a disappointment to me." He stared at her wondering what lie or half-truth she would create for him. "I'm not asking you to believe me." Laurie was almost on her tip-toes trying to stare back at the vampire. She had no intention of backing down, she had nothing to lose, she was, after all, already on his dark side. When she had returned from the last war, LaCroix had made it quite clear that he was displeased with her performance and the seriousness of her defection to the Ravens. But, fool hearty, she never learn to take Uncle's threats seriously, which eventually led to the confrontation before her. "Oh? Then what ARE you asking?" LaCroix did admire the brash attitude she displayed as long as she didn't push it too far. "I am only asking that you watch and judge for yourself." Laurie slowly settled back down on her heals; her calf muscles were starting to ache from the strain. "I'm going away this weekend to visit Janette's premiere Ravenette and I have also learned that one of Natalie's most ardent followers will be there too. It should make for an interesting couple of days." "And?" "And if you wish to know my true loyalties, I suggest you hang around and watch." Laurie's head was bowed as she momentarily looked at the small cracks in the sidewalk. Then, ever so slowly with a most snide little grin on her face that was most befitting a true follower of LaCroix, she continued, "Janette knows nothing about this weekend and neither does Nick. No one knows. I have told no one of my intentions. For all those concerned it will start out as just another fun weekend. Well, fun for me that is. I can't speak for the others." Her small smile broadened into a most insidious grin. LaCroix smiled. "Very well, I will watch." The pause was long and cold. "Don't disappoint me again." It was Laurie's turn to smile. "Actions always speak louder than words." Time Heals All Wounds By Sandye Chisholm Everything that could have gone wrong, did. It had started out to be a terrific semester, but a sudden virus put all her plans on hold. She'd been sick for almost three weeks, and they had not been pretty ones. The doctors diagnosed the walking pneumonia, but could not isolate the strange virus that drew away all of her strength. After putting most of her plans on hold, Sandye started to believe that the new month would bring her better luck, as well as better health. It was late Thursday night, and she had just as she started studying for her much hated Chaucer exam. Dennis was on the phone as usual. When the balcony door slid open, Sandye drew in her breath, half expecting the visage of a maniacal clown. Relieved, she sat back down and beckoned LaCroix into the room. "Uncle! Thank the gods it's you." He pushed and shoved his way past the two mountain bikes and the health-rider. LaCroix did not look happy. "What are you doing?" This was her apartment, non? Obviously, something had made him a bit more than crabby; a condition no mortal anticipated with anything less than dread. Even a cousin was not secure when Uncle had a bee in his bonnet. Despite her weakened condition, Sandye stood up and faced the great immortal and his slightly pinched face. "Well, I'm trying to catch up on my work and you startled me. Dennis was teasing me about that Stephen King novel, you know the one with the killer clown...oh, nevermind. I've been sick, and- "Exactly. Sick. With a strange and unique virus that none of your pathetic doctors can identify." All right. He had done that mind-thing again; but she hadn't felt his probing thoughts. How else could he know? "LaCroix, who told you that?" His expression changed from one of anger to that of disgust. "Don't you ever learn? Look at the facts, Sandye. Use your eyes. There's more here than what you can see. Didn't you think it rather convenient that you were taken ill and hence, not able to go on that week-end with Cousin Laurie?" LaCroix was waiting for her to put it all together. If she could only think straight. Being sick had made her slow and that she didn't like any more than LaCroix. She had never imagined it anything more than an unhappy coincidence when she had to decline that trip to Susan's, and she was disappointed that she wasn't going to get to meet Sharon after all this time. It hardly mattered that she was a Nat-packer and Susan was a Ravenette- Aghast, Sandye's reason finally regained a firm hold on her reality. "You're not saying someone me sick? Why, that's sick! And impossible!" "Nothing's impossible when you're an immortal, or a doctor, with access to frillions of nasty bacteria and deadly bugs." Sandye was, for the moment, stunned. "Something is in the air, Sandye, and I'm not talking about your germs. This weekend has some deeper meaning. Perhaps it's just the beginning in a long string of attempts to weaken our side, to lure away my people. Laurie's defection in the last war was more than just clever maneuvering. Too bad it gave these others the impression that the cousins could be taken away from me. But we know that can never happen, don't we, my dear?" His snarl slipped so casually across his lips that it seemed to her quite natural; it was the outstretched fangs, however, that made the whole picture a little less than familial. "Yes, Uncle. I know, I mean, we all know. And I don't think you should really worry about Laurie. She's signed off the list as co-listowner. That means she has a great deal more freedom. I think you're gonna like the new Laurie." "I hope you're right. For all your sakes. Just keep an eye on these weekend gatherings. I don't want to hear about conversions, unless of course it is conversion to our side." "Well remember that now there's Cousin Monica and Cousin Dennis, and I believe a great deal more cousins in general. I don't recall everyone's name, having to withdraw from the last war and all, but I remember there were more." The whole memory was uncomfortable, but, as it stood, it seemed far removed from this chilly night in October. "This time, if there is another war, your hands will not be tied as before. I owe you three something for your obedience, if nothing else. But try not to waste the favor. We immortals don't favors as a rule, so my advice is, don't screw it up." And good advice at that. No cousin in their right mind would toss that wisdom away. "As you say. We'll wait and see what's shaking. And I'll take a rain-check on that favor, if you don't mind; perhaps I'll need it later on." "Nice to see that you creatures still can learn something. You know how I hate to waste my time." A vampyre who has all the time in the world not wanting to waste any of it; now there's motivation for you. Sandye looked back towards the bedroom door; it was still ajar. No doubt, Dennis sat at the recliner chatting endlessly to that dribble of a guy in Maryland. Men. Sometimes they were worse than- "But what about Laurie? She's going down there without me. She's all alone." Sandye didn't have to wait long before LaCroix reached over to calm her down; a firm hand on her shoulder told her it had been taken care of already. "I wouldn't worry about Cousin Laurie if I were you. She had a strange look in her eyes when we spoke. It's the other two that are going to have to worry." There was nothing strange about the look in LaCroix's eyes. They were the pure and perfect picture of revenge. Spying For Fun And Profit By Cousin Dennis Dennis sat back in the easy chair and ran his fingers through his wavy blond hair. Replacing the phone in the cradle, he reflected on the conversation he had just had with the man in Maryland. He heard LaCroix speaking softly to Sandye in the next room and smiled quietly to himself. Oh, this was going to be too sweet. He would send the private investigator the rest of the information he needed, along with a substantial check for expenses. After all, who knew where this investigation might lead. There were so many members of other factions to check out. It was a good thing his student loan had come in on time. Dropping the footrest on the recliner, he pulled himself out of the chair and strolled into the living room. LaCroix and Sandye were grinning maliciously, planning some exquisite torture for the others. Catching the last few words of the conversation, Dennis was able to piece together the meaning behind this surprise visit and the roles each of them would play in the coming days. LaCroix invited him to pull up a chair and the planning then began in earnest...... ------ CHAPTER 2 Saturday, October 15, 1994 Weekend at Susan's By Sharon Himmanen Bag packed, Susan's Mickey Mouse bag folded and stowed, Susan's copy of The Dark Phoenix Saga tucked under her arm, Sharon made a hasty dash for the door, already late for work and really needing to stop off for coffee. But the phone rang just as she shoved Gus out of the way with her foot and opened the door. He hissed and spat at her, then laid into her leg with his teeth and clawless front paws like the demon cat from hell that he was. Sharon thought seriously about ignoring it. It was probably her mother, calling to remind her that her birthday was coming up soon. Or worse yet, she was planning a visit to New York . . . Closing the door with a sigh, she dropped her bag and went over to the phone and switched it on. "Sharon? Hi, it's Nat." "Hey, Natalie," she replied, relieved that it wasn't her mother for a change. "You just caught me. I was on my way out the door." "I won't keep you too long. I was just wondering if you'd heard about the gorilla twins that were born at the Bronx Zoo? There's a story about it in the paper, and I thought of you." "Yeah, I did. I was just reading about it on Primate-Talk this morning. This makes six sets of gorilla twins born in captivity now." "Cool. Well, you're probably on your way to work. I'll give you call sometime this weekend when you have more time." "Oh, I'm going away this weekend," Sharon replied. "Won't be back until Monday." She heard Natalie laugh. "Ooo, hot date?" Sharon chuckled. "I wish, but hardly. I don't think Susan Garrett and Laurie Salopek count in this case." "Susan Garrett? Have I met her?" "Yep. During the last war. She's the one who threatened to burn all the potential cures that people sent in the mail." "Oh," Natalie said flatly. "Well, it wouldn't have mattered. None of them did much except make Nick suffer." "Susan seems to have a penchant for doing that," Sharon said dryly. "And Laurie," Nat said, and there was no way to mistake the under- current of bitterness in her voice. "I definitely remember Laurie." Sharon was at a loss for words. To say that Natalie was not fond of Laurie was a complete understatement, after what Laurie had done to Nick, and by extension to Natalie herself, during the first war. Laurie had replaced all of Nick's cow blood with human blood, undoing months of hard work and incurring the wrath of even LaCroix. "Yeah," Sharon said quietly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" "What? This weekend? Because of Laurie?" "Remember what happened during the last war," Natalie reminded her softly. "He wanted you back. If Betsy hadn't shown up with those fish tapes . . ." Trying to keep the hurt from her voice, Sharon was quick to reassure Natalie. "Don't worry. I definitely learned my lesson. And Susan's pretty solid--it's not like it's going to suddenly be two against one. As much as I like the bar scene at times, I'd make a lousy Ravenette, which Susan knows. And there's a very important reason for me to go." "What's that?" "All of Susan's beta readers. If she gets caught up in another war, or worse, gets converted, we'll all be left hanging until who knows when. But I really think you're over-reacting. This is just for fun." "I don't like the sound of it. Will you just promise to be careful?" "I'll be careful. If this is a war, at least we're starting out the right way. These things always start for me with a phone call from you. Listen, I've got to get to work. I'll talk to you later." She dropped the phone back into the cradle, grabbed her bag, shoved Gus out of the way again, and was out the door and on her way. Reluctant Recruit By S. Tanaquil Johnson "No.... non, nein, ochi, lo, NO!!!" Arsinoe raised her furry head in alarm from the tangled blankets on the floor, where she had just succeeded in snaring her brother Ptolemy so that she could jump on his head and bite his ear with impunity. She knew her person was a bit strange, but the spectacle of Tanaquil banging her head repeatedly on the keyboard was a new one. "Inconceivable!" squawked the computer several times in an annoying nasal voice, and then flashed a dialog box: "Unfortunately, no one is listening to keystrokes at the moment. You may as well stop typing." Tanaquil ignored it and continued to whimper. "This can't be happening," she was muttering. "Not just when I was finally pulling out of that post-orals slump and really getting some work done. Not when I have a chapter due in less than two months. I can't, I can't..." She refused to even think about the four-figure Visa bill. But the e-mail on the screen, now plastered over with a sample of one of Eudora's insufferably cute dialog boxes, refused to go away: *** From: lambert@morgue.toronto.gov To: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu Subject: War: what is it good for? Just thought I ought to warn you that you might want to be in contact with Valerie and Sharon. It looks as if the Cousins may be starting another war. I don't know where Janette's people fit into this, but you know she was none too happy about your part in the last war. Stay on your guard -- but this time, skip the Mata Hari bit, OK? Janette's been warming up to me lately, and I don't want to end up back at square one. And whatever you all do, keep my Sydney out of it! Natalie *** With a deep sigh, Tanaquil chose "New Message" from the Message menu. *** From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu To: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu Subject: War???? Rumor has it that another war is afoot. Is this true? And should I be worried about trouble visiting my house??? My new kittens are pros at shredding four-year-old avocado trees and chewing through walkman cords, but they haven't had much practice at fending off human malefactors. Let alone vampires. What's going on? Help!! Tanaquil *** Natalie didn't have to waste her breath warning Tanaquil not to attempt another foray on the Raven. Apart from the fact that Janette already knew her one ridiculous disguise, the fall semester was well underway. Tanaquil's advisor might be in Minnesota, but daily Hebrew classes, a very much unwritten dissertation, a non-existent bank balance and a demanding pair of four month old kittens would keep her firmly in Berkeley this time, thank you very much. Tanaquil resolutely repressed the unwelcome image of Cousins, Ravenettes, NatPackers and Knighties cavorting around the Berkeley campus, collected her Hebrew books and headed for a cafe. This definitely called for a double cappucino. She'd do what she could to help from the sidelines, but at least this time the war wouldn't affect her life much. Right? A Cousin Begins By Laurie M. Salopek I arrived early to the bustling but desolate town of Toms River. The highways, like black ribbons forgotten on an isolated beach, meandered in and out of the small towns as I threaded my way east. After purchasing a local newspaper, that was fairly thick despite the thin population of the area, which I later discovered the reason for the immense volume was the inclusion of a multitude of varied full page obituaries, I settled in a a vinyl clad booth at the local Denny's to full my empty stomach with the vestiges of a full plate of grease. Around five o'clock, and another full plate of sugar, I started my car and headed towards the small brick complex that was the home of Janette's most prized Ravenette. I parked my car along a side street, yet the almost hidden location did not go unnoticed by the sharp eyes of Susan Garrett. She joyously bounced out from her apartment door and greeted me with a warm embrace. Scary, considering her allegiance to the darkly tailored vampire that she so adored. I managed to stay on guard and soften her suspicions with a myriad of gifts. Both small and large, the gifts were intended to catch the Ravenette off guard. Call then Trojan horses, call them what you like, but that do serve their purpose. Trojan horses, yes, that is what they are, all dressed in facades of innocence, masquerading an aura of deceit. The old legends will serve me well this weekend, if only I can manage to keep the stealth look of unknowing about my face, I will be safe; I will secure my mission under the eyes of Uncle and return to my true place by his side. Our chatter was light until around 6:30pm when we left to pick up the third member of this weekend delight. Unfortunately, Sharon's bus was late. No doubt, she was delayed by a phone call from the strong yet ill focus emotions from the coroner in Toronto. Somehow, Natalie seemed to sense the unending turns of our, the cousins, different missions to turn her followers away from their useless mortality and relish the strength of the loyalty bestowed from Uncle. With a Ravenette in the front seat and a NatPacker in the back, I took advantage of the extra horsepower that the fuel injection of my car afforded me and proceeded to stretch the limits of the cars performance. After all, toying with the limits of law and mortality is one way to bring those outside of the fold into place. But, they took it in stride, even with a cousin at the wheel. I parked again along the side street. It was going to be a long weekend. Karin and Jennise Change Jobs and Loyalties By Karin Welss As an unsuspecting Sharon H. was packing up for a weekend at Susan Garrett's... Three thousand miles away, on a balmy October afternoon in the San Francisco Bay Area, Jennise Hall's telephone rang. Jennise picked up her TV remote, expertly hit the PAUSE button-- and picked up the receiver. "Hello?" "Hey, Jennise!" It was unmistakably Karin. Which mean it was likely to be a long phone call. Jennise picked up the remote again, and turned off her television and her VCR. "Guess what-- another FK War is starting up." "Oh, great," Jennise groaned. "And Uncle wants us to get involved again? I thought he brought us across to *write* for him. And look what keeps happening! I'm getting really really sick of this!" Jennise paused. "Whaddya think he'd do if I just handed in my resignation?" "I've been thinking about bailing, too," commiserated Karin. "But hey, that's why I was calling. I just saw the coolest job ad posted on RAVEN-L. It's from Dorian, the Archivist. He's looking for a couple of trusty assistants to help him out." "Sound interesting," Jennise allowed cautiously. "Cool! I'm glad you think so," exclaimed Karin brightly. "Because I applied for both of us-- and just got e-mail back from dorian@vamp.archive.com. We've been hired!" "We've been --WHAT?" Jennise blinked. This was all moving *way* too fast. "I said, we're hired. We're the Vampire Archivist's new assistants. Should be lot of writing in *this* job. And we have our first assignment!" "Dare I ask?" Karin laughed. "Pack your parka and see you at the Oakland Airport in about two hours. We're supposed to meet up with Dorian in New Jersey." "New Jersey? What's in New Jersey?" Jennise looked longingly at the TV, recalling the peace and quiet of a couch-potato Saturday afternoon. Things were *definitely* moving too fast. "Susan M. Garrett lives there," Karin replied, a quiet note of malicious triumph. "And Dorian wants to Interview her-- she *knows* way too much about the Community." "Oh, jeez," Jennise said, and grabbing a pencil, began jotting down the flight number and departure time that Karin was dictating in her typical German machine-gun fashion. New Jersey. Autumn. It was going to be @#$% cold. Jennise *hated* the cold, even though she and Karin were both vampires now, children of LaCroix, and theoretically couldn't feel the cold any more. "Now, where did I put my flannel nightie...?" she muttered, as she moved around her apartment, gathering up things to pack. The Enforcer Is In! By Ronni Katz While the two California ladies, Karin and Jennise, were preparing to meet up with Dorian in New Jersey, another Vampyre was at his computer in New Jersey catching up on his mail..... "So, the Archivist is HERE," Romulus (known on the Net by the moniker of Ron the Enforcer) said to himself smiling slightly. "I thought getting even with LaCroix felt good. Carving Dorian a new asshole will feel OH SO WONDERFUL!" Now, why would you want to do that? a familiar voice inquired in a curious tone from over Romulus s shoulder. Romulus turned to see Dragutin, his mage friend and occasional adventuring companion, standing at his elbow. He looked more human than usual, clad as he was in a fisherman s sweater and loose fitting black trousers and his long hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. Dragutin saw the posting from Cousin Karin that Romulus had been reading and shook his head. You cannot challenge the Archivist, he told his friend. I know you were able to resist the Interview - a feat you share in common with LaCroix - but, although the Enforcers no longer support him, the Ancients, their Masters, do. Although this is not known widely in the Community, Dorian is protected by the Ancients. If you were to harm him without just cause, you d incur the wrath of many people - including your beloved Lavinia. Lavinia hates Dorian as much as I do. True, but she will not support you in all the others were to turn in concert against you. Romulus, you are very old and powerful, no one can deny that, but you would not last long if EVERY Ancient was to focus their immortal energies against you. Especially the ones who are members of the Order of Hermes. You know what I am capable of but my power is but a drop of water compared with the lake my Master has at his command. Have YOU ever been Interviewed, Dragutin? No, the mage-vampire replied quietly. But, then again, I am a bit young for that. I m less than four centuries old. Yeah, you re not at the spewing dust stage like I am, Romulus replied grinning. Dragutin smiled slightly and Romulus continued, I was invited to that party Sunday at Susan G's. I've been writing to her over the Net and we actually met face-to-face at a Renfaire. I was wearing my old great kilt and looked like something the cat dragged in but, once we got to talking, it was cool. She s an awesome lady! For a mortal. Look, I *DO* have mortal friends. My friend Ed, he s in your Order but belongs to the Chantry house here in Jersey, and I hang out all the time when I m not working. He s coming to the party with me. And you'll be getting there by car? Yeah. It s not every Mage that can do Correspondence! Dragutin chuckled softly. True, he agreed, than added, I know Ed. His talents lie in other Spheres, but he is not to be underestimated. Besides, if Dorian does show up to Interview Ms. Garrett, it will be to her benefit to have both you, the Enforcer at Large, and a member of the Order of Hermes there to protect her. I wish I could assist, but I m afraid my duties to the Chantry will be keeping me quite occupied all weekend. I know. You've been so busy since we got back from Toronto that it s like I hardly know you anymore! I do regret that, Dragutin admitted. I enjoy your company, when you re not sharpening your claws on some living tissue, but I feel it s time you got out and made yourself some new friends. You've been living like a hermit since John went back to pursue his studies at the University in New Mexico. He was a medical student, right? Yes, and we managed to get his schedule arranged so that his *condition* wouldn't interfere with his studies much. I`ll work with him on his Disciplines between semesters. It s not critical he learns everything now. He s got eternity to master his craft. Besides, considering how he was Brought Across, I think he should spend some time with you. You did say you saw some mystic potential in him. Yes, a bit. But in my travels, I saw the Potential in another. Her natural Quintessance was very strong. Who is this person? Valerie Meachum. I saw her in that Scottish Play a while back. Talented...and beautiful. And engaged, Romulus said and he was *sure* he caught a look of disappointment on his friend s face. The Enforcer grinned adding, Hey, I thought you had a policy that you didn't screw your students. My god, man, sometimes you can be so incredibly vulgar! Dragutin stated and Romulus just laughed. You are NOT amusing! Romulus was still chuckling softly when Dragutin finished saying, I know I don t....have relations with students. But I still have eyes and they do appreciate beauty. I am capable of looking and enjoying without touching, unlike some men I know! Romulus colored slightly, knowing Dragutin was referring to the Enforcer s stolen night of passion with Natalie Lambert. Dragutin had been incensed that Romulus, who had been disguised as Nick Knight at the time, had tricked the good coroner into allowing him to pleasure her in a way she had always dreamed Nick would. Natalie s memory of the event was shifted - at Dragutin s insistence for the mage was certain Nick never intended to make Natalie his lover - so she would recall it as a dream only. So, the friendship was preserved and only Romulus and Dragutin knew what *really* happened that night.... So, is Valerie your newest apprentice? No...not yet anyway, Dragutin said. I intend to speak to her about it but I have a feeling she is soon going to be, ah, otherwise engaged. Yeah, Romulus agreed a wicked grin crossing his angular face. Looks like there is going to be another War! I think I m going to be making myself scarce, the Mage stated clearly not at all thrilled by what is about to transpire. Well, I know how much you enjoy a good fight. Just...watch yourself. Romulus nodded, well aware of what his old friend was implying with his warning, but the old vampire had a feeling that the party at Susan G. s on Sunday was going to be far more than just a party. Ground Zero, here I come! the Enforcer exulted. Lying In Wait By Susan Garrett There are certain things for which you can prepare--fire, flood, famine, Rush Limbaugh . . . . The visits of Cousins, even planned, are just beyond the realm of the natural world. You can't run. You can't hide. You can't even hire someone to move your stuff to another apartment and change your name. Susan knew this. She thought she'd prepared for the inevitable visit. She was wrong. Cousin Laurie arrived with a newspaper in hand (meaning that she'd already scoped out all the attractions of the area and had even found the mall--well, she'd passed it but she knew where it was) and an announcement that she'd already eaten at the local Denny's (always a good way to wind down travel-weary visitors). Deciding to hold off the use of her ultimate weapon/delaying tactic (caramel popcorn), Susan sat across from the Cousin, wondering what deviltry might lie behind this visit and how soon Sharon might arrive and take the heat off her (something at which Nat- Packers seemed to excel). She had no plans, really--just to finish the novel, scream quite a lot at Great Adventure on death-defying log floom rides (which also meant a certain amount of getting- wetedness), and preparing for the party on Sunday night. For now she could only wait and watch, trying to discern what malevolent intentions might lie behind the Cousin's pleasant facade. That . . . and maybe hide some of the caramel popcorn before Cousin Laurie ate it all. Dear Diary By Sharon Himmanen Dear Diary, I thought I'd never get out of the city. This had been the week from hell, and Nat seems to think I'm heading into the weekend from hell. It wouldn't have been quite so bad had a bus not broken down in the south terminal of Port Authority, holding up inbound and outbound traffic for nearly half an hour. It hadn't helped that I was too afraid of missing the bus when it did leave to get off line to call Susan to tell her I'd be late. It hadn't helped that I'd rushed down here at the last minute, after my #@$$%& programmer declared my program too impossible and too problem ridden to deal with on a friday afternoon, plus which he had to go meet his girlfriend down in the village anyway. So if a Cousin is planning any traps, confrontations, or attempted conversions, this weekend, let her. I'm more than ready. A flashy red sports car, the realization that Cousin Laurie thinks "Oh, yield!" works best as an afterthought, and a dinner at Denny's later we arrived at Casa Garrett. Diego and all of Susan's wonderful toys were waiting. I wonder if Laurie really knows what she's gotten herself into. Diary Entry 1 By Selma McCrory I've forgotten to keep this diary up to date, so I might as well try to start now. A lot has happened since the middle of July. FK has started airing. And it's not Jennise's alternate season. I'm really glad I did my part in that. As for Jennise, I've forgiven her. She still has to proofread all this fiction I've neglected writing and revising. And she's happier now that I got rid of the blond vampire. Of course, *I* don't mind that I've gotten rid of him. He started getting ideas about bringing me across. I don't see why LaCroix brought across someone so insane. Of course, dear Uncle is undoubtedly up to something quite nasty. I'm quite happy to be uninvolved with his schemes. I wonder when he's going to start trying for new Cousins again. I wonder if he'll try for me again. I was a Cousin, for one glorious week, before I switched to NatPack. And I made a very lousy Cousin, if I do say so myself. But then, Nick makes a very lousy vampire, and LaCroix hasn't stopped trying to set him straight either. So I do not have much hope. At least if he tries anytime soon, Hilary will be quite out of his reach. She's travelling, trying to get all over the US and Canada in one month. And she's more vulnerable than me, since she's a Knightie. There's one good thing about being in the NatPack, there are two other ex-cousins in here. Well, I need to go. Catch you later (can you tell I've been with a bunch of Starman fans the last two days? Details tomorrow). Selma A Test of Old Loyalties By John Dencoff Cousin John lifted the tube carefully, noting the color of the contents as they swirled. It was almost mesmerizing, a light shade of bluish-green. If his insertion vectors were correct, this one would be the key. The antibodies were reacting exactly as he'd hoped. There were too many clues that this "disease" he'd been inflicted with was actually a specialized virus of sorts. It was operating on the immune system, to be sure, and the blood was necessary for the nourishment of the altered cellular structure. But a virus that infected every single cell of the body! It was too amazing to contemplate! And yet, here he was, a living example of what it could do...or perhaps a dead example. He didn't really *know* if he was alive, after all. Hopefully his immunology background could help him find the elusive cure that Nick had so desperately searched for. And tonight, he had the lab to himself, a little "suggestion" that the graduate student take some time off. Deftly, he pulled the solution of polyclonal antibodies up into the syringe. Tapping the needle once...twice...to push the tiny air bubbles out of it. Then he set the syringe down on the table and set his eyes on the rat. He'd had to put the little demon in a reinforced-glass cage; after all, its strength had increased dramatically after he'd infected it with vampirism. The rat squealed as he grabbed it, his heart racing. He was immune to the pain of the bites, of course, but he'd been bitten in life one time too many. The rat fought, then calmed after the quick injection of antibodies. Its eyes glazed...and moments later it began to writhe in agony. Cousin John watched in horror as the rat died. It wasn't how he'd hoped this experiment would go. "My dear John," a quiet voice intoned behind him, and John's heart nearly leapt into his throat! He turned quickly, his speed enhanced by the Vampire's curse. It was Uncle. "What...what do you want?" "What kind of experiment are you conducting, dear boy? Or do you simply enjoy putting lesser creatures through pain? I admit, it was never a lesson I could teach poor Nicolah." Uncle gazed *through* him, it seemed. "I am working on my research, as I intend to live out this life...even though I am deprived of much else by this curse." "Ah, yes, your research. In the field of cancer physiology, yes? Why *do* you bother, John? Cancer is something that affects mortals, not us. It is a waste of your time. You could be learning other, more necessary things. Why did you leave Romulus? His offer to teach you was not something every Vampire gets." "I didn't leave him. I am wrapping things up in this life. He understands. We have all the time in the world. After I complete this life, I will return." "Leave now, and I will teach you things that he could not possibly know. It is an offer I will not make twice. Before your betrayal, which was--admittedly--a misunderstanding, you were a Cousin. You were one of mine." John smiled, nostalgia creeping into his thoughts. "Yes, it is tempting. Please understand, though. I mean no disrespect, but it is very important that I complete this life. Too many loose ends that I would like to tie up. Some favors that I would like to repay. Even mortals deserve that." "I see," Uncle said flatly. "I am disappointed, but you are not the first of my progeny to make me feel so." "The Aberat," John corrected. "It wasn't you, but the Aberat that brought me across. That may be why I am different than some of the others. I know that now. It wasn't you. I bear you no grudge, Uncle." He even managed a smile. "Then..." LaCroix considered, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "you are still a Cousin?" "I am my own person," John said nervously. "But, not opposed to helping out my Uncle from time to time." LaCroix was pleased, his face a reflection of a cat that had just caught a mouse. "Excellent! I haven't lost you after all. I may call upon you sometime later, when I need a particular favor, John. As always, I reward my allies well." And with that, he turned and flew out the open window into the night air. Sometime later, as John finished putting away his tubes and blood-collection vials, he noticed that the rat wasn't quite dead. It had even begun to move...and his senses told him that the Vampirism was gone from the animal. Gathering up the vial of remaining antibody, he quickly prepared a syringe. This time, it was enough for a human, enough for himself. The cure needed a human test, after all...and he injected himself with the solution. It spread like fire throughout his veins... He awoke only hours before daylight, incredibly sick and shaking from the intense cold. It had failed...the blood- hunger rose in his throat...he needed fresh blood, and quickly, or he would go mad! As he fumbled through the refrigerator, he pulled out one of the preserved bags. Uncontrollably, he tore into it with his teeth and licked the blood from the plastic until he was sated. This was a failure of grand proportions...he had almost lost control! What if he had been forced to hunt on the streets and had killed someone? As his hatred of the curse rose sharply, he noticed the animal in the cage. It froze, petrified, an all-too-normal response for facing a vampire. As John approached it, his fangs still extended, it died of fright. John's only thought...how did his cure affect the animal...why did it fail to revert him? The Enforcer Visits Cousin John (Part 1 of 2) By Ronni Katz Ron the Enforcer stared at the computer screen in total disbelief. Have you lost your mind, John? Ron cried in horror as he read the passage in which John cited where he tried the formula he used on the lab rats on himself. Kid thinks he s Dr. Frankenstein! Relax, Ron, a familiar voice purred from over the Enforcer s shoulder. John is a scientist and, well, occasionally scientists do things that aren't very sensible. Dragutin, I HAVE to go out there. To talk some sense into that crazy kid before he kills himself! I didn't think it was possible for a vampire to die that way, the Mage replied with his usual calm. I didn't think it was possible to reverse vampirism at all and yet John did it, Ron countered. He only found a cure for animals, but that still counts. And, well, if he s doing research along the lines of a cure- Your duty calls for you to investigate it. Exactly. And if he is trying to find a way back for himself, what will you do? Ron looked away from the mage and returned his dark eyed gaze to the VGA monitor. Nothing hostile, he said after a long pause. I thought the kid was happy with his new life. I guess I had him figured all wrong. I guess he didn't have the stamina for immortality. Not everyone does, Dragutin replied softly resting a comforting hand on his friend s shoulder. Will you take me out there to see him? Dragutin nodded... The Mage s navigational abilities were flawless, as usual and he and the Enforcer appeared in a stairwell in John s residence building. No one saw them appear from out of nowhere (and thus no Paradox was created, which pleased Dragutin no end!) and the pair quietly exited the stairwell and walked down the hallway and to John s door. Do you want me to be here? Do you want to watch me have a temper tantrum? Not especially. Then you d best stay out of earshot, Ron said with a wry smile and the Mage Dragutin faded from sight. The Enforcer could *feel* his presence but the Mage was not within earshot. However, he could be easily contacted if and when he was needed.... Ron knocked on the door and John answered. He looked downright shocked to see his *sempai* (teacher) standing there, not so much because of the distance he travelled to be there but because he was there IN BROAD DAYLIGHT! Romulus! John cried calling his mentor by his true name and not by the one he had been given by Aristotle as a *mortal* identity. What are you doing here? I came to talk some sense into you before the Enforcers come and you wind up staked in the sun for violation of the Code. The Enforcers? You ARE the head of the Enforcers in this region. You mean you d let them- No, but I have to abide by the Code. And, with Susan Garrett about to face an Interview with Dorian, I don t need you to go off and do something stupid that will force me to be here saving your Kindred butt! You...you read that stuff I posted about my experiments? YES! And so did a lot of other people! Ron told him working VERY HARD on not losing his temper. Look, come inside and I'll explain everything, John promised as he let his mentor in. Ron sighed heavily saying, I m expecting an explanation. And it HAD BETTER BE GOOD! John was cringing slightly as he closed the door.... ------- CHAPTER 3 Sunday, October 16, 1994 Thoughts a 'Driftin By John Dencoff As Ron, the Enforcer, John's mentor...his teacher...continued pacing back and forth across his carpet, he decided that he would just have to wait until the end of Romulus's speech ("Are you MAD?...Benefits of Vampirism?...Where did we, LaCroix and I, go wrong?...Are you sure you know what you're DOING, boy?) until he could get a word in. It was going to be hard to explain...but his thoughts drifted off to something he'd done earlier that evening. He wondered if it was *too* evil. He couldn't take the credit for the idea...it all belonged to that deviously inventive Ravenette, Karen Knight. The name was confusing of course, a Knight as a Ravenette...but with the concept of using polyester as a War weapon, she should've been a Cousin! Ron suddenly broke his train of thought. "Have you been listening to a word I've been saying?!?" "Yes." "And another thing!..." Ron started pacing again. It wasn't as if it was his idea, after all...and he wasn't doing anything truly evil to the Knighties. But to attack Janette on her own turf...on an issue of style! Now he was wondering if he should have done it. On the other hand, he sorta wished he would be there to see her face. Maybe if he could explain his intentions to Ron quickly, then they could *fly* there to see the resultant explosion of anti-style. Would the Vampires faint on the spot? Was the disco ball going *too* far? he chuckled under his breath. The Enforcer Visits Cousin John (Part 2 of 2) By Ronni Katz The Enforcer stopped pacing and faced his pupil demanding, "Now tell me...what's this crap about a CURE???!" "Well, you have a clue since you've obviously read my posting on the Net," John began. ""What I found, however, is that it won't work on us yet. The formula is enzymatically incorrect for humans, but WILL work on animals." "So, you'll reverse back all the vamped-out pets and leave it at that?" Ron queried not too sure he really bought all the medical mumbo-jumbo he'd read on the Net. "Well...no. I intended to continue with my research," John said and stopped and added insistently, "But nOT for me!" when he saw the Enforcer's dark eyes starting to glow red-gold. "I'm doing this work for Nick. HE'S the one looking for a way back. I'm quite... content to stay as I am." "This `research' of yours is a violation of the Code," Ron stated flatly. "I know," John replied meeting the Enforcer's hard gaze. "You're not going to bust me, are you?" "No," Ron replied after a LONG pause. "But if the Ancients find out, and they WILL if you keep posting your findings to the Net as a whole instead of privately E- mailing the interested parties, you're screwed. And if I'M sent to take you out, you will get NO MERCY because you were STUPID and CARELESS!" John was stunned. He knew his mentor was a non-nonsense type but he had no idea Ron the Enforcer was THIS ruthless. He had seen glimmers of how intense Ron was during the Training Mission he went out on before the start of fall classes but much of what the Enforcer really did was kept hidden from the fledgling vampyre. "Look, I'll be careful, I promise," John replied daring to face his mentor, who was still glaring at him but with human eyes (not those horrid vampyre ones!). "I won't do anything to make you an enemy." "Good plan," Ron stated crossing over to within inches of John. "Remember this, Childe. Whatever you fear LaCroix doing to you should you ever cross him is NOTHING compared to what *I* can do should you ever cross *me*!" John cringed visibly. Ron's expression softened as he asked, "Now, what's this plot you have that involves...what was it, a disco ball??" John's eyes widened. Had the Enforcer been reading his mind full of drifting thoughts all during his rant?? Talk about being able to multitask! John stammered for a moment before saying, "Well, I *did* have a plot in mind. I just need...a way to get there to pull it off." "What do I look like, United Airlines?" John had the grace to be embarrassed because it *was* the Enforcer s supersonic flying ability he'd been hoping to enlist! "Well, I WAS going to ask you to be in on the scheme." "YOU take care of your Cousinly plots, boy. I have a lady to protect from a certain unscrupulous Archivist." "Susan?" John said more than asked. "Yes. So, you go and have your fun but I can t join you until after I am sure Susan is safe. Understood?" "Yes. How can you get me to where I need to go and get to Susan s in time to help her?" "Dragutin is with me. I'll see if I can convince him to help." John nodded as the Enforcer poked his head out *sensing* for the Mage. He picked up nothing. Where the hell was he? Ron scanned around for a moment before spotting what looked like a black CD with a note attached to it taped to the wall beside John s door. Ron read the note: Sorry - had to run. This Stepping Disk has been prepped with the spell to Correspond you and John to Susan's haven. Will try to catch up with you later. And it was signed with the Mage's sigil. "F%^K!" "What is it?" John asked as he watched his Mentor fume in the hall. "Dragutin's gone off to parts unknown. I have a way to get to Susan's but, without Mr. Teleportation, I'm stuck having to fly your Cousinly rump to Janette's. No offense, but this is going to delay my arrival at Susan's - hopefully I won t be too late to help her!" "But you *do* fly very fast," John reminded him looking more than ready for that Mach Plus flight with the Enforcer. "Yeah, and if you don't cover every inch of your body with clothing, the exposed skin will be torn off by the friction," Ron told him looking grim. "Wear leather, it protects the best." John had always wondered why Ron wore leather when in the field and now he knew the answer. He went to scrape together what leather clothing he had so he could take that bullet flight up to Canada. While John changed, Ron got on John s computer and sent a message. * To: DORIAN1228@aol.com From:Questinc@aol.com Subject: your interview Karin- I know you re there acting as Dorian s assistant so tell the Archivist that he is violating the Code Interviewing Susan Garrett. In case he needs this clue (and knowing Dorian, he just might) SUSAN IS A MORTAL. In case he missed the fact that he didn't get the buzz around her that he gets around Kindred, here is another clue - she can go out in the daylight! If the big guy needs any more clues - tell him I'll be checking in on my mail from the road (I have PPP and SLIP access so I can do this sort of thing!) Better yet - maybe I'll just drop by and bludgeon him with the clue stick in person! Romulus Romanus, Enforcer *** He SENT the message and grinned evilly to himself. John came back out the moment after Ron sent his message forth. "I'm ready." Ron nodded, logged off and shut down the computer. John saw he had been on the Net but wondered (only for a moment) how he got in but assumed (correctly) that Ron could log on from any site (Enforcers have access to all kinds of neat technology - thank you Larry Merlin!!) and Ron had PPP and SLIP access because of the mortal job he had (hey - a guy has to pay rent you know!) so John thought nothing of his Mentor's actions. However, the moment they shot skyward and he felt the frigid air that was the sky at THAT ungodly altitude, John was beginning to think that maybe Air Canada would have been the better plan.... Great Adventure Part 1 By Laurie M. Salopek "Susan," I said with a calm but insidious voice, "feel like going on a roller coaster ride?" "As long are there are NO LOOPS!" "I don't think this one has loops." I said as I carefully nudge her through the entrance gate. "I don't like being shaken from side to side. And besides, someone fell out of one of those things head first." There it was, those little defiant intonations that defined a Ravenette. It wasn't until we were done weeding our way through the maze of railings and were heading down the long covered corridor, that the thunderous noise from overhead yanked her back to reality and the realization that she was trapped. Susan looked out at the twisted metal tubing that supported the corkscrew loops at the end of the ride. "It has LOOPS!" Her face first drained and the contorted into a furious facade of facial frenzy. "I know," I said with a deep cousin purr. "No! No way!" Susan growled. "Too late." I said and smiled. Sharon was waiting for us as we walked backed from the ride. Well, I walked, Susan staggered. Sharon looked over at Susan as she tried to pass by without crashing into the trash barrel. "There's a bench over there if you want to sit down." Sharon said. "I don't want to sit down, I want to kill." Susan muttered as she twirled around the trash container and landed on the bench. "Are you ok?" Ok, maybe it was a dumb question, but it was a cousin kind of question where the subtext of the words act like the final thrust of a stiletto after the major blow has been struck. Susan glared at me through the narrow slits between her eyelids. "You will pay for this," she said. I wasn't worried much, the site of Susan staggering off the ride after seconds of monestrous screaming that almost left her voice dry and cracked was well worth the price. "Where do you guys want to go next?" Sharon asked. "Doesn't matter to me," I was quite content with my recent trickery. "Well, the flume rides should be open by now." Susan was regaining consciousness. "Sounds good to me." Sharon said. "I'll watch you guys, I really don't want to get this sweater wet." "Flume it is," Susan replied a tad too cheery. As we walked away from The Great American Scream, my mind pondered other avenues of torture for the duo that accompanied me. Great Adventure II: Big Vater! By Susan Garrett There are some things that Susan just didn't do--contrary to the opinion of the phone operators in Toronto hotels. She didn't play in traffic. She didn't use her portable phone outside during thunderstorms (well, almost never). And she didn't do rollercoasters that had loops. Big, hulking wooden monstrosities held together by chewing gun and bailing wire--no problem. Large, boat type adventures with unexpected splashes and big waves-- everybody dries off eventually. And though she might enjoy being shaken and stirred, dropped from great heights, thrown from side to side, and being made seriously wet . . . being turned upside down was never any part of a ticket purchase. Which was why she was still staggering as the trio of FK fans made their way across the vast commercial enterprise, past fake cobwebs and really cool orange and black fans, and out of Frontierland. Susan knew that many opportunities would present themselves to exact revenge for this cousinish deed, it was only a matter of figuring out what would be a) most appropriate and b) most damaging. The problem was that Laurie was a Cousin. And Cousins, by their nature, were daring. They tried . Twice, if they liked it. Phobias were out--lots of lovely fake Halloween spiders in sight, but not a darned cockroach. Susan was briefly considering trying to find caramel popcorn, watching Laurie stuff herself full (she was drawn to it like metal filings to a magnet), and then steering her toward the Batman ride . . . . But they found themselves wandering among the Rivers of the World flume section. And after brief concerns about the small flume, Laurie agreed that they should go on the adventure rapids. Sharon, of course, had remained silent, still stunned by the loss of her Swiss Army knife at the front gate--she had to be bodily restrained at times to prevent her from going back and checking on it--and had only ventured one opinion . . . that she was hungry and wanted to eat soon. Even she, however, was willing to brave the rapids. In full accordance with her luck so far that day (Bugs Bunny wasn't out in his Dracula outfit and Susan--being the rabid character addict that she was--was very disappointed that she couldn't have her picture taken with Bugsula), Susan bought the big one first, in a mighty splash that came up over the back of the raft. Sharon and Laurie enjoyed this immensely. There was no way to make the raft move one way or the other- -the course through the rapids was haphazard and the raft, being round, spun on a whim or random bump from the siding of the ride. All Susan could do was to trust to the luck of Ravenettes and the logistics of ride builders everywhere. Luck came through. Toward the end of the ride, as they neared the waterfall, the BIG rapids hove into view. Susan grinned, knowing the Laurie and Sharon couldn't see-- because they had their backs to their impending doom--but in all fairness kindly pointed out that they were about to meet their watery makers. They did. The water hit between the seats, drenching Sharon and Laurie to their shorts (and other unmentionables). The wave was enough to cast some scattered water over Susan, but she didn't mind because the music of the water-logged damned (which sounded quite a bit like the screeches of a cat having fallen into a swimming pool) was glorious. It was as they dripped their way off the ride, just pleasantly soaked but not quite completely drenched, that Susan had another idea. "There's another flume over here," she said. "As long as we're wet--" "We can dry off while we're eating, afterwards," agreed Sharon. But Laurie, who had worn a sweater instead of a t-shirt, was watching the sag of the fibers. The holes were growing progressively larger as gravity took over the water-weighted material. "But this is my favorite sweater!" protested Laurie, in a voice filled with dismay. "You guys go, I'll just watch." That's when Susan realized that her revenge had just been handed to her on a rather wet cotton-and-acrylic platter. "Oh, it's not really a flume," said Susan, steering them around the back of the ride, so they couldn't see what happened. "More like a short rollercoaster that goes through water." Laurie seemed unconvinced as they headed around the Ferris wheel and into the wooden railings that led to the ride. "The line isn't very long," she announced aloud. She seemed to take some comfort from this--as long lines usually indicated a high percentage of fear/wetness/death- defyingness for a ride. Susan kept quiet. And Sharon, who was still somewhat concerned about her Swiss Army knife and her inability to compensate for the loss with food, hesitated only briefly when they got into the car. She looked down at the very wet seat, then into the car behind her where Susan and Laurie sat. But in true Nat-Packer fashion, she decided to stay out of this particular engagement. The ride a rollercoaster of sorts. As they started up the incline, the car screaming down the drop not 100 feet on the other side of them hit the water with a splash that managed to reach their car. Laurie groaned, suddenly realizing just how wet this was going to be. And Susan chuckled and held on for dear life. The drop was steep. When the car hit the bottom, a wall of water rose before them, white blanking out the sky, surrounding them in a limbo of eternal water. The screams broke after that awe-filled silence, followed by whoops and cheers. For a moment, Susan was too overcome by the experience to do more than bounce up and down in her seat, screaming, "Again! Again!" Then she looked at the Cousin beside her. Laurie was drenched. Her sweater hung low and was sinking fast, the speed of the downward spiral only to be matched by her mood. Laurie was happy. But the best was yet to come. As they squished their way off the ride, Susan deftly led Laurie past the immediate exit ramp and up to the bridge. She'd noticed that after the wall of water, they'd been dripped on from above. And she had a feeling that standing on the observation bridge might just do the trick. "Come on," she told Laurie cheerfully, "you can watch someone else get it." Laurie's mood improved somewhat and she hurried her pace so they could catch the bridge before the next car went down the drop. It was perfect bait, for no Cousin could resist watching somebody else `get it.' Sharon sloshed behind, more than up for the adventure. She met Susan's eyes, letting her know that Laurie would be trapped between them and was well aware of what that `observation' bridge was for. Standing with a few other thrill-seekers, the trio watched the car drop down the incline, the passengers shrieking. The car hit the wall of water, which rose like a tsunami-- And headed directly for them. Cousin Laurie emitted a strangled yelp and tried to escape, but with Susan on one side and Sharon on the other, she was trapped. The water hit with just enough force to knock them back a step, soaking them completely from head to toe, plastering down what few dry hairs remained, drenching them down to their skins, and even penetrating the water-proofing on Sharon's oh-so-practical water- proofed hiking boots. Another moment of stunned awe followed. Susan looked at Sharon and they grinned foolishly, enjoying the spectacle, because Laurie's sweater had grown at least another half a foot and was rapidly stretching its way into a fishing net. Cousin Laurie was less than amused. She stomped her way down the exit platform, grabbing bits of her sweater not only to wring them out, but to keep them from stretching so that they would trail behind her. Even her open shoes squished, leaving little puddles behind as she sailed off in Rhine-Maidenish splendor. Susan decided the cost of wet sneakers and water-logged socks (she'd wring them out later) had not been too high. Following Sharon off the ride, she wondered what other deviltry the Cousin might attempt to perpetrate and was content in knowing that she'd match Laurie, loop for loop, drop for drop, and splash for splash. Great Adventure IV: Many Happy Batman Returns By Sharon Himmanen Sharon was wet. Very wet. It was shocking, really, just how wet she was. Even her waterproof hiking boots, mandatory apparel whenever following a Ravenette (she'd learned this the hard way not long ago) were waterlogged. And now Laurie was steering her toward the Batman Returns ride. Sharon had spent the better part of the wait for the water rapids gazing up somewhat morosely at the huge black steel coils several yards away. It should have looked like any standard amusement park ride, with loops and drops. But for some reason, it looked ominous to her. Maybe it was the fact that it was black. Maybe it was the fact that the screams from the riders echoed throughout the park as they spun around. Maybe it was because Laurie was anticipating her ride on it with such obvious delight. Whatever the reason, it didn't look safe. But she'd promised. Laurie had gotten wet. Very wet, then whined until she got ten bucks out of each of them for a dry shirt. And somewhere in there she'd wrung a promise out of Sharon to ride the Batman Returns ride. If truth be told, Sharon would rather have something to eat, but Laurie warned her that it probably wouldn t be a good idea to eat before-hand, and Sharon had to agree. So they got in line. Susan, having had her fill of roller- coasters with loops, emphatically declined Laurie's invitation to join them. She made no move to intervene on Sharon s behalf. Unlike what had happened to her earlier, the NatPacker knew exactly what she was getting into, and if she still wanted to go through with it because of some misguided sense of honor, well that was fine by her. She'd be waiting at the exit. The trip through the semi-long line was silent. Sharon had given Susan her mother's phone number in case anything bad happened, and she was quietly contemplating her last moments, realizing that an understanding of the laws of probability, so helpful when teaching college statistics, was suddenly a curse right now. Every once in a while Laurie would grin up at her and Sharon again thought of all those people spinning helplessly around, sitting on little tiny seats, their legs dangling free in the air. It definitely didn t look safe. But now it was too late. They were here. She'd managed to steer Laurie away from the line for the front seat. This was going to be bad enough without having a spectacular and unimpeded view of the entire park and the sky scrolling wildly in front of her eyes as they went. Once they were strapped in, Sharon went strangely numb. It actually wasn't so bad. She felt very safe, or as safe as one could feel in this situation. She heard the attendant say "Dispatch! Enjoy your ride!" and they were off! It was over almost too quickly. Sharon grinned wildly as she staggered out of her seat, nearly clipping her shoulder on the edge of the doorway. "That was very life- affirming," she said above the roar of the music and the crowd. "I'd definitely go on it again! It was great! I loved it! But you know, it was a little too short." Behind her, Laurie struggled to maintain her balance, frowning slightly. Sharon could have sworn she heard her say "Damn! I wish I'd brought my vertigo pills." [Ed. Note: There was no Great Adventure III.] ------- CHAPTER 4 Monday, October 17, 1994 Cousin Margaret Scores! By Pam Rush ONE WEEK AGO at "Sophie's Cards, Gifts & Deli" Pamela, like all FoDs, was always meticulous in her attention to the niceties of social observances, but her trip to Sophie's -- the only greeting card and deli shop in the area -- to find a birthday card for her sister had resulted in the serendipitous discovery of some quite marvelously appropriate Halloween cards. She was just adding another copy of the "PMS Halloween" card to her stack -- it was bound to be popular -- when her eye was caught by.... .... oh, my: there were many cards featuring vampires of various degrees of verisimilitude but one, and only one, the featured VAMPIRE UNDERWEAR! Not given to unseemly displays of glee in public, Pamela merely smiled as she hurried to the checkout counter. *** It had been tricky, very tricky; but Pamela had negotiated carefully and lengthily with the anonymous Knightie, "Deep Throat," for the vital information. Finally, although the cost was great, the secret was *hers*! "Deep Throat," the anonymous informant (whose initials were S. "Nick is Not a Whimp" S.), had revealed the snail-mail address of the secret lair of the nefarious Cousin Margaret of the Unique Mind, underwear expert extraordinaire and handmaiden to the deranged soi-dissant vampire LaCroix. Carefully, Pamela added a clever note to the incredible VAMPIRE UNDERWEAR card and sealed, addressed and stamped it. Noting that it should be mailed by Oct. 25th to arrive for Halloween, she stored it under her desk calendar on top of the four or five inches of other important stuff kept there. I regret to say that she gloated, but only in private. *** SAT-SUN,about 1:00 AM, at home Pamela had arrived home very late -- right at the witching hour -- but with the satisfaction of knowing that meetings were well met, motions well moved and doings well done and in the happy anticipation of a leisurely, FoDly, Sunday to follow. Friday's and Saturday's mail and newspapers were on the hall table and she glanced at them half-heartedly. Then her heart stood still, her blood ran uphill, her eyes glazed over and her hair turned white (gotta blame it on someone!) in shock. Gingerly, she picked up the familiar orange envelope: right colour, right size, right style, WRONG addressee. It was addressed in an assured and sensual script to Pamela herself and the return address was that of the secret lair of Cousin Margaret Newman! What deviltry was this?! What black arts confounded her??!! WHAT HAD THE UNIQUE MIND WROUGHT???!!! Cautiously, Pamela tiptoed down the hall and slipped into the master bedroom bath where she ran a full tub of water; holding the orange envelope over the tub, she opened it very carefully and breathed once more when no explosion ensued. But, as she had imagined and feared, out of the envelope slipped the VAMPIRE UNDERWEAR card! With cute little notes written in the margins. CUTER and CLEVERER -- especially the one labelled "Nigel" -- than the one she had herself written on its twin and secreted under her calendar. Pamela began to laugh helplessly, utterly at the mercy of the UNIQUE MIND. "Oh, dear," she said. "I give up," she admitted. "Oh, uncle (so to speak)," she cried, laughing until she had to sit down on the bath mat. About that time, John, who'd been sleeping the sleep of one not addicted to late night syndicated tv programming, arose from his bed, awakened by the disturbance, somewhat although not entirely resembling the pale remanent of the Knightie's dreams in that he, too, looked unshaven and pretty scruffy taken unawares at 1:17 in the morning. "Have you been drinking?" he inquired solicitously of his unglued beloved. She could only burble incoherently and wave the orange card at him. Even upside down, he easily recognized the *infamous* subject of the greeting card. "Terrific," he commented snarkily, "more underwear wars, I suppose." "No, no," she gasped between spasms of giggles, "I think this one just about *finishes* off the underwear wars. My campaign has been outflanked, out manoeuvered and out gunned." "Hot damn," he said, perking up, "can I have my shorts back now?" "Yeah, I guess so. But, John-- " "Hmmm?" "Uh, I need to borrow a pair of your pajamas." "What?" "You know, paja--" "I *heard* you, I just can't believe you. What are you going to--" Still clutching the card like a talisman, Pamela scrambled to her feet and moved closer to her confused spouse. She stared him straight in the eye and commanded in a mesmerizing monotone: "You are very sleepy." "I am...very sleepy...." "This has all been a bad dream." "--bad dream--" "You will go back to bed and sleep soundly until 9:00 AM when you will awake with an urgent desire to take your wife out for brunch." Gee, this mesmerizing thing really had a lot of possibilities. *** So, Pamela reflected a little later, Margaret had won the Halloween VAMPIRE UNDERWEAR skirmish. She was supreme on the battlefield and a fast on the draw to boot. But even as the sleep of the really exhausted and temporarily defeated overtook Pamela, images flickered across her febrile mind: Halloween...Thanksgiving...Christmas.... Yes, Christmas cards. Cards with, with vampires...and underwear...and exotic pajamas... and frumpy old dressing gowns...and frou- frou, antebellum peignoirs.... Yes; she would start shopping tomorrow.... LJC Sighs With Resignation By Tara "LJC" O'Shea From: LJC (johanna@hydra.unm.edu) Subject: War and Peace To: Janette (raven@raven.com) They're at it again, you know. Should I, or shouldn't I? You know it's hard for me to stay and the sidelines and watch, for all my talk of fence sitting, even I like a little blood now and again. Though I don't attack, this is true, I can always defend. So, shall I? LJC *** From: Janette (raven@raven.com) Subject: Re: War and Peace To: LJC (johanna@hydra.unm.edu) My dear, you will do whatever you damn well please, and you and I both know it. Miklos says hallo, by the way. I didn't know you knew him. J. "Victims. Aren't we all?" - Eric Draven I'm Going To Regret This By Valerie Meachum "No," Valerie muttered to herself as she hung up the phone. "No, no, no, no, no. I do *not* have time for this. I *don't*." She didn't. Work had been very nuts, and it was impossible to log in even on her mostly-nonexistent lunch hours these days. And but two weeks remained before the Wild and Woolly Witch Workout, known to less-informed souls as Macbeth, had to be ready for public consumption, which meant long and tiring rehearsals. Which meant no time for a bloody WAR! But, alas, such things could not be chosen. Nat's information had been sketchy, but it seemed the Cousins were mobilizing. It had only been a matter of time, really; she was surprised they had taken so long, though July seemed like yesterday in some ways. She really wasn't sure if she was ready for this. She really wasn't sure what she could do. But she had to be there, ready for anything, lend whatever hand was needed. That's what NatPackers *do*. She only hoped the hand wouldn't get bitten off... Where's Dawn? By L. Dawn Steele A chill wind swept through the empty apartment, ruffling piles upon piles of articles. Textbooks occupied all the available chairs and loose-leaf sheets from various assignments were blown about the room. The apartment had a faintly desolate look to it. It was if the occupant only came there to eat, sleep and change clothes before heading back to school. The secret stash of Die-Hard items, was hidden beneath the stack of Negative Ion papers. Someone determined to steal them could find the stash after some effort, but a casual curiosity seeker would be defeated. Despite it all though, remains of chocolate feasts past could still be scented in the kitchen, and the towel in the bathroom was damp. Perhaps in a couple of weeks, the occupant would check her e-mail and realize that another war was occurring. She might even join in. Until then... Diary Entry By Laurie M. Salopek I didn't exactly succeed this weekend, but I didn't fail either. After all the jostling between vendettas, I managed to equalize myself on the scorecard with the NatPacker and the Ravenette. Uncle would not be disappointed, but he would not be impressed. I have no recourse but to e-mail the other cousins and ask for help. I will be leaving her shortly to traverse the wide black highway home to State College. Fortunately, all my brethren are reachable by e-mail. Sharon will head back to New York and start collecting the rest of the Nat Packers for the final blow with Susan and the rest of the Ravenettes as assistants. It was not a surprise that the clueless uncalculating Knightie's convoluting and cacophony of convalescing cacca was only muffled by the meandering menace of the mangles of meaningless peach fuzz on Nick chin. If he shaved it, Janette may just relent and give him another clue to spend for an episode. Last and least are the FoDs who can organize themselves but only when the potential food in front of them is free; thick groups of pompous poetic pigs whose main interest are the potential smorgasbord laid before them on laminated liaisons of previously lose libations of lethargic legume. No reason to waste brain cells on the thought's of their threats. Still I must not let my guard down. I must not relent (even if no factions posse a threat on the horizon of my victory). I leave before noon tomorrow. *** Translation For The Above Post [Ed. Note: Originally sent as a separate message on Mon, 10 Oct 1994 10:52:42 EDT] Susan and Sharon were kind to point out that I should write a translation for my last post.... >> It was not a surprise that the clueless uncalculating Knightie's convoluting and cacophony of convalescing cacca was only muffled by the meandering menace of the mangles of meaningless peach fuzz on Nick chin..<< Translation: Nick's peached fuzzed chin is equivalent to Cacca. >> Last and least are the FoDs who can organize themselves but only when the potential food in front of them is free; thick groups of pompous poetic pigs whose main interest are the potential smorgasbord laid before them on laminated liaisons of previously lose libations of lethargic legume.<< Translation: FoDs eat regurgitated plastic leaves. Thank You for you attention. Lacroix Seeks Nick's Aid By Sandra Gray Nick got into the Caddy. As he pulled out of the garage, he had to brake sharply as a dark shape appeared in front of the car. The tall, black clad figure smiled sardonically at him, his pale eyes gleaming in the car's headlights. For a moment, Nick considered running him over. He switched off the car, got out, and approached the man warily. "What do you want, LaCroix?" "Not even a hello, Nicholas? Your manners have become appalling. But then you do run with a common class of mortals these days, don't you?" "What do you want?" LaCroix sighed. "I want to discuss Susan Garrett." Nick frowned, perplexed. "Susan Garrett?" "Come, Nicholas, you can't have forgotten her already. She writes fiction about us on that fiction list--the woman who was going to burn the `cures' that people had sent you through the mail." He smiled. "I take it none of them worked." Nick thought briefly about a couple of concoctions that had made him ill. No, none of the "cures" had worked. But he did remember Susan Garrett now. He ignored LaCroix's comments about the cures and said, "I remember her. Why do you want to discuss her?" LaCroix ran a hand across the caddy's hood. Then he looked at Nick and said, "I think she may have attracted Enforcer interest." Nick frowned again. "Enforcer interest? Why?" "Her fiction. She's discovered--secrets about the Community. Secrets she's used in her stories." Nick thought back even further to the first conflict involving their mortal followers on the list. Janette had mentioned an "archivist" story. The idea had bothered him at the time, but Janette had not seemed worried that it would attract attention. "Nicholas?" Nick turned his attention back to LaCroix. "Why are you telling *me* this?" LaCroix sighed. "You've made these mortals your pets--" "They're not pets; they're friends of mine. Besides, since when have you cared about mortals?" "People change. Even vampires. I could have killed you for what you did to me, but I didn't. And haven't." Nick studied LaCroix silently for a few moments, then said, "That still doesn't explain why you came to me. Susan Garrett was and is a follower of Janette. You should be talking to her, not me." "Janette encourages her. I want your help." "My help?" "Yes. Between the two of us, I believe we can save Ms. Garrett from an--unpleasant--fate. The Community wished to destroy Emily Weis because of the sensitive nature of her material." Nick swallowed and remembered briefly the feeling of Emily's body in his arms. Then he focused on LaCroix again. "Emily Weis' work was best seller material. Susan Garrett's stories reach a limited readership. I don't see any comparison at all." "No? The Enforcers made a mistake in letting Ms. Weis' work become popular. It's a case of nipping a future problem in the bud." Nick considered LaCroix's statement for a few moments. If he was telling the truth... But Nick was suspicious. He'd known LaCroix to be too deceitful in the past. But what game was he playing this time? "You don't bear her a grudge for threatening to burn those `cures,' do you?" "What is it you want--us--to do?" "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something." "LaCroix, unlike you, I do have a *job.*" "You can convince them to give you time off." It was true, of course. Nick could think of several ways to get time off from work. "I'll even call a truce between our factions." "What?! Have your people been stirring up trouble again?" "They have attacked no Knighties as yet. And won't, if you'll agree to help me." Nick glared at LaCroix. The last war should have been the end of it! Yet, here he was saying- - "Well, Nicholas?" Nick decided it might be better to do some checking on his own. Perhaps get in touch with some of his followers. "I'll need some time to make arrangements to get off work. Which is where I should be going *now,* in fact." "Very well, Nicholas. I'll need to contact my people about the truce anyway. Shall we meet tomorrow night?" "All right." LaCroix smiled. "I knew I could count on your chivalrous instincts winning out, Nicholas. Until tomorrow then." And he rose up into the night sky. Nick watched him for a moment. Then he got out his cordless phone and called Schanke. "Schank. Something's come up and I'll be a little late for work. Can you cover for me?" "Yeah, sure, Nick, but--" "Thanks." He cut the connection. Then he got back in his car and headed for the Raven. With her contacts, if there was Enforcer interest building in Susan Garrett, Janette would be sure to know. And if she didn't know anything, he had other sources of information. Nick didn't notice the man on the roof across the street. Nor did he see him fly away in the direction LaCroix had gone. Nick Consults Janette By Sandra Gray Nick got in his car and headed for the Raven. As it was still fairly early in the evening, the club was sparser of people than usual. Janette was standing at the bar having a drink. He walked over to her. She turned as he approached and, smiling, said, "Nicolah! What a pleasant surprise! But why so serious? No, don't tell me. Let me guess. Someone's been murdered and you've come to me for help with the case." "No. No one's been murdered...yet. I've just had a strange conversation with LaCroix." Janette raised her eyebrows in curiosity. "Oh? And what has he said that has made you look so grim?" Nick glanced around the club. Despite the relative emptiness of the club, he didn't care to discuss the Enforcers in such a public forum. "Can we go in the back?" Janette shrugged and led the way into the back room. Once there, she turned to him and said, "So, Nicolah, what has LaCroix said that is so important that you felt you must come back here to discuss it with me?" "He told me that one of your...followers...has attracted Enforcer interest." Janette had lighted a cigarette and blew smoke at him. "Oh? And who did he say had attracted such interest?" "Susan Garrett." "Susan Garrett? Why?" "He said she'd used secrets of the vampire Community in her fiction." Janette took another draw of her cigarette. "So do you know anything about this, Janette? Is what he's told me true?" Janette tapped some ash off her cigarette. "I've heard nothing of that nature at all." "Has Susan been in contact with you?" "No." Nick frowned. "Then why would LaCroix tell me such a thing?" "What exactly did he tell you?" Nick explained. "Well, *I've* heard nothing of the sort. Perhaps it is some game that he is playing with you. You know how he is." Nick stood there, frowning again, as Janette walked up behind him and trailed a hand across his shoulders. "I'd ignore him," she said. He looked at her. "So you're not concerned--about Susan?" "No, I'm not concerned. Believe me, Nicolah, if there *was* some danger to her from the Enforcers, I would have heard about it." She walked away from him and turning, said, "It's some game of LaCroix's. He probably hopes to have a chuckle at your expense when you wait for him tomorrow night and he doesn't show." Nick considered this. It was like LaCroix to torment him for his own amusement. But just to be on the safe side, he'd be available. LaCroix, after all, was not above using Susan Garrett in whatever game he had in mind for him. "I'll keep my schedule free, anyway, just in case." Janette arched her eyebrows and sighed. "As you wish." Then she approached him and said, "But if he doesn't show, remember you have the night off. Come see me." She was very close to him, her fragrance as enticing as a flower garden after an evening shower. He said after a moment, "I'll keep it in mind." Then he added, "But, right now, I have to get to work." Janette sighed and walked away from him. And he turned and left her there. ------- CHAPTER 5 Tuesday, October 18, 1994 Trouble's Afoot By Sandye Chisholm Cousin Sandye and Cousin Dennis stood at the balcony door and watched him go, almost half-believing everything they had just been told. They hadn't realized it had already started to rain, until Dennis turned his head towards Sandye and drenched her with the spray that flew from his long, blonde locks. "I already a bath, Dennis. Why don't you try Shane, he could use a scrubbing." Sandye wiped the water from her ear; she could barely hear Dennis. Poor Laurie must have been in some state at that flume ride in Jersey. Well, they'd get that Ravenette as soon as she figured out how to dry out her inner ear. "That's better, no what was that you said?" "I said, that I can't believe Uncle and Nick are in on this together. And I don't mumble." "I didn't say you mumble!" "You implied it. Oh, never mind. Looks like it's going to be quite a rout of all those ravenettes and natpackers. Never underestimate the power of men when they get together. All that testosterone..." "Yeah, yeah, enough of that. Let's stick with the plan, OK Dennis. Really; if you weren't so bloody cute..." But Dennis was, very cute. Long blonde hair, tall, and could that boy sing. But they were just friends. What a weapon to use on those poor Natpackers. WE all know how very much they liked blonde guys. Dennis was looking his usual gorgeosity when he gently reminded her of the necessity of action. "I think we should start to figure out the details. LaCroix said to get the troops together. And I've already got that private detective working non-stop to get the dirt on Susan. She won't know what hit her." Poor Susan. She'd only been doing what came naturally to her. Even the hotel clerk in Toronto complimented her on her flexibility. She good at getting around. Well, that her writing. But she had gotten just a bit too close to the secrets of the more masculine of the three immortals, and both LaCroix and Nicholas were getting annoyed at how accurate Susan had become at guessing all the intricate and delicate details of their unique lifestyle. She had even discovered some of their oldest and most awe-inspiring comrades; Susan surely had a knack for finding and opening old boxes. Let's face it though; some boxes aren't meant to be found, nor have their dusty lids wiped clean. If Susan was going to play Pandora, she was going to find out the hard way that LaCroix knew more of the evils that inhabited that particular cache; after all, he put some of them in there. Sandye could not dream of what horrors might await her renegade friend. "Earth to Sandye, are you in Sandye?" "What?" The expression of complete and utter confusion had barely faded from her face. "The plan, oh great one? Shouldn't we go and tell Laurie?" "Good idea. We have to feed Trouble about this time anyway." She grabbed her keys and started across the hall. One thing stood in her way; a huge wolf-dog named Shane. "Now that's a handsome man." Stroking his thick fur and patting his knobby head, Sandye and Dennis left to go across the hall to Cousin Laurie's apartment. After fumbling with the keys, and jingling them in salutatory honour to an old memory, they went in and closed the door behind them. "Trouble sweetie, come to Aunt Sandye." The sleek black cat meandered out from under the couch, always a darling, always a beauty. But something was different. His eyes were just a bit greener and his teeth, well they were just a wee bit- "Holy Eye-teeth! Trouble's been turned!" Dennis was right. Trouble now bared the fangs of the vampyre-kitty that he had so often pretended to be; what in the world would Laurie say? Trouble sauntered past them, not really caring what they thought, but still his usual adorable self. Sandye reached down, ever so carefully, to pick him up. The black fur once again in her hands, she petted him and got him to start purring; the teeth retracted and he was back to his old self. Well, sort of. "What does this mean?" Dennis handed her a note that had been slid under the door of Laurie's apartment. They hadn't noticed it when they first came in. They read it in silence. It was all too clear. "So how come Uncle didn't tell us that he was going to start to turn our pets? Did you know about this Sandye?" "Me? Why do you always think knew something. It says right here in the note that he didn't tell us because. Just because. And because he's LaCroix, that's reason enough. So the old boy wants our pets to go out and do our dirty work for us? Well, that does keep up with the rule that none of us are supposed to cross over. I just love it when a plan comes together." They stood there basking in the delightful consideration that their pets were going to be the messengers of bad tidings to all those Natpackers and Ravenettes that got in Uncle's way. How deliciously fun, how- "Did you say the note read, `OUR PETS'?" Dennis barely cracked the words out of his tight throat. Sandye, wide-eyed and full of dread, dropped Trouble the second her jaw hit the floor. "Oh, no!" They ran back across the hall, only to be greeted by a smiling green-eyed wolf named Shane. Just as she thought she'd faint, Dennis screamed, obviously hearing something Sandye did not. Out of the kitchen came a small, gray bird. Sandye whispered in Dennis' ear. "Did Gandy always have green eyes?" "No." Gandy flew up and landed on Shane's broad back. He opened his menacing beak, and said, "We're grilling!" The door slammed shut as Dennis and Sandye fell backwards and out onto the very hard hallway floor. The Party's Over By Sharon Himmanen To: Natalie Selma Jennie Hayes
From: Sharon Himmanen Subj: The party's over Just returned from my weekend at Susan's. Natalie, you were right to be a bit worried, although things didn't work out quite as Cousin Laurie planned I think. She pulled a few Cousin-ish tricks, involving amusement park rides, and is now claiming that the weekend ended in a stalemate. Actually things are a little better than that for our side. Not only did her torment of me completely backfire because I *liked* the Batman ride (it was really cool!), but we made her really work to get ten bucks from each of us for a dry shirt. Later that evening, I got ten bucks out of each of *them* for a stuffed monkey without any effort at all. In fact, they were only too glad to throw money down for me! All I had to say was, "Gee, I'd really like a stuffed monkey." Plus, I think Laurie was a little impressed that I actually went on the Batman ride with her. Definite points there. So, I think this had the potential to develop into something ugly, but it was suitably defused this weekend. Maybe Susan and I were the test case for something bigger. Maybe Laurie was just trying to amuse herself for a while. Who knows. In any case, she'll need time to dry out and try to figure out just what went wrong this weekend. I think this basically means everything's back to normal. Or at least as "normal" as they can be. Cheers, Sharon Limited Engagements By Susan Garrett They were gone. With a sigh of relief, Susan plopped down before her computer. Sharon H. had managed to get a seat on the VERY crowded 319 bus into NYC, while Cousin Laurie should be wending her way across the vastness of NJ to her home in Pennsylvania. The party at Susan's house had gone well, with Mo, Bill, Ron the Enforcer, and Cousin Ed also in attendance. It had been, all in all, a satisfying weekend. Not only had Susan discovered that Paulie was back on "The Commish" (Yeah, Paulie!), but the laserdisc of "Nightmare Before Christmas" would also contain "Frankenweenie" and "Vincent." And then there was the fact that she was warm, dry (well, her sneakers were still wet but she'd give them a day or so more), and had a hedgehog. Life was good. Rather pleased with herself and thrilled that Cousin Laurie had been thoroughly trounced into submission by her soaking (surely her post of Sunday night proved that she was no longer in her right mind or in any mind, for that matter), Susan sat down at her keyboard and sent a message. *** From: SusanG2522@aol.com Subject: War in progress To: Petlist@alt.raven.to Dearest fellow Ravens/Ravenettes: I am beginning to suspect that Cousin Laurie's attempts to win her way back into Uncle's good graces are doomed to failure and shouldn't overly concern us. In fact, I think her bark may be far worse than her bite and that her reputation far exceeds her capacity for damage. Her `attack' at Great Adventure was futile at best and my revenge was swift and soaking. She might not be dry for days. Not to mention that her attack on that Nat-Packer Sharon backfired completely--Sharon LIKED the Batman ride. You never know about these Nat-Packers, do you? In any case, I think any fears that we may have about an escalation of hostilities may be exaggerated. Which may be just as well, with Hilary traversing the country like some misdirected Ozian Lewis or Clark (you never know what those Knighties will get into). With the threat of Cousin Laurie effectively `neutered,' should we fear Cousin Monica (who turned her back on our darkly decadent boss- lady)? Or any of the Cousins any longer? I say kick back, have a couple on me, and stand down. It's all quiet on the Garrett front. But forward any notices of untoward happenings from elsewhere, please. My contacts at the post office (night- delivery) have confirmed an unusual number of packages containing underwear and pajamas criss-crossing the US (well, one have to keep track of these things . . . ). With fondest regards and an all clear, SusanG2522@aol.com Faithful Ravenette. *** With another sigh, Susan sat back, sent the message, then opened the word processor. Let's see, she was on Chapter 24, and Nick was just about to-- Special Delivery By Karin Welss YOU HAVE NEW MAIL Susan blinked in annoyance as her email dialog box popped up in the middle of her word processor screen. Susan sighed, abandoned Nick in the middle of his heroic efforts to accomplish something or the other, and switched windows to her email. A few seconds passed as her computer whirred and beeped, downloading messages from America On-Line. YOU HAVE THREE NEW MESSAGES the program informed her helpfully when it had finished downloading. Susan glanced at the envelope information. Karin... Jennise... Dorian. Wait a minute. DORIAN!? With trembling fingers, Susan brought up the message. *** TO: SUSANG FROM: DORIAN@VAMP.ARCHIVE.COM SUBJECT: YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED Susan M. Garrett, you have been summoned for an Interview. Although you are a mortal, your knowledge regarding our Community has enabled me to invoke the "special circumstances" clause of the the Code. My assistants Karin and Jennise are now in your area, making the appropriate arrangements for your Interview, should you choose to stand. They will be contacting you shortly. I trust you are aware of your options should you choose to decline an Interview. Sincerely Dorian, the Archivist. *** Susan sat back, and expelled a long breath. What was she going to do? She allowed herself approximately fifteen seconds of sheer panic, then brought up her online Rolodex. Who could help her? Who owed her favours? Dorian. Shit. No wonder Natalie Lambert had been in contact with SharonH... too bad she hadn't been a little clearer. Susan scrolled thoughtfully down the list of people in her Rolodex database. Nicholas. No way. Nice guy, for a vampire. Even if he was a little... dense. Uncle. Who was she kidding? Janette... maybe. But how much help could Janette be against the Archivist? And how much trouble would Janette get into if she condescended to assist a mere mortal? Susan paused the scrolling function at RON THE ENFORCER, and tapped a short but carefully polished fingernail against the cold glass of the computer screen. An Enforcer... Um, yes. Just the person she needed to contact for advice. When Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction By Sandye Chisholm Laurie still hadn't arrived home. No matter how long it took, she had to wait for her, to prepare her for the shock of Trouble's crossing over. And when your pet gets a booster of immortality, it takes a bit of getting used to. Shane had certainly grasped the finer points of the deal; nothing I could ever do to him to punish him for chewing through the garbage or the stereo for that matter, was going to have any efficacy again. Well, that's what happens when you start hanging out with vampyres. Just then the phone rang. It was the private detective that Dennis had hired to keep a watch on Susan Garrett. Maybe he'd dug up something really juicy; or maybe it was just another of Diego's hidden treasures. Poor Walter. I wonder how he'd take the gift when one of the Maniacal Menagerie got a hold of him. "Hello. Oh, it's you Dribbler. What have you found out about-" Sandye screamed so loudly that all of the car alarms in the parking lot went off at once. Dennis came running down the hall, and using his spare key, unlocked her apartment door and flew to her side. "Sandye, what's going on?" "Oh my God. Dennis, you won't believe this. Dorian wants Susan." Dennis was speechless. Now if he would only close his mouth, that drool was just a little bit too much for Sandye right now. After all, this was all too spooky. "Dorian. What does he want with Susan? Cold Christ, it's that story, isn't it? LaCroix was right, this going to get serious; now I see. That's why Nick threw in with Uncle. But what about Susan?" That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. What about Susan? If Dorian wanted her, then it would take everything LaCroix and Nick had to take him down. The thought sent chills running through her. Sure she'd wanted to help Uncle, and Nicholas, to control Susan, but at least she knew what Uncle had in mind. And Nick would never hurt Susan. Oh, he might drive her a wee bit crazy. But the guy who didn't know how old he was, or whether he was a wee nipper during the battle of Hastings could drive anyone to drink...Mortal and Immortal alike. But he blonde, and very, very sexy. But Dorian, she only knew him from the stories. Uncle had told her how he had tracked them down, and "interviewed" them. These were not the tales that one could fall asleep to; no rather these were the ones that kept you up at night, not trusting the darkness for a single moment. What would Dorian do with Susan? And who could be trusted, in this game of destiny and power? They couldn't trust Natalie, that was for sure. Not after she had bonded with Dorian, not after she had taken care of him, had saved him. And Janette was out too. She wouldn't want to risk matching veins with that immortal; not after what he did to her. She might be angry enough to hurt him, but it was hard to wipe out old fears, it was hard to heal old wounds. She might try, for Susan's sake, but without LaCroix and Nicholas, this would be like lambs to the slaughter. The voice from the other end of the phone still wheezed through the receiver. " Sorry, I forgot about you...what? Your there right now? And two females, very beautiful you say, are in front of Susan's place? Don't lose them, whatever you do. More than life depends on it." Sandye hung up the phone, while Dennis ran to get her the notebook in which she kept all of the plans for the war. "Jennise and Karin. It has to be them. Dorian must have sent them to get Susan." "Weren't they the one's that got turned in the last war?" Dennis had come late to the fold, but he had a keen mind for details; very, very blue keen eyes. "Bingo." "But Sandye, this is no time for games!" Blue eyes don't always make up for everything, she thought. "Nevermind. We've got to tell the others. Get your stuff and meet me at the car." "Road-trip, `eh? And the destination?" "If I'm not mistaken Dennis, I think we'll be taking the side-trip to hell." "Better get my speedo's then....ouch!" Sandye reached down to get another pen. Sometimes blue eyes and blonde hair are just not enough. The Search For A Loophole By Susan Garrett Still more than a little stunned by the e-message she'd received, Susan hastily assembled a note: *** From: SusanG2522@aol.com Subject: Dorian To: Ron the Enforcer Dearest Ron: I appreciated the visit of your magnificence to my humble abode the other evening. But, to cut the bull, I'm in it hip deep. I've gotten a message from Dorian--yes, HIM-- and I'm to be interviewed. Since most of my ill-gotten knowledge about the Code comes from having traded prime copies of "King Ghiderah" and "Destroy All Monsters" to one of the one of the vampire civil servants in Fort Wayne (Have you there? Geez, couldn't you guys get them a better building or something?), I wasn't aware of this special clause nonsense and I'm hoping like hell that there's maybe some loophole--like a Susan-sized loophole--I can slip through. The last thing I want is bloodshed. I'm lucky that Karin and Jennise are Dorian's current assistants, they might be able to cut me some slack . . . but not much. I know you guys have your own Codes, and that you've been stretching the leeway for me, but if you could get me some reference material without breaking the rules, I'd appreciate it. Thanks SusanG *** After the message disappeared from her screen, Susan disconnected the modem and picked up the phone. She was going to need heavy duty help on this. The phone rang twice before she heard the snap of bubblegum and a bored, "Yeah, Raven. We open at--" "Alma, this is Susan G." There was a sudden intake of breath, an annoyed, "Susan ? I don't know any--" "Don't you hang up on me," warned Susan, with as much threat as she could muster. "Or Janette finds out where you got Tom Cruise's phone number!" "Oh." Another gum snap. "Okay." Gum snap again. "Y'know, he's one of us--" "That's what I tried to tell you," explained Susan, with as much patience as she could muster. "I need to talk to Janette. Now." Alma hummed beneath her breath. "She . . . uh . . . isn't taking calls right now." "From me? Or from anyone?" "Anyone named `Susan,'" answered Alma. Susan took in a breath and released it slowly. "Alma, just tell her I called." "Okay. Uh, do you have Brad Pitt's num--" "He's not one of you, either," said Susan quickly. "Damn." There was a pause, another gum pop, then Alma said, "Look, what's the worst that could happen? Maybe you'll get brought across. Ooooo, cute guy just walked in. Gotta-go-bye!" "But I don't --" The line went dead, the dialtone humming in Susan's ear. She sat down in front of her computer. There were times when being a Ravenette was a real pain in the armadillo, most of them involving dealing with Alma as go-between. She still wasn't certain why Janette kept her around--whether it was because she had hopes that Alma might actually develop a brain cell of two or because she wanted to keep her from getting into trouble elsewhere. There was a good possibility that Janette was trying to work things out from her end. There was also a good possibility that Janette had not only forgotten who she was, but had conveniently lost her name, address, phone number, and e- mail address. It would be up to Janette to contact her. Until then . . . well, what could she do? Running an option--Dorian had contacted her, which meant that if she ran she'd have to pay a forfeit. And she wasn't foolish enough to think she could avoid Dorian forever. After all, if he managed to find LaCroix all those years ago, what chance did she--a mere mortal--have? Boiling up another cup of tea, Susan decided to sink down and have a hard think. And maybe some chocolate. The Writing On The Wall By Sandye Chisholm When Laurie arrived home from her recon-mission to Jersey, she went straight to her apartment, no doubt collapsing on her futon couch. That's why Dennis had put the note there, on her coffee table; there was no way for her to miss it. But why hadn't she come over yet? She had to know that this was an emergency, of no mistake. Uncle and Nick had made it very clear; cousins and knighties were to adhere to the truce that made this new alliance possible. Did they know that Dorian was in the picture, his gray shadow hanging above us like some mythical picture in a gallery?. They had to have known, they just didn't tell us, that's all. Typical, really. At the mercy of creatures older than time, and always wanting to keep us half in the dark about everything. Well, for what it mattered, Sandye didn't mind. But Laurie did. Now there was a renegade.... Uncle had admired her spunk, though more times than not, that "spunk" had almost gotten her sunk. Into the waters of Uncle's pool of tears; Laurie seemed to always dive in head first. Well, the recurrent head injuries explain a lot. But did the great lupino ever learn? She was supposed to have proven to Uncle that she was still a cousin, but she hadn't yet responded to his latest call. The Blonde Brigands were back together and they were bad. But where was cousin Laurie? Sandye and Dennis could wait no longer. Under the cover of a Chaucerian phantom, they sneaked out of the complex and down to the stillness of the parking lot. Whispering, Sandye moved closer. "Let's take your car Dennis. You drive; Laurie will think we're still here." They crept over to the old blue beast and unlocked the door. Trying to be a quiet as one of Cousin John's lab mice, Sandye pulled the handle and- "WOOOOOOOOOOOF!" They looked up, aghast to see Sandye's wolf-hybrid leaping off of the balcony railing. Expecting a thud loud enough to wake the dead, they closed their eyes, and were surprised by the subtle tick of scraping paws on the roof of Dennis' car. "Bloody Hell. I forgot the guy could fly!" Sandye opened her eyes to see the sweet face of her favorite pooch. Now if she could only get used to these glowing green eyes. "So what do you think you're doing, Shane?" She scratched his ears as he laid down on the car, soaking up the glory, as well as the power. "Hello." A small grey bird waddled over and perched on Shane's knobby head. "Gandy, how did you....where are you....?" Poor Dennis. Fatherhood was really taking its toll. "Road-trip," Gandy cackled. "Cousin Tracy in Toronto...." and before any of us could stop him, the Great Gandolph flew up and out into the night. What really looked odd, was the huge, hairy quadropeid that lumbered through the air behind him. Dennis looked over to Sandye, who still couldn't figure out just how Shane had managed to hold the roadmap in his paw. "Well, I guess there's nothing we can do now. They must have a message for Cousin Tracy and her recent convert. Too bad they didn't think to tell what was going on....oh, well....what time is it, Dennis?" "It's ten o'clock. Do you know where your children are?" He titled his head and sniggered, in that mocking tone Dennis loved so well. "Yeah, on a non-stop flight to Canada." Sandye seemed very worried. "Well, look on the bright side. We won't have to worry about frequent flyer miles anymore.....ouch!" Dennis grabbed his ears. Too bad he had all that blonde hair. Sandye had to swing all that much harder to make sure he it through his curls. "Men." A disease, without a doubt. But, nothing a bullet wouldn't cure. Too bad they were just so . And too bad they knew it. How did she get herself mixed up in this stuff? Sometimes, she could almost see the appeal of being a ravenette. Well, maybe in another lifetime. Right now, it was Uncle and Nick calling the shots. And Dorian. There was nothing to do now but wait. Wait for the pets to get back from Toronto. Wait for Susan to be taken for her interview. Wait for Laurie to do something that would put everything into chaos. Wait for the others to join in the fray. Hopefully Hillary had contacted the Knighties. Tracy knew two of the strongest Die-hards, Kathy and Dawn, and perhaps even her love of garlic could lure a few of the FOD's into action. Everyone had an *ahem* stake in this. If Susan was prevented from writing completely, everyone would suffer. If she was allowed to meander through her pages unchecked, then LaCroix and Nicholas would have something to say about it, and that did now bode well either. Something more that this though, was in play in this game of words. Something that even LaCroix and Nick had not mentioned. It was there, hanging in the air like the stench of burned chicken. As they climbed the steps back into the apartment, Dennis said he could see the writing on the wall. And there it was, plain as day. 1066. "1066? Dennis, what's that supposed to mean? 1066? What does history have to do with this?" "Probably nothing. You know pays attention to history!" And Sandye..." who was still mumbling the date over and over to herself... "Yes, Dennis?" "Don't repeat yourself." This was going to be a long war. Testy Testosterone (or Skip The Fried Chicken) By Laurie M. Salopek Laurie almost missed the note laying on her coffee table as she dragged her suitcase into the back bedroom, it had been a long weekend and she felt like a peached fuzzed brick weighed in her stomach. Never buy fried chicken at Roy Roger s. She paused long enough to recognize the type style on the note; it was from Sandye. She figured it was just a lengthy expose on Trouble s latest adventure into new realms of mischievous feats. After unpacking, she dragged herself back into the living room, collapsed on the sofa and read the note. I don t believe this!! Only a couple blond vampires with an over abundant supply of testosterone would conceive of such a plan. She crumbled the note in her hands. Her stomach felt worse before a slight stab of pain. Never eat fried chicken from Roy Roger s. She had to do something before Uncle made a fool of himself, she didn t care about Nick, he had already shown a penchant for large open mouths with inserted feet. But Uncle, no, she couldn t let him align with Nick on this one. Sometimes, in his arrogance, Uncle had a tendency to underestimate those close to him. If she let him continue with the plan, it would fail and most likely backfire in his face. There was nothing to found in Susan s stories. They were just wonderful fantasies that followed logical progressions, and since those progressions were solid, they tailored themselves along very real lines. But, she would never purposely write stories to expose them. Janette would never stand for that. Back to New Jersey. Uncle isn t going to like this. She delicately flung her legs over the side of the couch and sat up. He won t understand. I am just going to have to TRY and MAKE him understand...riiiight. Question was, should she tell Susan she was coming back? No, both phones and email would be too risky. If she was lucky, she could get to Susan before them and hopefully hid her until the vampire s male episode of PMS was over and they came to their senses. She would have to be very careful since, the more she thought about it, Nick seemed to have found a clue and was now setting up LaCroix. Well, there was one fortunate aspect to the whole thing, Nick was only good for one clue and even then he usually was unsure of what to do with it. And there was another fortunate aspect to the whole thing, Laurie s version of unpacking was dumping the contents of her suitcase on the bed to deal with later. Dumping the contents back into her suitcase, dirty underwear and all, she zipped it shut and dragged it back out into the living room. It was late enough and, Sandye and Dennis were studying for a test, for her to sneak back out of the apartment and down the stairs. Once outside, she started for her red Ford Probe, that looked exactly like it did before Jean blew up the inside. No, if she took that car, Sandye and Dennis would know something was up, she only used the Probe for long trips. This time she would take the Spirit and hope it had the guts to make the trip in one piece. Five and one half hours, that is how long it would take to get there. That and another twenty to thirty bucks for gas and tolls. One consolation, the Spirit had a better tape deck than the Probe and she wanted to finish listening to the rest of the Star Wars trilogy she had started on her return trip the first time from Susan s. She looked up at her cousin s apartment. The light was on and the curtains closed. Good, they were both busy and didn t expect a thing. Five and one half hours, not that long and this time she was not going to stop at Roy Roger s for fried chicken. Diary Entry 2 By Selma McCrory I got email from Sharon H. today. Not what I wanted to hear, but I suppose it's inevitable that they'd be up to their tricks again. The cousins, that is. I've written back to Sharon, and I've also dropped a note to Valerie. So, in consideration, I prepared my own offenses and defenses. Since my dear psychotic vampire, Vince, decided to pop by again, I sent him to see if he could dig up what LaCroix and the cousins were up to. He wasn't too happy, but I wouldn't be either with LaCroix as my master. At first he was demanding that in return for the information that I'd consent to being brought across. I refused to, and he let it pass, at least for now. Basically I told him that if I was brought across in any shape, way, or form, my first action would be to drag both of us into the sunlight. He mumbled something about Jennise that I didn't quite catch. So he's cooperating for the moment. For all I know, he could be cutting a deal with LaCroix. But I don't think he's stupid enough to do that. Well, now all I have to do is wait for everyone to answer my email and for dear Vince to return. Selma ------- CHAPTER 6 Wednesday, October 19, 1994 An Early Morning Rising By Sandra Gray One hand against the wall, I walked barefoot down the dark hallway to the kitchen. I had wakened from a dream that I could not remember but that had left me with a feeling of unease. And as was usual if I woke up in the middle of the night, I wanted a drink of Kool Aid. My thirst quenched, I started back into the dark hall. There was a definite chill of winter in the tile floor. I looked toward the picture window in the living room. A faint illumination from the parking lot light filtered through the venetian blinds and cast a barred pattern on the wall. I was just about to go back to my warm bed when I heard a faint sound outside the front door. One of the neighbors coming in probably. But for some reason I walked across the dark living room to the door and peeped out the keyhole. There was no one in the lighted hall, but I opened the door anyway. There was a red envelope in the middle of the floor. I stepped into the hall and picked it up. It was addressed to me. There was no stamp and no return address. Just my name in a bold black script. I closed the door again and locked it, then switched on a lamp near the door and opened the envelope. "I am in the area and will be stopping by to visit. LaCroix," read the folded note inside. "You know, you really should be careful about opening your door so late at night," said a low, cultured voice. I gasped and looked toward the picture window, where LaCroix himself stood! "But then you Knighties are such trusting souls." I opened my mouth to scream for Bruce, but LaCroix said, "I wouldn't. He could come to harm." As might my daughter Amanda, I suddenly realized. I closed my mouth. LaCroix smiled slightly and said, "Besides, it's you I came to see--not him." "What do you want?" LaCroix approached me. I stepped behind the recliner. He halted and said, "I just came by to see if you had given thought to the offer I made to you in July--during the last `War.'" My mind flashed to the memory of the isolated section of island beach, to LaCroix's chill fingers on my blouse, to his words, "I can fulfill you secret desires." I hardly noticed that he was suddenly very close to me until he said, "I see you still desire sex with a vampire." I felt my face flush. "If you become a Cousin, I can help you to fulfill that desire." "I could never be a Cousin," I managed to say. He raised an eyebrow. "No? Perhaps what you need is a--taste, hmmm?" His cold pale eyes gleamed into mine and I was frozen as, his hands on my shoulders, he leaned down to me. But instead of kissing me, his mouth moved lower--to my throat--and I felt him lick my neck s-l-o-w-l-y. I wasn't sure which feeling in me was stronger--terror or arousal. A shiver shot through my suddenly warm body and my heart pounded in my ears so hard it hurt. He pulled back to study me. He brushed a strand of my hair from my forehead and then yanked me against him. One of his arms slid around my waist and held me tight. The fingers of his other hand entwined in my hair and he pulled my head back. His cool lips came down on mine in an expert kiss that turned french style, his tongue in my mouth even chiller. Alarms went off in my head... ...and on the nightstand. Morning light was visible around the edges of the curtained window. Bruce switched off the alarm and yawned, "Mornin'." Just a dream. I sighed. Thank God--just a dream. It was not the first dream I'd had of LaCroix since his "offer" to me during the summer war, but I hoped it would be the last. Since Bruce had come up with the suggestion that each war faction could avoid "stolen" mail in the future by using their own separate mail drops instead of a "communal" one, the problem of the "War" had been solved--probably for good. There was no reason for another "War" and certainly no reason for LaCroix to remember one lone Knightie far south in Virginia. And Bruce would never need to know the whole story about his offer to me. As I took underwear out of my lingerie drawer, I paused to lift the liner and eye the business card Nick had given me before I had left his loft for the last time. He had offered me protection and aid, if I ever needed it, against LaCroix. Not that I ever would. The War was over. I'd probably never need to brave a fearful air flight to Toronto again in *my* lifetime. I walked into the kitchen and started breakfast... wishing that Bruce had the day off. Susan Gets Undressed By Sally Norton The doorbell was ringing. Susan did not want to open the door. She did not want to know who was on the other side of the door. The doorbell continued to ring. Susan stared at the door. The telephone rang. Susan picked up it warily. "Oh no," she thought, "This can't be happening . . . whatever `this' is." "Hello," she said softly. "Susan?" It was Karin. "You sound funny. What's wrong?" "Uhnn, nothing, really. I'm feeling a bit edgy. Someone's at the door." "Who?" "I don't know." Susan explained, "I haven't answered the door. I don't think I WANT to know who's out there. But they are persistent. The doorbell is ringing again. I wish they'd go away. I wish everybody and everything would GO AWAY." "Susan. SUSAN!" Karin burst out. "Calm down. That's probably Sally at the door. I sent her. Let her in." "Sally? Your dresser? Why?" "Yes. Yes. I'll explain. Go let her in. Now. She gets a bit testy." "Oh. Ok. Right. Hang on." Susan put the phone down and walked to the front door. She peeped out the tiny security peephole. "Why didn't I look before," she wondered. She couldn't see anything. The view was blocked by what looked like mounds of fabric. She opened the door. The mounds of fabric immediately surged into the room, stumbled to the nearest chair and tumbled forward, a spray of dark jewel colours in satin and lace. "GOOD GRIEF! You took your time. Didn't you hear the bell? I've out there FOREVER!!!" The speaker glared at Susan. She was annoyed. Her whole body screamed annoyance. This was definitely Sally. She was often annoyed. Also impatient, moody, and indecisive about everything in her life except clothes. Which is exactly why Jennise and Karin employed her. Jennise and Karin were known for their gorgeous clothes. Sally creates those clothes. Even Janette had looked with envy on one of Karin's chic little black dresses. "Uh, could you wait just a minute. I'm on the phone." Susan picked up the receiver. "Karin? She's here." "Oh good." Karin sounded pleased. "She's going to dress you for your interview with Dorian." "She's going to do WHA- WHAT?" Susan screeched. "Susan, you heard me." Karin explain patiently. "Sally is going to make an outfit for you to wear to The Interview. It's very important to be well dressed. It will give you confidence." "I HAVE AN ANCIENT VAMPIRE READY TO TURN ME INTO AN HORS D'OEVURE AND YOU"RE BABBLING ABOUT DRESSING FOR SUCCESS!!!!!!" There was silence on the phone. "No, Susan," Karin said quietly. "I have something else in mind. Lucinda." "Wha- Lu-." Susan paused. Then swallowed. "Oh. Lucinda. Uh, Karin, do you really think this is such a good idea?" Susan asked slowly. "Very." Susan thought she heard Karin's teeth grinding. Susan glanced at Sally. Sally was staring at Susan's body. Sally was muttering to herself and turning her head first to one side and then the other, changing her view of Susan slightly. "Karin?" "I'm still here. What's the problem, now?" Karin spoke slowly, as if talking to a recalcitrant child. "She's staring at me. And muttering." Susan sounded unnerved. "She always stares at people and she usually mutters." Karin spoke briskly. She sounded cheerful. "Just go along with her. Sally knows what she's doing. I've told her what we need. She'll just take some measurements. It won't hurt. I've got to go. Jennise is waiting. Bye." "Wait. No. I don't have time for this right now." Susan burst out in a rush. "I have to go. I have an appointment. Now." "It won't take long." Karin was soothing. "I'll see you soon. Bye." The phone clicked. Susan looked over at Sally. "Take your clothes off." "Huh?" Susan didn't think she heard what Sally said. "Take - your - clothes - off." Sally bit each word. "Why?" Susan challenged. Sally shrugged her shoulders in an exaggerated manner. "Oh, dear God," she spoke to the ceiling, "Why am I always working with such idiots?" She looked at Susan. "Because," she explained slowly, "I cannot take accurrate measurements when you are dressed for a jaunt to the arctic circle." Sally smiled sweetly. It was a nauseating sight. Susan looked down at her baggy fisherman's sweater and sweatpants. "Oh. Yes. I see your point." She looked up. "Uh, where do you want to . . ." Her voice trailed off. Sally was just a wee bit more testy. "I don't care if you stand on the roof. Could we get on with it?" "Oh, yes." Susan interuppted. "Will this take long? I really do have to go. I have this appointment, you see. It's urgent. Uh . . . really urg-g-g-uh-HRUMP!" Susan's voice was muffled as Sally pulled the heavy sweater over Susan's head. "Sweatpants, too." Susan pulled off her sweatpants. Sally's eyes grew round as she Susan stood up. "Where did you get those undies?" Susan flushed. "They were a present," she muttered. "Fetching," smirked Sally. The next 15 minutes were odd for Susan. She stood mute while Sally measured every part of her body. Sally muttered to herself and scribbled on a notepad. Susan wondered if this is what it was like to be a model or an actress. Did Valerie have to do this? It was so impersonal. "I feel like a prop," Susan thought to herself. "Ok." Sally stood up. "Let's try a few things." Susan grabbed her sweater. "I'm sorry. I can't just now. I really have to go." Sally grabbed the sweater and tossed it on the sofa. "No, you don't. I want to you to try on a few things for me so I can see how they look on you. Karin and Jennise are so fussy. They gave me specific instruction. You have no idea what I go through if they don't get what they want." Sally was riffling through the pile of fabric while she spoke. "Now, turn a