Time: 8am

The winners of the auction items have been selected. They will be announced at 8pm at the Toronto Convention Center's second floor ballroom. The items will be on display there from 5pm until 8pm.

Please observe all security measures. Anyone attempting to interfere with the security measures will be escorted from the room.

Bartley House wishes to thank all those that participated in the auction.

Mr. Warren J. Bartley
Bartley House

Time: Early evening
Place: Toronto Convention Center

Twelve NatPackers crowded around the glass encasement, peering at the "valuable" document contained therein. Some of the taller ones made way for the shorter ones so that all could have a good view.

The small legion of guards watched them attentively, and rushed to grab Amparo when she accidentally leaned too far forward and set off the laser security system. She held up her hands in surrender as the rest of the NatPackers started to protest.

"Sorry, Miss," one of the guards said in a clipped british accent. "But I'm afraid you'll have to leave." With that Amparo was ushered out of the room and the remaining NatPackers couldn't help but notice that the guards were being extra attentive.

They turned their attention back toward the purported diary. It was enclosed in a thick glass case and, as Amparo had so aptly demonstrated, it was also guarded by a sophisticated laser detection system. The volume, a handwritten tome contained in an ordinary looking lab journal, was spread open to a page containing text on one side and a fairly explicit diagram on the other.

"Geez," Sharon breathed. "Lousy artist." They quickly scanned the text on the page.

"Look!" Valerie exclaimed. "WHUMP! It says WHUMP!"

"WHUMP?" Amy asked.

"WHUMP!" Sharon exclaimed. "It *does* say WHUMP."

"WHUMP."

"WHUMP!"

"Where does it say WHUMP?"

"Right there! The WHUMP is right there!"

A couple of the guards even smirked.

Then Elaine took a close look at some of the text. Excitedly she pointed and Sharon and Amy looked.

"Hey!" Sharon said. "That's not how--OW!" she stopped abruptly as Amy dug her elbow into her ribs. "Amy, I'm gonna hurt you!" At Amy's meaningful look and furtive glances at the guards, Sharon added, "Oh, yeah. As I was saying, that's not how . . . uh . . . how it's done. It's not . . ." Sharon searched for the right word.

"Physically possible given current human anatomy?" Jill filled in.

"Uh, yeah."

"Well," Amy said breezily. "Nat's a doctor. She should know these things. Lets go!"

Outside and well away from the building the NatPackers gathered Jill and huddled huddled near a fountain.

"It's a *fake*!" Amy exclaimed. "Nat's a lousy speller. She always spells ingest wrong, but it's spelled right every time there."

"And I don't even want to think about the context," Sharon added, rolling her eyes.

"And the handwriting was close, but definitely not a match. A close examination will prove that."

"There's nothing to worry about," Jennie added.

"Where's the money going to anyway?" Sharon asked. "Charity?" Amy shrugged. "And I think we should tell Nick. I think we kind of owe it to him," Sharon added. The others nodded in agreement.

Time: Early evening
Place: Nick's loft

"Nick!"

It was Natalie's voice, and the knot in the pit of Nick's stomach loosened just a tiny bit at the sound of her voice.

"Nat! Where are you?" he asked frantically.

"She's fine," a different, electronically enhanced voice said. His vampiric auditory senses could hear the sounds of Natalie struggling as she was led from the room.

"Put her back on," he demanded, hoping to keep them on the line. He strained, trying to hear anything that might give him a clue as to where she was being held.

"Be at the auction, the banquet hall at the rear of the convention center. Just you or she's had it. You for her. At 7:45."

Then the line went dead.

Nick slammed the phone down. Knighties looked up, down, and over from their dressing and preparations for the auction.

"They want to trade."

"Over my dead body," several voices chorused.

"I've got a better chance than she has with them," Nick persisted.

"Well, we should at least alert the Natpack, in case someone needs to take care of Nat," Perri offered cagily.

"YOU can call them, then," Nick answered shortly.

Perri took charge of the phone.

Time: 6pm EST
Place: Toronto Convention Center

Mr. Bartley watched the gaggle of women depart and heaved a sigh of relief. He'd been extremely worried when the young lady had set off the laser security system. Fortunately, the guards removed her promptly and the others seemed to take the warning seriously.

He was nervous about this particular announcement. In the past, there had never been this much on-line activity about the articles he'd handled. So many strange inquiries about security. He'd beefed it up as much as he could, but one could never be too sure. And now there were these women wandering around muttering that the erotic journal was a forgery. He shook his head. Do they actually think that this is one woman's real erotic fantasies?

But if someone was willing to pay that much money, Mr Bartley thought, then there must be something to it.

Mr. Bartley himself was much more interested in the second item up for bid. He'd had it open to the beginning, but upon consideration decided to open it more toward the middle. The rating given to the DeCharme woman for sex appeal...well, no one is that attractive.

Mr. Bartley turned for one last look at the journal. What did they mean that it was not physically possible given the current human anatomy? Of course it was. You just had to be a little inventive.

He walked away. Some people just can't see the big picture, he thought.

Time: 7:30, before the auction is scheduled to begin
Place: The lobby of the auction location

"How's your head?" Perri asked Jennie, letting a touch of concern flavor her tone.

"Can hardly feel it," Jennie answered, then stopped and laughed. "And you know what they say, 'Numb is the best you can hope for!' I'm a Natpacker!"

They both chuckled at that.

"Seriously, though..." Perri persisted.

"Seriously, it's still healing but I don't have any serious lingering effects," Jennie replied. "It doesn't hurt too much to the touch. I'm pretty much back to normal."

"Isn't that unusual for you?" An impish giggle accompanied the question.

"Thanks. I needed that," Jennie grimaced. "So, Nick's here, *now* what do we do?"

"Wait, they said," Perri began, but Jennie cut her off.

"Yes, but what do *we* do?" she asked.

"The message was that he has to wait, alone, in a deserted area towards the back of the center. If they see *anyone* else, Nat's toast," was the answer. "He didn't tell us exactly where, and he took off as soon as we got here."

Jennie's expression turned grim. "How do we know she'll be released, anyhow? And how do they think they're gonna *keep* Nick, once they have him?"

"I don't think they intend to keep him, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I think they plan to kill him before he has a chance. And I'm worried that he's too overconfident. They *do* know what they're dealing with, after all!" Perri answered, having to work to keep her voice down. "And we have no idea where he is!"

"So what are we standing around here talking for?" Jennie queried. "We should at least be making this all difficult for them! And we have to find them first!"

"Shh!" Perri admonished. "I agree, but let's keep this quiet. Why don't we get some help, and we can check both outside and inside for suspicious looking things. With that bathroom line, we have an excuse to wander elsewhere in search of another one, and maybe a few of us lost our car outside?"

Jennie simply nodded. "I'll take outside, you take inside. I'll send you a couple of Natpackers. If you have any 'outdoor' type Knighties, send 'em along."

Time: 7:40, before the auction is scheduled to begin
Place: The parking lot of the auction location

"Great. I don't see anything *too* suspicious, but I count about 3 dozen vans out here. She could be in any one of them. Assuming she's here. Any ideas?" Jennie turned to the group surrounding her, grateful that they shielded her somewhat from the wind, which was cold enough to make even *her* shiver.

"I really don't see any other place *outdoors* where she could be, and with the security this place had before the auction, when they moved the items here, I also don't think they have her inside anywhere," Sharon mused. She refused to wear a hat, and it was amazing that she could stand it outside. "So basically, since it's awfully cold out here, they either don't have her here at all, or they brought her here *days* ago, before security was set up, or they need to have the heat on in the van..."

"Which means they have to have the engine running!" GT interrupted her, from beneath a hat, earmuffs and scarf that completely enveloped her head and face. "Good thinking! It's certainly worth a try!"

"OK, then let's split up and start checking vans!" Jennie ordered.

"Betsy, look over there!" Amy called, as she ran down an aisle nearby, pushing her multi-colored wool hat up out of her eyes.

Betsy ran in the direction indicated, toward the cluster of vans. The five NatPackers were trying to canvas the entire, packed convention center parking lot in under ten minutes--the time before Nick was supposed to be meeting the people who had Nat.

"Nothing over here," Betsy reported loudly. "I'll take the next two rows over now."

Amy's search also revealed nothing, so she moved to the rows just beyond Betsy.

Spreading out in the other direction, Sharon, GT, and Jennie were also leapfrogging the rows, each taking two at a time.

"Nothing yet," GT called.

"Me either," Jennie shouted back.

Sharon didn't reply, but that could have been from saving breath for breathing since it was cold and she was running.

Suddenly a piercing whistle attracted the pack's attention. It came from between the two parts of their search pattern--from very near where they had split up, in fact. Nat was standing there, pinkies still at her mouth. She shook her head, then gestured for them to rejoin her.

"Nat!!!" chorused the NatPackers who were still able to produce loud noise.

They all ran to join her and to urge her to get out of sight before they all became targets of these people, if they were anywhere nearby. "Where did you come from?" Jennie asked as soon as they were close enough.

"I was right back there." Nat pointed even as the group began to usher her toward the convention center.

"Keep explaining," GT encouraged, "just keep walking, too; it may not be safe yet and we've got to get to where we can warn Nick."

"Warn Nick of what?" Nat demanded.

"Just tell us where you came from. We'll get to him in a second," Sharon said, wheezing a little between the sentences.

"Yeah," Amy gasped, trying to catch her breath as well. "We were looking everywhere for you!"

"Even in Chinatown," Betsy grinned mischievously at Jennie and GT.

"But how were you where you were? We checked all those vans and none of them were on," Amy asked.

"They were actually stupid enough to have a kerosine heater in there. At least, I hope it was stupidity and not a weapon for future use--like after they were finished." Nat shuddered.

"Ugh," Jennie made a face. "You know, we should have thought of that...." The other Natpackers nodded.

"*Any*way," Nat began, changing the subject, "these weirdos grabbed me as I was leaving work Thursday morning...last Thursday morning? Is that right? They started asking all kinds of questions about Nick. It was a good thing I found the missing journal Tuesday just before I left for--"

"You *found* it?" Jennie asked delightedly.

"And you didn't *tell* us?" G.T. demanded.

"I was *kidnapped* before I got the chance. One of you must have just moved it out of the way when you all took over my place," Nat retorted. "Anyway, they were asking me all sorts of questions. I don't know how long it's been, but finally they parked the van here. I've been waiting for a chance to do something, but first I had to figure out where I was and where I could go if I got out. I had the van door jimmied open, but I didn't want to ruin what might be my only chance, so I was trying to work out my next move when I heard you all shouting around. I figured I should at least try something; I'd have backup if nothing else."

"You mean they left you alone there?" Betsy asked incredulously.

"Well, no. But there was only *one* guy. How hard is it to put one guy out of commission?" Nat looked at them a bit disdainfully. "I mean, really...didn't any of you all watch MacGyver?"

"Ah, the lateral cranial impact enhancer?" Jennie smiled.

"One of my favorites," Nat grinned back wearily, as Jennie held the building door for everyone. As soon as they were all inside where it was warm (which was a good thing considering that Nat didn't have a coat), Jennie began to explain. "They've told Nick to meet them out back or they'll kill you. We think they're going to just kill him."

"What??!!?" Nat began.

"We've already got Perri and some of the Knighties and other NatPackers looking for him and trying to find these Man-in-black characters. It's probably already under control."

"Well, we've got to make sure!" Nat insisted.

"I know, but I think you should stay here where there are plenty of people; it won't do to give them back a hostage," Jennie said gently.

"No way--" Nat began.

Jennie nodded to Sharon, GT, and Amy. They grabbed Nat's arms and nodded in return. "Come on, Betsy, let's see if we can find Perri and company." Jennie called over her shoulder as she hurried away, "We'll be back soon, Nat, I promise. And we'll let you know the second we find him."

Nat glared after Jennie.

Amy sighed. This was *not* going to set well....

Time: 7:43pm EST
Place: The Convention Centre

We'd gotten help from the Laird. His scouts told us that those men in black had been watching the Community for a while and Natalie even longer. They had taken her to the Convention Centre in dark vans and were waiting for something. The Laird lent us some scouts and we went to see what we could do.

Midhir could you walk around and see where they have Natalie and how many people are guarding her?

OK, but they're not going to hurt me are they?

Nah, you're too small to be noticed.

Thanks, I think.

OK, keep low. 1 2 3 4 5 think that's all.

I'm back. There's six but one of them is staying in the van with Natalie.

Sydney's really good at this. He sent one of the scouts to distract the guards. He says that even if we see them as short fox-faced people they look just like normal youths to anyone who isn't willing to see. The idea is that these people will be looking for just enough strangeness to send them running after the scouts.

"Lovely evening isn't it?"

"HEY! Wait a minute. Get back here!"

Get ready they're coming this way.

"OOF!"

"RROOOWWWW!"

"Hiss!"

"ARG!"

Struggle, struggle, tie, tie, tie.

That's all of them. Let's go see about freeing Natalie.

She isn't here!

There she is. Over with her friends!

But one of those men black was there. Unconcious on the floor. Sydney is rightly proud of his two-legs. She'd managed to escape all by herself. With a little help.

Time: 7:44pm EST
Place: Convention center

"I'll check down this way..."

"OK, give a holler if you find him!" Jennie said.

Betsy moved down the hallway at a run, worried about Nick. Maybe we should have planted a homing beacon on him, just on general principles, she thought. You never know when you might want to find a vampire... She yelped as heavy cloth suddenly came down over her head, shutting out her sight and muffling her yells.

"Hey! Lemme go!" She struggled vainly as she was lifted from her feet and carried off down the hallway. "Jennie! Perri! NAT! ANYBODY! *HELP*!"

The people carrying her suddenly dropped her into a chair. The breath was knocked out of her momentarily, and she paused in her yelling. She leaned back in the chair to try to get to her feet, and the back went down, taking her by surprise and knocking her off balance for a second.

Someone grabbed her hands and fastened them to the arms of the chair, despite her struggles, then the blanket was pulled off her head. She looked up fuzzily (since her eyeglasses had been knocked askew) and tried to bring the person standing there into focus. "Maureen? Is that you? What are you doing?!" Maureen reached down and straightened Betsy's glasses. "Yep, it's me! How are you doing? I haven't seen you since the War began - enjoying yourself?"

"Well, I was up until now! Why are you kidnapping *me*? And why now? I mean, the War is just about over, and I don't have anything anyone would want..." Betsy paused, suddenly afraid. "Who hired you to grab me? It wasn't those vampire hunters, was it? Or... LaCroix?" Betsy shuddered.

"Who said anyone hired me?" Maureen said, picking up a bottle and starting to shake it.

"Well, you're a Mercenary. You don't do *anything* unless you get paid for it."

"You forget, Betsy, old buddy, old pal, O friend of mine, that I am also a Cousin. Sometimes I do things just because I *want* to. Or because they need to be done."

"What, I mean, how, uh, why are you..."

"Betsy, stop babbling."

Betsy glared at her friend, then focused on the bottle that Maureen still held in her hand. Miss Clairol. She looked at the label - "Essence of Fire." Her eyes widened, and she suddenly realized that the chair she was sitting in was one of those tilting chairs you find in a beauty salon. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, yes I would!" Maureen was suddenly angry. Betsy was always startled at how quickly Maureen could lose her temper; must have something to do with being a red-head.

Maureen said, in a dangerously quiet voice, "Does the name 'Al Bundy' ring any bells?"

As the water started to run over her hair, Betsy screamed, "Nooooooo!!!"

Time: about 7:45 pm EST
Place: Auction hall

Nick stood alone in the huge, darkened banquet hall, waiting.

He didn't like waiting. It gave him too much time to think. But at least the Knighties were inside, safely out of the way. If only Natalie were as safe...

It frustrated him to know that waiting for the kidnappers was all he could do for her. But as soon as they came, he told himself yet again, as soon as they came, they would face a vampire's wrath. And then, they *would* tell him where Natalie was.

A flash of motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned quickly -- and found himself surrounded. Four people, dressed in black, with guns worn very visibly. He ignored the weapons. "Where's Natalie?" he snarled.

"All in good time," one of the four told him, taking a step closer. "But, first things first."

What a cliche-ridden group, Nick thought to himself, even as the speaker reached inside his sweater and brought out a silver cross, brandishing it.

Nick flinched, then snarled again, lashing out to knock the cross from the man's hand. It burned his hand briefly; he ignored the flash of pain and grabbed the man by the shirt. "I'll ask this once more," he said with the rasping threat of a vampire. His eyes glowed, the fangs slipped into place. "Where. Is. Natalie. Lambert?"

Soemthing hit the back of his neck; the odor of garlic hit his nose. He shook his head and threw the speaker away from him, whirling to face the one who had thrown the jar of garlic at him. "Did you expect that to harm me?" he growled. Absently, he tried to think what LaCroix would say in this situation. The words came to him; he almost laughed. "I am far too old and powerful for that!"

They backed up in caution, he thought. Then, they pulled out water pistols, aimed and fired.

The holy water hit him squarely in the face, with the burning, searing pain of acid. He howled, and fell to his knees, clawing at his face.

They heard him from three doors and three hundred feet away. This time, they didn't even stop to trade glances before the eight-Knightie search team took off at a dead run.

The scene that faced them as they burst through the double doors was one they had dreaded. Nick, on the floor, writhing in pain, while four black-clad people stood over him. Two of them carried stakes.

"You don't want to do that." Perri's voice, lungs developed after years of choir, carried clearly across the room.

The speaker turned to face the small group. His lips curled. "Do you know what you're doing here? This is a vampire, an abomination on the earth, sickness that must be cured, a disease that must be erradicated, a...." The leader's rant was interrupted by laughter. Laughter that was coming from the direction of the Knighties. Laughter that was coming from Amy D.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her. Amy was practically doubled over with laughter.

"I'm glad *you* find this funny," Perri snapped at her lieutenant.

"I'm...sorry," gasped Amy. "I...couldn't help...myself. He sounds just like James Horton."

"Whoa. You know you've been watching too much Highlander when..." someone in the background quipped.

It took a moment for it to sink in but then, slowly at first, the Knighties cracked up. First it was Perri, then Scottie, then the rest of them.

The leader apparently objected to being laughed at, and took it out on the vampire at his feet with a vicious kick. The groan from Nick stopped the laughter; everyone suddenly became very serious.

"Do that again, and you'll regret it," Catherine warned.

"No, he'll regret it," the leader threatened. "Get out of here, and leave us to dispose of this."

"Not likely," Paula said grimly.

"Who *are* you people?" another hunter asked in angry confusion.

"His followers," Amy Potter said, gesturing at Nick. "And we're getting mad."

"Get. . . out of here," Nick groaned, trying to get up. "Find. . . help. Get. . . out of here."

"Listen to him," the leader said, raising his stake with a twisted smile, "unless you want to see us destroy him."

They ignored him and came forward instead, backing the hunters off in sheer surprise. They surrounded Nick, blocking him with their bodies. "*You* listen to us," Amy D. said, with no trace of her earlier laughter. "Back off."

The leader stopped being amused at them. He dropped the stake, and the Knighties smiled in satisfaction. It was wiped from their faces when he pulled his gun and leveled it at them.

They flinched, but held their ground. Perri somehow managed to laugh. "What are you going to do with that? That's no Beretta; you don't have enough shots to take out all of us."

"How do you know it's not a Beretta?" Catherine asked in a low whisper.

"Her dad told us," Amy D whispered back.

The leader remained unamused. He gestured once, sharply, and his companions drew their own weapons. Perri gulped. "Okay, now *that's* enough shots."

There seemed to be only one solution to the problem. Fortunately, they'd just had the practice. Catherine, Amy D. and Perri yelled it in unison.

"Dogpile on the morons!!!!!"

In practice, it wasn't quite so easy. But Perri's self-defense lessons left the leader in the dust, while a nicotine-deprived Scottie leveled another. Sheer numbers forced the last two down. Two Knighties apiece sat on the two conscious ones.

"Now what are we going to do with them?" Judy asked.

"Lock them in a closet with Tracy?" Amy D. suggested wistfully.

Perri looked tempted. "No," she said regretfully, "but getting Tracy would be a good thing. She *is* a cop."

"A good cop, no less," Scottie muttered, but headed for the door. The three unoccupied Knighties went to Nick.

"Nick?" Amy D. asked quietly, gently brushing hair out of the burns on his face. They were healing even as they watched.

"What have you done?" he gasped. "Natalie..."

"Got it covered," a breathless Gary reported, running in the door. "The NatPack found her in a van in the parking lot. She's safe."

"Thank God," Nick said, pushing himself to his knees. The women helped him, Gary almost physically picking him up. He looked around at the scene in front of him, two unconscious hunters, two conscious with Knighties sitting on them. All of the Knighties watched him with anxious eyes. "I'm all right, guys," he said, with all the comfort he could muster. "Thanks."

They smiled back. "No sweat, Nick," Perri said.

Time: 7:45 p.m.
Place: Toronto Convention Center

Cousin Laura was huddled with the other Cousins at the auction. Uncle was standing in back of the group, looking much worse for wear.

"I'll be glad when this War is over and these creatures can go back to their lives," LaCroix thought as he glanced at his throng of devoted followers.

Laura really wasn't concerned with the auction. (I mean did she really care what that Lambert woman wrote in her journal? Not on your life, she'd much rather read a "Red Shoe Diaries" episode than Natalie Lambert's attempt at erotica. Besides, David Duchovny was much better to listen to anyway.) No, Laura wasn't here for the proceedings, she was here to locate two Natpackers and question them about the "break-in" at her house.

She glanced around the room and quickly spotted Ravenette Sheryl over by the other Ravenettes. First things first. She wanted to go over and give Sheryl a piece of her mind for giving out her house key! She quietly approached the Ravenettes, not wanting to call attention to herself as these two factions still were going on and on about just who exactly owned The Raven. Personally, she thought Uncle did, but then she wasn't about to argue that point with a bunch of Janette-worshippers. They were so touchy about the club, with Janette being off the show and everything.

Slowly she tapped Sheryl on the shoulder and said a quick hello and motioned for Sheryl to follow her to a corner in the auction room. They could talk there.

"Hey, chica!" Sheryl said, "what is up?"

"Not much, woman. However, I do have a bone to pick with you!" Laura cried.

"This isn't going to take long is it, 'cause if it is I need a drink!" stated Sheryl. (Laura personally thought maybe Sheryl had already had a "few" drinks by this point.)

"No, I'll make it quick. Just who did you give my house keys to? Because my house was broken into."

"Oh, sh*t, was anything taken?" Sheryl asked.

"Yeah, they took some stuff but returned it later, but that isn't the point, Sheryl. They put a 'Kick me' sign on Uncle's picture!" wailed Laura, and she explained what she had found at her house and in her mailbox.

Sheryl understood Laura's devotion to Uncle completely. After all, Ravenettes are Cousins by blood you know. (Thanks to Sheryl for that quote.) Sheryl, who was decked out in her black leather mini-skirt and black lace shirt (always trust a Ravenette to overdress for the occasion), leaned in closer to Laura and whispered, "I gave the keys to Leslie. Nah, you don't think she would do something like that, do you?"

"Not normally, but you know how weird those Natpackers have been acting lately, so anything is possible," Laura stated.

"Plus, if Jill and Leslie wanted to get back at me for kidnapping them, this is the perfect opportuntiy. Leslie *knows* how much I love 'Moon over Miami,' after all, I dubbed the entire show for her too."

"Yeah, they were kind of upset about that. And if Jillby and I hadn't saved them from LaCroix, who knows what might have happened!" Sheryl exclaimed into Laura's face. Laura backed up, as the gin fumes from Sheryl's breath hit her.

"No, Uncle wouldn't have hurt them, he just wanted to question them. I mean he *knows* just how much LJ (Jill Kirby) lusts after him, you know. After all, he *remembers* Crescent City and LJ's story about him and the two Jills in the closet. Plus, you couldn't miss the way Jill always stares at his...well, his butt!"

"True, that is hard to miss," Sheryl agreed. "But do you think that that incident would have made them break into your house?"

"Maybe, I guess I'm just going to have to ask them!" Laura said and quickly gave Sheryl a quick hug and said, "thanks for the help and see you."

"No, problem, babe. " Laura could have sworn she heard Sheryl mutter something about her Snow White cup and her bottle of gin as she walked away.

Cousin Laura then eyed the Natpack. Leslie and Jill were here. Now, she just had to get them alone and make them confess and apologize. I mean defacing Uncle was one thing, but stealing her "Moon over Miami" tapes was another! It would take a lot of trips to Denny's before Laura forgave Leslie for this one, that is if they had done the deed. But getting them alone was going to prove tricky as the Natpack was in a titter about Nat's journal and likely would stick together until after the auction. So, how could she do this? (Suddenly the image of a cartoon light-bulb appeared over Cousin Laura's head.) Yes, that was a plan.

An evil grin appeared on Laura's face. (Yes, that was it!) Leslie was right about one thing, Laura really was a Cousin at heart. As no other faction got such joy at annoying the others.

Time: About 7:55
Place: Convention center

It may have been no sweat, but Nick still looked like hell. So none of the Knighties even hesitated when the NatPack came running in. "Natalie!" Paula yelled. "Over here!"

Jennie and Betsy ran in, followed a minute later by Nat, Amy, GT and Sharon, all of whom were now gasping for air.

"Sorry, we tried, but she got away," Amy breathlessly apologized.

As if it were any trouble to locate Nick, still leaning heavily on the four Knighties holding him up. "Nick!" Nat gasped, almost sliding on the slick banquet hall floor as she ran to the vampire. "What happened?"

"Holy water," Perri said shortly. "He's healing already."

"You're all right?" Nick asked, looking at her through eyes still swollen from the water's effects.

"Fine," Natalie said brusquely, "although you look like hell." Her hands were gentle, though, as they examined him. "But, I do think you'll live." Her hands closed on his shoulders for just a moment. "Thank God."

The Knighties were worried, but not dense. They stepped silently aside, freeing Nick's arms to hug Nat close.

"I love a happy ending," Catherine sighed.

"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick," Sharon commented, frowning at Catherine.

Nat directed Nick to a nearby bench so they could both sit down. Neither of them was doing terribly well; between the holy water and Nat's week in captivity it was a good thing there was a bench so close by. Knighties and Natpackers both instinctively moved back and gave them more space, keeping a watchful eye on the corridors. None of the black outfits was in evidence so far.

"That was closer than I find comfortable," Nat commented. "You could have been seriously hurt, or *killed*!"

"It certainly was no picnic," Nick answered, "and *you* were in far more danger!"

"Well, at least I didn't have a choice in the matter. *You* just went rushing in to rescue me, you didn't even stop to think about what they were going to do to you!" Natalie snapped back, allowing irritation to show on her face.

"What was I supposed to do? Just let them have you? Although, after what you did to my car and my home, I should have let them. The Caddy was *pink*. We won't discuss the blood, and I'm *still* finding bricks everywhere!" Nick complained heatedly.

"Well, you *are* a brick, Nick! You're dense as one; you can't even catch clue one about how to *really* trust me and talk to me! And the *blood* was an intelligence test! I hear you failed..." there was a nasty edge to Nat's voice now. The faction members began to shift uneasily about them, throwing worried glances their way but otherwise studiously examining the floor, windows, and walls.

"No, I didn't. I didn't think I should waste the time it would take to wait for someone so I could get it up the way you obviously put it down, so I spilled a bit. It was still a vicious thing to do!" Nick replied.

Down the hall aways, Sharon quirked an eyebrow at Amy. "He failed." They both nodded and went back to watching for suspicious black outfits.

"Yes, you always *did* have a problem with patience, didn't you? Always want everything the quick and easy way. Heaven forbid you have to *work* for it! All those quickie cure ideas you keep trying out, for instance!" Nat criticized, without missing a beat.

Nick ground his teeth in frustration. "At least I'm willing to try new approaches, instead of insisting there is only one way that makes sense!"

"And you never even stay with any of them long enough to see if they will work! You won't even stick with mine, and you won't *tell* me when you can't go through with it, you just try to hide the fact that you're not trying anymore!" Nat returned with equal heat.

"Like you would do anything except practically force-feed me if I *did* tell you!" Nick retorted.

The two glared at each other in absolute fury. The assembled faction members were sure sparks were going to shoot right out of their eyes any moment, but then their gazes softened a bit. Both looked away from each others' eyes in embarrassment. Nick looked back first.

"When you were gone all week, I was sure they'd...I was sure I wouldn't ever see you again," Nick began.

"I thought I'd never see you again when Jennie said you'd gone to meet those...people." Nat met his eyes again, but glanced obliquely and uneasily at the floor at the mention of her kidnappers. "I guess I panicked. You're not really horrible. I just get frustrated sometimes, when I think there's something you're not telling me. I shouldn't have taken it out on you just now."

"Well, I *do* tend to keep things from you sometimes. I suppose I could have handled that a bit better myself," Nick offered. He kissed her on the cheek, ignoring the sighs of several of the people who were still in sight and within hearing distance, and brushed her hair back.

Natalie leaned her head into his hand. "But I should have *talked* to you, instead of looking for some petty revenge."

Barely audible in the background, Amy and Sharon were heard to mutter that *they* enjoyed *their* petty revenge.

Nick pulled Nat into a hug. "How about we just resolve to do better next time," he suggested, ignoring the others. "I don't have the energy to sort anything more out right now."

"OK," she smiled up at him. "So, I suppose we'd best go see what this auction is all about!"

Several of the Knighties and Natpackers clustered in the room flushed deeply at this; Natalie wondered why, and what she had missed while she was gone. Evidently something had happened.

"Yes, we'd best get back; I left Valerie keeping an eye on things, and we may need to back her up," Jennie said cryptically.

Perri looked at Jennie. "Keeping an eye on what?"

Jennie groaned. "Don't ask. Let's go."

Time: 8pm EST
Place: Toronto Convention Center

Mr. Bartley straightened his tie nervously as he approached the podium. This was definitely not how an auction should be run. But this wasn't a real auction. Just an announcement.

He looked out into the audience. They filled the auditorium almost to overflowing. There had to be over 500 people squeezed into the large room.

He stepped up to the mike.

"If I could have everyone's attention please," he said into the mike.

People stopped their chattering and looked toward the front.

"If everyone could please take a seat, we'll get this thing started."

People scrambled to reclaim their seating which had been abandoned with Natalie's reappearance.

Mr. Bartley waited until they were all silent and waiting before he spoke.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming here this evening. As all of you know, we have had two items up for bid this week. I'd like to thank all of those who submitted bids this week. There were, I must say, some very interesting bids on the items, but I'm afraid in the end there was just no contest."

The audience stirred expectantly.

Mr. Bartley motioned to the technician who stood off to the side. Suddenly, a light shone down onto the bound journal book that was designated item number 1.

"We had several interesting bids to this item, including something which could only be construed as a bribe, since it was NOT a monetary amount as was stated in the post."

He gazed sternly out into the audience, as if he could pick out the young lady who submitted the bid for 3 gallons of Death by Chocolate Ice Cream. "When all the bids were tabulated and the finances cross-checked, the winner of item one is..."

"WAIT!"

Mr. Bartley stopped, annoyed. He peered into the audience, trying to see who was interrupting the proceedings now. People were craning their heads back and forth, until finally a figure stood up and moved to the aisle.

"It's a forgery!"

Time: 8:02pm EST
Place: Auction hall

"WAIT!"

Mr. Bartley stopped, annoyed. He peered into the audience, trying to see who was interrupting the proceedings now. People were craning their heads back and forth, until finally a figure stood up and moved to the aisle.

"It's a forgery!" Valerie yelled, with a voice that carried so well it didn't need a mike, although she took the mike as she reached the front. "We discussed this and thought you all should know, before this transaction is finalized, that this is *not* Doctor Lambert's diary. Originally we wondered if it *was* her journal, which was missing, but the description didn't fit, and the journal has been located now. So for anyone who was led to believe it was Natalie's by our panic, you've been warned."

An angry muttering could be heard among the crowd, and several people looked quite skeptical. Natalie was looking bewildered and questioning at the Natpackers who were trying to keep her behind them and out of sight of the others clustered around. "We'll explain later," Elaine offered her quietly, "Now, keep your head down!"

GT hopped up and grabbed the mike from Valerie. "Well, while the handwriting is somewhat similar to Nat's, it is *not* identical. Anyone who knows her handwriting can see that. Also, she doesn't draw very often, but the book is *full* of diagrams and illustrations!"

Jennie joined the other two and took her turn at the mike. "And for anyone who might still be skeptical, we all *know* that Natalie habitually misspells the word ingest with a 'j.' We've seen it before++ and since the word is used here, on page 42, which was the page it was opened to in the glass case, we can be absolutely certain it isn't the work of the good doctor. I've simply *never* seen her spell it correctly!"

Several audience members reflected thoughtfully on what the word 'ingest' might have been used for in that book. Several others looked annoyed or cheated. Some maintained a rather disinterested air, while many still looked skeptical.

The Natpackers decided that they'd done their duty and hurried back to their seats after GT uttered a hurried, "That was all we needed to tell you! We thought it was only fair!" and handed the microphone back to Mr. Bartley, who was looking decidedly annoyed.

++ In the Canadian version of "Only the Lonely," we get a pretty good look at the notebook Nat had on her desk, when Nick was going through it, and it contains the phrase: "Nick was unable to injest."

Time: 8:20 pm
Place: Toronto Convention Center

Mr. Bartley tiredly shook his head.

"Did anyone ever mention that it was autobiographical in nature?" he asked.

The audience fell silent.

"The announcement stated, 'A bound leather journal book of erotic fiction, written by a Natalie L.' " Mr. Bartley peered out into the audience. "Now if you wish to accuse your friend of having written it or not, maybe you'd better take it up with her. The volume is up for auction. The matter of its author is not relevant. If the bidders feel that they have been misled and that we should withdraw the item or they wish to withdraw their bid..."

"No matter!"

The voice came from the rear of the room, silencing Mr. Bartley. Slipping the hood from her cloak, Janette strode forward through the aisle. She barely glanced at the group of Raven/ettes, from whom a startled and collective "Eeep!" had been emitted at an indeterminate octave. Neither did she seem to notice the Nat Pack, whose reactions ranged from pale disbelief to apoplectic anger, or even Nick, who was doing a brilliant imitation of a deer caught in headlights.

Her eyes and her words were fixed on Mr. Bartley as she approached the stage. She pulled a long black glove from one hand as she walked and withdrew a parchment envelope from the interior of her cloak. "This contains a cashier's check for the amount of my bid for the diary. My bid stands whether the article is original or fraudulent." Her smile was cold as she turned to survey the audience. "Should anyone wish to withdraw their bids, I should suggest they do so quickly."

"And you are, Madam?" asked Mr. Bartley.

"I am Janette DuCharme," said Janette, before she disappeared within a horde of Raven/ettes, who'd abandoned their seats and flocked toward her.

"I see," said Mr. Bartley. "Well now. Does anyone wish to withdraw their bid, or attempt to outbid Ms. DuCharme?"

The room was silent except for the excited chattering by the Raven/ettes.

"The winner with the highest bid for item one was, in fact, Ms. Janette DuCharme," announced Mr. Bartley. "Since no one has come forward with an attempt to outbid Ms. DuCharme, I hereby declare that the journal of erotic FICTION is sold to Ms. Janette DuCharme for the amount of $250,000.00."

At the announcement, even the Raven/ettes fell silent. Why would she pay that much money...?

She handed the parchment envelope to Susan. "Go and pay the man, Susan." She ignored the staring audience and moved to a chair and sat down. None of the Raven/ettes dared asked her what she was going to use it for, nor why she would pay so much money for it. But they all hoped that she would tell them. Eventually.

Time: 8:30pm EST
Place: Toronto Convention Center

Once Susan had returned to Janette's side, triumphantly bearing the disputed journal, order returned to the assembled factions.

Mr. Bartley returned to the poduim.

"I trust we're not going to have anymore surprise interruptions?" he queried, looking at the audience. He couldn't wait to go back to his office and retire with a nice bottle of Scotch. "All right then, the second item that was up for bid. The almanac."

Again, he gestured to the technician, who illuminated the list that was in the second showcase. He paused, as if to give someone a chance to make a scene. When no one leapt up, he continued.

"The highest bidder for this item was Mr. Nicholas Knight."

Nick's sensitive hearing picked up Janette's muttered "M***e." He had a sinking feeling that she had bid on it. He'd half expected LaCroix to have bid on it, if only to have something else to hold over his head, for the next few centuries. He rose from his chair and made his way up to the stage.

When he'd reached the stage, Mr. Bartley drew him away from the microphone.

"I regards to your bid, Mr. Knight," said Mr. Bartley. "When we checked the with your accountant, he said that there were some problems meeting the specified bits. Since it was more likely to match the bid on this item we didn't keep the bid for the 1st item. We tried contacting you, but there wasn't time to wait for an answer."

"I understand," said Nick.

"If you would care to step over there, the clerk will inform you how much the total is."

As Nick moved toward the clerk who stood off to one side, Mr. Bartley turned back to the audience.

"Thank you all for attending tonight's auction announcement, we hope you have been entertained."

Suddenly, there was a cry from behind him.

"WHAT?! I PAID HOW MUCH?"

Time: Just after the auction
Place: The Convention Centre

Dawn peered out from behind a curtain and looked at the crowd in the convention centre. Everyone - *everyone* - was there. She hadn't realized that there were quite so many roleplaying Forever Knight fans running around Toronto.

She turned towards Lana, who was in consultation with Mr. Bartley about the timing of the announcement and the actual transfer of the merchandise. Mr. Bartley seemed to be very nervous about the whole thing. "I don't know how ethical this is."

"Ethical?" Lana turned towards Dawn with an innocent look on her face. She'd decided yesterday that if Dawn was convinced this was a role-playing game, then she might as well make use of it. "It's a game, Dawn. Just because we're selling something we 'found' during the war doesn't mean we've turned into Mercenaries. Think of it as donating to charity... Us." She waved her hand at the audience on the other side of the curtain. "They all know about it."

"I'm not so sure..." Dawn pointed to the Mercenaries strolling through the audience. "Of course, the very fact that I'm worried about ethics is a good sign that I'm not turning into a Mercenary."

Suddenly there was a commotion on the stage. A large group of people (dressed all in black) had burst in and shoved the auction personel out of the way. They seemed quite angry about something. The leader took over the microphone, while the others spread out to either side in a protective fashion.

The leader was a tall, athletic looking woman of middle-age. Her grizzled black hair was cut short and she possessed a commanding, almost hypnotic air.

The various factions on the convention floor weren't sure what to do. By this time they'd all heard about the Mysterious Strangers following people around Toronto, and who'd kidnapped Natalie. They'd never expected them to just boldly show up at the auction though.

The Leader took ahold of the mike. Her first words were not a hit. "I think you should all be ashamed of yourselves!" Her arms waved out to include the entire audience. Suddenly, her fingers pointed in the direction of LaCroix and Nick. "Vampires."

"Loathsome, bloodsucking, vicious leeches!" Her voice became deeper, and started to hold the tones of a fanatic. "They suck the very life our of humanity, and you are HELPING THEM!!!"

An ugly murmur had started through the crowd. Lana had already called security, but they were slow to arrive. The factions were generally a friendly bunch, despite their attacks on each other during the wars, but the leader of the VHA (Vampire Hunters Anonymous) was stirring them into a massive solidarity, despite that fact that no cessation of hostilites had been declared.

Dawn stood behind the curtain with a disgusted look on her face. This won't do. This won't do at all. She moved behind the curtain, carefully avoiding the three guards that the VHA had stationed behind the curtain. Once she was directly behind the mike, she crawled underneath the curtain and came out behind the Leader.

She slipped past the guards before they could grab her. Vampire Hunters, hah! If this is an example of their training then I doubt they've ever managed to stake one. Dawn came up beside the Leader, and looked up into her eyes.

Because of their positions, both the Leader's and Dawn's voices carried into the microphone. "YOU should be ashamed of yourself! Not us!"

The Leader gave Dawn a mean look and motioned for her guards to take her away.

Unfortunately, the convention security (supplemented by a few faction members) had surrounded them when Dawn had them distracted.

"This is not the end! We have members all over the world, and soon this loathsome infestation of vampires will the wiped off the face of the earth." Her eyes bored into Dawn's. "We will not be distracted from our holy quest."

Dawn's eyes became (faintly) compassionate. Only faintly because she was still annoyed. "This is a role playing game... None of these people are really vampires." She shook her head. "I don't know where you got your information, but you're sadly mistaken. All you've done is cause a lot of pain, worry and misery to people who were just looking to have a good time."

The Leader whipped out a cross. "I can prove they're vampires!"

"How?"

"I know their weaknesses." Her eyes grew shuttered.

"Very well... Here's your chance." Dawn looked around in the audience until she spotted Janette surrounded by a bunch of fashionably dressed women. She motioned for Janette to come forward. "Prove to me...and everyone else here that this woman is a vampire."

The Leader recognized the woman as the one called Janette. She pushed the cross forward protectively, and then sprayed holy water all over her. Janette just stood there with a bored expression on her face. "Anything else?"

The Leader had started to mutter curses underneath her breath. She reached into her black (why are you not surprised) knapsack and pulled out a string of garlic. She shoved it into Janette's face.

No reaction.

Janette picked up the string of garlic, and took a large sniff. "Not to my taste, but not even a nuisance."

Dawn started to tap her foot. "Do you have anything that could prove she's a vampire?"

The Leader just looked at them...and pulled out a gun.

Not even five seconds passed before she was overwhelmed by a horde of faction members. Knighties, cousins, natpackers, all were included in the pile.

Dawn waited until she had been uncovered again before speaking. "I think you're all suffering under a delusion." She came forward and tucked a business card into the Leader's shirt pocket. "That's the name of a good psychiatrist, maybe he can help you."

Dawn motioned majestically for the guards to cart them all away to the police, and then walked towards Janette.

She was brushing futilely at the holy water splotches on her new dress. Dawn came closer and took a good hard look (hours sitting in front of a computer terminal made everything beyond a one foot distance slightly blurry). Amy grinned at her. "Quick thinking on my part wasn't it?"

Time: Evening
Place: Toronto

What a convenient computer store--open so late at night. How nice of them to have a terminal linked to the Net, so that Jill could anonymously send off a note to Jamie. Oh, sure, the Illustrated One knew which faction was responsible for...enhancing her illustrations. But this particular Natpacker had no desire to be targeted as the individual responsible for it.

She felt guilty enough about the whole thing (although, after the extended-dance-mix salt tortures of Sharon, the guilt did tend to lessen).

Jill avoided the maniacally grinning salespeople and shoved aside a little boy who was trying to access the alt.sex newsgroup. Ignoring his frustrated screams, she went into the mail program and typed quickly (one of her few useful skills):

          To remove the new tattoo--try vanilla extract.
                    A Friend

She hung up and took off to join the rest of the Pack. Hopefully, Jamie checked her e-mail regularly, even in the midst of the War.

Time: Late night
Place: The Raven

The entire NatPack was clustered around the three tables they had commandeered and pulled together at the Raven. The tables were covered with the group's drinks. There were several beer bottles on the floor by Sharon's stool, and now she and G.T. were about halfway through a bottle of 25-year-old scotch.

"This stuff is *really* good," Sharon said appreciatively.

"Yeah. Just what you need after a hard war; something this smooth." G.T. smiled at her empty glass and then refilled it.

"This was a great war, wasn't it?" Jennie asked.

"Oh, it was fantastic," Leslie said, sipping her cranberry juice. Even if she didn't drink alcohol, she could certainly reduce the Raven's stock of fruit juices to make fru-fru drinks with.

"I think my favorite thing was getting Nick's place," Jill commented, picking up her glass.

"Of course it was; you're not going to hear about it for the rest of eternity!" Nat returned, pouring some of the scotch for herself after finishing the daiqueri she had ordered.

"Hey!" Kim said suddenly, her mind returning without warning to a moment from five days earlier, "you two never did tell me what anime was!" She looked expectantly from Sharon to Amy and back as she set down her Maximum Ice beer by Labatts and picked up a second one.

"What? Where did that come from?" Valerie asked over her Sex on the Beach.

"Sharon commented that Nat looks like anime come to life when we were looking for her," Amy explained.

"But what's anime?" Kim demanded.

"You said *what*?" Nat asked Sharon, raising her eyebrows till they disappeared beneath her bangs.

"Well, you *do*!" Sharon replied.

Jennie frowned at Natalie while sipping at her Bailey's Irish Cream, then began to laugh. "She's right. How *funny*!"

"But what *is* anime??" Kim asked, more loudly than the last time.

"Japanese animation." There were at least four NatPackers who all answered simultaneously, and Tara turned to look from all the way across the bar.

The entire NatPack broke up into giggles. No one could tell if they were just being the NatPack or if the attempt by all to deplete the alcohol supplies of the Raven to zero was actually having an effect on them. "I think my favorite moment was watching Nick try and deal with Amy," Sharon said, grinning evilly in Amy's direction. It seemed a particularly appropriate moment to bring it up, as Amy seemed to be coming close to matching the color of the red Janette dress with the gold at the shoulder straps she was still wearing.

"Don't remind me," Amy groaned, taking a long drink from the fruity concoction someone had insisted she try. It wasn't bad, but there was enough alcohol that she shuddered and grimaced at the taste.

"The cow blood face!" crowed Valerie and Jennie.

"Is it really that bad?" Amparo asked.

"No," Amy said. "It's actually quite good; it's just a little strange. Wanna try it?"

Amparo shrugged and took a sip. She also made a very close approximation of "the cow blood face."

"I don't know," Jennie said suddenly, "I think I'm actually rather fond of Nat managing to rescue herself. That was *great*."

"Yes!" Valerie whooped, applauding. "Brava!"

"Thank you, thank you," Nat said, joining in the silliness to make fake bows.

"I love that Nick is trying to insist that he *passed* the intelligence test," Amy said. "I mean, *anyone* could figure out how we got the carafe on the counter like that. And *anyone* could figure out the specifics of how to reverse the process. But *not* anyone could get the help and wait to be able to actually reverse the process without incident. And, of course, he tried to do it alone. That's *not* passing!"

"Well," Sharon said in her I'm-stating-the-obvious voice. "Nick being Nick--"

She was joined by almost the entire NatPack in concluding, "And all other things being equal...."

The Pack once again burst out laughing. Natalie nearly sprayed those across from her with 25 year old scotch, then nearly pulled the mouthful into her lungs. Across the room, Susan turned quickly another direction and tried to make herself inconspicuous.

"Well," Valerie commented. "He can believe he passed. If it makes him happy. We don't mind."

Janette stepped toward them regally. The Pack fell quiet and Janette said, "You may have a cheap imitation of me with you," she looked disdainfully at Amy, "but that does not give you license to do as you please. Control yourselves or I will be forced to restrict your alcohol or to ask you to leave."

Jennie slid off her chair and sat laughing quietly under the table.

"Oh, but this isn't alcohol!" Betsy protested.

"Well, actually, this *is* alcohol," G.T. raised her glass, then set it down. "It's very *good* alcohol, in fact." She contemplated the glass for a moment, then looked up again. "But it's not responsible for our behaviour. We're just like this naturally."

The NatPackers all nodded enthusiastically.

Janette just rolled her eyes and walked away.

Time: Late night
Place: Raven

Amparo and Betsy sat at a table in the Raven, sipping their drinks. Betsy adjusted her hat so that it covered as much of her hair as possible. "You'd think I would at least get an original prank," she grumbled. "Dyeing hair has already been done. Oh, well, it's been fun."

"Yeah...but I really have to get back to Ann Arbor. My professors have been lenient so far, but I wouldn't want to push my luck."

"I know what you mean. I have a lot of work to do."

The two regarded the rest of the crowd in the club. "You know," Amparo pointed out, "we should have driven up together like we did for the last war, since we're from the same place anyway. Then we wouldn't have to wait for our ride to leave. Do you know when they will be ready to go?"

"I don't know, Pod." Intent on her thoughts, she didn't notice the moment of blankness that overtook her companion. "I could ask, but I wouldn't want the others to feel that they had to leave on our account."

Pod's eyes narrowed and her lips twisted in a cold smile. "What's the matter?" she asked, her voice mocking. "Poor little NatPacker can't get home?"

"What? Pod, what's come over you?" Surely the effects of the drug hadn't lasted this long. She quickly scanned the other members of the Pack, all of whom appeared normal.

"Nothing." Pod stood up. "Luckily, I don't have your problem. I have Uncle to rely on."

Betsy watched incredulously as Pod sauntered off. To her surprise, the once-withdrawn girl snagged a Ravenette's purse as she went past, saying only, "Can I borrow this? Thanks." The Ravenette gaped, unsure whether to make a fuss or to let it go. By the time she had collected her thoughts sufficiently, Pod had vanished into the restroom.

She came out several minutes later, almost completely transformed. She had pinned her long hair into a complicated twist up on her head. The makeup from the borrowed purse made her seem at least three shades more pale. Her lips were the color of dried blood and she had accentuated her eyes with sweeping strokes of eyeshadow. She still wore the same typical NatPack outfit, but the way she walked made it look somehow...slinky.

She dropped the purse in front of its owner and headed directly for LaCroix. The vampire seemed to disregard her at first, but she refused to go away. Even a menacing growl only made her snuggle up next to him and run a finger down his chest.

Betsy edged closer, curious to hear the exchange between the two. At 5'2", Pod looked like a child beside LaCroix, but it didn't intimidate her in the least. "...In order to get home," she was saying as Betsy came within range. "You take care of your own."

"Ah, but you are one of the good Doctor Lambert's--friends, are you not?"

Pod chuckled. "Moi? Part of that spineless, unregulated, dull group? Please. Don't insult me."

Despite himself, the vampire appeared intrigued. Most 'Packers were fiercely loyal to their mortal leader, and none would be caught dead uttering such things. "And you insist you are a Cousin?"

"To the core." She blew him a kiss.

"What was your name again?"

"Pod."

"And you need transportation to where?"

"Ann Arbor, Michigan. It's within driving distance."

"Very well." He produced some folded bills. "A wish easily enough granted," he continued. "You Cousins are bothersome, but you do have your uses. Occasionally." He handed her the money.

She winked. "See you next War, Lucien."

He shuddered.

She spun on her heel, spotted Betsy, and started to approach her--probably to gloat. Halfway there, however, someone in the crowd jostled her, nearly knocking her over. "Oops! Sorry, Maria," the listmember apologized.

Maria shook her head, blinking in confusion. Then she straightened up, squaring her shoulders and raising her head high. She marched forward, grinning. "Betsy! I seem to have had incredible luck." She waved the money in the air. "There's enough here to hire a limo all the way to Ann Arbor. Would you like to come along?" Her face was as bright and eager as a puppy.

"Uh...yeah," Betsy said, left behind by the rapidly switching attitudes.

"Just let me say goodbye to Nick, and then we can swing by to pick up our things before we leave Toronto."

"Nick? What about Natalie?"

Maria paused in thought. "I suppose you're right. It would be impolite to leave without saying something--despite what Nick went through because of her."

First LaCroix, now Nick? Did someone slip something in her drink when neither of them were watching? Why bother, if the War was over? "Amparo, I don't know what's gotten into you, but--"

She stopped. Amparo's eyes had unfocused briefly. Her shoulders slumped and she tried to run her fingers through her hair, hesitating when she felt the pins that held the twist in place. "So, are you ready to go back to Nat's and pick up our stuff? I want to change back into my jeans and sweatshirt."

Betsy's head nearly spun at the abrupt shift in personality. This was the normal NatPacker Amparo that she had come to expect. What could be causing this problem--and when had it started? She wasn't sure she wanted to spend hours in a car with someone who was a NatPacker one minute and a Knightie or Cousin the next. It was almost as if she were with three different people...

Oh, no. No, it couldn't be--could it? Amparo hadn't received any kind of serious trauma, had she? At least, not that anyone knew about. Had she been unsupervised for any amount of time?

She tried to think back, going over past events. Everything seemed fine, although she couldn't speak for the period during which she had been under the influence. Now that she thought about it, though, she remembered Kim's story of finding Amparo passed out in Natalie's apartment. Amparo had been alone for who knew how long, with the door wide open. Anyone could have come in, done something horrible...

Connections began forming. During that time, two pranks had been played on the NatPack: the frozen frog legs, and the Tomorrow People episodes with the corresponding subliminal music they had eventually discovered. With Amparo in a drugged haze, who knew what havoc those songs had wreaked on her psyche?

This had to be stopped. She grabbed Amparo's arm and dragged her over to where Nick was standing. "Nick!" she called, interrupting his conversation. "Sorry, but this is important."

"What are you doing?" Amparo asked, puzzled.

"Trust me." Betsy turned back to Nick. "You've gotta do something. We can't leave her like this!"

"Like what? She looks fine to me."

"Now she does, but--just watch. Maria, how do you feel?"

The now anticipated change took place. Maria's spine stiffened and she beamed at the cop. "It's been great, Nick. I'm glad I was a Knightie for this War."

He winced. "I think I see what you mean."

"Can you help her? Amparo"--Betsy was careful to use the "safe" name--"also has a Cousin personality."

"That could be dangerous."

"Maybe if you hypnotize her, you can override the effects of the subliminal messages that made her this way."

"What way?" Amparo was totally perplexed by this point.

The other two ignored her. "Well, I can try," Nick said. "I've never done anything like this before."

"'There is no try,'" Betsy quoted under her breath.

Nick shrugged off the bizarre comment and stared Amparo in the eyes. "Listen carefully." Thump THUMP, thump THUMP. "You are Amparo. You are a NatPacker. Maria is a NatPacker..."

He paused. "Pod," Betsy whispered.

Thump THUMP, thump THUMP. "Pod is a NatPacker," he continued. "All three are the same person, one personality. You are whole."

He eased up, releasing her from the spell. "Did it work?" Betsy asked.

"Let's find out. Maria, what's your affiliation?"

She stared at him as though he had lost what little common sense he possessed. "I'm a NatPacker, of course," she said. "Always have been."

The other two sighed in relief. "Thanks, Nick. I owe you one. No--on second thought--*she* owes you one. Or three."

"What?" Amparo looked as lost as Vachon in a barber shop.

Betsy patted her on the shoulder. "Never mind. I'll explain on the way home."

The NatPackers placed a call for a stretch limo, then wandered around the Raven saying their goodbyes while they waited for it to arrive. Finally it came and they were off, on their way home after an unforgettable time, riding in complete luxury. Their limo had even come stocked with a picnic basket, so they weren't lacking for snacks.

Two hours into their drive, Betsy snapped her fingers. "Darn it! I was even talking to him, and I forgot to ask."

Amparo, who by this time had been filled in on her condition and its solution, couldn't figure out where this latest statement fit into the scheme of things. "What are you talking about?"

"My Christmas brick. I wanted it back."

Amparo rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you'll get it back next War."

"Next War," Betsy agreed.