The limo slid effortlessly through the evening traffic. The occupants of the car, however, were less calm.
"Are you sure that you know how to get there?" Alora asked, slightly worried. She fiddled with the car front panels absently, turning down the volume of Kelly's tape (not that Jim Byrnes' voice wasn't lovely, but still...), changing the air conditioner setting, and finally settling upon the cigarette lighter which glowed cheerfully at her.
"You aren't going to smoke in here," Kelly said, turning the volume back up. Her navigation always improved with a little driving distraction. "Besides, I thought that Jill knew where we were going." It wasn't that she particularly enjoyed driving this huge hunk of metal, but Sharon had her car, and they had all that money, so it seemed logical at the time to rent a limo. Besides, the driver got first choice of music.
Lounging in the backseat with Amparo and Mei, Jill sighed. "It's not much further," she said, plucking a non-existent piece of lint from her black silk shirt. "Oh, these clothes are so hard to keep clean."
"I'd settle for any clothes," Mei grumbled. All this money, and the only thing that she had to wear was a silver airline peanut bag. And a cellular phone. Maybe if she draped the cord of the phone suggestively...
"I think that we're going to be late," Alora continued, cutting off the conversation before it could digress any further. She definitely did not want to talk about clothes.
"Do you think that Nick will be there?" Pod asked suddenly. Jill shot her a curious glance at the almost...longing tone in her voice.
"In spirit, if not physically, I'm sure," Kelly said evenly, grinding her teeth a little.
"Oh, I hope that he is," Amparo continued. "I've got this tape I made of his voice from various episodes...you don't mind if I put it in, do you?" She lunged for the tape deck and popped the cassette of Jim Byrnes out, but Kelly, one hand still on the steering wheel, grabbed her arm with the other in a death grip.
"You are not putting a tape of Nick Knight babbling on in my car!" she exclaimed.
"It's not your car!" Amparo retorted, snatching her arm away from the rabid NatPacker. "We all paid for it."
"Well, I don't--"
"Shhhh..." Alora commanded, suddenly turning the volume on the radio up.
"...the car, an Autumn-Wine (tm) Chevy Cavalier with US license plates appears to be in pursuit of another vehicle. They've been disrupting traffic all along the main thoroughfares, but city officials are gaining quickly. We'll have more news for you as the story progresses..."
"Sharon!" they shouted.
"My car!" Kelly moaned.
"We've got to find her!" Alora cried.
"Wait! Wait! Stop! There!" screamed Mei.
"What is it? Is it Sharon?" asked Kelly, swiveling around to look at the other occupants.
"The road! Kelly watch the road!" Jill sputtered, gripping the driver's shoulder painfully hard.
With cat-like reflexes--okay, fear-driven reflexes--Kelly spun back around to see the limo about to barrel into a sixteen wheeler. With a sharp jerk of the wheel, she managed to maneouver the limo back into its lane. "Male, Canadian drivers," she muttered under her breath.
The passengers in the back slowly picked themselves up from the floor where they had been thrown by Kelly's creative driving.
"Now, Mei," began Kelly in an irritatingly calm voice, "what did you see? Sharon?"
"No," Mei answered excitedly, an unholy gleam in her eyes. "A mall."
"We nearly got killed because you saw A MALL?!" screamed an incredulous Alora.
"Hey!" Mei said, defending herself. "You try taking a simple flight from Washington, DC, to Toronto--which happened to be delayed two hours but they don't bother to tell you so they leave you sitting on the runway. Then when you finally take off, you get re-routed to Omaha. Then they stick you on a flight to Baton Rouge with a connecting flight to Dallas from there to New York and fifteen hours later you wind up in Toronto. Wearing the same clothes I might add. You would get excited about a mall too."
"We're going to be late to the exhibit," Alora muttered.
"I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL I GET SOME CLOTHES!" Mei said, deadly calm.
With a far-away look in her eyes, Amparo patted Mei on the shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry. They can drop us off, and we'll meet up with them later. We need to shop."
"I can't wear that!" Mei squeaked.
She was staring at the black leather dress that was slit up the sides. Slit in the more metaphorical sense of meaning barely qualifying to be called a single piece of clothing. Opened all the way up to the top of the thighs, the only thing that held the front and back of the dress together were criss-crossing ties. The front was conservatively cut, but the back plunged down to the bottom of the spine.
"Why not?" Amparo asked in all innocence. She looked at the dress in her hands. "You would look great in this."
Mei glared at her. "I'm going to be a future lawyer. Future lawyers do not wear that." She stabbed a finger at the dress to emphasize her point.
"And I guess that is what they wear?" Pod asked looking at the leggings and oversized T-shirt on her companion who also had a sweatshirt knotted around her waist with a raised eyebrow.
"This is my travel outfit," Mei said with as much dignity as she could muster for someone wearing battered Reeboks and purple leggings while browsing in the evening wear.
"Okay," said Pod as she replaced the dress on the rack. She pulled out another outfit. "How about this one?"
Mei stared at the dress that looked like a piece of black lace on a hanger. "No." Mei walked over to another rack and pulled out another dress. "Yes?"
Amparo looked at the high-necked, matronly dress. "No." She selected another one. "Yes?"
"I don't have the right equipment to keep that dress up."
They finally compromised on a strapless red gown that was tight enough for Mei to keep up and short enough to satisfy Pod.
"Now," Amparo said, rubbing her hands in glee, "my turn." She gave the remains of Mei's hunt a withering glance. "No...no...I do have standards--after all, he might see me in the dress I choose...." She trailed off dreamily, her eyes glazing.
"He?" Mei was perplexed."He who?"
Amparo shook her head, her long hair swishing back and forth. "Hmm? Oh, no one, never mind." She continued her search, finally selecting a form-fitting, thigh-length, sleeveless number, elegantly cut from midnight blue crushed velvet. "Now--accessories! We'll have to try another shop," she sighed. "Come on."
They paid for their outfits and Mei followed the other NatPacker through the mall. They passed by shop after shop, none meeting with approval, until Pod practically screeched to a halt. Her eyes shone. Her breathing grew shallow.
"What is it?" Mei asked, pushing her aside to look in the shop window. There it sat, sleek and glistening black, coiled like a deadly snake poised to strike. "A whip? What on Earth would you do with a whip?"
Amparo floated into the store, mesmerized. "Rank hath its privileges," she murmured. "It's perfect. The ideal Zine Organizer's Whip(tm)."
"But why...?" Mei persisted.
Pod smiled at her own private vision, worlds away. "When he comes back, I'll show him a night he'll never forget!"
"What a slob," Alora muttered as she tried to wipe soot off her sequined halter top and black pant suit. Tiring of playing with the lighter in the car, she had begun lighting and blowing out matches, to the bemused glances of her companions. The NatPackers had made it to the Royal Ontario Museum, relatively unscathed, but they were awaiting the arrival of their comrades missing-in-shopping-action. They stepped on the escalator and rode up to the reception area.
"Can't take you anywhere, can we?" Kelly teased as she and Jill scanned the room for any signs of Mercs, Cousins, Knighties, or any other semblance of trouble.
"Apparently not," Alora grumbled. Giving up on cleaning her attire, she looked up at Kelly, and noticed a change in her companion's expression. "What are you doing?"
"Huh?" Kelly mumbled as she stared at the champagne fountain. She ignored her fellow Natpackers and crossed the room to the overflow of champagne. "Oh, yum."
"Kelly?" Jill started to follow her.
Alora stared after them for a second, but she became distracted by movement from the lower floor. Hopping on the down escalator, she disappeared from sight.
"Alora!" Jill called after her, looking between the two as they headed off in different directions. "War newbies!" she thought irritably.
Alora had continued through the foyer and out of the main building. Stepping outside, she approached a stranger as he was lighting a cigarette. "May I?" she asked.
"Sure," he said, tapping his cigarette carton and handing her one. Her hand took the cigarette but her eyes never left the lighter.
"Uh, would you like a light?" the gentleman asked awkwardly as Alora stood in the doorway holding the cigarette at her side.
"Huh?" She glanced at his face, "Yes, please." She lifted the cigarette to her lips and watched as the man's thumb struck the shiny lighter and the flame burst from the top. He held it to the end of her cigarette and then quickly snapped it shut.
As the flame vanished Alora shook her head to clear it. "What was that?" she thought. An image flickered in her memory--she and a woman, talking somewhere. In a room...
The image disappeared.
Jill, who had pursued her, approached her cautiously. "Alora?"
"Yes?" She turned around, looking more than just slightly odd with a cigarette dangling from her lower lip.
Jill arched her eyebrow, "Alora, I thought you had asthma?"
"I do," Alora said, missing the point.
"And I thought you didn't smoke because of it," Jill continued.
"I don't."
"Then why do you have a cigarette in your mouth, cheri?" Jill reached up and took the cigarette from between the girl's lips. Waving it in front of Alora she said, "These are very bad for asthmatics, non?"
Puzzled, Alora stared at the cigarette for a moment.
"Oh, geez." She doubled over against the door as she convulsed in a fit of choking and coughing.
"Are you all right?" Jill asked, once Alora stopped coughing.
She straightened and shook her head.
"You're turning blue!"
Alora nodded, and pointing to her purse on the ground, she wheezed, "Inhaler!"
Jill reached for the small handbag lying on the sidewalk. Opening it, she dug through several lighters and a dozen books of matches before finding the medication necessary to keep one of the NatPackers from being carted from the museum on a gurney.
After stationing Alora outside on a bench to rest, Jill returned inside and headed up the escalator to the reception.
She found Kelly at the end of the bar, staring at the glasses in front of her with great concentration, "That one needs more," she mumbled as she reached for the bottle of vodka.
"Kelly, what are you doing?"
Kelly stirred the drink carefully, "The color is still wrong," She reached for the cognac, before changing her mind, "Hey barkeep!"
The horrified bartender slowly approached the end of the bar, "Yes, ma'am?"
"Do you have any Ribena?"
"No, ma'am." /What the hell's Ribena, anyway?/
"What about tomato juice?"
"With vodka and amaretto?"
"I want something red," Kelly shook her head at him as if he should have known that.
"Yes, ma'am." He reached beneath the bar and handed her a bottle of tomato juice. "Anything else?"
"Got any orange juice and Peppermint Schnapps?"
The bartender looked at Kelly and then at Jill, who was staring rather blankly at Kelly herself. Reaching into a box on the floor he handed her bottles of each.
"That's much better!" Kelly smiled as she added a splash of each.
Jill felt her stomach turn as the tomato juice swirled through the amaretto. "That is disgusting Kelly!"
"Hhmm?" Kelly jumped, "Oh, Jill, where have you been? Wanna drink?" She offered Jill a glass.
"No. And I think you have had quite enough yourself, come on." Jill grabbed Kelly by the arm. Before they could make it out of the room, however, they were confronted by a pair of women. One wore a sapphire blue satin gown, but she was without shoes; the other was more subdued but still stunning in a black and pink ensemble. Jill eyed their clothes with a practiced eye, and bristled slightly.
One of the them spoke. "Hi, my name if Robbi Egersdorf and this is Nancy Taylor. We couldn't help but notice how much you look like a certain... "
The other broke in. "Vampire we know."
The first gave her companion an evil glance, but continued, "Yes, as Nancy so aptly put it. You look so much like a Janette duCharme that we know."
Jill smiled graciously. "Yes, I've been told that before. My name is Jill Kirby and my companion is Kelly Gritten." With a perfectly manicured nail, she indicated to Kelly, who was less composed.
Kelly eyed the newcomers critically. They looked as if they needed a few more vitamins in their diets. "We're NatPackers," she said, as if that explained everything. "Would you like a drink?"
Nancy wrinkled her nose at the concoction which Kelly thrust towards her. "No, thanks, I've got something to drink. Thank you. We're Knighties," she announced, and quickly took a sip of her undoctored champagne.
"I'm so sorry," Jill said smoothly. The Knighties appeared not to notice.
Robbi elbowed her companion, then said in an attempt at being casual, "Oh, so, have you heard from Natalie lately?
The NatPackers eyed them suspiciously. "Have you heard from Nicola?" Jill retorted.
"Well, no. Not personally," Robbi admitted.
Nancy broke in, "Have you seen her lately?"
"We haven't seen her since...well, for quite a while," Kelly answered, a grim look in her eyes.
The Knighties seemed anxious to continue the interrogation. Kelly wondered whether the concern was theirs, or Nick's. "We've been so worried. No one has heard from her in so long. Do you know what's happened to her?" Robbi continued.
"Has something happened to her?" Jill answered glibly. "Perhaps she went on vacation. Sunny beaches. Well-tanned beach volleyball players. Sipping drinks in the sun. Maybe she'll send us a postcard one of these days."
"Is she all right?" Nancy pushed. Jill was touched by the genuine concern that she heard in the woman's voice, but she continued with her light-hearted banter.
"Wouldn't you be alright if you had a well-tanned volleyball-playing love slave? Of course, I'm not saying that's where she is...but you never know." The conversation was wearing thin for the NatPackers, and they eyed the Knighties carefully.
Robbi seemed to realize that the interview was at a close, and she took her friend by the arm. "Come on, Nancy. We need to get back."
The NatPackers watched them leave silently, lost in thought. Suddenly Jill nudged Kelly painfully in the shoulder, almost making her spill the drink concoction.
"We've got to get out of here," Jill said.
"Yeah," Kelly agreed. "Those Knighties are entirely too curious."
"No, look over there," Jill hissed. Kelly followed her gaze.
"Cool! Is that LaCroix? I've never actually met him. Or seen him in the flesh, for that matter. I wonder if he likes Valentine stories...."
"No, you don't understand," Jill continued, plucking the drink from Kelly's hand, putting it on the bar, and steering her friend towards the escalator. "It's his flesh that is the problem."
"Huh?"
"Sometimes I forget that you weren't around for the last war. It's his rear. His bottom. His butt." She sighed. "I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here!"
They found Alora still sitting on a bench nursing her inhaler, but she had been joined by Mei and Amparo, who had returned from their extensive shop. Pod had a whip--which the others instantly recognized as a Zine-Organizer's Whip (tm) and watched her nervously, thinking of all the zine stories that they still had not written--wrapped decoratively around her waist.
"I think that we ought to get out of here," Kelly urged them, trying to herd the NatPackers towards the limo. "I think that I saw a couple of Unaffiliateds, we've been interrogated by Knighties--"
"Seen LaCroix," Jill interrupted darkly.
"LaCroix?!" Mei exclaimed enthusiastically, but quieted at Jill's glare.
"--and besides," Kelly continued. "The bartender won't give me any more alcohol to mix. I think we should hit the bars."
The word choice was, perhaps, unfortunate. As if to illustrate the REAL meaning of the word "hit," an ear-shattering squeal assaulted their ears. They turned, and saw a variety of well-dressed, exquisitely-coiffed museum patrons diving for cover as an Autumn-Wine colored (tm) Chevy Cavalier, which had been flying through the parking lot, came barreling towards them.
Kelly looked from the car, to the elegant and particularly sturdy-looking facade of the museum, and ran out towards the automobile waving her hands madly. "Noooo!" she cried.
"Kelly!" the NatPackers screamed from behind her.
Anti-lock brakes are a Good Thing.
The car squealed to a halt in front of its owner. Sharon, a surprisingly wide grin adorning her face, jumped out of the driver's seat and said, "Hey, Kelly--your car handles like a dream! Thanks a lot!"
Kelly whimpered back at her.
The other NatPackers pushed towards them, peppering Sharon with questions. "Where have you been?" "How did you know that we were here?" "Are you okay?"
Jill's voice cut through all of them. "Quiet!" They looked at her, but she was pointing inside the car, indicating towards a figure in the driver's seat. "Is that who I think it is?"
Sharon smiled even wider--if they hadn't been concentrating on the stranger, the other NatPackers probably would have fainted in amazement--and laughed, "It's a pretty good likeness, isn't it? He's not the real The Guy; he's a part-time salt smuggler. I finally caught up with him. We, uh..." she looked at The Guy Look-alike and waggled a few fingers in his direction, "...came to an agreement. He's going to be our chauffeur."
"Ooh," they breathed in unison, but quickly caught themselves so as not to endure the wrath of Sharon. Drooling over The Guy in any form was not permitted in her presence.
Sharon, still high from the grand entrance, only gave Pod, who was looking at The Guy Look-alike with an expression of longing, a slightly belligerent glare. Alora nudged the girl pointedly. "Don't look too long," she whispered.
"I think Sharon's so lucky," Pod said abruptly. "It's not the real The Guy, but still...I was just thinking about Nick," she said in a wistful sigh.
The change in Sharon was immediate and frightening. "Where is he?" she howled. "Where's his sorry butt? He's a dead man!"
"He's already dead," Mei said helpfully. "He's a vampire."
Undeterred, Sharon continued. "Dead! And I'm gonna kill him! Mangle him! Rip his sorry lips off, not that he would ever use them for something as silly and useless as foreplay, because he's too busy lying and being a waste product of undeadness!"
The other Natpackers slowly edged away from the Angry One, who had gone so far beyond even her usual Nick-ranting that they were all frightened.
"Something's not right here," whispered Kelly to Jill. "Just the mention of his name set her off."
"Hands off the silk," Jill admonished Kelly, who quickly took her hand off Jill's shoulder. "You're right. Sharon hates Nick, but not like this. This is even worse than she gets when she's been drinking Harp. Believe me, I know."
"Shave his nasty blonde head!" screeched Sharon, demonstrating by pulling her own hair into a ponytail on top of her head and yanking it violently, causing her head to flop around in a very unusual fashion. "Shave it right the hell off!"
Amparo, who had snapped out of her Nick fantasy, nudged Kelly. "We need to get her out of here," she said quietly over the roar of Sharon's ever-increasing rage. She nodded toward several Knighties who were gaping at them. "We'd better go." Amparo's eyes filled with tears. "I don't understand why she hates him so, but we need to leave."
"Well, we finally have my car," Kelly said with relief. "And the keys," she added, as they flew out of Sharon's hand during one of her pantomimed smacks of the "Nicky-twit." Kelly caught them neatly before they smacked her in the head, and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Anyone have an extra AK-47?" Sharon asked one of the spectators hopefully, her eyes glittering. "And some ammo?"
"Come on, Sharon," Jill soothed. "Nick's not here. Let's get back home."
"Let's get out of here," Kelly agreed, moving towards her car. She smiled suggestively at The Guy Look-alike, and was rewarded by a shift in Sharon's attention.
"Grrrrrrrrrrr."
A dangerous shift, but a shift nonetheless.
"Here, Sharon," she held out the car keys, her hand shaking ever so slightly. Don't show fear. Don't ever show that you are afraid. "Why don't you take my car, and we can all go back to the NatPack Hostel. We've got salt."
"And beer!" interjected Pod. "Lots of beer."
"Salt." Sharon smacked her lips. "Beer." She grabbed Kelly's keys and started towards the car, but Kelly beat her to the driver's side door and pushed the seat forward.
"Why don't you and The--" she looked into the interior of the car and addressed the man who had been taking the scene in silently, "Uh, you sir...why don't you guys sit in the backseat." She smiled helpfully at Sharon. "It's crowded back there."
The other NatPackers breathed a hearty sigh of relief when Sharon and TG-L were settled calmly in the backseat, and they headed towards the limo gratefully.