For the last couple of days, an idea had been drifting around Jamie's mind, an evil little idea that was really quite unfair...actually, it wasn't at all unfair. Simply a...rectification of a wrong that had been done. Which by extension made it the right thing to do.
//Creative rationalization is a wonderful thing,// Jamie thought happily, and began to work.
After a few phone calls, some swift persuasion and outright bribery, and a good deal of explaining, she managed to set the gears of her plan into motion; finally, she sat back and took a long swig of cold cranberry juice from her baby bottle, satisfied with her plan.
Her only regret was that she wouldn't see the results first-hand...
And no one could really fault her for it, could they? No, they couldn't. It wasn't as if she'd falsified any information -- all she'd done was tell the truth, in certain ways and to certain people, in order to obtain the desired effect.
It was an elegant plan; she was sure Uncle would have approved, if she'd bothered to consult him about it first.
"Maairrh," said Elfy, and rubbed her head against Jamie's thigh to be petted; and she swept the cat up into her cradling arms and kissed her fuzzy little face, and waited to be informed of any changes.
Sharon was at the Toronto airport, moving through the terminal in the company of her fellow Natpackers, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Sharon Himmanen?" inquired a gruff voice.
"Yes?" she said reflexively.
"You're under arrest," came the startling response. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in."
"WHAT?" screeched the Natpacker, flabbergasted. "For what?!"
A hand reached into the pocket of her coat, drew out a cylindrical object. "Conspiracy, theft, and transporting stolen objects over international lines," said the voice ominously.
"But...but..." she moaned.
"Come clean, Ms. Himmanen," said the stern voice. "You stole this salt...didn't you?"
"But they didn't have any packets!" Sharon wailed.
"None of that. Come with us, please." And as the handcuffs were fastened around her wrists, she cast plaintive glances back at her fellow Natpackers, pleading for their assistance; but there was nothing any of them could do.
"The *(&#)#$ Burger King didn't have any salt packets!" could be heard faintly, as the officer dragged her away...
"I don't like this!"
"Shh!" Jill looked around nervously. "I don't like it either, but we don't have a choice."
Leslie shot her an exasperated look. "I want to get out of here."
"Well, we can't," said Jill shortly. "We're here, and we have a job to do."
"I know, but if we don't move soon my feet will be useless. I've cut off any semblance of circulation in them squished in this corner."
They were hiding in the end of a dimly lit hallway. Jill and Leslie checked their perfectly synchronized watches for the fifth time in as many minutes. Just a little while longer...
Suddenly, a door at the other end of the hallway flew open. A tall, long-haired man, dressed entirely in leather and looking vaguely like a better-built Steven Tyler (though a little less lippy), stumbled out. He made his way to the elevator carefully, hanging onto the walls as he went. When the elevator door opened, he toppled into it with a muffled "Oooomph!" and a string of curse words appropriate only for Darkangel's Adult list.
Jill waited a beat after the elevator door closed. "I think we're all clear," she said, stepping out of the shadows. "Leather Boy should have left the door unlocked."
Leslie stopped, putting her hands on her hips. "Now, that's not a very politically correct statement, is it?"
"No, it isn't. Who said I have to be politically correct?"
"Well, it doesn't hurt, does it? 'Boy' could be considered derogatory."
"Oh, please. He had tight leather pants on, and you're saying that boy is derogatory?" Things were about to descend into a catfight when they realized that a catfight was impossible for several reasons. One, this was not an episode of Forever Knight. B, neither was wearing lingerie (at least not visibly). And III, both felt very strongly that catfights were exploitative of women and just not that much fun to watch.
Besides - they liked each other too much to descend into ratings-grabbing behavior. Especially when this wasn't a sweeps period.
Giving up on the PC battle, they tiptoed down the hallway towards the door the leather man had just exited. Jill turned the doorknob quietly. "Great--it's open."
They slipped inside. Leslie pulled out a sketch from her pocket, peering at it in the dim light. "The living room is to the left."
They turned and, walking into the spacious living room, beheld their first victim.
Jamie Melody Randell, sound asleep on the sofa, face down.
Leslie started to giggle. "Actually, this is kind of fun," she said. "Poetic justice."
Jill walked over to the sofa and set her backpack down on the floor. "I do feel kind of bad. She always says such nice things about my fiction. Plus, she's almost Natpack. And we had to go to so much trouble getting this guy over here last night, while she was already starting work on the War... I wonder if she's done anything..."
"But she isn't Natpack," Leslie reminded her. "She's a Cousin, with Natpack tendencies. In a crunch, she's going to obey Uncle without a second thought. Blind obedience, you know. We gotta do what we gotta do."
"I suppose you're right. She's a Cousin, first and foremost." Jill knelt down and began taking items out of her pack. "At least she isn't one of those multi-factioned people. They give me headaches. Can't they pick one and stick with it? Or just admit they're Die-Hards?"
Leslie was looking critically at Jamie like an artist looking at a new canvas. She ignored Jill's multi-factionalism rant; she'd heard it before. Many times. "We don't have a lot of location choices."
"I know. She's got almost every inch of skin covered."
Leslie touched Jamie's shoulder experimentally. Jamie didn't move. "What did you put in that Vampire red wine you sent her? She's totally out."
Jill grinned. "Halcion. It's a wonderful thing. Non-addictive, no lasting aftereffects, and by the time she wakes up we'll be long gone. I just had to warn long-haired boy - er, man - not to drink too much of the wine."
"Good thing you know about Jamie's weakness for heavy-metal dudes."
"Yes - it's good for us, anyway." They set up their equipment carefully. "I'm glad you're artistic, Leslie, 'cause I'm certainly not."
"Well, it's a simple design." Leslie carefully dipped a brush in the ink, then paused and looked at Jill. "This is semi-permanent, isn't it?"
"Of course!" Jill looked offended that Leslie would even ask such a question. "I'm Natpack - I wouldn't stick her with this forever. We just want to warn the Cousins, after all. Of course, I'm the only person that has the formula to the solution that will get the ink off her..."
Leslie shook her head and started working. "You have truly evil ideas, Jill."
"It's a gift," said Jill, holding the ink bottle up so that Leslie could reach it easily. "Hurry up - I saw a really cool store around the corner that had tons of earrings. I think they had shoes, too. Maybe they open early."
"Don't forget - we have one more job to do today." Leslie caught Jill's crestfallen look.
"Oh, come on, just a peek." Jill said hopefully.
"OK, but we have to make it quick. Eventually, the rest of the Natpack will worry when we don't show up in Toronto."
The two were done and out of the apartment in a very short time.
Behind them, they left the a picture of the Natmare, artistically surrounded by Q-tips, sitting in the middle of Jamie's computer keyboard.
And a large (semi-permanent) blood-red tattoo across Jamie's back that read "Nick Rules!"
After Jill's rather expensive stop in NYC for earrings, she and Leslie finally managed to get to the small, private airport and make the flight to MD, the next stop on the Natmare tour.
"Hurry up. I don't want anyone to see us." Jill looked around nervously.
"I'm doing the best I can. I can't seem to find the right key."
"Here, let me try." Jill grabbed the rather heavy set of keys Leslie had been fumbling with for the last minute and a half. "Jeez. There are enough keys on this thing, Leslie. Where did you get them?"
"When Laura went out of town, she left her keys with a housesitter. I convinced the housesitter to give them to me."
"How'd you manage that? I thought she was staying with her mom this week."
"She was. It's a long story."
"I got it!" Jill squealed, clicking open the door lock.
"OK, let's go inside." Leslie started through the door.
"Wait a minute, Leslie. Aren't you forgetting something?"
"What?"
"The bag." She waved one hand at the duffle sitting on the stoop.
"Oh." Picking up the bag, Leslie followed Jill into Cousin Laura's darkened apartment.
There was a loud crunch. "Ouch."
"Are you OK, Jill?"
"Yeah, we just need to find a light switch."
Leslie fumbled along the nearest wall until she found the nearest light switch. She flipped the switch, and the soft glow of a small table lamp filled the room. "There we go."
"Great, let's get started. We have a lot of relabelling to do. Let's find her video collection."
We couldn't help but giggle - just a little - as we walked up the stairs to the second floor and the room with the goodies. A large, gold-framed oil portrait of Uncle (in his post-Q-Tip days) hung over the couch. "Nice decor," said Jill wryly.
"At least there aren't candles burning underneath it," Leslie said with a grin.
It took them only a few minutes to find the instruments of torture. The Video collection. "Wow! I knew she had a lot of videos, but I had no idea how many! And I thought I was bad. Where do you want to start, Jill?"
"Hey, this was your idea." Jill, fascinated, was checking out the video boxes. "Look! She has every episode of My Mother, the Car!"
Leslie ignored her. "Let's start with the obvious. All the FK tapes." Pulling pens and labels out of the duffle bag, she handed them to Jill. Then she entrenched herself on the floor and began to help her relabel the entire Waskey collection of videos.
"Now, how should I relabel these?" asked Jill, frowning.
"Just use your imagination. I think we should use musicals and adult titles."
"We should start with Chess!"
"And then follow it with various Sex Kitten Adventures?" Leslie smiled wickedly.
"And of course, The Sound of Music..." said Jill.
"Oh, please, Jill - don't start singing or anything... I've had enough of 'My Favorite Things' to last me Nick's lifetime."
"Hey, I got an idea," Jill said quickly. "Let's make a really obnoxious 'Kick Me' sign and tape it to the Q-Tip over there."
"Now that's really wicked, Jill. Remind me not to cross you." Leslie smiled.
"Hey, I haven't heard of this show." Jill held out a series of tapes.
"Cool! Those are insurance?" Leslie lit up like a Christmas tree. "She would do just about anything to get these back. Let's take them with us."
"OK." Jill stuffed the Moon Over Miami tapes into the duffle.
It took a couple of hours, but they finished relabelling and reorganizing all of Laura's videos before dawn. As they headed to the door, Jill placed the "Kick Me,' signed with a Natmare, on the picture. Strike two.
"I can't do this," Nat whispered.
"Yes, you can," Sharon hissed, pulling the elevator door closed. "You have to."
"But it's lying," Nat hissed back.
"And he hasn't done his share!?!!" Sharon demanded.
Jill shot a glare at Sharon. "Just think of it this way: you want him to worry, to be on his guard. If you tell him you know all about what's going on, he'll relax--"
"And assume that you'll take care of it all for him!" Sharon interjected.
Jill glared at Sharon again, but Natalie had begun to look thoughtful. "Anyway," Jill persuaded, "you don't have to lie...just choose your words carefully. And remember, you don't know where Sydney is. I don't know where Sydney is. I'm just glad he's out of the apartment; Jennie and Leslie and I are breathing much more easily with the allergens reduced after that cleaning spree Amy led Elaine on."
The elevator stopped and the door opened. Sharon grinned at the finger-painted brick still on the door then followed Natalie, who was looking more and more nervous by the second.
"Nat?" Nick looked up from what looked like a Knightie pow-wow in the middle of the main room.
"Nick, do you know what's going on?" Nat asked, glancing quickly at Jill and Sharon. Jill looked at her sternly and Nat turned back to Nick. Several of the Knighties had stood up and moved closer to Nick, listening with apparent interest.
"I have no idea. Everyone here has their own theory, but we don't know anything for sure, except that there's strange stuff happening everywhere. You should see my car."
Nat cringed. "I have no idea where Sydney is. I got home and he wasn't there, but where his food dishes used to be, I found this. Nat held out her hand and Nick took the item to inspect it more closely.
It was a little plastic box, coffin-shaped, and when he opened it, he laughed out loud at the skeleton-shaped candy inside. One of the Knighties took it from him and they began to pass it around until the whole room was full of soft giggles. Sharon rolled her eyes and edged toward the kitchen.
Nick got the coffin back and handed it to Natalie. "With all of us it was bricks. There were bricks everywhere."
"Yeah," Jill interjected. "We saw the one by the elevator."
There was a murmuring amongst the Knighties and one, who apparently had been assigned to clean up the brick evidence, was swatted on the arm by several other faction members.
Natalie had begun to fidget and was looking steadfastly at the floor.
"Nat," Nick said, gently touching her arm. "I'm sure Sydney is fine. These kind of pranks never involve any real harm; when the fun is over, he'll be returned, probably spoiled rotten."
Nat smiled weakly. "Yeah. You're probably right. I just stopped by to, um, see what you knew. I'd, um, better head back to work."
Nick frowned. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm, um, fine. I'd just better get back to the office." Nat smiled again briefly, then skittered toward the door. Jill and Sharon moved to join her.
"Let me know if you hear anything?" she asked, turning back to the assembled group again.
"Of course." Nick still looked quite worried, but didn't try to stop them from leaving.
Several minutes later, when they had closed the car doors and begun to move, Sharon began laughing.
Jill turned and looked at her like she was nuts.
"He failed!" Sharon declared triumphantly.
"What?" Nat asked distractedly, still clearly worried about having basically lied to Nick and the assembled Knighties.
"The Intelligence Test--he failed! He cleaned most of the mess up, but there's still a little dried blood he missed on the edge of that section of counter." Sharon's grin was almost silly it was so broad.
"Yessss!" Jill crowed. Then she looked at Sharon. "We are a little scary, huh?"
"I'd say 'a little' would be understating it slightly," Nat commented wryly, heading the car back for her apartment.
"Having fun?" Jamie inquired casually, leaning against the wall.
Sharon was sitting morosely on the bench in her cell; she glared up at the visiting Cousin. "They took my shoelaces," she spat.
"Well, they wouldn't want you to commit suicide or anything. After all, theft of salt is a very serious charge." And Jamie didn't even try to hide her smirk.
The Natpacker's eyes narrowed. "Why?" she wanted to know.
"It was there," said Jamie simply, and grinned. "Are you hungry, as if I didn't already know? 'Cause I brought you something from Burger King. With plenty of salt."
"There is never enough salt," Sharon said savagely, reached through the bars and snatched the takeout bag.
While she was rummaging through the paper sack, Jamie produced another object from her bag. "I did feel kinda bad about the inconvenience," she said, not sounding at all repentant, "even though, y'know, since you were already in Toronto and such, I know you HAD to have had something to do with this whole mess, but let's not discuss that now... anyway, I didn't want you to get caught short, without communications, so I brought you this," and she slid the item through the bars.
Sharon took it warily. Perfectly normal-looking in every way (although that was of course no indication of anything), just your standard, everyday laptop computer...
"I have no illusions that you'll be here for long," Jamie offered, unperturbed. "The charges are true, so that'll take you and your cohorts at least a little while to work out, but I know better than to think it'll stop you for long... I just figure, while you're here, there's no reason for you to be bored, right?" She shrugged. "I loaded up some games for you, and there's a wireless satellite modem attached so's you can get your e-mail."
"Why?" Sharon said curiously, daring to power up the machine... it didn't sing any songs at her, or display any bizarre graphics, or explode, and she let out a long-held breath.
Another shrug. "It was there," said Cousin Jamie. "Anyway, until we meet again..." and she turned to go.
"I'd be very worried about that time, if I were you," Sharon said quietly, to her retreating back.
Jamie just laughed, and departed.
Alone in her cell, Sharon tore open another packet of salt and sprinkled it on her food, and keyed in via long-distance to her internet server. The machine logged on obediently, giving no sign of trouble, and gradually she began to relax. Jamie might be a Cousin, but maybe, just maybe, she wasn't all that bad...
As her connection was established, the start-up screen brought up Netscape, and began loading a web page... Sharon watched in fascination, for the i.d. at the top was her own, /~romana/, and that was impossible, because she didn't have a web page on that server yet...
And then she groaned, as the graphics began to load.
Chimps. Monkeys. Primates. Which wouldn't have been at all bad, except for the fact that they were all (deliberately, it seemed) mislabeled by category and species...which was as grating as fingernails screeching against a blackboard.
And right in the center of the layout, a huge plastic saltshaker...
She was just about to break into a tirade of creative obscenities when she noticed the little block of text underneath the graphics. "Now that I've got your attention," it began.
Sharon read it, scrolled down and read some more, and very gradually started to smile...
Oh, great!
Well, actually it was something else but PG-13 holds sway. The war had started and I was still listed as a Natpacker with Cousinly tendancies. I'd found a bottle of half and half by my door this morning. Confused but relieved since I'd also run out of milk I came to school and checked out my e-mail. The list was full of confused people who had received all sorts of related gifts. The connection with the half and half seemed to be with those who were affiliated with more than one person.
But I've changed my mind!
But you didn't tell anyone.
You still didn't tell anyone.
So?
Nice try.
I let out a heartfelt sigh.
Well, I'll figure this out tomorrow. Meanwhile, it's getting late and I have to go rescue Angus from hunger, boredom, whatever is knawing at him the most.
Leaving the computer lab I realized just how cold and dark it was getting this time of year.
<WOOSH>
Uh oh.
"Ms. Low, I believe we need to talk."
"Yes. Right. You must be M. LaCroix."
"Lacroix. Or Uncle"
"Sure, whatever you say."
OK, Kim, think! How are you going to get yourself out of this one?
"Uh, would you mind if we kept walking? This snow and cold came on pretty quickly here and I'd rather keep moving."
"Certainly. I wish to discuss your affiliation. You are listed as a Natpacker with Cousinly tendancies. How strong are those tendancies?"
"Well, it would depend on who you asked."
The place I was looking for was still a couple of blocks away. I had to start stalling. The question was: How does one stall a vampire?
"Why did you come all the way out here just to speak to me?"
"You are changing the subject but I'll humor you this one time. You are relatively unknown, anything you've sent to the list so far has had to do with non-FK sightings or side-issue facts. You are also listed as a Natpacker and I've beun to have certain suspicions regarding their behavior during this war. I need a spy and you would make an admirable one."
We'd reached the peach house. The front fence was coming up very soon. Time to make my exit.
"Well, I appreciate the offer but I'm going to have to turn it down. I'm a complete Natpacker, sorry."
"Do you realize how dangerous it is to cross me?"
"Well, yes. That's why I'm going to hide out on the other side of this fence."
LaCroix might be ancient and strong but even he was no match for this piece of handiwork. White chain-link with a peach, wooden rail, every second panel was decorated with an unornamented, peach cross.
"And how long do you think you can hide out there?"
"Oh, long enough. It's only -5C and its not as if there was a windchill. My parents are from Manitoba, I'm from Nova Scotia. I've inherited quite the ability to withstand weather."
I guess he had better things to do because he took off. I waited a half an hour just in case and ran the rest of the way back to the University. Back in the computer lab I composed a note to the Natpack.
Hi! I'm a full Natpacker who was listed as having Cousinly leanings. I just got a visit from LaCroix who made a proposition which I turned down. I'd feel a great deal safer in Toronto if you'd have me.
Bye
Kimberley (Natpacker)
$lowkd@mail.BrandonU.ca
Then I searched out my roommate in the Music building (I must have been scared to go there! :) ) and stuck close the entire way home. All I could do was wait for a reply and see about finding a way to Toronto.
"I suppose you're all wondering why I called you here tonight," Perri started out predictably enough.
"All I'm wondering is when we can dig into that food, and whether Nick's going to smell the garlic on our breath," Amy Denton said.
Perri aimed a glare at her cohort. "Can you keep your mind off your stomach for five minutes, Amy?"
"Maybe. No guarantees. Anyone else feel like we're in a Scorcesi movie?"
Perri sighed heavily. The others present concealed smiles of amusement and scowls of hunger. The Happy Souvlaki Deli did actually resemble any number of gangster movies, right down to the eight serious faces sitting around a table in the back corner. The store was closed for the night; the only lights came from the kitchen and their corner.
"If you two are finished...." Jennie Hayes prompted.
"We're finished," Perri and Amy said simultaneously. "Anyway," Perri tried to continue, daring Amy to cut in again, "I asked you all to come here because, quite frankly, I'm getting tired of the Cousins and the Ravenettes pulling their 'divide and conquer' routine every war - and, even worse, our factions pulling it for them."
"Hey," Torrey objected from one corner, shaking her long reddish hair out of her face as she looked away from the kitchen. The smell of souvlaki was becoming irresistable even to non-FoDs. "The Vaqueros weren't even in on the last wars."
"Neither was the Nick&Natpack," Christine Hunt added.
"Some parties excluded," Perri amended. "But the Knighties, the FoDs and the Natpack have been working at cross-purposes for way too long. I'd like to propose an alliance for the duration of this war. And judging by how thoroughly all of us..." she paused for second,t rying to nail down a thought, then went on, "have been attacked, this is indeed a war."
"What's this alliance going to consist of?" Pam Rush asked, poking her head from the kitchen. Delicious smells trailed out from behind the FoD. Sher came out behind her with a pitcher of something that Perri fervently hoped was alcoholic. Pam hadn't seemed nearly as upset about the plastic food as she should have, and everyone else was pleased with the chocolate.
In the general chorus of "Ummmmmm"s and moans of hunger, Perri lost her train of thought again. "Um, you have to feed everyone. No, wait." She tracked the thought down and got back to the subject. "Mostly it's watching each other's backs and keeping each other informed of what's going on. If the Knighties find out the Cousins or a merc are going after the NatPack, we warn y'all and vice versa. If the Ravenette's attack the FoD's, they can ask for help in retaliation from the Vaqueros and the Nick&Natpack. The important thing is that we stay in communication, so that the Cousins et al can't play us off against each other."
"I can't believe you said et al."
"Pipe down, Amy."
"Sounds good," Christine Hawkins said, ignoring the bickering Knighties as she followed her fellow FoD out of the kitchen, bringing on another wave of moans. She shoved her glasses up with one hand and juggled a tray with the other. "But are you going to expect us to follow Knightie rules?"
"Dream on," Torrey muttered.
"What, you mean no attacks, only retaliation?" Perri shrugged, ignoring Torrey. "Not hardly. All bets are off, for y'all anyway. In fact, I'm pretty sure an attack on our allies is going to be construed as an attack on the Knighties -- I suspect many of our members will be quite happy to help y'all retaliate."
"You included?" Jennie asked with a knowing smile. Perri shrugged again, not quite hiding a grin of her own. Sometimes, Jennie knows me too well. What a smug smile.... she thought. "Thought so. And when we're not in the middle of attacking and being attacked, we can share information and try to actually solve this mystery we've been handed, and find out what's behind the attacks," Jennie added pointedly, with another smug smile.
Perri winced. "Yeah, that too. Trust the Natpack to stick to business."
Jennie didn't comment on that.
"So, who's in?" Amy asked the table at large.
The FoD's held a hasty discussion, then Pam answered, "We're in."
Torrey shrugged. "The Vaqueros are in; I bet the RatPack will be, too."
Perri smiled wickedly. "And isn't it going to be fun explaining to Vachon about the factions."
Torrey returned the grin. "I can't wait."
"I'll have to confirm with the rest of the NatPack, but I'm pretty sure we're in," Jennie said, still smiling.
"If there was any doubt, the Nick&NatPack is in," Christine Hunt finished the roll call. "Someone sent us hearts!"
"All right!" Amy said enthusiastically. "Can we eat now?"
Perri immediately lunged for her lieutenant's throat; Amy was laughing too hard to duck. Jennie caught Perri before she made it across the table and further hostilities ceased as the FoD's ducked back into the kitchen and returned with huge trays of food. The newly-allied faction leaders jumped in, barely remembering things like silverware and napkins.
"Waitaminute!" Jennie said before anyone got food to their mouths. "I can't stand this!"
Almost anyone. "What?" Perri asked through a mouthful of souvlaki, having barely beaten Amy to the tray. Her glass was already full of something she was delighted to discover was indeed alcoholic.
"And you had the nerve to complain about my appetite," Amy muttered.
Again, the Knighties got ignored. Jennie held up her glass. "We can't eat without a toast -- to those no longer with us."
Amy nodded and raised her glass. "To Captain Cohen."
"To Cohen," the others echoed, the glasses tinkling.
Christine Hawkins, dressed entirely in black for mourning, raised her glass next. "To Don Schanke. Rest in Peace, Donnie." Her voice almost broke.
"To Schank," came the echo, accompanied by various sniffs and a few cleared throats.
As the glasses chimed this time, the lights flickered, leaving the room in darkness for a moment before coming back on.
"Whoa," Torrey said. "Weather must be getting bad again."
"Yeah," Christine Hunt echoed uneasily. "Must be."
Christine Hawkins started to speak, stopped, then started again. "Does anyone smell...cologne?"
"Um, yeah," Perri said reluctantly. "The guy who used this booth last must have bathed in it."
"It smells like...Schanke's," Pam said.
"Can't be," Jennie said automatically.
"Can it?" Roni asked.
The eight leaders exchanged looks. "Guys..." Jennie started, "Whatever you're thinking, it's impossible."
"Is it?" Pam asked, starting to look excited. "Maybe it's not impossible. Maybe it's...maybe it's Schanke!"
"There's one way of finding out," Christine Hawkins said. She reached down and started rummaging in the capacious blue bag at her feet. "I know I've got it somewhere." Christine began to pile a strange assortment of books on the table - Vampires, Burial and Death, the latest Patricia Cornwell, a book simply titled Grunge, Recipes for Crime and How to Get a Date With a Vampire. As each book was added to the pile in turn Christine saw the Knighties, Natpackers, Vaqueros and Nick&Natpackers exchanged meaningful glances amongst themselves.
"Research," she explained succintly. "Besides, I had to read something on that long flight over the Pacific!" She retrieved one final item. "Here it is!"
It was a book with the title: Why Not Hold a Seance?
Christine grinned as she waved the book in triumph. "Well, why not?"
Pam murrmurred softly in her best Dr. Watson voice, "By jove, I think she's got it!"
Just then the lights went down again and the smell of cologne returned, stronger than before. "And I think Don approves too!"
"Oh, come on," Torrey muttered skeptically.
"Well what have we got to lose?"
There was a general murmur of agreement around the table. "It's got one thing going for it," Jennie added practically. "With something supernatural like a ghost on our side we'll have an edge over the Ravenettes and the Cousins."
Perri glared at her. "Have you forgotten that we have a vampire on our side?"
"Two vampires," Torrey added. Pam stared down into her glass and mumbled something that sounded like "bricks." Three Knighties and a Vaquero glared at her viciously. A first class brawl seemed about to errupt when Christine Hunt intervened.
"Ahem!" she exclaimed. "Isn't this supposed to be an alliance?" Then when things had quietened down she smiled. "That's better. Now to the business at hand. As the only Nick&NatPacker present I vote 'yes' to the seance."
"Me too!" Roni Power seconded enthusiasticly. "Speaking as a Knightie with FoDly tendancies," she added with a grin.
"Let's have a show of hands," suggested Christine Hawkins. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," she counted. "Torrey? What about you?"
"Oh, I think it's a stupid idea, but I'll go along with it if everyone else does," she grumbled. "Count me in. Eight."
"Well," said Amy looking at the remains of dinner. "We'd better clear this away. Dessert afterwards?"
"No, no!" Christine objected as Amy reached for a plate. "Leave the souvlaki. It can be our burnt offering!"
Pam looked long and hard at her fellow A-negative FoD. "Burnt offerings?? The Happy Souvlaki Deli never serves burnt food!"
"For the dead," said Christine, who had studied anthropology before realising she needed a real job and becoming a librarian. "They, uh, eat the smell."
Amy replaced the souvlaki ceremoniously at the centre of the table. The rest of the gathering began clearing their plates and glasses as Christine consulted Why Not Hold a Seance? "It says here we have to turn off all the lights and hold hands around the table."
"Umph!" said Torrey cynically.
"To focus the energies," Christine explained. "Then we all fall into a trance and wait for the ghost to speak through the medium - lights anyone?"
There was some shuffling and a few giggles as everyone settled down.
"It's getting cold again," said Roni after a few minutes.
"Ssshhh!" came half a dozen voices. "Ouch!" "Stop doing that!" "Who's doing that?" "Not me." "Nor me." "Well, it isn't me!" And then a gasp: "Oh, my God!"
The souvlaki plate had levitated half an inch off the table and was glowing in an eerie phosphorent light. It began rotating, faster and faster, until it was spinning like an out-of-control top. The table lifted off the floor and fell with a thump.
"Oh, great," said Perri sarcastically. "We're being attacked by killer souvlaki!"
The FoDs had dropped the hands of the people next to them and had risen from their chairs. They were staring, mouths agape, at a clear space on the Happy Souvlaki Deli floor.
"I thought I saw something - " Jennie gasped. "What is it?"
"I - I don't know," said Perri hesitantly. "There's some sort of foggy thing--"
"About the size of a man," Amy added.
"What? I don't see anything," said Torrey firmly. "This is the silliest--"
But the FoDs had broad, happy grins on their faces. Indeed, Christine Hawkins was dancing on the spot with joy. "Can't you see?" she demanded excitedly.
Pam Rush beamed and held out her arms to the empty air. "Welcome back, Donny!" she cried.
"What a day!" said Leslie, trudging up the stairs to Natalie's apartment. "I'm exhausted."
"You and me both." Jill tried to push the backpack further up on her shoulder, but failed miserably. She contented herself with dragging it along behind her. "I need a pop. Or a G&T."
"It was worth it, though," said Leslie. "We were able to warn Jamie and Laura. Very productive. And dropping Laura's Moon Over Miami tapes off in a safe place was a smart bit of insurance, don't you think?"
"Uh-huh." Jill was uncharacteristically quiet. "I still feel bad about Jamie, though. Halcion is one of the safest sleepers around, but I still didn't like having to use it. Nat would never approve."
"No, she wouldn't. But since Halcion only interacts with other sleepers and the odd antidepressant, you should be okay. You were careful. You checked, Jill. Don't worry too much."
Jill brightened. "I only hope she didn't drink much alcohol or else she might not remember meeting heavy-metal man, and realize she should be grateful to us. Who knows - they could get together again after this is all done. And now, maybe she'll figure out what's going on and help us do something about it. Jamie's pretty sharp."
They opened the door to Nat's apartment and were faced with the glummest bunch of Natpackers since Natalie gushed over Alix Logan like a twelve-year-old. Leslie threw her bags down, worried. "What's wrong?"
Amparo could barely bring herself to look at them. "Sharon's in jail."
"In jail?" Jill tossed her stuff down by Leslie's and flopped onto the floor, stunned. "Sharon? Sharon Himmanen? What in the world..."
"Apparently, she stole a salt shaker." Amy looked like she couldn't believe it either.
"SALT? They arrested Sharon because of salt?" Leslie almost laughed, then caught herself. "You're kidding, right?"
Amy sighed. She was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a quilt and clutching a Natmare. "No. We're not kidding. Everything's been going so well, and now she's stuck in jail."
Jill sneezed violently. "We can't get her out?" she asked, digging a Kleenex out of her pocket.
"Not until tomorrow morning," said Jennie, who was by the telephone. "We've got the money; they just need to set bail." She was about to pick up the receiver, then looked back at Leslie. "Well, how did your day go?"
"It went fine," said Leslie. "We warned Cousins Jamie and Laura. They won't be happy, but at least they're warned."
"Great," said Jennie, satisfied. "I love it when a plan comes together. Well, except for the Sharon thing, of course. And Di Sidduth's car..."
Jill looked around. "Speaking of cars exploding, where's Nat?"
"At work, and Selma's out taking care of something."
"So what do we do now?" asked Leslie, handing Jill a Diet Coke and flopping down in an available chair.
"Well," said Amy, "we wait."
Selma fondly picked up the carrier. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you," she said to the feline occupant within.
Sidney made discontented noises. Selma lifted the carrier to smile at him. "I know you're not used to this carrier, but my cats do okay with theirs, and they're not fond of them either."
She hauled the carrier, with protesting cat, out to the taxi. The taxi driver looked curiously at her, but she just smiled.
When she had found one of the few motels in Toronto that accomodated cats, she'd paid enough rental to stay a week. She had enough money, thanks to the DeBrabant Foundation, and it was a nice little room for a woman and a cat. She had a litterbox, Nat had told her about Sidney's favourite catfood, and she had even brought a few toys and a scratching pad. "Never thought that learning to show a cat would have its advantages," she muttered.
She picked up the phone to call one of her first two people. "Jennie? Oh, hi. No, It's been a long day. I just wanted to tell you that I put LaCroix's fish in a safe place. Spike, his name was I think? Okay. I'm going to hang around here a while, get Sidney comfy, you tell Nat that he's officially 'catnapped.' See you later. Bye."
The second call, she hated to make, but she had. "Oh, Vince? Yes, I'm fine. No, I haven't hooked up with anyone else. No, I'm not ready to join you yet," she said in annoyance. Sidney meowed as she petted him. "Oh, I'm petsitting. A cat. Male, long-haired white, remember Cody from next door? No, Cody doesn't like me either. I'm not taking care of Cody. This is another cat that looks like him. Name's Gallifrey. And next week, I've got Methos. No, he's not the smoke Persian that lives a few blocks away. He's white too. Kind of like Cordelia in shape. Well, I'm sorry if Cordelia won't come out for you, she doesn't come out for anybody. But, enough of the cat talk, I just wanted to warn you that that vampire that I asked you to distract is reportedly in a very bad mood and mumbling about clumsy vampires. And I think she mentioned you. Better clear out of the area. Okay, I might see you later, too."
She hung up the phone and lay down on the bed. She sighed. "Peace and Quiet."
If only for a while.