***Friday, November 17, 1995*** A LITTLE CATCHING UP (b) by Toni C. Holm Place: Mercenary Headquarters The Merc answered the buzz from the front door to see on the video screen a bald man and a woman with that sort of frumpy "federal bureaucrat" look somehow Scully and Mulder always seemed to avoid. Behind them were five smartly uniformed members of the RCMP. "Yes," she answered innocently. "We have a warrant to search the premises, please open up," the tinny voice came through the speaker. "Not _again_," she thought. She addressed the intercom, saying with all the confusion she could muster, "Why? Whatever for?" trying to stall as she examined the cameras for the other entrances, only to see RCMP officers at each. A buzzing light told her there was also a presence at the secret escape exit. "At the request of the Director General of the Canadian Radio-Television and Telecommunications Committee, we have come to search this premises, you'll have to open the door now, ma'am," the voice repeated politely, but with that underlying "look I'm not screwing around here" tone, so beloved by officialdom. The Merc answering the door looked around headquarters. She'd been asleep when the others had come in last night, but the remains of a celebration were still in evidence, as were two of those fancy gas masks Lane was so proud of. "God knows who might be here sleeping it off," she thought. Was the Mercenary Guild to tamely let their secrets be examined by the officialdom again? This war had been a tiring thing. She clicked the switch for the door lock and the officers poured in. The first officers began waking up last night's party-ers and collecting everyone's passports and driver's licenses. One officer began calling in the names and the others searched. The officer at the phone motioned and the first of the two bureacrats joined him. "Hmmm...some familiar names... persons of interest...hmmm...stolen ID's... I see...yes...a lot of them are Americans...well, call the consul... OK... Yes, there's some evidence linking them...you want to question them all?" For the second time in as many days, the Mercenary headquarters was thoroughly searched and everyone on the premises detained for questioning. Place: Limo outside Mercenary Headquarters Cousin Toni laughed and clinked glasses with her co-conspirator, Jackie. She clicked off the receiver connected to one of the bureaucrat's portable radio. "That should keep our little band of equipment crazed Rambo wannabe's busy for a while," she laughed, "half of the gear they had in their HQ probably isn't even legal for import into Canada." "And with the time it will take for the RCMP to discover the report on those US driver's licenses as stolen is a 'computer glitch' they'll probably be threatened with deportation at least," Cousin Jackie completed. "I'll have to remember to send Ms. Rheume a special thanks for letting us listen in," Toni said, making a note on a card. She'd woken the director general up early this morning, reminding the woman of their meeting at a workshop in Las Vegas and telling her she had some important information about illegal broadcast and destruction of telecommunications property. Jackie said, "Have you heard from those 24 hour restoration people Pam at the Happy Souvenirs referred us to? I talked to the engineer you sent this morning but her people aren't going to be happy if the building's not cleaned and ready." Toni nodded and reached for the phone again. "I'll check on it. Also we have to get to the hotel and change, Cousin Candice said she might need everyone tonight, oh, and Jackie," she said to the other woman, "One more thing he wanted.... Do you know anything about goldfish?" ### BIDDING IS CONCLUDED 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 ### STRANGER IN A BATTLEZONE (Part 6) by Mildred Cady Time: 10am EST Place: Merc Central Mildred plopped down on her bed in Merc Central, tired but excited from all the running around, rescuing, building, and job hunting. As she rested her head and her eyes, she looked over the last couple of weeks. {It's been fun, I kinda wish that it didn't have to end tonight.} She barely got the bid in for the auction. That's one thing she was looking forward to tonight. Only one item had caught her interest on the auction list, for personal reasons. The book. True, the family tree most likely had something to do with LaCroix {Why else would it come up at _this_ time, if it didn't?}, and would be useful if the Mercs could get it. Rating systems...that had to be Nick's work {just look at the dates!}. But what interested her was the book. Pure, true erotica was normally hard to find, without it being too coarse. But Natalie wasn't coarse. And who else involved in this whole war was named Natalie L? And usually women who wrote erotica had a sense of style and grace in what they wrote. She couldn't wait for 8pm. She couldn't wait to go home too.... ### PARTING SHOTS (Part 1) by L'Phantom Time: 1pm The adult watched a moment more before asking the child if he could play, too. The small child looked up with wide eyes before saying that the game was almost over. The adult smiled and replied, "That's OK, I just want to play for a little while." The child smiled back and giggled, "OK, sure!" The adult picked up one of the pieces and asked the child, "Who's this?" The child innocently replied, "That's Nick." The adult continued, "Is he a good guy or a bad guy?" The child, with an understanding far beyond his apparant years, said, "Good and bad don't exist. You taught me that." The adult smiled at the result of his little test. "Very good. Now, who's this?" he said, picking up another piece. "That's LaCroix," came the reply. "He made Nick what he is, but Nick ran away and LaCroix wants to bring him back." The adult wrinkled his brow. "That's not very nice of Nick, is it?" The young one shook his head. "Well," the adult decided, "We'll just have to fix it." In a very definite gesture, he took the two pieces in his hand and placed them down together, a good distance away from the other pieces. ******** Nicholas looked around his new environment. One minute, he was chatting with the Knighties in his living room, and now...now he...wasn't. He was quite definitely in a room of some sort. The windows showed a view that, after a moment or two of thought, Nick realized was nowhere to be found in Toronto. A voice from the other side of the large room broke him out of his wonderings. The voice was calling his name. LaCroix looked around his new environment. One minute, he was indulging himself in a young, nubile "snack," and now...now he...wasn't. His older, more developed vampiric senses told him immediately that he had been taken from the city of Toronto entirely. While he searched for subtle clues about his new location, he spotted a familiar face across the room. "Nicolas," he called. Nicolas fumed when he realized the source of his summons. "LaCroix," he spat, "Is this _your_ doing?!" LaCroix feigned hurt. "You wound me, Nicolas. I am as much a victim here as you. Why would you automatically assume that I am responsible?" Nicolas dropped his stance slightly. "Because you usually are. Now, what's going on, LaCroix?" "I am afraid that I really do not know. And until our captors make themselves known to us, I dare not seek to understand. Come now, Nicolas, until that time, let us...catch up on old times." Nicolas replied only with a discontented grunt, then proceeded to search for a doorway. Finding none, he leaped toward the windows, intent on breaking out and seeking his Toronto through the air. Unfortunately, (and surprisingly) the pane deflected his force as if he were a mere housefly. "Well, Nicolas," he heard behind him, "if you're through playing your little games, come and have a chat, won't you?" ### PARTING SHOTS (Part 2) by L'Phantom Time: 3pm EST The adult and child watched eagerly as the two toys played together. ******** The elder vampire watched his progeny fight to escape his captivity. LaCroix didn't know who was responsible, but they were certainly helping him. Poor Nicholas was being forced to use the vampire in him to even hope to escape. LaCroix mused, by the time that their captors make themselves visible, the Hunger would be in Nicholas such that he would dispatch them himself, while LaCroix would watch in silent approval. "Anytime you want to help out, LaCroix," Nicholas managed to say despite the pain in his teeth. "Whatever for, Nicholas? You seem to be having so much fun." "You really are _enjoying_ this aren't you?" "Immensely." "I'm not playing your game anymore, LaCroix!" "Either way, I win, Nicholas. Either you give in to your nature in a vain attempt to escape, or you sit down and listen to me. Your choice." Nicholas grudgingly admitted that LaCroix had a point. As much as he hated it, LaCroix usually did. He collapsed onto a couch. "All right, LaCroix. Start talking." ### FREAKY FRIDAY by Bruce Gray Place: Die-Hard HQ Bruce went back into the Die-Hard HQ. It had been a fast and furious two weeks. He wanted to make amends to the Die-Hards for not being able to participate in the "war" as much as he might have, primarily due to Sandra's kidnapping and his responses to it. He walked into the main room of DH HQ. "I have prepared something for all of you for this war and perhaps for the next." Bruce took several envelopes of two sizes out of a large shoulder bag. "The small envelopes contain some special herbs and spices that I have prepared," he continued. "This packet, when mixed with a non-alcoholic drink, will make the person who drinks it repellant to Vampires. Think of it as 'internal garlic plus,'" he joked. "The large envelopes contain medallions that I have previously enchanted to be used as a protection versus evil. It should affect Vampires, but, of course, it hasn't been tested." He then took another, slightly larger packet out of the bag. "This is an autographed copy of _Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus_. I want you to make -sure- this gets to -Nat- and no one else. I have arranged for an expensive bouquet of flowers to be delivered to Nat with the inscription 'From Your Secret Admirer' with no return address. I have also arranged for a similar bouquet and similar card to be delivered to Tracy. I've sent an old tin flute to Screed with the inscription, 'From the Rat-Pack.'" He paused. "Now I have some unfinished business with others in the war. Pray for me," he said cryptically, and walked out the door. *** Place: Wherever LaCroix is now. "I want to talk to 'Uncle,'" said Bruce as he came into the building where several of the cousins lurked. "Why should we let you?" said one of them. "Because I have some unfinished business to discuss," he replied. "Alone. I'm a Die-Hard. I don't represent a threat to 'Uncle' or you...yet. I haven't attacked you or 'Uncle' in this war. And I think you'll find out more later." "Very well," she said curiously. "But we'll be keeping an eye on you." Bruce stepped into the small room, face to face with LaCroix. "You owe me," Bruce started. "-I- owe -you-?" LaCroix replied incredulously. "Yes. It was me who got the potion you used on Nick in one of the previous wars. I got it from my family in Maine," Bruce replied, as though that explained everything. "I...see," said LaCroix. "Continue." "It was me that cast the spell in the basement of the club in the third war that put an end to all of the magic that was being thrown around there," Bruce went on. "It was me who provided your troops with the computer information taken from Nick's, Nat's, Schanke's, and the Dept's computers. If you want some confirmation of that, here are some details which should confirm what I'm saying." Bruce handed LaCroix a small folder. LaCroix looked at it for a moment. "So?" said LaCroix. "So, you owe me. Maybe not big time, but you owe me. I think you should investigate who locked you in the cellar of the Raven with my wife. Both you and I have a vested interest there...for different reasons. I'm not a Cousin, but I don't -dis-like you either. I've helped you when it was necessary from the sidelines. Now it's time for you to return the favor. It's payback time," Bruce finished. "I...will see what I can do for you," LaCroix replied. "That's all I can ask...for now." Bruce stood up and extended his hand. LaCroix stood up and shook it. "I'll be back...if necessary...and I'll be prepared to assist you again...when -I'm- ready...and when you least expect it. Goodbye." Bruce left the room, leaving several confused Cousins in his wake. "Bring me the files that we've prepared about my imprisonment," said LaCroix. More than one cousin scurried to provide "Uncle" with his every desire. ### LIES AND CONSEQUENCES by Felicia Bollin Time: 4pm EST Place: The Sheraton Ari, Catherine, and Chanda sat in a row, knees squeezed up to their chests and hands clapped over their ears. Ari and Chanda were groaning in voices terrible to hear, and Catherine was trying to explain. "I'm so sorry, Sheryl!" "Shut up!" Sheryl thundered. "Did you three for one moment think about the consequences of what you were doing when you tampered with the division computer's mainframe? Did you? Huh?" She flicked the scandal sheet angrily. "*David Hasselhoff*?!" she screeched in accents of homicidal intent. "You have the whole world thinking I would have the extreme bad taste to date David Hasselhoff?" "But, Sheryl, she called me tacky," Ari said wonderingly. "No one's ever called me tacky before. Geez, she could at least have used 'tasteless.'" "He was cuter when he had all his hair," Chanda offered. Sheryl just glared. "Janette's gonna kill me," Ari moaned. "She'll come back to Toronto just to bring me across and push me out in the sunlight!" She looked mournfully at the paper. "If she finds out they think she's dating *Fabio*!!" she said in accents of doom. "Oh, Sharon, you *are* cruel! Natpackers!" "Burt Reynolds," Catherine snickered. Ari gave her the glare of death. "Ugh. NO way, I hate, hate, hate kissing men with mustaches and beards. But Woody Allen? Sounds about just right to me," she sneered. Catherine's smirk disappeared. "I was hoping you wouldn't remind me of that," she said calmly, picked up the bucket of Blood Lite, and threatened to pour. Ari ducked. "Hey, Sharon played dirty pool. If she wants to join the Nick&Natpackers or something, she should. Besides, it's not like Nat didn't know Janette and Nick fooled around. What is she, blind? Though, I suppose knowing it and finding it splashed across her computer are two different things," Chanda reasoned, unable to suppress a light chuckle at the image of the whole division ogling it. "Besides, we never meant to hurt *Nat*. It was those unrealistic people who think vampire/mortal love is gonna somehow figure out some miraculous way to work out, that we were out to take down a peg or two." "Oh, well, guess this means we get to spend all future wars trying to duck the coroner," Sheryl said glumly. "And her zealous fans," added Catherine, chin in hand. The four females all sat up a little straighter and gulped at this image. Ari was lucky enough--or luckless, depending on how you took it--to take a gander at her watch just then. "OHMIGOSH!" she screeched, jumping to her feet so speedily all the others were startled out of their "see no evil" poses. "*Lookatthetime!*" She headed for the closet on a dead run, tossing garments into the air over her head. Sheryl made a vague protest, seeing the ruination in progress, then became galvanized into action. "Sh*t, we've got three hours until the auction! Susan is gonna *kill* us if we're not there!" She clambered up onto the stack of boxes and ransacked the overhead shelf. Ari was already unzipping and shedding shamelessly. Hopping on one foot, she said breathlessly, "Grab my black beaded T-gores if you find them, okay?" Hustling to the wall mirror, she looked at the condition of her skin. It seemed so--*grimy* all of a sudden. Suppressing a shudder, she wriggled into her elegant black dress without worrying about rips or tears. "How are *you* going to get ready in three hours?" Catherine asked space. "Watch me," said Ari grimly. Chanda was busily trying to detach Janey from one of the curtains. "I told you not to bring that cat," she added over her shoulder as she wriggled to zip up the dress. Chanda looked up, face flushed and hair askew. "But she's going to look so cute snuggled in the v-neck of my winter coat! I want her to make a good impression on Janette." Ari shrugged. "It's your neck," she quoted in a fair imitation. Drawing herself up to full height, she turned sideways in the mirror, checking out the pertinent places. The lovely, draped neckline hugged her at just below-shoulder length, two entwined swatches of fabric ending in a lover's knot above her breasts, and the skirt fell almost to the floor. "It's subdued--for you," Catherine added. "Elegant, too." "Thank you. I know how much that must have hurt you to say." She lobbed Catherine a mock-disgusted look and turned once more. "Do you think vampires have anything against Celtic crosses? I was thinking they might, but then again, if that shape bothers vampires, they might as will give up any hope of being able to do addition, with those pesky little plus signs." "I think you should wear your choker instead," Chanda advised. "I would, if I had one." "Though make sure to take the cross off *that* first," Catherine added slyly. "And maybe you can get Urs to do your hair up in a French twist." "That's a good idea, maybe I will--" She clapped a hand to her mouth. "Ohno ohno ohnoooooo!!!" As she began to lightly hyperventilate, everyone stopped searching for clothes and hurried to her side, worried. She looked up at them with desperate, wide eyes. "What is it?" Sheryl asked. "Do you need a doctor?" Chanda chimed. Ari shook her head, energetically flapping a hand in front of her to indicate extreme distress. "I was just thinking!" Her eyes were absolutely round now with apprehension. "It was so entertaining, watching Amy behave as Janette, that I completely forgot! JODY! We have to un-hoodoo Jody, *before* we see Amy tonight and she remembers what's wrong with him--and that WE'RE responsible!!!" "Oh, no," Catherine groaned, and fell back. Chanda quickly pushed a chair behind her knees, just in time. "I'll call Urs," said Sheryl, already moving towards the phone. "I have clearance with Vachon." In the spirit of the moment, she added, "Don't get used to me helping you guys out, though. This is a one-time shot only. After all, you've already managed to crucify whatever dignity I might have had in the Fourth Estate. If any of my Washington Post connections hear about my torrid nights with 'Davey,' my future career is toast." Hearing this outpouring of support and concern, at least Ari stopped wringing her hands. Steady as a rock in the middle of combat, she waited until the traumas were *over* to go to pieces. The Immortal Beloveds were learning that Their Fearless Leader could be a real marshmallow, at times. ### WHITE RABBITS by Susan M. Garrett Time: 6:30pm EST Place: The Raven " are going to be late." Miklos, wearing an immaculate tuxedo, barely glanced up at Susan as he wiped down the bar. "Janette would approve. It's fashionable." She was struggling with the fastening of her dress. "Not this time. If we're not there and our bid wins . . . ." Susan pulled but the zipper wasn't going anywhere. "Damn! Now I've got my hair caught!" "I'll get that." mj wandered over and stood behind her as he started to zip up the last few inches of the dress. "Stop squirming!" "I can't believe you're wearing 'jeans,'" said Susan, in dismay. "I mean, I'm not a clothes horse like the others, but even I know enough to--" "Jeans are always in fashion," protested mj. The zipper slipped easily into place. Releasing it, he stepped back. "There." "Thanks." Susan flashed him a smile, which faded almost immediately. "I forgot about Cynthia and the others. Did she get back from shopping? And the guys--what about Chris and Khaavren?" "Sit." Miklos pointed to a bar stool. "But--!" He gestured toward mj, who took Susan's arm and led her to the bar stool, while Miklos set out a liquor glass and poured her an Amaretto. "Have a drink." "Are you kidding? Do you know what I have to do yet? The shoppers--" "Are back." His smile a little guilty, he added, "Trust me. I know." That gave Susan a moment's pause and she immediately looked around for the nearest super-soaker, having now developed a lightning-fast reflex where it came to keeping the female members of damn near any affiliation at a safe distance from Miklos. Then she remembered where she was. "But the new guys--?" "Are taken care of. Cynthia made fitting appointments. David went with them--they're out looking at the cars." "The cars? Ohmigod, I forgot to rent--" "Done," said Miklos. He picked up Susan's hand from the bar and forced her fingers around the stem of the glass. "Four stretch limos," said mj proudly. "I wanted to get a hog, but Miklos suggested that we show up in style." Susan swallowed and met Miklos' eyes. "Uh . . . the money. It's all ear-marked for the auction. I mean, we don't have a hope in hell of competing with Nick's millions, but if we win--?" " have money," said Miklos solemnly, although she thought she saw a smile hiding behind the look. "As you said, it's my responsibility." Somewhat awed, Susan simply stared at him. "Drink," he said again, and she did. It was only after the first sip hit her stomach that she realized that she hadn't eaten anything. Then she had to put up her hair, find her shoes, clean up Janette's office . . . . Susan upended the glass, slammed it down on the bar, and said, " are going to be late!" She ran for the back room as if the legions of hell were following her. Miklos merely smiled at mj and picked up the glass. "Would you look after the cars? We want to make certain we have room for everyone. And . . . leave the water pistols here, yes?" Grinning, mj headed for the door at a run, while Miklos rinsed out the glass, wiped it dry, set it aside, and began to rub down the length of the bar again. ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 8) by Cousin Candice and those infernal Alfredians Time: Evening. Place: CERK A very large box was delivered to CERK. The FedEx guy took a look at the stamps on the box and whistled under his breath: England, the Netherlands, Hawaii, Connecticut, New York, Florida, The Cayman Isles, France, Alaska, Arizona, South Carolina, Michigan, Russia, Peru, India, Mongolia, and most recently, Utah. The only label not Xed out was from Indianapolis. He left the box at the delivery room and the secretary buzzed for LaCroix. The music of Queen drifted out of the box, and after the song, "Who wants to live forever," the music suddenly stopped, and faintly someone muttered "Um, let me out? Please," through the air holes. A young, male mortal looked at him almost blankly for a minute, then swung instinctively into a clumsy guard stance (packing hay can be very annoying), sword held steadily before him. "Who the hell are you, and why have you been holding me captive?" he demanded. Lucien's eyes glittered in cold amusement. "I have not been your captor," he said softly. "Rather, have I not just set you free? You will not need the sword." Lucien slipped briefly into flashback. ~~~~~~ "But they're holding the love of my life captive, Lucien!" ~~~~~ ~~~~~~ Lucien looked dispassionately at the pink ransom note held in ~~~~~ ~~~~~~ Cousin Candice's hand. She was obviously distressed.... ~~~~~ LaCroix quickly came back to himself and addressed the poor, frazzled boy. "You must be Brian," his sneer quite visible and apparent. Brian nearly jumped out of his skin at that name. "Candi!" His eyes narrowed. "So you have been keeping us apart." "Wrong again, my friend, but that shall be remedied." LaCroix quickly scribbled his address on a piece of paper and handed it to Brian. "Candice is staying at my apartment. She's been hiding-out for the last week, but the situation is being handled, so she felt it was safe to return there. You'll excuse me, won't you, I've an auction to attend." Brian started at the pale man walking past him and suddenly everything clicked. His mouth went dry and the paper went limp in his hand. He blinked a few times, sheathed his sword, and hailed a cab out on the street. ### VIEWING HOURS by Sharon Himmanen (and the NatPack) 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. ### DIAL H FOR HOSTAGE by Sharon Himmanen (and Perri Smith and Jennie Hayes) 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. ### BEFORE THE ANNOUNCEMENT by Lana G. Soward 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. ### PARTING SHOTS (Part 3) by L'Phantom Time: 7pm EST Nick had heard just about enough of LaCroix's ravings. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be an end to it... He had tuned out about an hour ago, and was now beginning to wonder why the sun hadn't risen yet. The thought occured to LaCroix as well, as he stopped mid sentence and said, "The day is late." "Yes, I know," Nick replied. It was the first time he'd spoken to LaCroix in hours. "We must be in the Arctic Circle, I'd presume. Six months of everlasting night." "Followed by six months of daytime; yes, LaCroix, I know." ******** The adult decided to throw another curve into the works, and chose two more pieces. These two, explained the child, were the leaders of the teams that followed Nick and LaCroix. The adult smiled and made sure that the two pieces knew that their leader had been kidnapped, and made sure they understood that the other vampire was the one that had done it. The adult smiled an evil smile. If this war was going to end, well, it was going to end in a bang. ### LOOSING THE KNIGHTIES by Perri Smith Time: 7pm EST Place: Toronto Convention Center They weren't going to let him do it. They had informed him of this fact all the way from the loft to the convention center. Stated it loudly and at length. So he ditched them. Not easy, considering Catherine and Perri had known damn well he was going to try. But Perri got distracted by the sight of Vachon and Catherine developed a sudden urge to hide when a group of cousins walked past at the same time. So, he poured on the speed, and slipped away. *** "I'll kill him myself!" "Calm down, Perri," Catherine said, almost as angry but quieter about it. "He's a big boy, he can take care of himself." "Yeah, right," Perri snorted. Then got distracted again. "There's Jennie. You round up the others, I'll meet you back here in a minute." ### VAMPWATCH KNIGHTS (Part 1) by Jennie Hayes 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." ### VAMPWATCH KNIGHTS (Part 2) by Jennie Hayes and Amy Hull 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.... ### FINDING A TWO-LEGS by Kimberley Low 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!" *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. ### COLOR OF CHOICE by Maureen "The Mad" Wynn 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. she thought. 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!!!" ### VAMPWATCH KNIGHTS (Part 3) by Perri Smith and Amy Denton 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. ### TORONTO BY MOONLIGHT (Part 2) by Laura B. Waskey 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. 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. "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? Yes, that was a plan. An evil grin appeared on Laura's face. Leslie was right about one thing, Laura really was a Cousin at heart. As no other faction got such joy at annoying the others. ### WE HAVE TO DO WHAT?? by Vicki Jean Merriman Time: Immediately before the auction Vicki and Catherine were dressed to the nines, going over papers. Vicki was not pleased and Catherine wasn't much better. "You could have knocked me for a loop when Susan told me last night that we had to turn the Raven back over to LaCroix," Vicki said. "Excuuuuse me??? Return it to LaCroix??? Why the ______ did Catherine and I spend over a week playing tag with the Cousins if we're only going to give it back to them?" Vicki stared out the window and wandered into a flashback to the previous night. Susan had sat Vicki down, made sure she had a glass of wine, and patted her on the shoulder. "You and Catherine did a very good job. You should both be proud of yourselves, but the fact of the matter is that Miklos really doesn't want to manage the Raven full time. He has other interests right now." "Then why did we exercise the breach of contract clauses and get the Cousins focused on us?" "For several reasons. 1. LaCroix was exploiting women in the Raven and Janette really didn't like that; 2. The Ravenettes needed a place to stay and a place to call 'home base' for the duration of the war; and 3. it is a War. Anything to annoy the other factions is fair game. We had a good card and we played it." Susan was trying to explain the concept of the War to someone who had never been this closely involved. It was apparent that Vicki had never considered that the Ravenettes would _return_ the Raven to LaCroix's control. "You know he is just going to redecorate to the ugly way it was," Vicki pointed out. "Perhaps," Susan agreed. "Then again, he might not make it quite as bad as it was before. I think we got his attention. Anyway, while we need to return control to LaCroix, we can make him sign a new document that gives us certain rights." "Ah," Vicki said, perking up for the first time since she had been given the news. "What sort of rights?" "Miklos and I have been talking, and we think that Janette would make LaCroix agree to treat women better in his club." Miklos had joined the two mortals and nodded his head in agreement. "Do you mean no more strip shows?" Vicki asked. "Well, we are hoping for that, but knowing LaCroix, there won't be any guarantees. However, what we will definitely want in the new sales contract is a clause that gives the Raven/ettes the right to the Raven during any war periods." "Oooh, that would be nice. Then we can come and stay here during the next war?" "Exactly," Susan said. "LaCroix will always have the right to do his show here in the Raven, but the Ravenettes will get to come back and take control during a war time situation." "During war LaCroix would have his apartment and CERK as a base?" "Yes." "All right. We can write up papers that show that. Basically what you want is to give LaCroix control of Raven, with the exception of war time, when the Ravenettes and/or Janette, whoever was present, would have control. LaCroix is to stop exploiting women and I'll put in a line that LaCroix will always be given access to his radio equipment so that he can do the show, UNLESS the Cousins attack the Raven/ettes AT THE Raven, in which case, we can throw the Cousins out and not allow LaCroix in for the duration of the war." "That would seem more than fair," Miklos said. "Do you think that Janette would want it this way?" Vicki wanted to know. "Yes. This is what Janette would want. Can you have the papers ready by tomorrow evening at the auction?" Susan asked. "That shouldn't be a problem. Will we be turning over the bar tomorrow?" "No, the official change will be Saturday at 11:00 p.m., but it would be good to have the papers ready on Friday." "Catherine and I can do that." Vicki was resigned to turning over the Raven, but would try to make the papers as much in Janette's favor as possible. She shook her head, coming out of the past. Whoa, those flashbacks were contagious. ### MONEY FOR DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS by Torrey Harris editing by Sherri Campbel Time: Evening Place: Toronto Convention Center Walking into the convention center, the Vaqueros were awed by the sight of so much security. Uniformed guards, armed guards, plain-clothed guards, and alarm systems. "Sheezzz!" Torrey said, looking around. "You would think they don't trust us or something." "Would you trust us?" Sherri said with a raised eyebrow. "Or trust having so many people involved in the war in the same room?" Torrey looked around at the people milling about in groups. "Yeah, I see your point," Torrey said with a chuckle. It was obvious that she was not the only one this war had taken its toll on. She had never seen so many frazzled and stressed-out people in one room at one time. "Torrey?" Jana asked, "I thought Vachon was going to meet us here." "He is," Torrey answered, looking around. "In fact, there he is!" Torrey said, pointing to Vachon making his way across the room. \\Wow!// Torrey thought, \\he looks great, something is different about him...// "Oh, my," Sherri said with a smile on her face, "he does clean up nice, doesn't he?" "That's what's different!" Torrey half shouted in her suprise. Vachon was dressed in a very nicely tailored pair of black slacks, a very dark maroon silk shirt (top two buttons undone, hee hee, sorry, Knighties). Letting her eyes drift up to his face, Torrey got an even better surprise - he was clean shaven and his hair was brushed to a gleaming shine and flowing down to his sholders in soft waves. "Ummm, Torrey?" Sherri asked, shaking Torrey out of her shocked stupor, "I think we are going to be busy tonight." "Hmm...what?" Torrey said, trying to get her jaw back up off the floor (I hate it when that happens). "What do you mean, busy?" "Look!" Sherri said, pointing to a spot just behind Vachon. A group of mixed faction members had also taken notice of the new, improved, Vachon, and had started a pursuit. "Augh...Crystal...Cindy...Laura! Go grab Vachon, quick! Before that group gets to him. Protect him from assault. Everyone else come with me, let's go find our seats before this gets out of hand. Crystal...get Vachon over to our seats ASAP." ### GOING, GOING, GOING . . . HERE by Susan M. Garrett Time: Evening Place: Auction hall They'd just arrived in time . . . barely. Susan handed the invitation to the gentleman at the door of the auction room, then turned to survey the flock. "Where's Tara?" Jasmine craned her neck and chuckled. "Um . . . mountied, at the moment. Can you believe Miklos got us a full Mountie escort?" "She's going to miss the auction if she keeps this up," muttered Susan. Cynthia stood on tip-toes, her cumberbund riding up slightly as she also attempted to peer over the crowd. "It doesn't look like she's missing much of anything." Miklos was suddenly at Susan's elbow. Taking her arm, he led her into the room, whispering, "You didn't want to be late." "Oh . . . yeah." She pulled away from him and stood to one side as the Ravens moved past, mentally counting them off. Somehow, she'd managed to get everyone there, although there'd been some shuffling for position in the cars--too many people wanted to sit beside the bars. "Thank heavens it was such a short drive to the Convention Center," she murmured. "Bad enough we've got some serious drinking ahead tonight without us showing up soused in public." "They're fine," said Miklos sternly, as the last of the Ravens and Ravenettes entered the room and took their seats. He gave Susan a slight push forward. "Without a doubt, we have the most fashionable group." "We?" Susan smiled as she turned toward him. "Are you applying for membership, Miklos?" He met her good humor with a steady stare. "The Raven was my home, for a time. You're from the old country, you know what it means to have a home, native earth." "Don't I just." Susan took her seat, then put her head in her hands when she glanced down the aisle. "Oh, God, Sheryl's brought a flask. What's the law in Toronto about drinking in public?" "Nick will take care of it," said Miklos solemnly. "Not if I'm involved, he won't." She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at the stage ahead. People were milling around--it hadn't started yet. Her skin felt clammy. She loved auctions and hated them at the same time because it was always like waiting for Christmas morning and then discovering that the presents under the tree might very well belong to someone else. She turned her attention to the crew--Miklos was right in that the Unkindness were stunning in their finery. Cynthia's shopping expedition had augmented the previous efforts to find Toronto's best and they'd outdone themselves this time. Lorelei and Jill were comparing shoes at the moment--Susan looked up nervously in case Mary G.T. would take notice, but the Nat Pack were off on the other side of the room, huddled into a chaotic clump and discussing something with varying amounts of animation . . . heaven only knew where Natalie was. Catherine and Vicki were bent over a briefcase, discussing the final plans for turning the Raven over to LaCroix the following night--it had to be done, after all, and they were going to do it and preserve their own and Janette's rights to the Raven. Dave had the laptop open and was glancing over his spreadsheets with Jasmine and Tami making comments about the successes and failures of their selling techniques--he'd be needed to verify that the money they'd bid was on the square. Ari, Chanda, Heather, and Kathy were heatedly arguing about cats and cat hair versus the use of black as a fashion statement. mj seemed half asleep, with his feet on the seat in front of him. And Khaavren and Chris were still showing the effects of being blessed with the honor of having each driven one of the limousines (Against God only knew what city ordinances. Well, God and Tracy.). There was a harrumph and Susan smelled cigarette smoke. She turned in her seat and caught sight of Tara adjusting her dress in the row of seats behind them. "Done mounting?" "For now. Can't pass up a man in a red uniform," said Tara dryly. "Anything happened?" "Not yet. I'm waiting for Sheryl to get busted. She brought a flask." "Did she?" asked Tara eagerly. "Let's have a look--" Tara slipped off down the row. Groaning, Susan held her head in her hands again. "I can't believe this!" "Don't be nervous. You've done all that you could." "Maybe I did. And maybe I didn't." She frowned as she glanced around the room. "That's every penny we've got, Miklos. If they open it to a floor bid, even with what you've offered to add, it won't be nearly enough to beat out Nick. He's loaded." "Ah, but would he use his money for such a sordid purchase?" "Defending Natalie's honor? Damned straight." Susan glanced back over the Ravens. "I just don't want to let them down." "You haven't. None of you have," said Miklos sternly. He took her hand and squeezed it. "You brought the bar back to what it should be. All of you have behaved perfectly." Susan's eyes widened and she leaned close to whisper, " many times did I have to hose somebody off you?" "Janette would be proud." "Still . . . ." Susan looked over the groups assembled--Nick was with the Knighties; LaCroix was lounging against the wall, with his maniacs scattered around him. "I miss the Boss." Miklos squeezed her hand and smiled. "So do I." ### ACTION AT THE AUCTION (a) Or: Vachon gets his back Watched... by Torrey Harris Time: Evening, at auction Place: Toronto Convention Center Now seated comfortably in their respective chairs, the Vaqueros waited for the auction to start. Torrey had learned fast that it was not a good idea to leave Vachon in an aisle seat, after he was fondled more than once by passing audience members. At first she thought that a bad case of the "clumsies" had overcome half of the people coming down the aisle, but one look at Vachon's face told her that they were doing more than bumping into him by accident. "Jezzz," Torrey said to Sherri after moving Vachon to the relative safety of a seat in the middle of the row, with Vaqueros in front of him, to the side of him, and more importantly, behind him. "You would think that these people would have more control than that." "Yes, indeed," Sherri said with a smirk, "Exactly, like you would not be tripping over invisible bumps in the carpet if Miklos was sitting here." "I...it's, I mean...well...it's different... Oh, never mind!" Torrey said, turning three shades of red. \\Hmm,// thought Sherri, \\that is an interesting effect with red hair!// The auction started and was going well. That is until the interruption. When the VHA members took to the stage and started their ramblings about Vampires and how we should all be ashamed of ourselves, the Vaqueros and Vachon were shocked. Then the anger set in. The Vaqueros had risen as one, and tried to get to the stage, but were stopped by the crowd of people and the sight of Janette walking up to the stage. ### VAMPWATCH KNIGHTS (Part 4) by Perri Smith, Amy Denton and Jennie Hayes 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." ### THE ANNOUNCEMENT AT LAST (Part 1) by Lana G. Soward 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!" ### FYI by Jennie Hayes Time: :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." ### THE ANNOUNCEMENT AT LAST (Part 2) by Lana G. Soward with Janette's entrance by Susan M. Garrett 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. ### SOME JOBS, YOU WISH YOU DIDN'T TAKE by Jamie Melody Randell Time: 8:21 pm Place: Toronto Convention Center Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold the gun, for this was not an outcome she had imagined. Janette's reappearance had taken her completely by surprise, and left her more than a little dismayed... The object in question was right in her line of sight, a clear shot. Unfortunately, so was Janette. If she missed...if she missed, she was dead. But if she hit the object...she was also dead. One way or another. But she'd accepted the job. She didn't have any choice. She raised the gun, fired...and a thin stream of Q-tips shot out, bouncing harmlessly off people and things. "Damn," she muttered, changed the setting on the gun, fast, made sure it was on 'toothpicks' this time, aimed at the journal and fired... *** As if in a dream, she watched the stream of toothpicks impact with the journal, shredding it into little tiny bits. As if in a dream, she watched several toothpicks go astray, and impact with Janette instead. As if in a dream, she saw Janette notice her, register the identity of the mortal who'd dared injure her... //I'm *dead*,// Jamie thought. And got the hell out of there. ### THE ANNOUNCEMENT AT LAST (Part 3) by Lana G. Soward 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?" ### AND ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE! by Dawn Steele 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 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 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 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 beyond a one foot distance slightly blurry). "Amy Hull?" Amy grinned at her. "Quick thinking on my part wasn't it?" ### ACTION AT THE AUCTION (b) by Torrey Harris Time: Evening Place: Toronto Convention Centre "I don't get it!" Vachon and Sherri said at the same time, after the commotion was over. Vachon continued, "How could she stand all of the things they were doing to her...she should have been screaming in pain." Torrey, who was now standing on a chair to get a better look, started to chuckle, "Vachon, take a good look at Janette. Doesn't she look vaguely familiar to you?" Sherri now scrambled up onto her chair and looked also, "No! It can't be!" She said with a smile, "It is!... Oh, my! It is AMY!" Vachon was just standing there with a smile and shaking his head. \\That's what those VHA get for trying to get involved in this insanity!!// Torrey and Sherri looked at each other, and said at the same time, "You know you gotta love that girl!" ### SAME AS IT EVER WAS by Susan M. Garrett Time: Evening Place: The Raven Susan wrapped her arms around the book for dear life as she entered the Raven, trying desperately to ignore the pleas of the others who'd been in the limo with her and their repeated requests for another look at the illustration on page seventy-two. Not that she minded, really. It was very reminiscent of an Escher in that you couldn't figure out which way it should be held to view it properly. Then again, it didn't seem entirely right when viewed in direction, because no matter which way you chose, the picture broke the laws of physics, gravity, and certain portions of various legal codes in at least three states. Still somewhat stunned, Susan sat down on a bar stool and awaited further instructions, glancing up briefly to make certain that Miklos was still there. Janette had drawn her aside as they'd hurriedly left the auction and said, "That's to leave your hands under no circumstances, do you understand? It's not to be copied or photographed. Miklos--keep any other vampires away from her. She has an extraordinary tendency to be hypnotized, especially by Nick." And then Janette had swept away, surrounded by the Ravens and Ravenettes, who had piled unceremoniously, although elegantly, into the limos. Now that she thought about it, she wondered where the mounties had gotten to--their escort had disappeared. Looking up suspiciously at Miklos, she asked, "Where's Tara?" He glanced around the interior of the club, then shrugged. "That's what I thought. Five mounties and one Tara and . . . many brass buttons do they have? No, never mind," she added quickly, as Miklos raised an eyebrow. "She may be gone for hours . . . ." But then the door to the Raven opened and Tara slipped inside. They could hear the mutter of a crowd from beyond the door as she leaned her back against it to slam it shut. "Do you know how many people are out there?" she called gleefully. "And they want in!" "We'll be open shortly," said Miklos, then nodded in Janette's direction. "I think we have other business first." He moved around the bar, gesturing to Sheryl and Tami, who fell in beside him. They arranged glasses on the bar and began filling them with champagne, although the glasses for Janette and Miklos contained a slightly darker vintage. Only after everyone had been served and the small talk dwindled to a sudden silence did Miklos come out from behind the bar, followed by the two Ravenettes. "I think it's time for an inspection." "Certainly," said Janette, with mock severity. She rose from the stool on which she'd taken up residence and turned to face the crowd, which had fallen into a semi-circle in front of her. "Tara, of course, you remember," said Miklos, with a wry tone of voice. "Of course." Janette clinked her glass against Tara's, then frowned at the cigarette in her hand. "You must find a better brand," she admonished. "Good to see you, too." "Jasmine," indicated Miklos. "She managed to remove most of the coffee from Toronto this war." "Even the cappuccino?" asked Janette sternly. Jasmine swallowed. "Um . . . yes." "Good. I despise cappuccino." Janette clinked her glass against Jasmine's, then moved on to Lorelei, "And Lorelei--you kept Dorian busy in the last war for me, no?" Lorelei nodded. "He didn't show up this time." "For which we're all grateful," echoed Janette. They clinked glasses. "And Kathy." "Yes. Epee, isn't it?" She raised her glass to Kathy's. "We must fence some time. I'm quite good, you know. Nicola never was and had to learn." She walked over to Susan and clinked glasses without so much as a word, then turned toward the others. "And we have some new faces?" "Sheryl and Tami," said Miklos, a hand on either woman's shoulder as he pushed them forward. "They've been tending bar, as I had been told to ." "Admirably, I assume." Janette clinked her glass against each of theirs. "Welcome." "Jill," said Miklos, releasing his two charges and moving onward, "and Cynthia." "Both beautifully attired," commented Janette, as she clinked glasses with them, then indicated Cynthia's tuxedo with a slight gesture. "Ah, masculine attire leaves something to be desired these days, except for formal wear. It's still elegant." The crowd outside was banging at the door now, but Miklos didn't seem to notice. He merely moved on to Catherine and mj. "Catherine assisted Vicki with our legal negotiations. And I believe mj was your driver, on the way back from the auction." "Oh, yes," said Janette, with a wry smile. "I wonder how you were going to manage to get us around that corner." "It's a lot easier on a motorcycle," commented mj. Janette turned her attention to Catherine and clicked her glass. "We must talk later about that dress. It looks stunning on you." She turned to face the other end of the circle. "Ari--yes? We met in the car and I have more to say to you on the subject of Nicola, later. And Chanda . . . you mentioned something about a kitten?" Chanda paled as Janette's glass clinked against hers. "Um . . . she's very good, although a little fussy. I hope you don't mind." "Of course not. It will do us good to have a cat around. I so miss Goblin." She turned toward David and gestured toward the laptop. "And I'm to assume you've been handling the books for my club?" "David," explained Miklos. David stepped forward and clinked his glass against Janette's. "It's not pretty, but it adds up," he explained. "Heather took care of the wardrobe for Urs and the band." Miklos pushed Heather forward. Heather took a hesitant step toward Janette and cleared her throat. "I tried to rescue some of your dresses--LaCroix just dumped everything in the store room . . . ." "Thank you. You can help me sort through them later," said Janette pleasantly. Then she turned to Vicki. "And this is--" "Our 'legal counsel,'" explained Miklos, with a smile. "She found the loopholes in the contract you signed with LaCroix which allowed us to recapture the Raven without bloodshed." "Pretty standard stuff," said Vicki humbly. "Nonsense. Bloodshed is to be avoided at all costs. I deplore waste." Leaning forward Janette kissed her lightly on either cheek. "My thanks." "And our last two--" Miklos clapped Khaavren and Chris on the back and pushed them forward. "They're the latest and the last." "How fine you look!" Janette clinked her glass against each of theirs. "Welcome, then." "Welcome home," said Khaavren. Janette hesitated a moment and looked away, then turned back to glance over the assemblage of Ravens and Ravenettes. "You've done splendidly. We have only tonight and tomorrow and then we shall be done. So let's not stumble at the last." "Do we really have to give the club back to LaCroix?" asked Vicki, her annoyance evident in her tone. "It's ours now, fair and square." "Ah, , but I leave tomorrow evening. Miklos cannot stay and each of you has other lives." Janette smiled sadly. "Much as I would wish this to go on forever, it's not to be. Nothing is eternal. But--" And her smile became sly, "I like what Ari had mentioned in the car, about opening the bar and letting them drink it dry . . . giving away the glassware. Let's enjoy it for as long as it lasts and return it to LaCroix as more of a lifeless shell than even he would have made of it." Raising her glass high, Janette cried, "To the Raven!" "The Raven!" echoed the toast throughout the bar. Then Janette moved quickly to the bar and picked up a pack of cigarettes. Almost before they could blink, Tara was there with her lighter. "Miklos--see to the door until the bouncer arrives. Gentlemen--I expect you to assist Miklos in keeping order--we will allow the Raven to be man-handled and abused . . . only drained. Bartenders, to your posts! The rest of you, mingle fashionably and keep your eyes and ears open. I need to speak with Nicola later and I'd like to have someone slip a word in his ear to that effect. Tara--do whatever it is you do, but quietly this time. And Susan--" Janette paused for a moment as Susan looked up from the book, which she'd begun leafing through again. "You're responsible for that. Nothing's to happen to it until I call for it." "Yes, Boss." "And don't call me--" Rising from her stool, Susan walked past her and grinned. "It's good to have you back." Sheryl slipped past Susan and around behind the bar as the doors opened and the affiliation members began to swarm into the club. "You're right," she whispered. "She's like Amy . . . only better." Susan counted until Janette swished by her, asking softly, "Amy?" with the raise of an eyebrow. "And why are there water pistols scattered around the bar? Some of them are the size of cannon!" "Trust me," said Susan seriously. "You want to know . . . ." ### JANETTE TEACHES AN IMPROMPTU SEMINAR IN WELLNESS LOVE by Felicia Bollin Time: Evening Place: The Raven Nick left the partying throng almost unnoticed. Moving swiftly to avoid disclosure, he slipped into the back room, staring stock still at the pretty picture spread out before him. His only, his own Janette, caught in a decidedly un-glamorous pose, but one Nick decided he loved the best. Another one of her "mortal club-owner" reveries no doubt--he had once teased her that "Cabaretier" would have been a more appropriate surname to pick for this reinvention, she cherished the Raven so well. She tried to pretend otherwise, he knew--but what else on earth, if not love, could induce the Janette DuCharme he knew to shelter mortals and do lower mathematics? Nick tucked the door quickly into the groove, shutting out the buzz of the party and locking them in their own oasis of quiet. She was absently, almost mortal-ly, rubbing her graceful neck laid bare by the latest gorgeous creation that showed all the right places, muttering something about "extravagant little chits" and "_Mon Dieu_, what a bill!" as she shuffled the papers. That last exclamation came up quite often, as a matter of fact. Nick took one look at her and it was all over. Without turning to look at him, Janette raised a palm in his direction to halt him, sweeping artful straggling tendrils of lustrous ebon hair out of her way as she struggled with her ledger and nib-and-bottle. Like all their kind, Janette clung fondly to particular past affectations--archaic pens and sealing wax were her favorites. "No, Nicolas." Her greeting was flat. "Find some other graveyard to exhume. Alexandra, perhaps??" Nick stared at her--well, at the back of her swanlike neck, to be sure. <> "*Neck*," Janette finished the sentence neatly aloud. "You were aiming for my neck, Nicolas. Hands off. It's not yours to command. You forfeited that right a long time ago." Nick's hands curled into fists he didn't quite know what to do with now. He *fell* into a chair and stared at her. Round blue eyes looked up, flashed once, then returned to her papers. "Well, speak up, Nicolas." "I missed you," he said quietly. Janette sniffed. "_Pas de merde_," she said haughtily, waited, then slammed her pen down on the desk so hard they both jumped. "We both know, Nicky. You've made your point. Your infatuation with the mortals reigns supreme, even now. You've not become bored with this incarnation yet, the devil knows why. It's not a passing fancy, while I obviously am. So let's leave well enough alone, _hein_?" Nick caught the suspicious sheen of blood tears in her eyes as she finished. Reaching out, he cradled her silken cheek in his hand. She let her head press fully and luxuriously against his palm for a moment, but only a moment. Then she once more sat bolt upright, cold and self-sufficient. If Nick hadn't known the former attribute was only a pose, he would probably have been quite convinced. Janette was always a talented actress. His hand slipped down and turned up her chin. "Why?" Janette jerked her head angrily from side to side, but she was in a bad position as far as leverage went. She knew she had only to call for Miklos and he would come--so why she didn't, she did not know, and did not quite want to analyze. "We're doing it again, aren't we." Nick's voice was rueful. "So it would seem," Janette agreed feebly. "Come out with it, Nicolas. I had to leave, and *you* know why. I cannot stay around and watch you tear yourself down, searching all the while for the magic potion." Janette was the one to sigh this time. "Why, Nicolas, why? Why after all these years, all these names. You've known mortal women before, some more beautiful than this one, some less so. You've known scientists before, as well. Why do you believe that this one is different? Why do you believe she can work magic, on a body that should, by all laws of nature, be dust over the earth?" Nick looked down at the ground, almost bashful. "She just is," he murmured. Janette's look was tinged with amusement, and not a slight bit of pity. "Poor Nicky, always at the mercy of the petticoats. _Ma chere_, it is no pleasure or joy for those of us who know you then and now to see you making a fool of yourself over a romance that can never come to fruition." Her voice moved from dangerously tender to brisk. "Oh, well, I know the feeling also, as of late." Her tone was casual, almost too casual. Nick knew the brief flare of jealousy, all too common in the pit of his stomach. She arched her neck, knowing all too well what it did to his insides, rolling it this way and that. "I, too, have someone. He's *very* handsome." "Really?" Nick managed through a throat suddenly tight. "Well, I hope he's good to you, at least." "Oh, he is," Janette said breezily, then her eyes fell to her feet. When she lifted them, in accents of misery and so shyly that he did not believe it for a brief moment, she admitted, "Sometimes, I want to drain him dry, Nicolas." Then, she quickly presented him with the back of her head, so quickly that Nick, putting himself and Natalie into the picture she was sketching, did not notice her emotional withdrawal as well. Despite himself, Nick chuckled. "I'm sure." "Is that what it is like for you when you look at--your coroner?" Janette asked, blood tears trembling like a fringe on her lashes. One of them rolled over onto her porcelain cheek, and she quickly banished it to her sleeve. "Yes," Nick admitted. Still caught up in his own visions of Nat, he failed to notice the bright, false note her tone struck--in a context that he should have, would have, known all too well, were he not stuck in memories of other times, other love. It was her "I'm going to do something temporarily unpleasant for myself for *your* own eternal good" tone. LaCroix had often tried to puzzle out why Nick brought out the maternal side of Janette. _Nom du Diable_, Janette wished she knew herself. Nick took a breath--for courage, of course. "I just do, Janette. I depend on Natalie. And yes, there are times when I want to just grab her and drink and drink until I've managed to absorb all of the essence of Nat, all the wonderful things she is, inside me. But I won't. Because I love her." Janette shook her head sadly, as if to say he was deluded, and somehow, that hurt more than if she had given the expected dismissive wave of her imperious pale hand. Her fingers rested on her lips, idly twining coils of her glorious hair as she stared off into space, her eyes far. Nick thought she was thinking of this new interest, and knew he had no right to interfere. Oh, *how* he wanted to, but how could he stand there and proclaim his love for another and expect Janette to fall at his feet? "I should go." He turned to leave. "For God's sake, at least send me a letter though. Until we meet again." "'It seems we've heard this same old song before,'" Janette hummed, a twinkle in her eye, and Nick took his cue with alacrity. Charmed as always at the lighthearted Janette who came out to play far too infrequently from behind the eyes which had seen far too much, he swiveled on the balls of his feet in the opposite direction and offered her his arms. Janette came to them with the familiarity of long practice, as they danced to music only the two of them could hear. He thought he heard her whisper, "_Je suis la tienne, Nicolas_", but it was said so quickly and into the folds of his jacket, he could not be sure. When the "song" was over, Janette straightened once more. Her eyes were wistful, but only for the briefest moment. "Thank you, Nicky." Tripping lightly to the window, Janette glanced with bright eyes under lowered lashes over her shoulder at him. Of course, he was watching avidly. Aiming an effective blue gaze straight in his direction, she said, "Nicolas, what do you suppose you might be willing to give me--were I inspired to give *you* your Natalie's writings as a parting gift?" Understandably stunned, Nick did not attempt to answer this question straightaway. Janette's lightning-quick shifts of mood and tone continued. "Let us suppose, that I were to sell it to you--for a nominal fee." Her lips twitched. Nick rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. This game, at least, he knew well. The Janette he'd held in his arms during their dance was a bewitching, vulnerable stranger. He felt much more comfortable with this mocking one. Smirking, he said, "What--a fifty per cent increase?" Janette inclined her head consideringly to one side. "Perhaps." She prowled back and forth, with a little flourish at each end of the room. Nick was dizzy from watching. "What would you say?" Her delicate brows raised in challenge. "Done," Nick said swiftly, already reaching into his breast pocket for an invisible checkbook. Janette smiled at his boyish alacrity. "No, no, Nicolas, you know better than that. We're not done yet." Janette smiled again, much more predatorily. Nick was amused. "We've established you're going to give it to me; now all that remains is for us to come to terms." Janette was shaking her head at him, laughingly. "You've gone rusty, Nicolas. Offer me--something else." She crossed her arms, emphasizing lovely breasts in an almost casual manner that Nick knew was anything but. Smiling, he started towards her. "How about--jewelry?" He stroked a finger along her collarbone. "I know how much you love your jewels. A fine parure of diamonds and rubies? I know the very set. Later than Cleopatra, earlier than the Regency. Earrings, and bracelet, the works?" Janette gave the finger a kittenish, warning nip with the edge of one of her fangs as Nick jumped. Smiling sweetly, she said, "_Cher_, you could buy me the Hope diamond, and it still would not be enough. I value this journal far, far more than you will ever realize, for a reason dearer than you could ever imagine, with your already limited faculties dulled by frequent consort with mortals." Nick growled and made a playful move to spank her. She darted out of his reach and turned about the room, always managing to dance just far enough away so that she could not be caught. "No, Nicolas, keep going." Her pugnaciously tilted chin was, quite simply, asking for it; her barbed wit, as always, a joy. Nick's hand shot out and caught her by the wrist, bringing her in closer to him. Nose to nose, eye to eye, he said flatly, "Clothes. No woman alive says no to clothes, especially not you. And matching furs, for each." Then sat back with a flourish, waiting for acceptance of his splendid offer. Janette looked right back into his eyes, giving not an inch. "*Now* you're talking my language, Nicolas." They both knew she wasn't talking about clothing. His eyes dwelt briefly on her pouting lips, then moved back. Janette's hand shot out and grabbed his collar. Bringing him back, close to her eyes, she said bluntly, "*You*, Nicolas. For a day, a month, or a year. Your choice. All dependent on just how badly you want this treasure for your lady fair, an item which may or may not be authentic. Roll the dice, Nicky." Nick met her eyes. He swallowed. Lifting her chin up, this time in a rush of tenderness, he pressed a quick kiss to the jawline. "That's all? All you want out of everything I could offer you?" Then kissed both eyelids, the merest brush. "How flattering, Janette." He meant it, as well, at that moment. "All that and more, Nicky." She closed her eyes luxuriantly, enjoying the lighthearted kisses far more than she would let on. "But maybe--you would go even higher, non?" "Name it," Nick said, each word falling separately into the darkness, his voice agonized and cracking. "You've got it. Just stop jerking me around, Janette. *Please*," he rasped. Suddenly, with vampire's reflexes, she shoved her hand into Nick's chest, so hard he stumbled back a pace or two. Glittering blue eyes narrowed. "You used your lips to speak to me just now, while you used your heart to speak to your coroner, Nicolas. And *that*, my dear friend, is to be your reward for the time being. You owe me *nothing* in return for the journal, Nicolas, nothing at all. I would not take it anyway. If you were lost to Natalie that easily, you were not mine to lose." Eyes flashing danger signals, she hauled on the bellpull. Nick felt dazed. "Wha--what?" Janette looked at him pityingly. "Forget it, Nicolas. There will come a time when you will understand my words, but not now. Right now, my true meaning is far from you. When you understand, all you need to do is call and I will come, but not now. Yes, Susan. Thank you," she said as her head turned. Susan entered, silently offering the promised journal on a bronze salver. She handed it wordlessly to Janette, but with a very speaking look. Janette shot her back another one of those "I will brook no questions" glares in return for her very valid concern. Nick tried to see what opinions Susan might hold on this topic, but she kept her eyes strongly averted from him, just in case, and departed. Janette tapped the notebook that a quarter of Toronto now knew existed against her cheek; extended it the length of her arm; when Nick blushingly reached out for it, she snatched it away so quickly he almost fell over. Then, relenting, she offered it to him with a dazzling smile. "_Pas du tout_." Nick took the book. Much to his credit, he didn't attempt to leaf through it in her presence, merely clasped it under his arm and smiled. "Thank *you*, Janette." Janette smiled. "Just add it to the list of things you owe me, Nicolas. _A tout a l'heure, mon vieux_." She trailed fingertips down his cheek as if trying to memorize it. "_A tout a l'heure_, 'Nette." he said solemnly, kissing her hand and sketching a courtier's bow. Moving a few steps towards the door, he came back. His hand closed firmly over her smaller one. "A proper kiss goodbye, then," he teased, a lock of blond hair falling into his eyes. He dashed it back, and the familiar gesture made her throat ache. "As a more suitable form of thanks for this gift. Until we meet again." But Janette did not want Nick's gratitude as such. A coquettish, teasing expression fixed itself on Janette's face as she cocked her head to one side. She hoped he never knew what that pose cost her. "But certainly, _cher_," she replied, then took a beat. Nick moved towards her, leaning in. Janette neatly placed a hand on the side of his face and diverted his frontal attack. Eyelids drooping sultrily, she whispered: "If you're lucky." Nick paused in pre-smooch and grinned. Janette grinned back, the smirk of a woman who was plainly thinking, <> "You did it to me again, did you?" "But certainly," Janette agreed cheerfully. "You're much, much too predictable." And with one last flirtatious smile, she used the force of her vampire strength to all but push Nick out the door, pressing one brief chaste kiss to his lips through the gap before closing it. Safe behind closed doors once more, Janette moved back towards the table. Exhaling for a long, shuddering breath, she picked up young "Janey" from the floor and admonished the kitten, "Never, *never* fall in love, _cherie_." The cat stared back. "Oh well, at least *you're* engaging." Dropping the cat onto the small four-poster bed one of the Ravenettes had added to the back room, she sat, petting it with one hand, curling the fingers of the other around one of the canopy supports till she could collect her thoughts. After a suitable interval, preparing once more to join her Ravenettes and assorted Immortal Beloveds at the bar, to smile and smile even if it almost killed her at Nicolas' triumphant male expression and Natalie's radiant happiness; she stood, still clinging to the four-poster, and addressed the door. "I wish you joy of him, Natalie. You have been--" she took a breath, "kind to me, which is rare; now, I shall be kind to you. I only wanted the chance; fate gave it to me. "I wish you joy as well, Nicolas. For the moment." She took a deeper breath. Her whisper was even softer. Only the kittens heard her shameful admission, or saw her shoulders square and her spine stiffen. "Nicolas--my friend, my love, I cherish you always. And for the moment, I'll say it for both of us." Her lips in a sure smile, proud and confident. Her gaze steady, and her head held high. "I'll say it for both of us, Nicolas--and some day, you'll learn." ### SOME JOBS, YOU'RE GLAD YOU DIDN'T TAKE By Jamie Melody Randell Time: Evening Place: Outside the Raven Jamie came out of her dream sequence with a start. Wow, that had been awful! Just thinking about what might have happened if she'd actually taken that shot... She'd been all lined up for it, but then a figure had gotten in the way -- Susan, not Janette; not two people one would normally mistake for one another, but from that distance, and with Jamie's intermittent vision problems...and while toothpicks could do only limited damage to a vampire, they could do VERY bad damage to a human. //I could just see me violating the rules and killing someone,// she thought, //and SUSAN of all people; I'd have had to, like, throw myself off the top of the CN Tower in shame!// But she still had a job to do, d*mn it, even though the $#@! thing was an evident forgery; she'd accepted the chocolate downpayment, and she and Christina had already consumed it, and she was duty-bound to complete the task for which she'd been commissioned. Oy. The crowds were gathering around the Raven, anxiously awaiting what was rumored to be the Last Bash at Janette's old watering hole. A pity that the Raven/ettes hadn't been able to keep it -- but for awhile, for a small precious time, they had been able to recapture the past as it had been. Janette's Raven, a place so near and dear to their hearts -- everyone's hearts (even the Cousins, even the ones who wouldn't admit it) -- that the very thought of letting it return to its new guise formed an ache inside her. The Raven was a part of their history, *all* their histories, all the factions and all their members: from the ones who'd been there from the beginning to the cluelessest newbie on the list. They had all "been" there, every one of them, War players and others, in their stories and their dreams and their hearts. To every single one of them, to some degree, the Raven was...home. For the space of one last night, there would be celebration...and then it would be over. Janette's Raven, consigned forever to the past. Soon enough, there would be people who had never known the Raven in its heyday, who would know only LaCroix's travesty, and comprehend nothing of the club's true glorious heritage. And there was not a damn thing any of them could do about it. At least, not until the next War. Jamie blinked away tears and stubbed out the remainder of yet another cigarette. She didn't have time for sentiment; she still had a job to do, and though she seriously doubted she'd actually get a clear shot at the thing, she *had* to try. And besides...tomorrow it might become LaCroix's Raven again, but for tonight, class was still firmly present in the building. Tonight was a night for celebration. The people milling around the entrance began to murmur excitedly; the doors were opening... *** She hadn't been able to get a clear shot at the journal, not while Susan was holding it and all those people were clustering around it; and now Susan had disappeared with the journal, and that was the end of it. Jamie sighed, sipped at her drink -- it tasted strange -- she sniffed at it, realized what she was holding, was about to dump it someplace where someone with, uh, the proper metabolism might appreciate it...changed her mind. The pileup at the bar was such that she'd have a heck of a time getting another, and well, there WAS liquor in it... It was a measure of her state of mind that she hadn't noticed what she was drinking before; the glass was half empty. She'd shared a couple of toasts with some of her fellow Mercs in attendance, and with some of the Raven/ettes she'd come to know; she'd exchanged surreptitious greetings with the more sympatico Cousins, and endured the glowers of the ones who considered her a traitor. She'd even held still and allowed one of the Knighties to accidentally-on-purpose spill a drink on her, in retribution for her Perridog attack on Catherine; her right leg was still damp. Black leggings didn't show the moisture, but it was uncomfortable...but she'd owed 'em the return shot; it was only fair. The party was certainly some bash; was she the only one feeling a tad melancholy? Probably not. She'd seen it in some of the faces, and not just those of the Raven/ettes. The oldsters, and some of the newbies, the ones who had the perspective to understand the magnitude of the changes taking place. It wasn't just the end of a war, it was the end of an era... Jamie shook herself fiercely. //It's a party!// she scolded herself fiercely. //Stop with the f***ing postmortems and enjoy yourself already!// And to reinforce the thought, she took a long, long draught of her drink... It didn't taste half bad, actually. She glanced up, to see Nick heading out of one of the back rooms, journal in hand. //Now's my chance!// she thought frantically, whipped the gun out of her pocket and fired... ...again, without checking the settings first; and a spray of Q-tips shot out and scattered. Bewildered, Nick looked around -- there were Q-tips stuck in his hair, and the book... ...was utterly undamaged. "Sh**," Jamie muttered under her breath. The detective shook his head -- one Q-tip had lodged itself neatly in each ear; he brushed them away, and continued onwards. And Jamie shoved her Q-tip gun into her pocket disgruntledly and finished her drink. //I need another one,// she decided, //even if it *is* mixed with blood,// and shoved her way through the crowds to the bar, to order herself another drink. ### HOW MANY VAMPIRES DO YOU NEED TO MAKE A GOOD PARTY? by Torrey Harris editing by Sherri Campbell Time: Evening Place: The Raven Standing outside the Raven, the Vaqueros waited for Vachon to appear. They were muffled up against the cold, rubbing their hands and stomping their feet. "Is this a good idea?" Cindy asked, "I mean, we did do some damage in here during the war...and, well, Janette is back... What if she knows about Vachon and Amy?" Torrey looked over at Cindy and shook her head. "I am sure it will be fine, this is the last gathering before we all go back home. It will be fun." Vachon dropped down to the sidewalk beside the group. The whole group jumped as one, and mingled curses about him "scaring the living *bleep* out of us" were smothered. "You know, Vachon..." Linda said, trying to get her heart beating a normal rhythm again, "can't you at least hum or something right before you do that, so we would have a warning?" Jana and Crystal nodded in agreement. Vachon looked at her and grinned. "Well, I did learn some new limericks the other night," Vachon said, looking at Torrey with laughter in his eyes. "Why are you looking at me?" Torrey said. "I don't know any limericks!" "HA!" Vachon laughed. "You sure knew a lot of them the other night...or don't you remember?" The whole group turned to look at their leader, who was obviously trying to piece together the night at the bar in her mind. "I...I remember going to the bar and dancing..." Torrey said, trying to get it all straight. "And drinking?" Vachon said with a grin. "Yeah...well, maybe I did drink a *little*...but I was not that far gone," Torrey said with a worried look on her face. "OK, whatever you say," Vachon said with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Let's get inside before we miss anything fun." The Vaqueros headed for the door and started to file inside. Torrey grabbed Vachon and pulled him out of the group. "I *know* you are just teasing me," she said to Vachon with as much bravado as she could muster. Vachon smiled down at her. "Whatever you say...but I must say that I really did have fun that night," Vachon said as he ran his finger down the side of her neck. Torrey's eyes almost popped out of her head and she spun around and ran for the nearest parked car. Pulling the side mirror out she started to examine her neck for any signs of wounds. Nothing...not a mark. Torrey heard Vachon laughing as he headed into the club. "That one was for braiding my hair in the club!" Vachon said as he went through the door. \\Braiding his hair? Shezz, that is the last time I go out drinking with a Vampire!!// Torrey thought to herself as she followed Vachon into the Raven. ### VAQUEROS GO TO A PARTY by Cindy L. Brewer Time: Evening Place: The Raven "Boy, the Ravenettes did a great job undoing LaCroix's damage," Cindy Brewer commented as the group of Vaqueros found a group of tables. It was the first really good look she had gotten since their breaking and entering job. "Yes," Sherri agreed, "it's good to see this place back to normal." "Too bad it won't last," Torrey replied, watching the people mingle. The club was almost full to capacity. "I didn't think there was anything wrong with the way it was," Vachon commented causing several heads to turn and stare at him. Torrey laughed, "Ignore him, guys. He hasn't seen the Raven in its previous glory, remember?" "Do we *have* to go back to our real lives, now?" Cindy asked, absently sipping her drink. "Unfortunately," Torrey replied, "all good things must come to an end." "Well then," Cindy said, draining her glass and standing, her hazel eyes filled with determination, "Let's crank this party into high gear. Anyone want another drink?" ### BUT NOT FORGOTTEN (a) by Partly Time: Late night Place: The Raven Partly and Tracy sat at a small table in a corner of the Raven and watched the revelry going on around them. The noise level was slightly higher than the last party but the tension level was *much* lower, due in part to the free drinks but mostly due to the end of the war. While Partly was happy to be returning to her normal life, she would still miss this. She was sorry that she didn't get to know more people here, but it wasn't a bad effort for her first time out. "Are you finally going to tell me what this is all about?" Tracy asked. "It's been three weeks of solid chaos, and you have yet to give me a decent explanation." Partly shrugged. "I'm not sure if I can." She was getting tired of lying. If only she could explain without straying from the truth. "Do you remember what Dawn was saying at the auction earlier today? About this being one giant role-playing game?" Tracy nodded. "Everyone just came up here to participate in a giant role-playing game -- a War -- and that those wackos from VHA just got carried away." "That's a good explanation." And it was half true. "And my involvement in it..." "Is simply because of me." Well, that was a lie. "Were all of these people involved in this... War?" Tracy asked. Partly nodded. "I think so. Some were a great deal more active than others, but they were all playing." Now, that was true. Tracy nodded, then pointed across the bar to a woman standing against the wall. "Do you know who that is?" "I think it's Dianne De Sha. Why do you ask?" "I met her last week. She was pretending to be a police detec