Title: KISS ME DEADLY
Author/pseudonym: Candy Apple 
Email address: blair_lady@yahoo.com
Rating: MAO 
Pairings: J/B

Status: NEW, complete
Date: 10-30-99
Archive: YES
Archive author: Candy Apple 
Archive email address: blair_lady@yahoo.com
Category: First Time, Drama, Holiday (Halloween)
Series/Sequel: NOPE.

Disclaimers: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel.  No money being
made.  Just for fun.

Notes: This story is dedicated to all the people who have sent me email
in the last two weeks.  If any of you are still speaking to me <g>, I will
be back among the living now--or at least, the undead. <eg> I had this
brainstorm and wanted it posted for Halloween--which meant letting
my muse take over my computer for quite a while.

The song lyrics are from Lita Ford's hit, "Kiss Me Deadly".  The lyrics
quoted parallel a legend Blair will describe in the story. 

Summary:   A lover from Jim's past has joined the realm of the undead,
and returns to Cascade for Jim.  

Warnings: A vampire, slight m/f implied--but it ain't nothin' compared
to the m/m that earns the MAO rating.  Violence, caskets, bats,
cemeteries, old houses and other night creatures may be found in these
pages...

**********************************************************

KISS ME DEADLY

by

Candy Apple

**************************************
//Kiss me once,
Kiss me twice,
Come on pretty baby, 
Kiss me deadly...//
**************************************


     Jim stirred and drew the covers up more tightly around himself. 
Caught in that realm that isn't truly sleep, and isn't truly waking, he was
restless.  Sounds of the night reached sentinel ears.  The sounds that
hid beneath the mundane, were masked by the sirens, the traffic...  

     The stealthy footfall in a dark alley, the prowling of cats in the
underbrush and the rustle of the wings of bats as they held court over
their world.  The deepest, darkest part of the night, when even a
sentinel should be sleeping.

     With an exasperated grunt, Jim rolled over in bed again,
knowing he had only precious little time until dawn, and knowing how
tired he'd be if he couldn't at least catch a little solid sleep.  Not really
wanting to see the answer, he opened his eyes to look at the clock.

     And looked straight into the eyes of Lila Hobson.

********

     "Jim?"  Blair stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up to
his partner.  "Jim?  C'mon, man, breakfast is getting cold."  He waited,
and there was still no response.  Worried now, he climbed the stairs
and was stunned to find Jim still in bed, on his back, eyes closed, one
arm slung over to the empty side of the bed...which looked strangely...
rumpled.  "Jim?"  Blair moved closer, fear wrapping around his heart
like clammy, bony fingers.

     "Mm," Jim grunted, still not coming to completely.  Blair
exhaled.  For a horrible moment, Jim had almost looked...

     "Jim, come on, man, it's after seven.  I thought you had a
meeting first thing this morning."

     "Wha...?"  Jim stirred a little now and looked at Blair tiredly,
blinking bleary eyes as if he were too exhausted to keep them open
long.

     "Are you feeling okay?"  Blair sat on the edge of the bed and
reached out to feel Jim's forehead but his hand was batted away
abruptly.  "I thought maybe you had a fever or something."  Blair stood,
a bit wounded at the speed and force of the rejection.

     "I'm just tired.  I didn't get to sleep...well, I slept...but I was
awake during the night."  Jim started moving and now raised his hand
to his neck, wincing.  "Damn, must have slept funny."

     "What?  Your neck hurts?"

     "Yeah, just a stiff neck, I guess."  Jim sat up in bed and winced
again at the movement of his neck.  "There's something there."  Jim
rubbed over the spot, his face tight with concentration.

     "Let me see."  Blair sat on the edge of the bed again, and Jim
obligingly turned his head.  "Oh, man.  Those are...Jim...it looks like...
Oh, man!"

     "That's really helpful, Chief.  You ever consider a career in
medicine?"  Jim nudged Blair with his knee, and the other man stood
while Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, then
swayed.  Blair caught his arm and steered him to sit down again.  

     "I'm going to get you a mirror.  Don't move until I get back." 
Blair fled down the steps, and it was on the tip of Jim's tongue to tell
him there was one in the dresser drawer, but even talking seemed like
an effort.  He hadn't felt this sluggish since...well...*ever*.  "Okay,"
Blair said, coming back upstairs.  Take a look for yourself."  He handed
Jim a small, hand-held mirror.

     "Damn, that is an ugly looking thing, isn't it?"  Jim gingerly
touched the edges of two large punctures.  The flesh around them was
swollen, and a dried rivulet of blood trailed down his neck from each
small hole.  "Doesn't exactly look like a rat bite, or a bug bite.  It's more
like a damn puncture wound."  Jim frowned.  But I'd *feel* something
like this when it happened."

     "Jim, you know what it looks like.  Admit it."

     "Just because Halloween is coming up, I don't think that's
particularly funny, Sandburg.  This is serious.  How could I get a
wound like this without feeling it?"

     "You couldn't--at least, not by any natural means."  Blair
paused, ignoring Jim's venomous look.  "Did you have any weird
dreams last night?  You said you didn't sleep well."

     "No, I didn't," Jim responded, remembering now the strange
dream of seeing Lila, feeling her close to him, holding her again...her
promise to come back for him this time...  Figuring that would only
fuel Blair's vampire theory, Jim shook his head.  "No dreams though."

     "You're pale," Blair began, then felt Jim's arm, "you're a little
cool, and you're dizzy.  Jim, you've lost a lot of blood, but there's none
in the bed.  How do you account for that?"

     "Maybe somebody got in and drugged me somehow.  You
know, some nut with a vampire thing going on."

     "Oh, get real, man.  I can't fart out in the parking lot without
you hearing me.  You seriously think some guy could walk in here,
drug you, do this number on your neck and walk out without you
remembering or hearing *anything*?"  Blair shook his head.  "The
vampire theory is more realistic than that one."

     "I hate to break this to you, Darwin, but there are no such things
as vampires.  When you've gotten over that, I'll tell you the real scoop
on Santa and the Easter Bunny."  Jim stood up, put a hand to his
forehead and sat back down again.  "Shit.  I feel like shit.  Damn, it's
cold in here."

     "We have to get you in to see a doctor.  Whatever you want to
accept as an explanation for it, something seriously weird happened to
you, and you're exhibiting symptoms of major blood loss."

     "Where did it go then?" 

     "I don't know."  Blair climbed onto the bed on his hands and
knees, rummaging around in the bed clothes.  "Jim--what is this?" 
Blair held up a small gold earring accented with a tiny diamond.  

     "It was...oh, man..."  Jim took the small piece of jewelry and
looked it over carefully.  "It belonged to Lila."

     "Lila...how did it get in your bed?  Were you looking at it or
something last night?"

     "No...not exactly."  Jim took in a deep breath.  "I...remember it
because...it's the same as the pair she was wearing when I saw her... 
Blair, she was buried wearing these earrings."

     "Dear God."  Blair swallowed almost audibly, sitting on the bed
now.  "Oh, my God," he said solemnly.  "We can handle this.  We just
have to be calm, and deal with it like any other puzzle.  There are ways
to handle these situations.  Folklore is full of--"

     "Blair, just hold on a minute.  You seriously want me to believe
that this earring is in my bed because Lila is now a vampire and
showed up here last night?"

     "You dreamed about her, didn't you?"  

     "How did you--"

     "Because it's not uncommon for the victim of a vampire to
wake the next morning thinking the whole thing was some 'strange
dream'.  Jim, please level with me.  If you saw her last night, it wasn't a
dream."

     "I couldn't sleep...or at least, I couldn't really *rest*.  I kept
tossing and turning, and I finally decided to check out the time.  When
I opened my eyes, there she was.  Or at least, that's how the dream
started."

     "Jim, try to remember what happened next."  Blair found Jim's
robe and put it around his partner.  He felt Jim's hand, and then started
peeling off his own clothes.  Jim stared at him, stunned.  

     "Is there any special reason you're stripping, Chief?"

     "Your body temperature has got to be *way* down.  It's cold out
there and I don't want to take you outside until you've warmed up a
little.  I don't want you to go into shock or something."  Blair was down
to his boxers now.  "Come on, get in bed with me."  Exasperated with
Jim's resistance, Blair tugged on his arm.  "Body heat.  It might help
warm you up."

     "I've never felt this cold in my life."

     "Let me help, then.  While you're warming up, you can rest and
tell me more about the dream.  Maybe when you relax, it'll come back
to you."

     Jim obeyed, and soon found himself blanketed by Blair's warm,
hair-dusted body, the covers pulled up until there was only enough of
an opening to keep them from suffocating.  

     "Put your arms around me."

     "What?"  Jim looked up at Blair, confused.

     "Are you always this responsive in bed?"  Blair teased.  "I'm
sorry, I was just kidding," he said and Jim's irked expression.  "I want
you to take my body heat.  I can't cover your arms, but if they're around
my back, it'll help warm them up."

     Jim obliged, and Blair shivered a little.  

     "No, don't pull back.  See, as your body absorbs my heat, my
body is bound to change temperature somewhat, but I can go a long
way before it's dangerous.  So don't worry about a couple of shivers."

     "You're so warm," Jim commented, more to himself than Blair. 
His partner was just like a soft, living furnace.  Sandburg liked being
warm, and usually wore enough layers to keep his body nice and toasty. 

     "Tell me more about Lila."

     "I don't remember anything else."

     "Sure you do, Jim.  Just relax and don't fight it.  And don't hold
anything back from me.  We have to fight this--and you need my help."

     "I only remember fragments.  Her...being here, coming to me,
us...I thought it was making love, but it was strangely...*asexual*.  I
mean, there was something sensuous about it, but..."

     "You weren't really aroused?"

     "I was, but not to the point of really craving having sex.  It was
as if there was something else that was the consummation.  But I
felt...*cold*..."  Jim sighed.  "That's all.  I don't remember anything
else."

     "Don't you see?  That's classic!  It's like right out of a vampire
movie."

     "You're citing movies as sources now, Darwin?"  Jim needled,
wrapping his arms more tightly around Blair's torso, feeling stronger
now that some of the chill was leaving him.  The feeling of warmth and
the familiarity of Blair's presence, his voice and his scent were
dispelling the dark shadow of the previous night's events.

     "Look, nobody takes this legend seriously.  But there were a lot
of people, especially in Eastern Europe, who believed in vampires, and
took active precautions against them.  Now sure, a lot of that stuff is
just superstition--people without education or without medical
understanding had to come up with folklore to explain a lot of things
that happened in their world...but still, why that legend?  Why stories
of dead people coming back to drink the blood of the living?  What
would possess someone to *make that up*?"

     "Probably the same thing that possessed someone to invent
Freddie Krueger or Jason or Michael Myers--a dark side to their
imaginations.  Or some peasant somewhere got bitten by some animal
and died, and suddenly everyone was thinking it was supernatural.  I
don't know."

     "Getting warmer?"  Blair asked.

     "Much," Jim replied.  Before he knew it, he was running his
foot affectionately up and down Blair's leg.  It was something he'd have
done with a lover, and for a moment, the line had been so blurred...

     "Stay here."  Blair started to get up.

     "Wait a second--"

     "I'm going to call your doctor and see if he can work you in this
morning so we don't have to sit around the emergency room for three
hours.  Stay here under the covers, huh?"

     "Blair--"

     "I'll call Simon, don't worry."  Blair grabbed his clothes off the
foot of the bed and hurried downstairs.

     //Don't worry?  You think Lila returned from the dead as a
vampire and now you're calling Simon and you tell me not to worry?// 
Jim let out a long breath and rolled his eyes.  This was going to be a
strange day.

********

     "Well, Jim, I hate to be inconclusive about this, but I honestly
have never seen a wound exactly like this one," Dr. Matthews said,
examining the dual puncture on Jim's neck with a magnifying glass. 
The older man stood back, frowning.  "You said there was no blood
around on the bedding?"

     "Not a drop," Blair supplied helpfully, and Jim shot him a look. 
It wasn't that he'd had any objections to Blair being present for the
somewhat simple examination of a neck wound, but he had objections
to Blair sharing every peculiar detail with the doctor.  If Blair
mentioned the dream, Jim vowed he would not be the only one with a
major wound...

     "Actually, this almost looks like some sort of...*suction* took
place.  I just can't figure out what kind of device could have made it. 
It's also pretty hard to believe you slept through this.  But we've got a
blood and urine sample now, so we'll find out if there are any drugs in
your system.  

     "What about blood loss?  I mean, he was really cold this
morning and dizzy and--"

     "Sandburg, just settle down, okay?"  Jim said sharply.  

     "Well, you've lost some blood, that's for sure.  I didn't think it
was serious enough for a transfusion, but if you were having symptoms
like that--"

     "I'm fine now, Doc," Jim retorted, shooting a venomous look at
Blair.

     "I'm compatible as a donor for Jim if he needs blood," Blair
spoke up.  

     Jim looked into his friend's concerned face, feeling like a total
ass for snapping at Blair.  If he needed a kidney, Sandburg would
probably volunteer one of his just as readily as he did his blood.

     "How are you feeling now, Jim?"

     "A little tired, but I don't feel cold anymore and the dizziness is
gone."

     "I don't think a transfusion is necessary at this point.  Your vital
signs are normal, your body temperature is 98.0, which is normal for
many people, and you don't have any serious symptoms.  Go home and
take it easy today.  If you're feeling all right tomorrow, you can go back
to work.  If you have any more symptoms, or you still feel fatigued
tomorrow, come back in and see me."

     "Thanks, Doc."  Jim slid off the table.

     "Not so fast.  I still have to disinfect and bandage that wound. 
We'll call you with the lab test results later."

     "This day just keeps getting better," Jim groused as he sat back
on the table.  

********

     Jim sat on the couch staring fixedly at ESPN.  He wasn't exactly
sure what sport he was staring at, since his mind was still occupied
with the events of the previous night, and his struggle to make some
kind of sense of them.

     Lila was dead.  He knew that for a fact.  He'd held her in his
arms as she expelled her last breath, and when no family came forward
to claim her body, he made funeral arrangements quietly, without
telling anyone else, and was the lone mourner to bid her farewell
before the casket was closed and she was transported to the cemetery
for burial.  

     He hadn't gone to the actual graveside interment, as it had
seemed unnecessary.  Not knowing what religion Lila followed, or if
she followed any at all, Jim had asked the funeral director to arrange
for a minister to say a few prayers over her at the funeral home.  The
last time Jim saw her, the funeral director was carefully closing the lid
of her coffin.

     She was buried in Mountainview Cemetery, in a picturesque
spot Jim had visited once or twice since her death.  His last visit had
been about four months ago, on a particularly bleak, rainy summer
Saturday.  

     Lila Hobson was dead and buried.   Seeing her was a dream at
best, some drug-induced hallucination at worst.  There was no way that
Lila was anywhere but in her coffin, under six feet of earth, in
Mountainview Cemetery.
     
     "Jim?  Lunch is ready," Blair said from the kitchen.  Not only
was Jim confined to quarters, staring blankly at a parade of stale sports
reruns and inane talk shows, but Blair had cleared his schedule as well,
devoting his day to looking after his partner.

     "Pretty elaborate lunch, Chief," Jim commented as he sat down
to a spread of tossed salad, a small but thick lean steak and a potato. 
Blair had a sandwich for himself.

     "The meat's a good source of protein, and you need to build
your strength back up a little."

     "I'm doing fine, Chief.  But thanks.  This looks great."  Jim
started in on the food, and then paused, looking up at Blair, who was
chewing a large bite of his sandwich.  "Blair...look, I'm sorry about
earlier, in the doctor's office."

     "What?  Why?"

     "You were trying to help and I wasn't exactly...appreciative."

     "Thanks, but it's okay, man.  I understand.  You and I just don't
see eye to eye on this thing, but that's all right.  I know I can prove it to
you."

     "Prove what?  That Lila has risen from the dead and is a
vampire now?  Don't hold your breath."

     "She isn't done with you, Jim."

     "Dammit, Sandburg, this is sick!"  Jim hurled his napkin onto
the table angrily.  "She's dead.  Let her rest in peace, for God's sake."

     "Jim, where is Lila buried?"

     "What?"

     "Where is she buried?"

     "What does that have to do with anything?"

     "Actually, not a whole lot.  If the legends are true, vampires can
travel great distances.  As a matter of fact, in Romania, people once
believed that--"

     "That's it."  Jim stood up, sending his chair skidding backwards. 
"I don't want to hear one more word out of you about vampires and
legends and any other hypothetical fictitious *bullshit*!!"  he bellowed
down at Blair.  The smaller man looked characteristically unimpressed
by his outburst.   

     "There is no feasible explanation for what happened to you last
night, Jim.  Now you can stick your head in the sand and refuse to
accept that there is something supernatural at work here, and you can
end up spending eternity wandering around in the dark sucking on
strange people's necks for your sustenance, or you can listen to me
before it's too late."  Blair looked up into Jim's angry face with
concerned eyes.  "You can get as shitty with me as you want about this,
but I know I'm right, and I'm not backing down.  I love you too much to
sit back and let some...*walking dead woman* drag you off into her
world.  If you won't fight her, I'll do it myself.  But mark my words, she
isn't going to win."  Blair threw his own napkin down now and stalked
off into his room, leaving Jim standing there, slack-jawed, still hearing
only one phrase replaying over and over again in his head...

     //I love you too much...  I love you too much...  I love you too
much...//

     Staring at Blair's closed bedroom doors, Jim let those words
sink in, and take root.  Not that Blair needed to say them--Jim knew
they were true.  He'd known after Borneo came and went, he'd known
when Blair survived the whole mess with Alex, and understood it so
completely, and he'd known when Blair had stepped into the public eye
and handed off his career, dismissing it as "just a book" with a little
shake of his head, and staying by Jim's side despite what had been a
long, rocky road.  

     Now Blair was working in a local corporation which William
Ellison essentially owned, being its primary stockholder with a
controlling interest.  Blair still went to work every day in his relaxed
clothes, and the elder Ellison had done nothing to stuff Blair into a
corporate mode.  Actually, the younger man was starting to enjoy his
job, training executives who were on their way to international
assignments in more remote nations where the company had interests. 
When he wasn't preparing someone for a major assignment, he was
managing sensitivity training seminars for employees who dealt not
only with international clients and colleagues, but also in how to better
relate to other cultures encountered on a domestic level.

          What had begun as a contrived job Bill Ellison had strong-armed 
one of his corporate cohorts into creating out of gratitude for
getting Jim out of the public eye, had turned into something
meaningful.  Jim had expected nothing less of Blair, and now his father
was strutting around the quarterly board meetings, proud a peacock, for
having pioneered this forward-thinking program into the company, and
finding this exceptional young man to spearhead it.  

     Questions about Blair's press conference had arisen, but had
been explained away as a misunderstanding--and since Bill Ellison's
specialty was "corporatespeak", Jim and Blair had let him do the initial
talking on the subject.  

     So as the employment prospects looked bleaker and bleaker,
and Blair leaving Cascade had loomed as a more and more likely
option, Bill's offer to use his influence to "fix things" for Blair had
seemed like the only way out.  In the end, it had been a good move. 
Blair was happy, the company was happy, and Jim had felt much more
like working on his relationship with his father considering the way he
had taken Blair under his wing, and aligned his considerable reputation
behind Blair, when Blair's was at its shakiest.  He might not have been
father of the year material in Jim's childhood, but he had done his best
to be a concerned father to both of them when they had most needed
help.

     Jim picked up the plates off the table and carried them to the
sink.  He made himself useful cleaning up lunch, and then returned to
the couch.  Blair was angry, and rightfully so.  But apologizing to him
would mean accepting the possibility of a vampire attack.  So for the
time being, Jim left Blair to stew behind the closed door, feeling guilty
that Blair had rearranged what had been a killer line-up of work for the
day to sit at home and babysit Jim.  Now he was sitting in his bedroom,
papers rustling.  He was either catching up on paperwork from the
office, or he was researching vampires in some damn book he had
tucked under the bed.  

     Attempting vainly to focus on the television, Jim ignored the
occasional long silences in the other bedroom, followed by tired sighs. 
Blair really believed in this vampire nonsense.  Jim smiled, shaking his
head.  And at the same time, he felt the icy fingers of unease tickling
his spine...

********

     Life returned to normal, or at least what passed for normal, for
the next few days.  Jim's blood and urine tests came back clean,
showing no trace of drugs in his system.  Still, whatever had caused the
neck wound was apparently an isolated incident.  If Lila were one of
the undead now, she had obviously moved on to greener pastures.  

     "Long night?"  Jim asked, noticing how fatigued Blair looked
that sunny Friday morning.  It was only a couple days before
Halloween, and Sandburg had blessedly stopped sharing tales of
vampires and other mythical creatures.  Now he was just quiet.

     "Yeah, I was up late with some paperwork."  Blair poured two
cups of coffee and tried to stifle a yawn.  

     "You're up long after me and already making breakfast when I
get up.  Chief, if this job is getting out of hand, you should--"

     "No, the job's fine.  I'm used to some sleepless nights.  I used to
be a grad student, remember?"  Blair said good-naturedly, smiling as he
said it.  Still, it managed to pierce Jim's heart.

     "I remember," he said softly, sitting down at the table.

     "Hey, I've got it great now.  I like the job, it pays well--but the
big thing is that I really feel like I'm doing something meaningful. 
These people need this kind of training, and I'm using my background a
lot.  Every day, almost."

     "Teaching Anthropology to a different crowd, huh?"

     "Yeah."  Blair nodded, smiling.  "I really didn't want to do this
when your dad suggested it, but you know, it's been a great move."

     "I'm glad."   Jim leaned back in his chair as Blair joined him at
the table, bringing the coffee.  "I just want to be sure you're not
overworked, Chief."

     "No more than usual," Blair responded.

     "You slow-cooking something?"

     "What?"

     "I smell garlic.  Actually, I've been smelling it for a couple of
days, but I didn't find any in the kitchen."

     "Oh, man, you are *good*!  I ate at this Italian place with a
couple people from the office the other day, and man, you could just
*smell* it in the air.  Well, that and the fact I spilled some of the garlic
herb sauce on my sweater," Blair admitted, smiling.  "I guess I forgot to
put it out to be washed.  Sorry about that."

     "No problem.  I'm just glad to know I'm not going nuts.  I kept
smelling the stuff and couldn't find it."

     "No, you were smelling garlic, all right."  Blair took a bite of
his toasted bagel.  

     "Blair, about the other day--I know I came down on you really
hard about Lila..."

     "It's a touchy subject.  I shouldn't have brought up the whole
vampire thing.  It was insensitive of me."

     "You were trying to help," Jim said, digging into his own toast
and coffee, relaxed now that Blair seemed to be treating the vampire
discussion as a *past* topic.

     Both men enjoyed a pleasant breakfast together, and then
headed their separate ways for the day.  Some days, Blair managed to
carve a few hours out of his afternoon to work with Jim at the PD, but
today promised to be hectic for both, though they agreed to drop
whatever was going on by six so they could have dinner together at
their favorite Chinese buffet.

     Sniffing at the odd scent of garlic in the air, Jim smiled with
relief as he pulled the door shut behind them.  For a few minutes there,
he'd been afraid Blair was hanging the stuff over the doors at night.

********

     Bill Ellison knocked on the door of the small office occupied by
his son's companion.  "Companion" had been the best term he could
come up with for Blair's role in his son's life--he still wondered if there
wasn't something more to it, but in a way, he wasn't sure he wanted to
know.  

     Deciding since Blair apparently wasn't in that he would leave a
note on his desk, Bill opened the door and was startled to find the other
man curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly enough to be snoring
lightly.  A bit irritated at what he figured was Blair sleeping off a little
late-night partying, he cleared his throat loudly.  The sleeping man
didn't even stir.  So he slammed the door.  Blair was up in a sitting
position like a shot, eyes darting wildly around the office.

     "Slow day?"  Bill asked, the disapproval clear in his voice. 
Though he was retired, he was still chairman of the board, and spent
quite a bit of time "hands on" at the corporate headquarters.

     "I'm sorry.  I...haven't been sleeping too well, and I just couldn't
keep my eyes open any longer."  Blair rubbed a hand over his face,
trying to come to fully, and to calm the thundering in his chest from
having his whole body jump-started out of sleep.

     "Are you ill?"  Bill asked, a bit concerned now.  Blair really
didn't look all that wonderful, and he could rarely recall seeing the
younger man stationary for more than a few minutes, let alone sleeping
in his office.

     "No, it's not me."

     "It's not you?  Does that mean--is Jim all right?"

     "I'm not sure."  Blair got up off the couch and walked to his
desk, taking a drink of the cold coffee sitting there.  "Bill, something's
going on.  Jim won't listen to me, and if I tell you what it is, you'll
probably fire me and think I'm losing my mind.  But I can't take this
anymore.  I need to tell it to someone else.  I need help."

     "Why don't we sit down and talk this over?"  Bill suggested
reasonably.

     "Okay."  Blair slumped on the couch again, and Bill sat in the
chair next to it.  "A few nights ago, Jim had this bizarre dream, where
he saw this woman he used to love, who died several months ago--"

     "Lila Hobson.  Jim told me about her."

     "He dreamed that he saw her in his room.  The thing is, when he
came to in the morning, there was this *wound* on his neck--a dual
puncture wound that the doctor said showed signs of *suction*.  Jim
had lost a significant amount of blood, but there was *nothing* on the
sheets.  He didn't feel anything, and doesn't remember the wound at
all."

     "Maybe he was drugged."

     "That's what I thought--well, I mean, I didn't really buy that
either because you and I both know what the chances are of someone
sneaking up on Jim close enough to drug him without him waking up
and remembering at least that much.  But his blood and urine tests
came back clean. *Nothing*.  Not even too many aspirin or anything.
*Clean*."

     "That *is* puzzling."  Bill waited a moment.  "I assume there's
more."

     "Oh yeah."  Blair took a deep breath.  "I found this woman's
earring in Jim's bed--"

     "Blair, that could be--"

     "Yeah, I figured it was just something left over from somebody
I didn't know about--I mean, you live with a guy, you know when
something like that happens, and Jim would have found it by now if it
had been left behind from someone...who was supposed to be there. 
The thing is, I asked him about it, and he recognized it right away.  It
was part of the pair that Lila was wearing when she was buried."  Blair
started pacing, running a shaky hand back through his hair.

     "It could have been very similar."

     "It could have been, but the point is, if it had belonged to
someone else, Jim would have found it before last night.  It was like,
right out there on the sheets," Blair stated emphatically.

     "The first thing you need to do is calm down and look at this
rationally, Blair--"

     "I've spent the last three nights keeping watch.  The folklore on
vampires is very explicit on means of prevention and protection, and--"

     "Just a minute here.  You seriously want me to believe that this
was the work of a vampire?"

     "You know, despite what you or Jim might think, I don't *want*
to believe this.  I *don't* believe in vampires and werewolves and--well, 
at least I *didn't*.  But there's no other explanation."

     "There has to be."

     "There isn't!"  Blair snapped back, then dropped into his desk
chair, leaning back in it miserably.  "Jim won't listen.  And I can't keep
this up.  I need help."

     "Okay."  Bill sat across from Blair in one of the two visitor's
chairs across the desk.  Blair was rarely behind his desk, most often
perched on the edge of it or sitting face to face with his guest.  Now, he
slumped in the desk chair, looking as if he could drop into a dead sleep
at a moment's notice.  "Do you know where this woman is buried?"

     "Mountainview Cemetery.  All Jim would tell me was
'Cascade', so I called around."

     "Have you been to her grave?"

     "I just found out which cemetery this morning."

     "If her grave is undisturbed, will that put your mind at ease
about this?"

     "No, because she may have never been actually buried there."

     "You want to dig up her grave, is that it?"

     "Yes!"  Blair paused.  "No...I...I mean...I have to find out the
truth."

     "Fine.  Be at Mountainview Cemetery tonight, at about two in
the morning.  I'll make arrangements for you to find out what you need
to know."

     "Wait--you believe me?"

     "No, not really.  But I believe you believe it, and you're going to
make yourself sick over it until you see for yourself."

     "You know *grave robbers*?"

     "Keep your voice down."  Bill Ellison rolled his eyes.  "Not
grave robbers.  They aren't taking anything.  Just digging and looking,
and filling in again.  And yes, I do know a few people who are willing
to do...*odd jobs* for a price."

     "I really appreciate this, Bill.  It's a lot easier than me going out
there and doing it all myself.  Because that was my next move.  I have
to know the truth about this."

     "Well, hopefully this will settle the debate once and for all." 
Bill stood up and headed for the door.  "Incidentally, I think it's best we
not mention this little adventure to Jim.  I don't think he'd concur."

     "Do I look like I have a death wish?"  Blair asked, and Bill
actually chuckled.

     "Maybe I better not answer that one."  He pulled the door closed
behind him as he left the office.

********

     Blair pulled up to the curb on a side street near Mountainview
Cemetery.  Getting out of the car, he shoved his hands deep into the
pockets of his jeans, feeling the cold wind bite right through the fabric
of his tan shirt-jacket and two layers of shirts.  He reached back into
the car and pulled out the backpack that contained his supplies: a cross,
holy water from a nearby church, and a wreath of garlic.  He wrinkled
his nose upon inspecting the last item, sadly resolving that the
backpack itself was now an effective vampire repellant.  Zipping the
bag, he carried it along by the handle, making his way stealthily toward
the cemetery.

     It was a few minutes after two when he arrived at the fence that
surrounded the graveyard, and he could see no signs of anyone on the
other side of it.  But then, he really didn't expect to see them from the
fence, nor did he anticipate they'd be bold enough to show themselves. 
He'd have to prowl around until he found them.  

     After tossing his backpack over the fence, Blair carefully scaled
it, skillfully avoiding emasculation on the spear-like points of the iron
structure.  Once inside, he began his search.  Lila was buried in Section
G, which was supposedly near the back of the cemetery.

     //Of course,// Blair thought morosely. //She couldn't be buried in
the fucking front section, now could she?//

     Finding the main road of the cemetery with the help of his
flashlight, Blair made his way along that path, praying he would find
Section G without too much effort, and more fervently praying that Bill
Ellison's hired henchmen would be there, shovels at the ready.

     Blair's flashlight caught Sections A through F, and finally, when
he was deep in the heart of the wooded cemetery, he discovered
Section G.  Trudging up the slight incline of the grassy hill that led
away from the road, he began wandering among the tombstones, which
shone gray-white in the darkness, illuminated by a few weak rays of
moonlight.  The trees rustled in the wind, and leaves scurried across the
nearby road, making the sounds of tiny feet on cement.

     Blair froze as his flashlight picked up a dark form on the ground
near one of the graves.  Reluctantly, he moved his light from a pair of
black-booted feet, up a pair of black clad legs to the torso of the prone
form, and then to its head.

     A man of about forty years lay there, eyes glassy and staring,
throat torn away, leaving nothing but a bloody pulp in its place.  As
Blair's eyes widened, and his chest constricted with fear at the sight, he
turned to run for the road.  About twenty feet away stood the figure of a
woman.

     "So, you have come to learn the truth.  Well, now you know,"
Lila said calmly, walking closer, into the beam of Blair's flashlight. 
Her skin was china white, her eyes *luminous*, though not really
frightening, her full mouth accented with two tiny pinpoints of
whiteness that rested on the red of her lower lip.  "I have no argument
with you.  Why do you stand in my way?"

     "You want to make Jim into what you are.  Into some sort
of...*thing* that kills people and drinks blood to survive.  I won't let
you do that."  Blair tried to fumble in the bag while he spoke.

     "Please don't tell me you brought some tiresome little bag of
religious icons to wave at me.  I had so hoped for something a bit more
creative from you."  She laughed softly, the moonlight catching the
bright, sharp teeth.

     "Were you always...like this?"
     
     "No.  I was...initiated in Bali.  It was the real reason I left Jim
there."

     "But now you want to make him into one of these...*things*?"

     "I want him to live forever.  Jim was the only man who ever
really loved me...the only one I ever truly loved.  We could live forever,
and the whole world could be ours!"

     "If you were initiated in Bali, how did you...*pass* an autopsy
here, and...and how did you make love to Jim without him knowing...?"

     "After we have fed, we are quite warm.  You wouldn't know the
difference between a vampire and a mortal. As for how I survived, how
I was undetected during the...after the shooting here, I'm not sure. 
Much of this is mystical, supernatural...I don't suppose we ever can
understand it fully."  Lila paused.  "When I met Jim again, he was
troubled, lonely, unhappy, and it seemed he'd missed me as much as I'd
missed him.  So I want us to be together now."

     "I can't let you do that."  Blair held up the cross, and the wreath
of garlic.  Lila smiled indulgently.

     "Are you finished, or do you have a little bottle of holy water in
there too.  If you'd like to throw it at me, I'll wait."  

     "So what *does* scare a vampire?"  Blair dropped the objects
back in the bag, the researcher in him still on overdrive, still learning
from this bizarre, bloodthirsty monster in the lovely, civilized,
feminine package.  With Lila clad in a long black dress, Blair could
barely refrain from smiling at the dark humor his mind conjured up--
"Elvira, Mistress of the Dark".  He doubted Lila would appreciate the
analogy.

     "If you believed in the power of anything in that bag, you would
be safe.  But you don't believe in all this yourself--you don't honestly
believe that a cross will save you from a murderer.  You merely went
out with some sort of *vampire grocery list* and picked up things
you've seen them trot out in the late shows.  With faith in the tools you
brought with you, you would have been quite a danger, but as it stands,
Mr. Sandburg, you've made a very serious miscalculation.  And as
much as I've tried to find a way not to confront you, not to hurt you, I'm
afraid that Jim is too important to me to let you stand in the way.  Your
life will be what, another fifty years at best?  I can offer Jim eternity. 
What do you have to offer him in light of that?"

     "I love him," Blair responded simply, sincerely.

     "As do I.  So it appears we are at cross purposes, Mr. Sandburg. 
That is most unfortunate."

********

     Jim shifted in bed again, sighing loudly at what was fast
appearing to be another night of restlessness, and lost sleep.  The
sensation wasn't unfamiliar...the restlessness, the feeling of something
or someone prowling about, and finally, the impetus to rouse from
troubled half-sleep, to find the impossible lover standing there, smiling
down at him with strangely sharp little teeth.

     "Lila," he said this time, recognizing what this was, what *she*
was, and knowing, in a moment of regretful revelation, that Blair was
right all along.  

     "Jim.  Let me love you again," she said huskily, gracefully
coming to the side of the bed, sitting there, warm hands skimming his
chest.  "I do love you.  We can be together again, my love."

     "How is this possible?"  Jim asked, fighting the hypnotic power
of the dark eyes he could see only too well in the shadows.

     "It's our second chance, Jim.  We can rule the night together. 
Think of all we can do, all we can see...an eternity of love..."

     An eternity of love...it sounded so beautiful, and yet, as he felt
himself blanketed by the strange embrace of a dead lover, Jim knew
there was something not right in this moment.  Something dangerous,
something forbidden, and something very, very wrong.  

     And yet, he couldn't stop himself from responding, from
holding Lila closer to him, from kissing her and from offering her no
resistance when she removed the bandage on his neck, re-opened the
wound there and began to drink, feasting on him and marking him as
her own.  How easy it would be to slip into the darkness, to follow this
woman he had always found so beautiful, so compelling...

     Beautiful and compelling...//I love you too much...//  

     Blair.

     With all his strength, Jim grasped the vampire's shoulders and
tore her away from him, feeling the searing agony in his neck as her
sharp fangs were forcibly disengaged from their feeding spot.  Now,
holding her back, he could see her for what she really was: pale, 
china-white skin, blazing eyes that seemed to hold madness behind them, her
red lips slicked with his blood, which trickled down her chin in rivulets
from each pointed eye tooth.  Then she hissed, and angry sound like a
cat about to pounce on her prey.  Romance was gone and the animal
had surfaced.  She was no longer seducing Jim, she was *attacking*
him.  He was not to be her lover now, but her victim.

     "Sandburg!"  Jim let out a bellow, hoping that Blair was truly
there, that it had been his distraction with Lila that was the cause of
Jim not hearing the familiar heartbeat downstairs.  If Blair only would
show up now with some of the garlic Jim knew perfectly well his
roommate had been keeping near the entrances to the loft every night.  

     "Don't bother calling for him.  He won't answer you where he
is," Lila hissed.  She had obviously hoped that would weaken Jim, but
it had the opposite effect.  Calling on all his strength, he propelled her
back off the bed and pulled his gun out from under the pillow, firing
repeatedly into her mid-section.

     She lurched, covered the bleeding wounds with her hands, and
leaned heavily against the wall.  In a moment, she straightened, as if
the bullets had done nothing more than give her a minor cramp.

     "You will be mine, Jim.  Resisting me now is useless."  She
moved forward, but not fast enough to pounce before Jim had fled
down the stairs toward the first floor, heading for Blair's room,
dreading what he would find there.

     He swung open the French doors and could barely stifle a
scream when Lila stood on the other side of them, laughing.  

     "You want to play hide and seek, Jim?"  she asked, batting her
eyelashes.  

     "I want you gone!"  Jim shouted, and was stunned when her
confident expression faltered.

     "You love me," she said, regaining a little of the fire in her eyes.

     "I love Blair," he said, with complete conviction.  "Now get out
of our home!  I revoke my invitation!"  he shouted, remembering it
from a movie he'd seen once, believing now that all the lore of
vampires was true.  As his own blood trickled down his neck onto his
chest from the gaping wound in his neck, he belatedly acknowledged
that all Sandburg feared was valid.

     "You loved me once," she pleaded.

     "Once, a lifetime ago, when you were...you.  Now, you are not
welcome here," he stated firmly.  

     "Please, Jim.  Just, look into my eyes and tell me that you don't
love me," she said sweetly, a slight pout in her voice as she tried to
look beguiling.  Beguiling with his blood caking and drying on her
fanged mouth.  A beguiling mad dog ready to pounce again.

     "No.  Get out!"  Jim grabbed two pencils off Blair's desk and
crossed them, holding them out in front of him, fully believing that she
would be repelled the symbol, and she was.  Shielding her face, she
backed toward the fire escape door leading out of Blair's room.

     "I love you!  I'm offering you eternity!"

     "You don't love me.  A...a *thing* like you isn't capable of love. 
Now get out!"  He held the crossed pencils out more aggressively, and
this time, she darted out the door.  When he rushed up to it to see her
leave, the fire escape was empty, as was the street below.

     "Oh God," he said to no one in particular, before slamming the
door and staggering back toward his bedroom, stemming the flow of
blood from his neck with the pressure of his hand.  

     He yanked on clothing, mindless of the blood from his hand and
neck that stained it.  He only took time to put pressure against the
wound and re-bandage it to prevent excessive blood loss.  If he couldn't
function, he could never find Blair.  And no one would believe him if
he asked for their help.

     Just like he had refused to believe Blair.

     Blair who loved him too much to let a vampire have him.

     Blair who had probably paid for that love with his life.

     Again.

********

     "We've got two male Caucasians, one about forty years of age,
the other about thirty-five.  Both are missing their throats," Taggert
summarized, wrinkling his nose a bit as he spoke.  "Looks like some
sort of animal got 'em."

     "Where the hell is Ellison, anyway?"  Simon groused.  "I paged
him an hour ago."

     "I haven't seen him, Simon."  Taggert frowned, spotting
something in the nearby bushes.  "Wait a second."  He pulled the
backpack out of the foliage.  "Man, this looks just like Sandburg's."

     "There have to be a lot around that look the same."

     "Not that have one of these attached."  Joel fingered a hand-woven 
piece of fabric, brightly colored, that was attached to a key ring,
which had been, in turn, attached to a metal clip on the backpack. 
"Blair got this on one of his trips.  I don't remember where, but this is
*his backpack*."

     "What's in it?"  Simon asked, holding the pack while Joel rifled
through its contents.  "A cross, garlic...I really hope this little bottle
isn't holy water," Simon said, laughing and shaking his head.  "Looks
like the kid was out hunting vampires."

     "Looks like he found some," Taggert gestured with his head
toward the corpses of the two men.

     "I'll try his office number.  He's got to be somewhere."  Simon
punched in the numbers, but frowned when he got Blair's voicemail. 
"Blair, it's Simon.  Call me as soon as you get in.  And where is Jim? 
It's urgent we find both of you."  He broke the connection and dialed
the loft again, leaving another increasingly anxious message on the
machine.  Just then, he spotted a rather large, tired-looking, but
familiar form trudging up the hill toward them.

     "Jim!"  Taggert exclaimed.  "We've been looking all over for
you."

     "Blair's missing," Jim said, then glanced down at the covered
forms on the ground, then back and the back pack in Simon's hands. 
"Dear God, no!"  Jim raced to the bodies and yanked the sheets back. 
"Where is he?!"  he demanded.

     "We don't know, Jim.  We've been trying to reach you since
before six this morning."  It was now close to seven, and though night
still blanketed the cemetery, the first signs of daylight were beginning
to encroach on the blackness.

     "What happened to your neck?"  Joel asked, noticing the blood
on Jim's shirt and the sloppy bandage on his neck.

     "Oh my God," Jim said, dropping to his knees in front of the
grave, tracing Lila's name where it was carved on the slightly frosted
granite surface.  

     "It looks like these two jokers were planning on digging up the
grave.  Apparently, someone...or *something* didn't like that idea,"
Simon explained.  "We found shovels over there in the bushes."

     "And I found the back pack not far from that," Joel added.

     "No sign of Blair anywhere?"  Jim rose and wavered a little, and
Simon took a hold of his elbow.

     "Easy there.  You want to give us the whole story or should we
waste time guessing?"

     "A few days ago, Blair called in sick for me--remember?"

     "He said you had some sort of strange...bite on your neck you
had to get looked at.  I figured he was talking about a bug bite--you
know, something like a spider.  He seemed a little flipped out about it,
but I just figured that was normal Sandburg."

     "That was the first night she showed up at the loft."

     "Who?"  Joel asked, frowning.  Jim looked back at the grave. 
"Her?"  he persisted, eyes widening.  "You mean she's not really dead?"

     "That's what I thought--that there had to be some kind of
explanation.  At first I thought it was all a dream and then I woke up
with this...*thing* on my neck, and I had lost blood but there was no
stain.  I wasn't drugged but I didn't remember the wound.  Blair was
convinced that Lila had risen from the dead as a vampire.  I didn't
believe him."

     "Good call," Simon responded, laughing.  "The kid sure does
come up with some winners."

     "That may be true, but this time, he's right."  Jim pulled back
the bandage.  "It's a dual puncture wound, which the doctor said
showed signs of suction.  This time, I saw her, and it was no dream.  It
was Lila, and whatever she was and however she got there, she wasn't
normal.  She wasn't alive.  She had no *heartbeat*, Simon.  And her
teeth...they were *fangs*.  I can't believe I'm saying this but Sandburg
was right, and she claims she did something to him but I don't know
what."

     "Where is she now?"  Simon asked, raising an eyebrow, a sure
sign he thought Jim was a prime candidate for early retirement.  

     "I don't know.  I emptied my gun into her, and didn't faze her a
bit.  I finally drove her out with a cross and--"

     "Whoa, whoa, hold up a minute.  You're trying to say you fired
a full round into this woman and she walked away?"  Simon asked,
incredulous.

     //I'm so sorry, Blair.  Now I know how you felt...knowing you
were sane and everyone telling you that you were nuts.//

     "That's what I'm saying.  Whatever you want to call her, she
isn't human."

     "Maybe you missed," Simon offered.

     "Sir, how many times have you known me to miss when I fire
*once*?  I *emptied a round*, *at close range*, and she didn't drop. 
And I didn't miss."

     "Maybe someone switched the bullets in your gun to blanks,"
Joel offered.

     "They got it out from under my pillow without my knowing
about it?  I seriously doubt that, Joel."

     "Okay, let's assume for a minute that this woman wore some
sort of body armor--"

     "No, Simon.  She didn't have any kind of protective gear on.  I
know.  I held her.  All she had on was her dress."

     "I know what this looks like, but hey, we know it's impossible," 
Joel dismissed, laughing, albeit uneasily.  

     "Right now, I don't care if she's the Tooth Fairy.  I just have to
find Blair.  I have to know...what happened."

     "You think he's dead?"  Simon asked grimly.

     "She acted like he was out of the way.  It sounded pretty
permanent," Jim said tightly.  

     "Would you excuse us a minute, Joel?"  Simon asked, and
Taggert frowned momentarily, then nodded, moving over to confer
with the coroner's people who were removing the bodies.  "This bag
smells like a cheap Italian restaurant.  Sandburg had to have handled
the garlic in here last night.  You think you could pick up on that scent
out here?  Might give us a clue to which direction he went."

     "Right now all I'm smelling is that damn bag."

     "I'll have it bagged and put in my car.  It's the only thing I can
think of to give us some direction to start searching."

     "Hold up a minute!"  Jim called out to the coroner's team as
they loaded the second of the two corpses into the wagon.  He partially
unzipped the bag covering the older of the two victims.  "I know this
guy...at least, he looks really familiar."  Jim concentrated a moment. 
"He used to work for my father--he was a driver.  When there was some
big event at my father's corporation, he used to chauffeur the VIPs."

     "Maybe we better get a hold of your father and see if he knows
anything about this," Simon suggested.  

     "Right."  Jim took out his cell phone and dialed his father's
number.  When there was no answer, he tried the cell phone number,
and at the sound of his father's voice, also heard the road noise.  Bill
Ellison was already on the move.  "Dad, it's Jim.  Something's going on. 
You better head over to Mountainview Cemetery.  I'm there right now."

     "Is Blair with you?"  Bill asked immediately.

     "What do you know about this?"  Jim asked.

     "I'll explain when I get there."  The connection was broken.  

     Bill Ellison arrived only minutes later, leading Jim to believe
his father had been heading in their direction anyway.  Dressed in a
long cashmere topcoat and a business suit, William Ellison looked like
a picture from the past.  The hair was more gray, the face lined, and the
gait a bit slower, but he was still a commanding corporate presence. 
The Chairman of the Board of Pacific Coast Plastics Incorporated had
not given up his old image with his retirement from his prior CEO
position.

     "What happened?  Where is Blair?"  Bill demanded.

     "What do you know about Blair?"  Jim retorted.

     "Jimmy--your neck--"

     "Forget my neck.  What do you know about Sandburg?!"

     "Jim, settle down.  One of these men worked for you?"  Simon
gestured at the coroner's wagon.

     "Blair wouldn't let go of this notion he had that Jim was being
stalked by--"

     "A vampire," Jim interjected.

     "I found him sleeping on his couch in the office.  He said he'd
been up for three nights straight keeping watch.  Jimmy, if you'd seen
him...he looked like he was ready to drop and he was scared to death
about this vampire thing.  I figured maybe it was just stress or maybe
the new job was getting to him--I never believed it was all real.  But he
was obsessed with finding out the truth, and his next move was to come
out here and dig her up to see for himself.  So I hired a couple of
trustworthy people I know to take care of it, let him have a look, and
then restore the grave to its prior condition."

     "There is the little matter of an exhumation order for something
like that," Simon chided.

     "Sure.  I could have called you and said 'my son's roommate
thinks this woman has risen from the dead, will you please dig her up
and have a look?'" Bill bellowed back at Simon.  "There was no other
way than to pursue this exactly the way we did.  Jim wasn't willing to
check it out, Blair was determined there was something to it, and the
end result was that someone had to take some action.  If there's one
thing I can't stand, it's a prolonged, unnecessary stalemate," Bill
concluded forcefully.  "If the argument is over whether or not this
woman is really dead and buried, you dig her up and look.  Problem
solved."

     "Maybe we should get an exhumation order, Simon," Joel
suggested.  "If she's still alive somehow, we should know who we're
really looking for."

     "Go make the calls," Simon directed, and Joel nodded, taking
his leave.  "Mr. Ellison, tampering with a grave is a serious matter--"

     "So is a missing person, Simon," Jim interrupted.  "When was
Blair supposed to be here?"

     "Two a.m."

     "Captain Banks!  Jim!"  Megan was hurrying across the grass. 
"We just found Sandy's car on Hanover Street.  It's locked, parked at
the curb.  Looks like he must have left it there."

     "He was supposed to arrive at two a.m.," Jim recapped, and
Megan frowned.  She had been supervising a team of uniformed
officers combing the surrounding area for clues, witnesses and
anything else suspicious, and had not been aware of Blair's suspected
presence on the scene.  Jim briefly filled her in on the situation with
Blair's disappearance.

     "Sandy really believed this woman was a vampire?"

     "Yeah, and Dr. VanHelsing over here hired a couple of grave
diggers to check for him," Jim shot a look at his father.  "You could
have clued me in on this."

     "And you'd have agreed?"  Bill responded.

     "Blair wouldn't be missing."

     "All right, let's not waste time assigning blame.  Jim, start
looking for Blair--try following up on the leads we talked about,"
Simon gave Jim a knowing look, and Jim recalled the garlic.  Now that
the bag was gone, and the air had cleared, following the trail might be
possible.

     "Right, sir," he responded, wandering away from the group, first
following the scent trail to Simon's car where the backpack was bagged
and tagged as evidence, then resuming a stroll around the grounds. 
There had to be something--Blair's scent, the garlic, *something*.

     Then he saw it, glistening there in the dewy grass.  Blair's Swiss
Army Knife.  It was partially open, as if he might have tried to use it
and then dropped it.  The scent of the garlic was on it as well, and Jim
focused his sense of smell as keenly as he could on that scent.  While it
proved elusive on the cold, breezy morning, his attention was caught by
the mausoleum that lurked among the trees and considerable
overgrowth at the very back of the cemetery.  

     Approaching it, Jim noticed the heavy chains on the doors, and
recalled reading about the debate amongst cemetery officials whether
to destroy the structure and relocate the corpses, or to try to restore it. 
The interior was judged not to be sound, and rat feces were a foot deep
in some parts of the building.  Officials feared the rats might be eating
their way through the coffins.  No one had been buried in the
mausoleum after about the mid-1930's, and there were almost no
survivors left to approve or object to the movement of the corpses.

     Following the side of the building, Jim searched for some
accessible way inside.  Finally, he located a loose grating on a high
window that looked just wide enough to accommodate him if he slid
through it carefully.  Yanking the metal away from the stone window
frame, Jim managed to get a grip on the bottom edge of the window
opening and struggled to keep purchase on the slippery granite exterior. 
After a few aborted tries, he managed to get just the right leverage to
pull the upper half of his body through the opening.  
     
     The scent of old decay assailed him from all sides.  The walls
were alive with rats, and the smell of their waste hung heavy in the
fetid air.  Jim could answer one question conclusively: the rats were,
indeed, feasting on the rotting flesh enclosed in these vile walls.

     Ignoring his own revulsion, he shimmied through the window
and managed to land on his feet, pleased that this particular spot was
merely debris-littered, and didn't appear to be the place of choice as a
rat's nest.  Back in his youth, Jim could remember people coming to
this place on dares--back before security was as tight as it was now,
and before the place was as structurally unsound.  As a little boy, he
had kept Stephen from venturing inside on a dare, his sentinel hearing
picking up the movement of rats in the walls even then.  

     There was no way he could open up his sense of smell in this
place without making himself too ill to continue.  So he relied on his
superior vision, moving slowly down the shadowy corridor, noting the
names on the crypts on either side of him, finding a few early
generations of some of Cascade's "old money".  Still, these must have
been forgotten branches of even those families, as no one had taken
action to rescue their remains from this hell hole.  

     Jim froze as his hearing picked up on something.  It was faint,
but now it was getting stronger as he seemed to move closer to the
source.  

     Labored breathing, with a few weak pleas for help interspersed. 
Running now toward the source, Jim found a loose front stone on a
ground level crypt, which he clawed at ineffectually.  

     "Sandburg!!"  he yelled into the closed off crypt.  The weak
voice was Blair's, but there was no change in its mutterings.  Blair
couldn't hear him through the concrete.  Frantic with the frustration of
not being able to dislodge the barrier between himself and his partner,
Jim scanned the surroundings for something, anything, he could use to
pry the stone loose.  

     "Blair!!  I'm coming back for you.  I need something to move
the stone!"  Jim shouted at the wall.  There was a lull in the sounds on
the other side, and a moment later, a more frantic hollering and
pounding ensued.  

     Racing back the way he came, Jim vaulted up and through the
window, grateful for the momentary reprieve of fresh air to clear his
head as he ran toward where the police personnel were still gathered
with his father and Simon.  

     "I need tools!!  He's in the mausoleum!!"  he shouted, and in a
moment, the group dispersed, Simon running toward him, Joel and Bill
running off in opposite directions.  Jim had no idea where the others
were headed, but seeing that help was on the way, he rushed back to
the mausoleum, and managed to scale the wall and be partway inside
before Simon caught up to him.  

     "Jim!  Is there a door you can let us in?"  

     "The front door is chained.  This place isn't too sound, so I'm
not sure.  Look, just throw in the tools when you get them, okay.  And
stand by."

     "You got it."  There was a flurry of activity outside, and soon,
Simon was calling out a warning for Jim to stand back.  A crowbar
sailed through the window, along with some rope.  "Try that."

     "Right.  Thanks."  Jim grabbed the items and ran back toward
the loose stone.  Attacking it ruthlessly with the crowbar, it surrendered
without much of a fight.  Grasping the end handle of an all-too-familiar
casket, Jim pulled the dark blue coffin with the silver hardware out of
the opening.  He had chosen it himself for Lila's burial.  

     Now he hacked at the lock, springing the lid, which popped up
suddenly with the blow from a tired, bruised fist.  Dirty, bruised and
breathless, Blair lay there on the powder blue pillow, eyes wide, chest
heaving.

     "Blair!"  Jim wrenched the bottom half of the lid open and
reached in for his partner, lifting him out of the coffin.  Blair's arm
came up weakly around Jim's neck and held on until he was resting
across the larger man's lap as Jim knelt on the floor by the coffin, his
head resting on Jim's shoulder.  "You're gonna be okay, Chief.  It's all
right."  Jim carefully checked Blair's neck, relieved to find it unmarred. 
Blair continued to breath heavily, lying exhausted in his arms.  "How
long have you been banging on that lid, huh?"  Jim asked gently,
checking the bruised, swollen hands.  

     "I'm not sure," Blair rasped, his voice hoarse from yelling for
help.

     "I'm so sorry, Chief.  You were right about all of it.  Thank God
you're okay.  I thought...she said she...I thought you were dead."  Jim
rested his head against Blair's, holding him close.  

     "Not your fault.  She had...influence over you," Blair managed,
then coughed.  

     "It's okay.  You don't have to talk.  Try to relax.  Breathe as
deeply as you can."  Jim cradled Blair close, rubbing his back
soothingly.  "I love you, Blair," he said into the rumpled curls, feeling
his throat constrict at the thought he might have been too late, at the
thought of his beautiful Blair dying in this awful place.  

     "I love you too.  We're going to beat her, Jim.  She can't have
you."

     "Are you staking a claim here, Chief?"  Jim pulled back,
looking into Blair's tired eyes.  Those eyes lit up and shone with the
love that was always there for Jim.  

     "That okay with you?"

     "Very okay."  Jim gently kissed Blair's forehead, resisting the
inviting lips because Blair needed oxygen more than passion at the
moment.  "Think if I tried to stake a claim of my own, I would stand a
chance against all those leggy corporate ladies in their short skirts?"

     "They don't even exist, man.  It's just you," Blair whispered,
brushing over Jim's face with tired fingertips.  Jim gently caught the
bruised hand and kissed it thoroughly.  

     "Let's work on getting you out of here.  Simon and the cavalry
are waiting outside.  I'm afraid I've got to boost you through a window. 
The doors are chained shut."
     
     "There's a door.  You go down to the middle of the corridor and
turn right at the cross hall," Blair paused, out of breath, swallowing to
lubricate his throat.  "There are some steps, but it leads outside."

     "Okay.  Think you can walk?"

     "Yeah, I think so," Blair said, swallowing again.  

     "Throat's pretty raw, huh?"  Jim asked sympathetically, standing
and then hoisting Blair onto his feet.

     "I guess screaming wasn't too smart with limited oxygen."  Blair
slid his arm around Jim's waist and leaned into him for support.  

     "There's such a thing as panic, Chief.  The door's this way?" 
Jim started them down the murky hallway.  "Don't worry, I can see the
way."

     "I thought you were dead," Blair whispered, knowing Jim could
hear him.  "She was going back for you."

     "She showed up at the loft, and when I realized you were right
about this whole mess, I fought her off."

     "How?"  Blair probed.

     "With a couple of crossed pencils, and telling her I was
revoking my invitation--or something equally theatrical.  I heard it in a
movie once--that a vampire can only come in if you invite her, if you
want her to come in."

     "You must have believed in what you were doing."

     "I did, I guess.  I figured it would stop her.  Don't try to talk
anymore, Chief.  Rest your throat.  I'll buy you a Slurpee later," Jim
teased, and Blair managed a gravelly laugh.

********

     "Let me get this straight.  This woman, whom you claim is Lila
Hobson, confronted you in the cemetery, overpowered you, and
dragged you into the mausoleum?"  Simon was seated in a chair across
from Blair's hospital bed, with Jim sitting on the edge of the mattress,
guarding his guide like a jealous pit bull.

     Blair whispered his responses, since the doctor had advised him
to limit his talking until the irritation in his throat had time to improve. 
Jim interpreted the hushed replies for Simon.

     "He said that he tried the cross and the garlic, and when it didn't
work, she rushed at him, they struggled, and he fell backwards.  The
next thing he remembers is waking up in the casket."  Jim added, in his
own words, "He's got a nasty knot on the back of his head, so he
probably was out of it for a while."

     "This is a real mess," Simon said, running a hand tiredly over
his face.  "We've got two dead men, both missing portions of their
throats.  The only two people we can link to the scene are Blair and
your father," Simon said, pinning Jim with a probing look.  "Is he in the
habit of hiring thugs?"

     "They weren't hired thugs.  Blair was worried about me, and my
dad figured this was the only way to settle it once and for all.  His
assumption, obviously, was that it would disprove it."

     "You do know that writing this story up without all of you
looking like a bunch of loons is nearly impossible, don't you?"

     "You can do it, Simon," Blair croaked from his bed.  

     "Don't push your luck, Sandburg."  Simon rose from his chair,
letting out a long sigh.  "I don't know where to go on this."

     Blair tugged on Jim's sleeve and whispered a somewhat verbose
idea, complete with gesturing.  Jim nodded solemnly, taking it all in.  

     "He thinks you should look in other cemeteries--or anywhere
someone might have a secure hiding place from daylight where they
could rest through the day and be safe from discovery.  Other
mausoleums, new graves, abandoned buildings..."

     "And I should tell my men they're looking for what?  A
vampire?"  Simon protested.  Blair nodded vigorously, but Jim wisely
ignored him.  

     "Tell them they're looking for a nutcase with a vampire hang up
that is most likely hiding out somewhere avoiding daylight.  She's
dangerous and should be approached with extreme caution.  Tell them
she may be wearing body armor of some sort, so not to expect bullets
to work."

     "I thought you said she wasn't wearing body armor," Simon
objected.

     "She wasn't.  But they, like you, aren't going to believe she took
multiple slugs from my gun and walked away unless you assume body
armor.  Bullets don't stop her.  If I'm not mistaken, we'd be looking at
options like daylight or fire," Jim added, and then turned to Blair, who
had tapped him on the arm again.  "Or beheading or a stake through the
heart.  Thanks, Chief.  I think daylight or fire would be a bit more
likely in this setting," Jim retorted, rolling his eyes.  Blair shrugged.

     "I'll check up on you two later."  Simon headed for the door. 
"Just call me 'Buffy'," he grumbled, letting it close behind him.

     "You shot her?"  Blair whispered.  With Jim's enhanced
hearing, Blair was able to speak at a level that wouldn't bother his
throat, and Jim could still hear him.  

     "She showed up at the loft, and for a few minutes there, I was
falling for it again.  I wanted her--just like before.  Just like in Bali, or
when she came back last year..."  Jim shook his head.  "But it wasn't
really her.  I realized it was something wrong, something evil.  And
when she implied she'd done something to you...it ended whatever hold
she had on me."

     "Are you okay?  She attacked you again?"

     "She re-opened the wound, had another little drink, but I'm
fine."

     "Jim, you have to be careful.  You could still be influenced by
her."

     "Not likely, Chief."  

     "You've been bitten twice.   There's a legend that says if you
have been bitten by a vampire, you're under its influence.  The third
attack is fatal, but after the second, you are likely to start exhibiting
some symptoms of vampirism yourself, and you will be drawn to her--to 
finish the cycle."

     "Blair, I don't know how to be plainer about this.  I love you.  I
wouldn't go after her."

     "Not intentionally."  Blair smiled.  "You love me, huh?"

     "Yeah.  More than I thought I did," Jim admitted honestly.  

     "Love is stronger than evil, and it's stronger than death.  We'll
beat this thing."

     "I should go join in the fun--see if I can track her."

     "Be back here before dark, Jim.  Please?"

     "Hey, you're getting sprung by dinner time, remember?  I'll be
back to get you, buddy."  Jim leaned forward and kissed Blair's
forehead.  "Maybe when we get home, we can talk...about things. 
Figure out what's happening here."

     "Jim, I'm not worried about me.  Please, be back here before
sundown.  I'm worried about you, about any influence she might still
have."

     "I know.  I promise."  Jim moved forward and slid his arms
around Blair, who returned the hug enthusiastically, and didn't wish to
let go, even when Jim pulled away firmly enough to dislodge him.  "I'll
be back later, Chief."  And with that, Jim forced himself to get up and
walk away, knowing that two large, worried blue eyes were following
him.

********

     Blair flipped through the channels again and let out a bored
sigh.  The doctor was due in to check him over one more time, to be
sure his elevated blood pressure was stabilizing a bit, and to check his
reflexes one last time for the head injury.  A tap at the door caught his
attention.  

     "Bill, come in," Blair rasped, gesturing with his arm in case his
voice didn't carry far enough.  He turned off the TV and straightened a
little in the bed at the arrival of Jim's father.

     "How are you feeling?"

     "Can't talk out loud too well," Blair managed, "big headache."

     "I don't want to tire you out.  I wanted to be sure you were all
right.  And...you saw her?"

     Blair nodded.

     "Was she what you thought she was?"  Bill asked.

     Blair nodded again, his eye's riveted to the older man's, finding
them not unlike Jim's in their clarity and sincerity.  Bill returned the
nod.

     "I'm sorry I didn't take your word for it before."

     Blair shrugged, making a dismissive gesture with his hand.

     "Captain Banks is doing his best to let me off the hook for that
little attempted grave-digging."  Bill sat down as Blair gestured at the
chair near his bed.  

     "Sorry you got in trouble," Blair said quietly.

     "I guess digging up a suspected vampire's grave at two in the
morning isn't the best course of action."

     "Dawn is better," Blair agreed, smiling slightly.  "Bill, please,
keep an eye on Jim today."  Blair swallowed hard, forcing his voice to
hold out.  "He's been attacked twice.  There are legends...he's
susceptible to her influence now.  He might not think he is but..."

     "I get the picture.  Don't hurt your throat.  I'll find out where he
is and keep track of him."

     "You're the only other person who believes."

     "I learned to believe in sentinels.  I guess vampires aren't that
big a stretch.  Get some rest, junior.  I expect you back in the office
next Monday," he joked, heading for the door.

     Blair smiled at the older man's retreating back, warmed by the
little nickname.  Best of all, he felt relaxed enough to catch a few
minutes of sleep, knowing that someone who believed would watch
over Jim.  As soon as he felt strong enough to really be good back-up
for Jim and not a burden to him, Blair made up his mind he would
leave the hospital, released or not.  

********
     
     After an exhaustive search of every cemetery in Cascade and its
environs, the Cascade PD found themselves at a loss to locate the
elusive "vampire".  Hunting for a killer who behaved like a vampire
just a couple of days before Halloween had drawn some chortles from a
few cops, and some serious worries from others.  If this person really
was a lunatic with a vampire fixation who had chosen Halloween
purposely as a killing time, what would she plan for the night itself?

     All of the Cascade PD was at a loss except for one cop, Jim
Ellison, who tracked the vampire with eerie precision, fueled by a link
between their souls, that, had he been consciously aware of it, he would
have denied.  This soul-deep tie to the woman who had drunk his blood
twice now guided him to a vacant mansion on the outskirts of Cascade,
a decaying old place that had been tied up in an estate for years. 
Consciously, he told himself it was a logical place to look, and simply
good police work that made him investigate the old place.  Truthfully,
he hadn't even been aware that it existed before now.  

     Disengaging the padlock on the front gate was a mere
inconvenience.  He had left his truck behind a cluster of overgrown
shrubbery about a mile up the road where it would not be readily
visible to passing traffic. //To avoid tipping her or her possible
accomplices off to my presence,// he thought to himself.  Or was it to
avoid detection by anyone who might interfere with what now seemed
strangely like a destined meeting?

********

     Blair opened his eyes and frowned at the ringing phone on the
night stand.  As he caught sight of the clock, he cursed himself for
having fallen asleep at three and not waking until after five.  He picked
up the phone, relieved to find that though he was hoarse, he had
enough voice to answer.

     "Blair, it's Bill.  I think we have a problem.  Can you get out of
there?"

     "Yeah, sure.  Where do I go?"

     "It's out on Sherman Road.  About fifteen miles outside of town. 
There's a vacant house out here, a big English-Tudor-style place--with
iron gates in front.  Jim left his truck and walked about a mile and a
half to the house, then went onto the property about ten minutes ago
and locked the gates behind him.  I thought that was pretty unusual."

     "Very.  What's the nearest crossroad?"  Blair was already sitting
up, tossing the covers back as he spoke on the phone.

     "Fairgrove."

     "Okay.  I know where that is."

     "Never mind.  I'll send a car for you."

     "You do know that something's really wrong with Jim if he
doesn't know you're following him?"

     "I figured."

     "I'll be downstairs waiting for the car as fast as I can."  Blair hung 
up the phone and got up, feeling a little unsteady at first but
ignoring that, gathering his clothes out of the drawers and getting
dressed.

     Over the protests of his doctor, who hadn't had the opportunity
to examine him a final time, and a couple of persistent nurses, Blair
hurried downstairs, without benefit of the required wheelchair, and got
into the back of the black Lincoln that was waiting for him near the
hospital entrance.  

********
     
     Jim closed the front door behind him, trying the light switch
and finding there was no electricity.  To his eyes, it wasn't too dark,
only shadowy.  The graceful staircase wound in a curve up to the
second floor, with an open hallway overlooking the entry hall.  There
was a dusty chandelier near the stairs.  

     The locked gates and high fencing had obviously discouraged
most vandals.  The empty house was essentially undamaged, only dusty
and in a declining state of repair from disuse.  The last rays of sunlight
were waning now, though in this darkened house, they had little chance
of penetrating the gloom even at their brightest.  

     Somewhere, deep in the bowels of the house, a door opened and
closed.  Footsteps moved stealthily across a stone floor...

********

     The Lincoln pulled up behind the navy blue Cadillac Sedan
deVille, and Bill Ellison got out of the car, waiting for Blair to join
him. 

     "Let's get going," Bill said as soon as Blair approached him. 
The older man got into the driver's seat, and Blair slid into the
passenger side.   The big car headed down the road.  "It's almost dark. 
This is like something out of a bad horror movie."

     "You mean the ones where they wait until it's nearly dark to go
look for the vampire?"  Blair said, clearing his throat.

     "Exactly.  I've always criticized those films for their stupidity."

     "Life imitating art."

     "Let's just hope the good guys win this one."

     "If she's turned Jim..."  Blair shuddered.  

     "It isn't even dark yet.  Hopefully we're in time."

     Bill pulled up in front of the gates and stared at them a moment. 


     "We're going to have to climb it."

     "Speak for yourself," Bill retorted.

     "Unless you can open that lock somehow, we're going to have
to go over the fence."  Blair got out of the car and surveyed the
situation.  "Pull up as close as you can to the gates," he said as Bill
poked his head out the driver's window.  When the other man obeyed
the directive, Blair jumped up on the hood of the Cadillac, using the
car to get closer to the top of the fencing.  "Hey, give me a boost, will
you?"  he asked Bill, who was watching with some dismay as Blair
made vain attempts to propel himself high enough to get a good grip on
the fence and begin climbing it.

     "You want me to stand on the car too?"

     "No, wait!  Pull up sideways, and we can get up here from the
roof of the car.  It'll be easier for you to climb, and you probably won't
even have to boost me from there."  Blair hopped down off the car, and
Bill followed his suggestion.  Elated with the ease of climbing the
fence from the top of the Cadillac, Blair scrambled over it in no time,
perching on the top to help guide Bill's climb.  

     "We could call the police," Bill grumbled, struggling his way
over the fence.  Once he had dropped down to the grass on the other
side, Blair joined him.

     "Like they'd take this seriously.  I mean, Simon doesn't buy any
of this vampire stuff.  You know, Jim and I were on this case, and it
involved a ghost, and Simon still doesn't--"

     "A ghost?  Let's save that story for another night, huh?"  Bill
suggested.

     "Yeah, good thinking."  Blair froze where he stood.  "Did you
bring anything?"

     "Like what?"

     "Weapons, crosses, stakes-- anything we can use?"

     "This may come as a surprise, but I don't normally have that
kind of gear stored with the jumper cables in my trunk."

     "Swell."  Blair looked at the darkening sky.  "This is just great."

     "Don't look at me, 'Mr. Let's-Climb-the-Fence'.  You're in
charge of this operation."

     "The first thing we have to do is find Jim.  If we can get through
to him, reason with him, he can help us eliminate Lila."

********

     Jim stood in the middle of the large, empty basement.  Cobwebs
decorated every corner, rats scurried along the walls, obscured by the
shadows.  In a doorway at the far end of the room, Lila stood, her ashen
skin virtually glowing in the moonlight that gave her dark lips a
strange, bluish-black hue.

     "I knew you'd come back," she said, seeming to glide across the
stone floor, her black high heels carrying her with an inordinate degree
of grace much closer to where Jim stood.  His eyes traveled up from
the small, shapely ankles to the long, sleek black dress, and finally to
the dark, intense eyes.  "You can't deny our bond, Jim.  You felt it in
Bali even before...before I became what I am.  And now, I've shared
that with you.  There's no limit to what we can have together, my love."

     "You murdered two men...you would have killed Blair.  It's only
because we found him--"

     "He was precious to you.  If I had wanted him dead, don't you
think he would have been when you arrived?"

     "Only I could have found him."

     "Or I.  In any event, we would have been together tonight, and
we would have gone for him, and you could have claimed him as your
first initiate."

     "You thought I'd make him into...into..."

     "A vampire?  Yes, Jim, that is the term for it.  And yes, you
could have given him eternity.  Eternity to travel, to explore, the
opportunity to see a future he can only imagine now.  One that, as a
mortal, he will never see.  I accepted that you had a strong tie to him,
and while I preferred to have you all to myself, I can share if need be," 
she added, smiling.  The points of her fangs protruded onto her bottom
lip.  

     "You didn't intend to kill him then?" //No, she planned to leave
him there until he was close to death and then have you finish the job,//
Jim's mind supplied helpfully--the part of his mind that wasn't drawn in
by those deep, dark eyes, that wasn't seduced by the thought of
recreating their strange blood ritual.

     "Of course not.  I intended to kill those two men who were
about to disturb my grave.  If I had intended for Blair to be dead, he
would have been."

     "Lila, you know I loved you in Bali, and when you came back to
Cascade, I thought...maybe there was another chance.  But you have to
know that I can't just turn my head and let you go on killing.  I'm a cop,
for God's sake.  I can't...I can't become a killer myself."

     "Killing for us is much like killing for cultures where they must
hunt for food.  You can ask Blair to explain it all to you someday," she
said, smiling.  "We can come back for him, you know.  He'll miss you
very much in the beginning, and when you come to him, he'll want to
be with you."

     "This has nothing to do with Blair.  I'm sorry, Lila, but you're
under arrest."  

     Jim was totally unprepared for her to throw her head back and
laugh.  

     "Under arrest?"  She shook her head, smiling.  "You can't arrest
me, Jim.  You'll have to destroy me.  I don't think you have it in you." 
She moved closer, sliding the palms of her hands up Jim's chest, her
eyes close to his.  "You know you want to make love with me, not hurt
me.  Not drive me away."  Cool fingertips probed the bandage on Jim's
neck.  "Tonight is just the beginning, lover," she whispered close
against his ear.

     In his heart, Jim knew something was wrong.  There was
something wrong with falling in love with a woman he had seen laid to
rest.  There was something wrong about giving in to her now and
crossing over to her way of life.  Prowling the dark streets, literally
feeding off the world like predators...

     And yet, as he felt cool, soft lips on his throat, smelled her
perfume again, and thought of the inexplicably sensuous ritual of the
blood-drinking, he found himself embracing her, giving himself over to
it, accepting it as his fate, and thinking all the while of ushering Blair
into eternity with him.  

     Thoughts of Blair were warring in his mind, a part of him
denying that this was any gift to bestow--that it was any more than a
horrific curse that shouldn't be visited on a beautiful young man with a
bright future ahead of him.  A bright, limited future marred by aging
and death...the wages of mortality.  And why shouldn't Blair live
forever?  Why should so bright a star falter with age, and finally be
snuffed out by the inevitable march of time?

     //I love you too much for that, Blair.  I'll take her gift, and give
it to you, and somehow, we'll be together for all eternity...//

********

     Blair ventured into the grand entry hall of the old mansion first,
casting the beam of the flashlight around the shadowy house.  Bill had
given Blair the car keys and boosted him back over the fence to
retrieve the flashlight, a tire iron and a couple of flares.  It wasn't much
of a vampire hunting kit, but it beat no supplies at all.

     "Jim?"  Blair said in a normal tone of voice.  With Jim's
hearing, that was all it would take, and there was little sense in alerting
whomever...or *whatever* else might be lurking in the shadows.  "Jim,
it's me.  Come on, man, answer me."  Blair moved stealthily past the
big staircase, with Bill close behind him.  

     Then, as if driven by some internal radar, he began scanning the
walls with the flashlight, looking for a door.  Jim was going to be on
the other side of that door, and every moment counted.  

     "Do you hear something?"  Bill asked in a loud whisper.

     "No, but I just feel like he's really close by.  If you were a
vampire, trying to avoid daylight, where would you go in a house?"

     "The basement," Bill responded, nodding.

     "She's gotta be down there, and that's where Jim has to be
headed too."  Blair paused.  "Bill, I think you should go get help."

     "What?  Are you insane?  You can't take this on alone."

     "I have to put my faith in Jim, that I won't be taking it on alone. 
But she's a cold-blooded killer.  She tore those men's throats right out
without even a second thought.  She *will kill you* if you get in her
way."

     "And she won't kill you?"

     "She'll probably try, but I'm counting on Jim not to let that
happen."

     "I can't let you do this.  It's suicide."

     "So it's better if it's a double?  Look, Bill, this was a dumb idea. 
Part of it was selfish...after last night, I was scared to face all this
alone.  But now...I don't know why, but I just know what I have to do. 
And I'm not afraid anymore."

     "You want me to call the cops?"

     "Absolutely.  Tell them that Jim's got the killer cornered out
here, but I'm in here too so it may be a hostage situation.  Now GO!"

     "I don't feel right about this."

     "I don't know how this is going to play out, but I know Jim
loves you, and he'd want you to be safe.  However things go down
tonight, Jim's either going to be playing for the good guys, or he's
already on the other team.  Then it'll just be a matter of how many of us
go down, and I don't see a point in risking both our lives."

     "Then let me go.  He's my son, Blair.  And if the worst happens,
I have a lot less years to lose than you do," he said sincerely.

     "I'm younger and I can run faster.  That might be an advantage. 
If there's a fight of some kind, I might be of more help to Jim.  Please
go call Simon and get us some help out here."  Blair handed Bill his
cell phone, almost laughing at the irony of himself sending Jim's father
out to call for back-up and wait in the car.

     "You expect me to climb that fence without a boost?  Come on,
Blair, let's both get out of here and call Banks."

     "No.  And I know you can climb the fence if you want to.  But
you don't even have to.  If the cell phone is still in range, get as close to
the fence as you can in case you have to try to make a run for it and call
Banks."

     "I don't like this."

     "I'm not crazy about it either, but it's what has to be.  Now go. 
We're losing precious time here."

     "You really love him, don't you?"

     "Yeah, I really do.  Don't worry about me, Bill.  Dying is no big
deal compared to losing Jim.  I...I know there's something beautiful on
the other side, and I'm not afraid to go back there if I have to.  But I
won't walk out of this house without Jim."

     "Be careful."

     "Yeah, you too.  Now hurry!"  Blair urged the other man toward
the door, and was both relieved and frightened when he finally left.  

     Turning his attention back to the search for the basement door,
Blair soon encountered it.  He cast his flashlight down the 
cobweb-shrouded steps, and with a small muttered prayer, started the
 cautious trek downward into the darkness below.

     "Chief."  The word was soft, little more than a whisper in the
shadows.

     "Jim?  Where are you?"  Blair cast the beam of the light around
until he caught Jim's face in it.  "Sorry, man."  Blair immediately
diverted the light, though he belatedly realized that Jim hadn't even
seemed disturbed by the bright light in his eyes.  Frightened at that
thought, Blair gingerly brought the light back up again.  Jim smiled at
him, the love in his eyes not unlike what Blair always saw there.  But
peeking out on Jim's bottom lip were the fine tips of two small fangs.

     "I'm too late," Blair whispered.

     "No, Chief, you're just in time.  I know you've sent my father
out to call for back-up.  We don't have much time.  Come with me." 
Jim held out a hand toward Blair, and despite the transformation that
had manifested itself, Blair took the outstretched hand without
question.  "Lila has a car out back.  There's an airstrip on the outskirts
of Tacoma where--"

     "Jim, wait.  Where are we going?"  Blair asked, pulling back,
resisting the movement toward the unknown destination.

     "Where we can be together."  Jim paused a moment. "The back-up, 
it'll be here soon.  There isn't time to do this the right way...I...Blair,
I..."  Jim's voice faltered, and for a moment, it was as if his rational
mind took over, forcing his new vampire nature aside.  "I love you.  But
I won't take you by force.  If you want to be with me, it will have to be
your choice, and...and it will have to be now.  If you say no, I won't
hurt you.  I never want to hurt you."

     Blair looked into the eyes of the man he loved.  In that moment,
it really didn't matter to Blair if they were the slightly bloodshot eyes of
a fledgling vampire, they were the same eyes he had looked into with
love for years.  This man was his life, everything that mattered.  If that
meant prowling through darkness for eternity, it was a small price to
pay to be together.  And Blair fully planned on giving himself to Jim,
and had hoped to take him the same way...as lovers.  Except for the
momentary pain, could this commitment be that much different?  

     "Take me.  I still love you, Jim.  Nothing else matters."

     "And I love you.  I will, for all eternity."  Jim smiled, the fangs
showing more prominently now.  "And I can say that honestly now."

     "Do it, Jim."  Blair unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt
and pushed it and his jacket out of the way, baring his neck, turning his
head.  

     He was gathered into the large arms, his face turned with a
gentle hand so their lips could meet first, tongues doing a tender battle
before Jim pulled back and began softly kissing the exposed throat,
then licking and sucking at it, softening the skin, vainly trying to ease
the pain of the initial puncture.

     Then there was Blair's little cry of pain that died in his throat as
Jim covered the wound with his mouth and began to drink.

********

     Partway between the house and the front gates, Bill Ellison
stopped in his tracks and looked back at the ominously dark structure
lurking among the trees.  If the police were called now, even with a
good response time, they would be too late.  Even if they weren't too
late, what exactly would they do?  They would resist the idea of
fighting the enemy in the manner it needed to be fought, and if either
Jim or Blair--or both--were under the influence of this...*thing*...they
might wind up on the wrong end of the guns themselves.

     Tucking the cell phone in his top coat pocket, Bill squatted to
the ground and dug through the small bundle of supplies Blair had
appropriated from the emergency gear in the trunk of the Cadillac. 
Taking out the flares and stuffing one each in his coat pockets, he
rolled up the small emergency blanket Blair had used to carry their
stash and raced to the fence, tossing it over onto the roof of his car. 
Something told him that whatever happened here tonight, if they were
lucky enough to survive, they wouldn't want any evidence lying around
the grounds.

     Glad now that he had joined a couple of his more athletic
cohorts at the Country Club and revived his interest in tennis, Bill
made it back to the clearing surrounding the house only slightly out of
breath.  He'd had to do some work to get his sedentary body into safe
shape to play tennis with his friends, and it was paying off now.  Two
years ago, climbing a fence and running would have probably landed
him in the local hospital's coronary care unit.

     He squinted in the darkness, noticing some movement near the
back entrance to the house.  He moved a bit closer, hunching behind
some overgrown shrubs.  The rather shapely form of a woman moved
from the back door down a few steps to the yard and then across the
lawn to where a black Mercedes was parked, ready to drive around
front and out the gates.

     Wishing he had Jim's eyesight right about then, or that he at
least had ever seen a photo of Lila Hobson so he had a chance of
identifying her, Bill moved closer, freezing when he snapped a few
twigs beneath his feet, and the woman stopped, a few feet from her car. 
Knowing by the way she was fixed on his location that she could see
him, even if he could not see her clearly, he rose to his full height and
strode toward her, as if it were perfectly normal that he should be
hiding in her shrubs.

     The clouds that had been obscuring the moonlight finally
parted, and in the blue-white light, what Bill Ellison saw was no human
woman.  Large dark eyes stood out in contrast to a pale white face,
dark lips surrounded protruding fangs, still stained with the blood of a
fresh attack.  The thing hissed menacingly toward Bill, advancing,
ready to destroy him as she had probably just destroyed his son.

     Digging in his pocket and ignoring the flare for the moment,
Bill Ellison pulled out the one thing he thought might stop a vampire: 
his mother's rosary.  Hastily grabbed out of a dresser drawer that
morning on the way to the cemetery, he had laughed at himself for
even taking such an object with him.  Now, he held it out toward her,
small silver crucifix catching and reflecting the moonlight, fully
believing that this little sacred object in which his mother had such
faith must possess the power to repel evil.

     She hissed again, backing up now, and moving steadily
backward toward the car as he advanced.  His mind raced with the
possibilities of what he could do, how he could conquer her.  He had
no stakes, no way to utilize daylight, certainly, and fire...the flares!  
But they were mere shadows of what the old flares used to be. 
Glorified sparklers.  And yet, if one were to ignite a full take of
gasoline...

     She seemed to be grinning at him now, fiendishly happy that he
appeared to falter, that he didn't know what to do or how to do more
than simply intimidate her with the rosary.  But as the idea of how to
proceed dawned on Bill, the fanged Lila Hobson was no longer the only
one grinning fiendishly...

********

     Blair felt another searing pain as Jim lurched away from him,
the larger man's hand going up to his own chest, looking very much
like the victim of a heart attack

     "Jim!  What's wrong?"

     Both men could hear screaming now, coming from somewhere
outside, and Jim dropped to his hands and knees on the basement floor,
crying out in a most ungodly voice.  Then there was the explosion, like
thunder roaring at deafening volume all around them, dust and debris
raining down from the aged rafters of the basement ceiling.

     A woman's horrific shriek of anguish filled the night, and then
there was another, smaller explosion, rocking the house and sending a
few splinters of wood down from the ceiling.

     "Come on, Jim!  It's not safe down here!"  Blair pulled on Jim's
arm, and finally got him to his feet, pulling and straining to keep him
moving up the basement steps and finally on a staggering run through
the house to the front door, where they spilled out onto the porch in the
darkness of night time, meeting Bill there.

     "The fire's spreading.  We've got to get out of here!"  He got on
the other side of Jim, and with Blair, hauled his son toward the front
gate.

     "Fire?!  You didn't call the cops!"  Blair yelled at Bill.

     "There are some jobs the cops aren't cut out for," he shot back,
pausing when they got to the fence.  Jim seemed to be groggy, almost
in a drunken state.  

     "He can't climb over, and he's in no shape to play with the
lock," Blair said, a little frantically.

     "I'm going to boost you up there so you can get over the fence
onto the roof of the car.  Then I'll try to get him boosted up enough for
you to get a hold and pull."

     "Oh, man," Blair said, indicating he didn't really believe the
plan would work, but not having a better one.

     "Hurry!  When that fire is visible from the road, we'll have fire
department people all over this place.  We have to get out of here."

     "Where's Lila?"  Blair asked.

     "I think she's dead.  Now move it!"  he barked back at Blair,
creating the step with his hands, lifting Blair's foot up as the younger
man grabbed hold of the top iron bar of the fence and pulled himself
up, climbing over and dropping onto the car roof with a dull thud.  

     "Jim, come on, man, reach up to me!"  Blair called to his
partner, who seemed to rally a little at the sound of his voice.

     "Jimmy, you straighten up and put your arms up there and do it
now!"  Bill Ellison snapped in an angry, dictatorial voice.  "No son of
mine is going to give up and die like a dog.  Come on!  Reach up there
and take a hold of his hand when I give you a boost."

     Jim reached weakly toward Blair with both arms, and when the
younger man hand a hold on his hands, Bill gave his son as good a
boost as he could.

     "I mean it, Jimmy!  Climb up there!  You can do better than
that!"  he yelled at Jim again, and the groggy man did his best to
comply, using his feet against the fence to help move his weight up and
over the top, until he was with Blair on top of the car.  
     
     "Jim, you've got to help your dad.  I'm going to go down and
give him a boost.  I can reach through the fence to do that.  But you
have to help him from up here.  Can you do that?"  Blair asked, patting
either side of Jim's face, hoping for some response.  He got very little
beyond Jim languidly moving his body up to follow directions.

     Blair slid down off the car and reached through the fence,
giving Bill the leg up he needed to reach for Jim's hands and to make
his own shaky climb to the car roof, which was beginning to look a bit
beleaguered as the third man landed on it.

     All three men piled in the car, Jim and Blair in the back seat
and Bill in the driver's seat.  Blair had to admit that with the exception
of Jim, he'd seen few men with steelier nerves in a crisis that Bill
Ellison.  He might have been well into his sixties, but he was strong,
capable and gutty as hell.  And just sneaky enough to circumvent the
law and pull off the impossible.

     With Jim's head lolling against his shoulder, Blair reached up
and felt the wound on his neck.  And felt again, and then again.  There
was no wetness of blood, and no sign of a break in the skin.  

     "Bill, turn on the lights a minute."

     Bill obliged with the lights.  Blair leaned up to look in the
rearview mirror.

     "It's gone!"

     "What's gone?"  Bill looked back at him, panicked, wondering
if they'd lost something vital in their escape.

     "Jim...bit me at the house.  And the wound's gone."

     "Blair," Jim mumbled from Blair's shoulder, finally shaking off
his stupor, sitting up as if he'd just come to from a long sleep.  "Damn,
I feel like shit.  Where are we?"

     "You're in your dad's car, Jim," Blair said, as Bill turned out the
overhead lights.  "We got away from the house.  There was an
explosion...I still don't know what happened...but we're all safe--you,
me, and your dad."

     "God, I had this...dream...must've hit my head or something...
what explosion?  Dad?  What're you doing here?"  

     "Jim, look at me."  Blair took Jim's face in both hands.  And
looked into the clear, normal eyes of Jim Ellison.  With gentle thumbs,
he lifted Jim's upper lip, checking his teeth as if he were examining a
prize canine.  

     "What the--?"

     "They're gone!!!"  Blair bellowed joyously, wrapping his arms
around Jim and receiving an equally tight hug from Jim, though the
other man seemed at a loss to understand any of what was going on.

     "Lila...she was there," he said finally.  "The last thing I
remember was being in the basement, and seeing her, and thinking that
I had to find a way to destroy her...and then...I couldn't."

     "It's okay, man.  You were under her influence."  Blair checked
Jim's neck, and found even his wound had disappeared.  "Bill, what
happened to Lila?"  Blair asked.

     "She was out back, getting into a black Mercedes."  Bill paused,
fumbling to take something out of his pocket, handing it back to Jim.  

     "A rosary?"  Jim asked, frowning in confusion.

     "It belonged to your grandmother, Jimmy.  She was a very
religious woman.  You didn't know her very well, but she said that
rosary every night before she went to sleep.  It's the one thing I have
that means the most to me.  I brought it with me this morning when I
went to the cemetery to see what was going on.  My guys didn't check
in with me when they were supposed to, so I figured something
happened.  When I saw the woman out by the car, I held this up to her,
and it seemed to scare her.  She backed up against the car, and she
seemed almost frozen there."  Bill paused to concentrate on turning the
car onto one of the roads leading back into town.  

     "I put it around my neck, where she could still see it.  Then I lit
one of the flares and dropped it in the gas tank of the car and ran like
hell.  The whole thing went up like a Roman candle, and then there was
the explosion."

     "Fire kills a vampire," Blair said, taking Jim's hand and lacing
their fingers together.  "And she stopped short of taking your life, Jim. 
So when she died, you were freed from her influence, and the wound
you gave me disappeared too.  That's why you felt that awful pain
before--it was her pain, her destruction, and because of her link to you,
you were feeling it."

     "I gave...  Damn.  Are you okay, Chief?"

     "I'm fine now," Blair answered honestly, snuggling close to Jim. 
"We're fine now.  Thanks to your dad."

     "I can't believe I fell for it again.  I was so...*determined* when
I first got here to find her and destroy her.  Then I saw her again, and I
couldn't."

     "You couldn't help it," Blair responded, his voice coming out
with a bit more hoarseness now.

     "Rest your voice, Chief."  Jim reached up and cupped the back
of Blair's head with his hand, encouraging the younger man to rest it on
his shoulder.  

     "Why don't you two stay at the house tonight?"  Bill suggested.  

     "We'll be okay, Dad, thanks," Jim responded.

     "You're both ready to pass out back there.  Besides, we can all
alibi each other that way."

     "You think they can trace us back to that house, and the fire?" 
Blair asked.

     "It was almost dark when you both arrived.  Unless someone
saw the car..."

     "It's not a very traveled road, and by the time you get back to
the gate, there's some foliage between the car and the road.  Hopefully
it was enough," Blair said.  "Jim, maybe we should stay at your dad's
place.  I mean, what if Lila wasn't the only one?"

     "Let's not borrow trouble for now."  Jim sighed, the looked in
the rearview mirror to catch his father's gaze as they pulled up near the
spot where Jim had left his truck.

     "Are you all right to drive, Blair?"  Bill asked.

     "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just tired out."

     "Dad--we'll meet back at the house, huh?"  Jim said, and Bill
looked genuinely pleased to be taken up on his invitation.

********

     Both men were more than a bit surprised to be directed to a
single guest room upon their arrival.   The queen-sized bed and the
bathroom that adjoined the bedroom were both welcome sights.  Jim
started the water for a shower, and went back out to the bedroom to
find Blair sitting on the foot of the bed, having toed off his shoes but
not seeming to have the strength to do anything else.

     "I hear showers work better without clothes, Chief."  Jim
squatted in front of him and started unbuttoning Blair's shirt, as if he
did so every day.  A gentle hand came up and took a hold of his.

     "When something happens, I want it to be special...right.  I'm
just too tired tonight, man.  I couldn't--"

     "Blair, I was thinking we could share the shower.  You know, as
in *bathe*.  I know you're wiped out and your head's hurting like crazy. 
I'm too damn tired to sit around and wait for you to finish up in there. 
So I thought we could just share."

     "That sounds nice," Blair responded, smiling.  

     Jim carefully undressed his partner, then quickly shed his own
clothes.  Knowing this moment of shared nudity should probably be
more sexually charged, both of them clung to the familiar ease of their
roles as best friends and soul mates.  Neither were ready to explore
anything more complex than getting clean and sleeping.

     Without asking permission, Jim simply started washing Blair. 
The younger man seemed dead on his feet, the toll of his ordeal locked
in the casket finally catching up with him as it collided with the fatigue
induced by the night's bizarre events.  Blair's body was unresisting to
Jim's gentle but perfunctory bathing, and when it was time to do Blair's
back, he turned him around, held him close in his arms, and washed his
back and butt with Blair's face resting against a strong shoulder, his
arms hooked around Jim's waist.

     Jim washed himself quickly, and then took on the task of
washing Blair's hair as well as his own.  After drying off thoroughly,
the two men returned to the bedroom and crawled under the covers
naked, spooning together to share the body heat and the mutual
comfort.  Jim's cock took notice of its location between Blair's cheeks,
but all it produced was a tingle of promise for what would come when
both were emotionally and physically up to making the most of it.

     In moments, they were sound asleep.

********

     Bill Ellison mixed himself a drink and turned on the stereo,
something soothing and classical wafting out of the speakers. 
Dropping into his favorite chair, he kicked off his shoes and put his
feet up, leaning back and relaxing in his den, which had always been
his favorite room of the house.  Less formal than the rest of the Ellison
homestead, it held this delightfully worn big leather chair, the stereo,
an eclectic assortment of reading material and a roll top desk where
Bill still elected to work when he wished to forget the existence of
computers--which was rather frequently.

     Taking a drink of the cocktail, he closed his eyes and let it slide
down his throat, warming him as it went.  He snorted an odd little
laugh when he thought of the night's events.  If anyone had told him
that very morning that by nightfall, he'd have been tearing the top off a
flare with his teeth and igniting it, using it to incinerate a woman
reputed to be a vampire, he would have called for the nut catchers to
take them away.

     Whatever had prowled out to the black Mercedes behind the
house was not human.  It had the form and initial appearance of a
shapely young woman, but upon seeing Bill, it had bared its teeth and
hissed like a wild animal, ready to strike.  A wild animal that still had
his son's blood on her teeth...  Like any threat to his children, she had
been dealt with expediently, and permanently.  

     Like the long-retired Cascade homicide detective who had
shown up after the debacle about Blair's dissertation and put a price tag
on his silence about Jim's initial claims of seeing the Country Club
Strangler all those years ago.   A man who was now enjoying
retirement in a new condominium in one of Cascade's most prestigious
development projects courtesy of Bill Ellison's checkbook.

     Ironically, Bill Ellison had steamrolled his own son when he
seemed to be a threat to himself.  Jim's insistence on his abilities and
his desire to come forward with them, to not hide them was a terrible
threat to Jim's safety and his hope for a normal life.  Jim was a threat to
himself, and his father moved swiftly and harshly to squash that threat.

     Bill took another swallow of the drink, feeling the crushing
realization that he had squashed his son in the process.

     Maybe that was why he had such a fondness for Blair.  The
unlikely friendship between his son and this unique younger man had
drawn out and stabilized the gift Jim had repressed.  Jim seemed
happy, content, settled in his life.  Blair wasn't a pretty young woman
who would produce equally pretty grandchildren, but Jim was happy,
probably for the first time in his life.  Stephen would have to provide
the grandchildren.

     "Preferably before I'm too old to care," Bill said to no one in
particular, smiling and shaking his head a bit.  

     Well, in his way, Blair wasn't unlike having a grandchild.  He
was too old for it chronologically, but his brightness and enthusiasm
and capacity to believe in something as fantastic as vampires made him
seem younger.  His subtle desire for a father figure, which seemed to
be somewhat answered in spending time around Jim's father, also made
the elder Ellison feel more attached to him.  If Blair was too old to be a
grandchild, he was certainly very much like a late child--young,
different, a little more rebellious--managing to stand the family on its
ear.

     As he started to doze, Bill Ellison realized that when he'd sat
here twenty-five years earlier, he would have never pictured his family
taking the shape it had--nor would he have been pleased with the
prospect.  Yawning, he determined that in some ways, he had grown
wiser with age, and could now see how truly blessed he was.

********

     Jim came awake to the writhing of the body in the bed next to
him.  Broken whimpers that sounded both desperate and fearful tore at
his heart.  He saw that Blair was fighting with the bedclothes, clawing
at them as if they were the lid of the casket, his breath now starting to
come out in wheezes as he began to hyperventilate in his sleep.

     "Blair!!"  Jim grabbed the smaller body and hauled him up into
a sitting position as Blair struggled to take in more air, emitting a
horrible wheeze.  "Blair, Chief, come on, calm down.  Wake up.  It's a
nightmare!"  Jim shouted, shaking Blair a couple of times.  There was a
knock at the door, and soon Jim's father had approached the bed.

     "Should I call 911?  My God, Jimmy, he can't breathe."

     "He *thinks* he can't."  Jim turned his attention back on Blair,
slapping at his face lightly and continuing to firmly insist that Blair
wake up and become aware of his surroundings.  Finally, Blair's eyes
shot open, his breathing still labored.  "That's it, Chief.  You're safe. 
Come on, it was a nightmare.  Wake up and look at us, Blair."

     "I...hard to breathe," he managed, drawing in sharp, shaky
breaths.  

     "Easy, now.  Take it easy.  It's okay," Jim soothed, rubbing
Blair's back in long, easy strokes.  

     "I'll get some water."  Bill left the two of them for a few
moments to retrieve a glass of water.

     "Sounded like a major panic attack," Jim said gently, pulling
Blair into his arms, rocking a little.

     "I was in the casket, and I couldn't...get the..."

     "Just take it easy.  I get the idea.  Just breathe nice and deep for
me."

     "What about your dad?"  Blair whispered, starting to pull back.

     "He knows the score, Chief.  Relax.  It's okay."  

     "Still hard to get my breath."

     "I know.  You've given your lungs quite a workout today."

     "I'll leave this here on the night stand in case you want some,"
Bill said, setting the glass of water there.  Dressed in his robe now, the
older man was obviously on his way to his own room for the night.  

     "Thanks, Bill," Blair managed, and Jim smiled at his father.

     "Thanks, Dad.  For everything," he added.  

     "Get some sleep, you two.  I reckon Captain Banks will
probably have a few questions in the morning."

     "Maybe facing the vampire was easier," Jim grumbled.

     When Bill had left, Jim eased his partner back down on the
pillows.  Blair had gotten his breath back, and seemed to be out of the
grip of the nightmare now as he curled against Jim.

     "Jim?"

     "Yeah?"  Jim cuddled Blair close, sliding his hand into the long,
soft curls.

     "Did you mean what you said at the house?"

     "When?"

     "Well, you were...changed...and you said that you..."

     "That I'd love you for eternity?"  Jim concluded.  Blair nodded.

     "I wondered if that was just a vampire thing, or--"

     "No, it was a 'you-and-me' thing."  Jim kissed Blair's forehead. 
"I will love you for eternity, sweetheart.  You know, the only way that
Lila made me want to surrender, to be like her, was the thought that we
could be together, always...never dying, never growing old..."

     "She offered you that?"

     "She knew I resisted her because of you.  So she was going to
be benevolent and share me with you."

     "That's awfully sporting of her, because I sure wouldn't have
shared with her."

     "You wouldn't, huh?"

     "Nope."  Blair smiled now, tightening his arm over Jim's
midsection in a proprietary grip.  "I still think she would have done
away with me later.  I wouldn't have been as powerful, being a new
vampire--at least that's how the legends go.  She needed to lure you to
the other side, so she used what she had to.  I doubt we'd have been a
happy threesome for long."

     "You were ready to let me...make you one of those...*things*. 
You gave yourself to me, Blair--you were going to let me kill you."

     "I had a chance to spend eternity with you, or to say goodbye. 
What choice would you have made?"

     "You could love me in that form?"

     "In any form.  Even then, it was still you, and you still gave me
my choice."

     "At the house, you made an offer.  I was wondering if it still
stood."

     "What?"

     "You told me to take you.  When we get home, I want to love
you the right way, Blair.  Make love to you.  Show you that forever isn't
just for vampires."

     "It stands.  I want us to be together that way.  Always."

     "Me too.  Get some sleep, sweetheart."

     "Sweetheart?"  Blair was smiling again.

     "Too gooey?"

     "Yeah...but I like it."

     "I'm glad, *sweetheart*."

********

     Jim and Blair walked into the bullpen the next morning, and
had only been in the room a few seconds when Simon burst out the
door of his office.

     "Ellison!  Sandburg!"  And with that, he retreated into the
office, leaving the door open.  The two men took the unspoken cue and
walked back to the office, entering and closing the door behind them. 
"Where in the *hell* have you two been?"

     "At my father's.  He asked us to stay over last night," Jim
replied calmly.

     "Your father's house is out of cell and pager range?"  Simon
demanded.

     "They don't work when you turn them off, sir."  

     Blair's head dropped slightly and he rubbed his forehead,
waiting for the impending explosion from Simon.  Jim's attitude was
out full force this morning, and when Jim's attitude clashed with
Simon's authoritarian streak, full body armor was usually a good idea.

     "You turned them-- Ellison, did you get some sort of vacation
authorization someone failed to clue me in on?!"

     "Simon, if you want to know what really happened last night,
we'll be happy to tell you."  Jim sat in one of the chairs opposite
Simon's desk, and Blair followed suit.  Annoyed that his subordinate
was making himself comfy while Simon himself was still pacing
angrily, the captain plopped in his desk chair and pinned the detective
with an intent gaze.

     "If you're going to feed me more of this vampire hocus-pocus,
you can save your breath."

     "Then we'll save it."  Jim stood up and started for the door.

     "Wait just a minute.  Are you still going to insist on this story
that this woman is a real vampire?"

     "Not officially, no," Jim said.  "But off the record, between the
three of us, yes, that's what she...*was*."

     "Oh, man."  Simon leaned back in his chair.  "You didn't go and
do what I think you went and did.  Did you?"

     "What do you think we did?"  Jim asked innocently.

     "Maybe a don't ask, don't tell policy would be smart right about
now," Blair suggested.

     "This doesn't have anything to do with that weird fire out on
Sherman Road last night, does it?"  Simon watched as the two men
exchanged glances, but said nothing.  "Terrific."  He took off his
glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then put them back on and
looked at Jim.  "Is this going to be something that comes back and bites
us on the ass later?"  Simon asked.

     "I don't think so, sir," Jim responded, shaking his head.  

     "So you're telling me the problem's solved, but I can't really tell
anyone else it's solved, so we have to hunt for this...*vampire killer*
for the next several months, waste all those resources and get the bad
rap with the press?"

     "Kind of looks that way," Blair said.  "The thing is, Simon, if
you tell them the truth, you're going to look worse.  The only way to
solve this is to just...go with the flow.  It's an unfortunate situation, but
we can't prove our claims, and honestly, I'm not sure we could even
prove to anyone what happened to her or how or that it *was* her, or
that it was the person who was responsible for the killings."

     "Terrific."  Simon sighed.  "I guess we have our very own
'unsolved case of the century' to look forward to."

     "I really am sorry about how this went down, Simon.  We didn't
have any choices.  I'm just grateful we all made it through alive," Jim
said.

     "I'm not entirely sure I buy any of this."

     "You believe in sentinels," Blair said, smiling a little.

     "Don't push it, Sandburg."  Simon leaned back in his chair.  "Go
on.  Get out of here.  Take a couple days off.  You've got the flu,
Ellison."

     "I don't feel a bit well, sir," Jim dead panned.

     "Join the club.  I just don't want you two available to the press
for a day or two.  So get lost, will you?"

     "Your wish is our command, Simon," Blair replied, standing up
and leading the way to the door.

********

     A wolf howled in the distance, and the few leaves that remained
on the numerous trees surrounding the Ellison hunting cabin rustled in
the wind.  The air was crisp and cold outside, the interior of the little
cabin warm and cozy with the glow of a fire that Jim stoked now as
Blair looked out the window.

     "Just a wolf, Chief," Jim said, smiling.  His father's offer of use
of the cabin for a couple of days was just what they both needed--a
reprieve from facing the macabre memories lurking at the loft.

     "I know.  I guess I just can't help but feeling that if there was
one vampire, there have to be others."

     "If there are, hopefully they're somewhere besides here."

     "Did Lila tell you when she became one?"  Blair sat on the plaid
couch, and Jim sat close by him, running his arm along the back.  Blair
let his head fall back on Jim's arm.  

     "She said it happened in Bali.  That's why she left me as fast as
she did.  I imagine that's a large part of why she was able to do so much
effective work for the syndicate.  She honestly wanted out of that, I
think, so when they thought they had killed her, she probably let them
believe that."

     "But who made her into a vampire?  I mean, how many others
are there out there?  Is this like, some big world community?  You
know, some kind of hierarchy with elders and leaders like you read
about in Anne Rice books?"

     "Slow down, Darwin.  If there's some vast society of vampires
out there, I don't want to know about it."

     "Sometimes, if you kill a vampire, you bring down the wrath of
other vampires.  What if others come to avenge Lila?  What then?"

     "Blair, sweetheart, look at me.  There are no vampires out there,
just a few wolves.  We have two quiet, wonderful days and nights to
ourselves out here in the middle of nowhere.  Let's enjoy it, huh?"

     "Do you...ever feel the pull yet?  I mean, you were one of them,
for just a few moments in time..."

     "Is that what's scaring you, Chief?  That I'm going to sprout
fangs and drain you dry?"

     "No!"  Blair protested.

     "To be honest, the whole thing gives me the creeps.  To know
that I was that close to being one of them for good.  But it's over now."

     "Maybe you need to keep my mind on something else for a
while."  Blair flexed his eyebrows.  

     Jim didn't need a second invitation.  He covered Blair's mouth
with his own, maneuvering them into a prone position on the couch,
making love to Blair's mouth the way he wanted to make love to the
rest of him.  

     Frenzied hands worked to loosen buttons, outer shirts
surrendering easily, the removal of t-shirts leading to some interesting
horizontal dance moves.  They had been skin to skin before, but not
like this, not with the freedom to loose themselves in passion, to
consummate the love they had discovered thanks to the unlikely events
of the last several days.  

     Jeans, socks and shoes ended up in the pile with the shirts, and
the two naked men continued to kiss and caress and explore one
another in the light of the fire.  

     Jim moved away from Blair's mouth, albeit reluctantly, and
began licking and nipping his way along the strong jawline, peppering
the hair-dusted chest with wet licks and kisses.  Without warning, he
took a nipple into his mouth and sucked, hard, dragging a scream of
pleasure out of Blair that rivaled the wolf-howl they'd heard earlier. 
Dragging his tongue over to its mate, he fastened his mouth there and
tormented the little nub until Blair was whimpering with pleasure,
arching his chest into the stimulation.

     Their cocks rubbed together deliciously, sweat beginning to
make them slick against one another.  

     "Jim...take me," Blair invited, catching Jim's face between his
hands.  

     "You sure you're ready, baby?"  Jim asked.

     "I want you inside me.  I want us to be bonded, like we were
going to be--" Jim covered Blair's mouth gently with a couple of
fingers, then kissed him.

     "We already are bonded, sweetheart.  Forever.  But I want to
make love to you."

     "I never did this before," Blair admitted.

     "I'm the first man?"  Jim asked.

     "I did a little groping with this one guy I really liked back in my
undergrad days.  But we never...I never...I'm still a virgin."

     "I never did it with a guy either, except for a couple of mutual
jerk-offs in the army, and those didn't mean a hell of a lot."

     "I brought some stuff.  Slippery stuff.  It's under the couch."

     Jim groped under the couch and found the tube of KY.  He took
Blair in his arms again, kissing him deeply.

     "You want to do it here or in the bedroom?" he whispered
against Blair's ear, then kissed it.

     "Out here, by the fire.  Right now," Blair added, smiling
devilishly and arching his groin against Jim's, poking him with the
hardening shaft there.  He pulled Jim's head down closer and whispered
in his ear, "I want to get down on my knees and bend over for you."

     Jim felt his cock surge at the lusty declaration, and devoured
Blair's mouth in response.  Hands traveled down to Blair's ass,
possessively massaging the firm globes there, his fingers trailing into
the cleft, teasing Blair's center.  Tossing a sofa pillow on the floor, Jim
moved off his lover and pulled Blair up, depositing him on his knees on
the pillow.  Leaning in close to Blair's ear, he whispered, "Bend over
for me, baby."

     Blair leaned forward over the couch seat, the fabric rough
against his damp, sensitive nipples.  He rested his head on his crossed
arms and thrust his ass out toward Jim, spreading his thighs.

     Jim ran his hands over the smooth, perfect ass spread out before
him.  He snaked his tongue out and tasted the smooth skin, bestowing
little licks and kisses over Blair's buttocks, smiling as the smaller man
writhed with pleasure, rubbing his cock against the front of the couch. 
Finding the tube of KY again, Jim put some on his fingers and slowly
rubbed a greasy fingertip over the little pucker.  

     "Oh, man," Blair groaned, humping the couch and bearing
down on the finger.  Taking that as a positive sign, Jim thrust the single
digit all the way into the hot tunnel, wiggling it around, letting Blair get
used to having something inserted far into his rectum before he
considered trying a second finger.  

     "More," he groaned.  Blair's ass was rotating now, pumping in
wanton pleasure with the movement of Jim's finger.  

     "Two fingers now, sweetheart.  God, you're gorgeous, baby." 
Jim kissed Blair's back, right between his shoulders, and then kissed his
way all the way to the base of Blair's spine.  Then, in a move that made
Blair scream with the pure eroticism of it, Jim withdrew his finger,
parted Blair's cheeks pressed his face between them, nosing and kissing
Blair's center.  He moved back up and whispered in Blair's ear.  "Now I
know what my mate smells like," he growled.  "I could find you just by
taste and smell."

     "Jim...please...fuck me...take me now..."

     "I need to stretch you a little more, baby.  Don't want you to get
hurt."  Jim lubed up two fingers and slid them both inside the tight
passage, scissoring them and stretching Blair into readiness.  Escalating
the internal massage to a third finger wasn't difficult.  Letting one long
finger graze Blair's prostate, Jim delighted in the electric jolt of
pleasure Blair drew from it, crying out, his cock surging.

     Jim finally withdrew the fingers, coating up his cock with the
lube and moving directly behind Blair.

     "I'm going to come in a little ways, sweetheart.  If it hurts, you
need to tell me right away.  Don't be afraid."  Jim kissed Blair's back,
then planted a little kiss on his slick center.  

     A moment later, he positioned his cock at Blair's entrance and
pushed, feeling the head pop past the initial resistance.  There was a
little groan, but Blair thrust his ass backward a bit, impaling himself
further.  

     "Whoa there, Chief.  Slow down."  Jim rubbed Blair's back. 
"God, you're so tight, baby.  Hot...feels like fire in there."

     "More," Blair gasped, and Jim obliged, sliding most of the way
inside.  Blair groaned again, clutching at the fabric of the couch.  "It
hurts...*good*," Blair actually chuckled a little unevenly.  "It hurts...but
I...like it.  Get all the way in me, Jim.  Please," Blair grated, and Jim
hesitated a moment, then concentrated on Blair and reading the signals
his body was sending.  Satisfied Blair wanted this and was ready for it,
he slid inside to the hilt, freezing at Blair's little outcry.

     "Easy, baby."  Jim trailed kisses down Blair's back, trying to
distract himself from the vise squeezing his cock.  The urge to thrust
was almost unbearable, but he resisted, holding still, waiting for Blair
to adjust.

     "Move, lover," Blair panted, and Jim thrust gently.  "Oooo,"
Blair gasped.

     "Was that a good 'oooo' or a bad 'oooo'," Jim asked gently,
running his hand up and down a sweaty flank.

     "Better...try again...to be sure," Blair managed, grinning over
his shoulder at Jim.  Jim responded with a slightly longer, faster, firmer
thrust.  "Aaaaahhhhaa," Blair gasped.  "Oh, man, yeah, do it..."

     With that, Jim began a steady, firm, pumping rhythm, giving
Blair deep strokes, but keeping it gentle, tuning his sense of touch to
delicate tissues, ensuring they didn't tear under the pressure. 
Nonetheless, there was something so raw and animal about the
position, the shameless way Blair wiggled and rotated his ass to
increase his own pleasure, that Jim found himself actually growling out
his desire deep in the back of his throat.  

     Blair was crying out with every thrust, goading Jim to move
faster, fuck harder.  Angling his next stroke, Jim nailed the little nub
deep inside Blair's body, and his lover screamed then, grabbing onto
the couch cushions.  Jim nailed the little nob again, and then again and
again, pumping hard and fast, Blair screaming on the brink of ecstasy,
almost insensible with the sensation of Jim's cock impacting with his
prostate over and over again.  

     "MINE," Jim growled, fastening lips, teeth and tongue on a
succulent spot on Blair's side, leaving a vibrant passion mark in his
wake, then traveled to another spot, then another, removing his mouth
only long enough to scream when Blair's passage spasmed frantically
around his cock.  Blair shouted Jim's name, clutching the couch with
white knuckles, his ass writhing fast, making their coupling hard, hot
and frenzied beyond what Jim would have dared try on his own for fear
of hurting his previously virgin lover.  

     Jim's climax rippled through him as Blair's began to fade, and
he laid his final claim to his mate in a few long, wild thrusts before
stilling and shooting his completion deep into Blair's body.

     Blair was breathing heavily, his upper body lying on the couch
seat, arms spread, hands finally unclenched from around the edges of
the cushions.  He was sweaty, exhausted, and bore more than one
bright passion mark on his back and shoulders.  Jim lowered himself
carefully onto Blair's back, nuzzling the damp curls, licking at one of
the passion marks like a big cat tending to its mate.

     "Mmm," Blair sighed, reaching back to slide his hand into Jim's
hair.  "Love you," he whispered.

     "Love you too, sweetheart.  You were amazing."

     "Not too shabby yourself."  Blair smiled over his shoulder.  

     "I should pull out now, baby.  Try to relax for me."  Jim slowly
let his spent cock slide from the hot passage.  Blair groaned loudly.  "Is
the pain bad?"

     "No...it's *good*.  Man, I never came that hard in my life."

     "Me either, baby."  Jim stood up shakily, then reached down
and pulled Blair up, then hoisted him into his arms.  "Time for a rest,
huh?"  Jim asked his drowsy lover.  He felt pretty spent himself, but he
wanted to take care of Blair and pamper him a little.  When the passion
wore off, he was bound to be pretty sore, and Jim wanted him as
comfortable as he could be.

     He lay his naked lover in the bed, and encouraged him to roll on
his stomach.  Retrieving a soaked washcloth and a towel from the
bathroom, he gently but thoroughly washed Blair's center.  He opened
the night stand drawer and took out the little tube of ointment he'd
brought along, figuring Blair would be tender and need a little
soothing.  Before using the cream, he leaned forward and kissed the
little pucker, then licked over it, soothing with his tongue the slight
chafing visible.

     "Feels good," Blair sighed happily into the pillow.

     "Like that, huh?"  Jim asked, setting the ointment aside for a
moment and using his hands to push Blair's thighs wide apart.  He
leaned in and licked some more, rolling his tongue and poking it into
the tight hole.  While his tongue moistened the slightly inflamed tissue
there, he reached under Blair and rolled the heavy ball sac in his hand.

     "Mmmmm," Blair purred, writhing again against the mattress,
feeling the hot, wet tongue lubricating and taming the soreness in his
well-used rear.  He had goaded the thorough fucking he got, and loved
every hot, hard, animal thrust, but now he was feeling the results.  Still,
Jim's wet tongue on his sensitive flesh, and the hand rolling his balls,
soon had him nursing another major erection.  

     Then the tongue was gone, as was the hand.  

     "Roll over and pull your knees up."  Jim waited for Blair to
comply, which he did, then looked up at Jim with total trust.  While he
wanted to surprise his lover with what he had planned, it moved him
that Blair would spread himself open so willingly when he was still
tender from their first time.  Jim coated his finger with the ointment,
and as he moved to slide the finger into Blair to spread the cooling
cream on hot internal walls, he engulfed as much of Blair's cock in his
mouth as he could manage, wrapping the other hand around the base.

     While he sucked and tasted the hard shaft in his mouth, he
rubbed the inside of Blair's tender passage with the cream, both
soothing and arousing him again.

     "Jim...Oh my God...yeah, suck it..."  Blair was reduced to grunts
now, thrusting up into Jim's mouth and bearing down on the finger in
his ass.  Suddenly he stiffened, and threw his head back on the pillow,
screaming Jim's name.  Jim swallowed the more moderate offering that
came from the second orgasm of the night.  Letting the spent cock slip
from his mouth, he moved up to kiss his nearly insensible lover.

     Blair was beautiful.  A sweaty, disheveled, marked and
thoroughly deflowered virgin.  His feet were still flat on the bed, knees
bent a bit, thighs spread wide.  Sleepy blue eyes opened and moved to
Jim's cock, which was semi-erect.  Blair pulled his knees up, offering
himself.

     "No, baby."  Jim leaned forward and kissed Blair's lips.  "Not
again for a while."  Jim crawled up into the bed and gathered Blair in
his arms, covering them both with the big comforter.  

     "What about you?"  Blair mumbled, nearly asleep.

     "I'm fine, sweetheart.  Tomorrow's another day, you know."  Jim
kissed Blair again, pulling him close so the younger man's head rested
on Jim's chest.  "You still have to return the favor," he whispered into
the dark curls.  That drew a grin, even in the state of near sleep.

********

     Blair came to slowly, cozy in Jim's arms.  He shifted a little and
felt the lingering sensations from their lovemaking.  Smiling at the
memory, he looked up at Jim's sleeping face.  Resting his cheek against
the smooth chest, he reveled in this moment of quiet closeness, and
thanked whatever entity had allowed them to survive, to wind up
together, to be in love and be lovers against all the odds.  Feeling more
content that he figured anyone had a right to be, Blair slipped back off
to sleep.

     The wolf howled loudly outside the cabin, and Jim stirred a
little in his sleep.  Sentinel ears picked up Blair's heartbeat, as it
registered his brief waking and then his return to sleep.  He also heard
the rustling of leaves in the wind, and the stealthy footfall of the
howling wolf as it prowled amongst the trees behind their little retreat.

     And then the soft steps ceased, and were replaced by the rustle
of a bat's wings as it soared into the inky night sky.  

********

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!