----------------------------------------
Carpe Noctem Book Three
Never the Twain Epilogue
by Lianne Burwell
June 2002
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After what seemed like forever, the heat wave finally broke, 
bringing with it cooler air and rain. In fact, it had been 
raining for three days straight, and was expected to continue for 
at least another two. No one in Toronto seemed to be complaining, 
though. At least, not yet.

>>>~~~<<<

Vic stretched under the hot spray of the shower, enjoying the 
lingering ache of muscles well-used, quickly fading. The last few 
weeks had been hellish, with little time left over for 
themselves. Didn't help that they were dead to the world during 
daylight hours, either. But things would be better come winter, 
even if the weather wasn't. The nights would be longer, at least.

But the time off had definitely been welcome. At the end of the 
case, the Director, who had reappeared, had shocked them all by 
giving them a week off. The first night, he and Mac hadn't even 
made it out of bed, except to eat. Instead, they'd indulged in 
marathon sessions of sex, with interludes where they just 
cuddled. That was nice, after their close call. If Mac hadn't 
thought of using the explosives, they'd be dead right now, and 
the demon would still be killing.

The second night, they'd forced themselves to get dressed and 
watch the news. They'd even gone out for a little while, just to 
feel the rain on their faces. McKenzie's disappearance had made 
the papers, but not the nightly news, and no one had come asking 
them questions, so it looked like they'd managed to dodge the 
bullet on that one. It didn't mean that they were completely off 
the hook, though. Their run-in with the obnoxious Homicide 
detective had reminded him that there were still people on the 
force that hated him, and would cheerfully see him dead. Maybe it 
was time to talk to the Director about leaving town. Sooner or 
later, someone was going to come after him and either succeed, or 
put him back behind bars again, even though it would probably 
make for bad publicity after they'd admitted to sending him to 
jail for a crime he didn't commit once before.

"Vic?"

Vic turned off the shower and reached for a towel. "Yeah?" he 
asked, stepping out of the shower, rubbing his hair. Silence 
answered him. "Mac?" he asked, pulling the towel off his head. 
Mac was leaning against the doorframe with a silly grin on his 
face, and his eyes definitely weren't on Vic's face. "Earth to 
Mac," he said in a sing-song tone.

"Huh? Oh." Mac shook his head and stood up straight. "I need to 
head out for a while."

Vic finally noticed that Mac was fully dressed and ready to head 
out the door. "Will you be long?"

Mac shrugged. "I doubt it. A couple hours, maybe."

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, a classic 'I'm up to 
something' move. Vic frowned, wondering if he should call the man 
on it. Then he decided not to. Trust was important, between both 
partners and lovers. Besides, he wasn't sure that he really 
wanted to know. "Fine. I've got a few things to do myself. Call 
me when you're done and we can go check out that new Blues club 
downtown."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Why can't you develop a taste for *good* 
music?" he groused.

"Like the stuff *you* listen to?" Vic teased back. Mac stuck out 
his tongue.

"All right. Blues tonight, club of my choice tomorrow."

"Deal."

The started at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. 
"We are such an old married couple," Mac said as he brushed a few 
non-existent tears away.

"Hard to believe, isn't it."

"Are you kidding? A year ago, I would have run away screaming at 
the thought of settling down with anyone, let alone you."

Vic snorted. "And what about Claire? Don't forget, you were going 
to marry her."

"Don't remind me," Mac said sourly. "Call it a mid-life crisis a 
couple decades early."

"Well, you've already done the sports car, so why not?"

Mac shook his head, then grabbed Vic and pulled him in for a 
kiss. "I have ever told you how annoying you are?"

Vic grinned. "Same to you. I'll see you later."

For a moment Mac looked confused, as if he'd forgotten what he'd 
been talking about earlier. Then the smile was back. "Count on 
it," he said.

When Mac was gone, Vic quickly dried off and got dressed. He 
hadn't been lying about having something to do, but he still felt 
a little worried about letting Mac go running around on his own. 
The last time he'd done that, he'd ended up on the wrong side of 
town killing someone. Mac hadn't asked, but Vic had: The mugger 
had died of his injuries nearly two days after his run-in with 
Mac. Dobrinsky had made sure that there was nothing to tie the 
dead creep to Mac, for which Vic was grateful. But as long as Mac 
didn't want to know about the man, Vic wasn't about to tell him. 
Despite his devil-may-care attitude, Mac had some deeply held 
morals, and one of those was that he didn't kill except in self-
defense. Knowing that he had beat a man to depth would take him a 
long time to recover from.

But still, if he tried to tie Mac to his side, the younger man 
would quickly rebel. Mac might be willing to commit, but only to 
a certain point. If he pushed to far, Mac would run. Or push him 
away.

Dressed, he grabbed the box that had been delivered that day and 
headed for the door. The air outside was crisp and clean, and he 
enjoyed it. The heat wave hadn't been as bad for them as for the 
regular citizens of Toronto, but it had been bad enough. The rain 
had stopped for the moment, and the scent of wet earth and leaves 
made him think of wide open spaces, and running without a care in 
the world. It reminded him of childhood summers and trips to the 
lake. Mac, on the other hand, was a city boy, but maybe he'd be 
willing to consider a camping trip sometime soon.

The streets around the Agency's headquarters were quiet, and his 
was the only car in the parking lot. He grabbed the box and went 
inside, heading for the elevators.

"If you're looking for the Director, she isn't here. And you 
shouldn't be either."

Somehow, he managed to keep from jumping out of his skin at the 
sound of Dobrinsky's voice. "That's nice," he said, 
noncommittally, wondering where the woman had disappeared to this 
time. It used to be that she almost lived here. Now it was 
Dobrinsky who ran the place, more times than not. It was like she 
was disassociating herself from the job. "But I'm just here to 
drop something off. I'll be out of your hair quickly. Wait. You 
don't *have* any hair. Sorry."

Dobrinsky rolled his eyes. "You've been hanging around Mac too 
much, Sport."

Vic grinned wickedly. "Yep, he's rubbing off on me, you could 
say."

Dobrinsky closed his eyes for a moment, wearing a pained 
expression. Then, knowing better than to give him another 
opening, the man turned and walked away. Vic snickered. Mac was 
right; Dobrinsky-baiting could be a lot of fun.

The elevator took him down to the records level. The place was 
looked empty, with the dim lights and row after row of shelves 
full of dusty tomes. The smell of dust was heavy in the air.

"Vic!"

Vic turned at the sound of his name being called. "Careena," he 
said, tensing slightly.

"Where's your partner?" she asked, putting a wealth of innuendo 
into the word. She had a pile of file folders in her arms, and 
her glasses were perched low on her nose so that she could peer 
over the tops of them flirtatiously.

"Out. We're meeting later."

"Really? You know, I hear there's a new blues club that opened a 
week or so ago. We could..." She brushed past Vic, even though 
there was plenty of room to get past him without the contact.

"I'm meeting Mac there," Vic said, stepping back.

Careena stopped and frowned at him. "You know, Vic, I thought--"

Vic cut her off with a raised hand. "And a couple of years ago 
you would have been right. But a lot of things have changed since 
them, me included. It isn't going to happen now, Careena."

For a moment, she looked like she was going explode. Then she 
smiled. "Your loss, Vic."

"Probably," Vic said, trying to make nice. She just shrugged and 
disappeared down one of the rows.

Vic shook his head. Sometimes he just didn't understand women. 
Maybe it was better that he stuck with Mac. At least he knew what 
another guy was thinking.

At the far end of the records area, he found Nathan sitting at a 
table in his office. The nervous young man didn't have a desk, 
just a large boardroom table covered with papers and books. 
Nathan was leafing through a book so old that clouds of dust rose 
every time he turned a page, and he was muttering to himself. 
"Hi, Nathan," Vic said, setting his box on the table in one of 
the few clear spots.

"Vi... Vic. Um... What brings you down here?" Nathan said, 
licking his lips nervously. His eyes darted right and left. He 
looked like he was looking for an escape route.

"I heard a rumor that you like Milka bars," Vic said, opening the 
box and turning it so that Nathan could see the pile of imported 
chocolate bars.

"Oh!" Nathan said, reaching for the box. Then he drew back his 
hand before actually touching the box. "Um... what did you want?"

Vic frowned, then realized that Nathan thought he wanted 
something for the chocolate. "Nothing. This is to say thank you 
for the other night."

"O... Other night?" Nathan practically squeaked.

"Yeah. You had the information that let us reach Jackie in time 
to stop the killer. If you hadn't, Jackie would probably be dead 
right now. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Nathan said, straightening up. He looked 
surprised, and Vic wondered how often he was actually praised for 
his work, and resolved to do so a bit more often.

"Enjoy," Vic said, waving as he left. As he headed for the 
elevators, he could hear the rustle of a wrapper being pulled off 
behind him, and smiled. He would have to thank Dobrinsky for the 
suggestion as well.

He was whistling as he left.

>>>~~~<<<

Mac paused outside the bar door, briefly considering just turning 
around and leaving. The bar looked a lot rougher than the type he 
preferred to go to, and the area of town wasn't his favorite 
either.

Then he squared his shoulders and pushed the door open.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke. The music blared from a 
jukebox and was hopelessly out of date. It wasn't even classic, 
like the stuff Vic listened to. It was just top twenty type stuff 
from nearly a decade earlier, completely forgettable. As for the 
people inside the bar, they fit the atmosphere perfectly. The men 
outnumbered the women pretty much ten to one. Jeans and leather 
was de rigueur, to go with the lineup of motorcycles outside. It 
was a parody of a biker bar, as far as Mac was concerned.

He saw who he was looking for at a small table at the back of the 
bar, nursing a beer. Ignoring a few sneering comments directed at 
him and his clothes, he headed for the man. "Didn't expect to 
hear from you so soon," he said. "In fact, I thought you'd 
already left town."

Cash waved for him to sit down. "You want a drink?" he asked, 
ignoring the comment.

A waitress who looked about a hundred years old came over, and 
figuring that he wasn't going to get any of his favorite import 
or micro-brew beers, he just asked for whatever was on tap.

When his beer arrived, he took a polite sip, then put the glass 
down. He tried not to look at the rim too closely, figuring that 
the glass probably wasn't too clean. The beer was tasteless, but 
more because of the generic brand name than his dulled taste 
buds. "All right, Cash. You wanted to meet me without Vic 
knowing. Here I am. So what do you want?"

Cash raised an eyebrow, but Mac didn't feel guilty about the 
hostile tone. While he had enjoyed his night with Cash back in 
San Francisco, and he was grateful to the man for saving Vic's 
life, he was still pissed off that Cash had tried to get Vic to 
leave with him. To abandon Mac, in other words.

"I'm heading north tomorrow," Cash said, setting down his now 
empty beer glass.

"That's nice," Mac said noncommittally.

"I still think that Vic should come with me. The Director's offer 
is still open, she says."

Mac growled, and from Cash's expression, he knew that he was 
losing control of his beast. "And what do you expect me to do? 
Give you permission to run off with my partner, my lover? Give 
you my blessings? Well the hell with you," he hissed, trying not 
to draw attention to them. Even so, they were getting some sharp 
looks from the closest tables.

"Mac, it wouldn't be forever. The two of you can be together for 
centuries, potentially. But only if you both get the training to 
let you survive. Surely your sire--"

Mac cut him off with a wave. "Obviously the Director didn't bring 
you up to speed. My so-called sire was Sabbat, a Ravnos, and she 
didn't survive the night that I dug myself out of the grave she 
put me in. Vic is the only teacher I've had so far, and you want 
to take him away? Doesn't exactly go with your talk about us 
needing our sires to train us, now does it?"

Cash actually looked shocked. "Sabbat?"

Mac nodded. "And there was no choice involved. She ripped my 
throat out on the orders of..." he hesitated. "Of someone who 
wanted to hurt the Director," he finally said.

"I... I didn't know."

"Obviously. It's been crazy since then, and sometimes I think 
that the only thing that has kept me sane was the fact that Vic 
was there, every step of the way. Now, why don't we talk about 
the *real* reason you're so hung up on having Vic go with you."

Cash shook his head. "I told you, I don't want any Childe of mine 
to be left trying to figure out things on their own."

"Bullshit. From what I understand, all Gangrel are left that way. 
You were, so why not Vic?"

"Because..."

"And it isn't like he didn't get any training. The Director 
arranged for the local Gangrel clan to teach him all the basics. 
In fact, he's doing pretty damn good. He doesn't need you to hold 
his hand."

"Mac..."

"Admit it, Cash. It isn't Vic you're worried about, it's 
yourself. You're going to be separated from *your* lover for 
however many years, so you want to take *my* lover with you so 
that you won't be lonely."

Cash was shaking his head vigorously now. "It isn't like that."

Mac stared at him for a moment. "Are you sure?" he said softly. 
In a way, he almost felt sympathetic, but not enough to encourage 
Vic to go with him. "You waited a year for this. What stopped you 
from coming before this? I'm sure that if you'd asked, you could 
have worked something out with Julian and the Director to come 
stay in Toronto for a few years to train him, but you didn't. You 
waited until something forced you to leave San Francisco and your 
lover. Until then, nothing. I know Vic called you a couple times, 
but did you ever call him? Did you ever try to build any sort of 
relationship with him before you showed up here, expecting him to 
drop everything and follow you off into the wilderness?"

Cash looked away. "I didn't come up here intending to hurt you," 
he finally said.

"And you haven't," Mac said, relenting slightly. Only slightly. 
"But if you take Vic away now, you will. I've lost everyone who 
ever meant anything to me in my life, one by one. My parents, my 
adoptive family, one of my partners who was also my foster sister 
and lover. And now you're trying to take Vic away too. Cash, I 
like you. I wouldn't have slept with you if I didn't." Mac 
snorted. "Well, maybe I would have. But still, you're making a 
mistake here. What are you so afraid of, being alone?"

Cash was eyeing him with something that looked like respect now. 
"When did you get so wise?" he asked.

"Don't be fooled, I'm still immature and shallow. And you're 
avoiding the question."

"Yeah, I guess I am. I... I miss Julian."

"Well, duh, as Jackie would say. But you said it yourself: You go 
your separate ways until it's time for him to leave San Fran, 
then you get back together again."

"I suppose."

Mac's eyebrow went up. "What, you think he's going to lose 
interest in you? Out of sight, out of mind?"

Cash snorted. "Something like that. I'm up here, and he's back 
there. And so is Lily. And Frank."

Mac rolled his eyes. "And you fucked me. From what you've told 
me, monogamy isn't a word in either of your vocabularies. And no 
one said that you had to be there to keep his attention. It's why 
they invented phones, you know. To keep in touch?"

Cash looked surprised, and Mac groaned. "You've got to be joking. 
What were you planning on doing, going incommunicado for a few 
years? Call the man, idiot. I'm sure he's got enough money to 
foot the bill if you don't. Have phone sex. Tell him what you've 
been up to. Make sure he doesn't get the chance to forget about 
you, that you're waiting for him."

"I never thought of that," Cash said,

"Obviously. And call us once in a while too, okay? And just 
because I'm not going to let you run off with my partner doesn't 
mean you can't be around for him. Maybe the Director can be 
convinced to give us the occasional vacation. We come visit you, 
you get to add to Vic's training, the two of you can actually get 
to know each other. Sound good?"

Cash grinned. "Like I said, for someone so young, you've got some 
good ideas."

"Yeah, well tell the Director that. She still doesn't like 
sending me on stakeouts."

"What happened?" Cash asked, his eyes narrowing.

Mac laughed ruefully. "We were staking out what was supposed to 
be an arms shipment being smuggled through town. I got bored, so 
I went and picked a fight with the guys we were supposed to just 
be watching."

Cash laughed. "You broke a stakeout because you were bored? Wait 
a minute, you said 'supposed' to be an arms shipment. What was 
it?"

"Lungs."

"What?"

"They were smuggling organs. Black market organ transplants. The 
arms dealer almost ended up with LiAnn's lungs inside of him."

Cash's expression was priceless. "Wait a minute. Start over, and 
this time from the beginning."

Mac picked up his beer glass and took a quick swig. "Well, it was 
like this..."

>>>~~~<<<

The Director leaned back in her chair, the fine leather sinfully 
comfortable. It had cost more than most people made in a month, 
but it was worth it. Besides, with her job she deserved a few 
perks.

"So," she said, spinning around lightly to face her assistant. 
"How did the children do?"

Dobrinsky was sitting opposite her, on the other side of her 
desk. They were in her private office, which meant that they 
didn't have to worry about any unexpected interruptions; 
something that happened all to regularly with her favorite team. 
If she didn't like them so much...

"All in all, they did quite well. Jackie did get kidnapped by the 
killer, but the boys put together the clues and tracker her down 
before anything permanent happened. This whole thing was insane 
from the start, but they did good."

The Director smiled. If Dobrinsky was willing to say that, then 
it must be true. She knew that her second still had reservations 
about her choices for her 'special' team, even after all these 
years, but he wasn't so prejudiced that he couldn't admit when he 
was wrong. "I'm glad to hear it. And LiAnn?"

Dobrinsky sighed. "Based on Vic's report, I would consider her 
lost. She made it quite clear to them that she has no intention 
of returning."

"A pity. From the sound of it, she might have been able to fill 
us in a little on the mysterious Orient." She sighed, then 
shrugged. "Mark her as permanently retired in the archives, but 
with a notation that if she calls, we answer. No need to 
completely burn that bridge."

"Already done," Dobrinsky said with a smirk. He was very good at 
anticipating her, which was why he was her second. Then he turned 
sober. "But I still think you were taking a serious risk, 
disappearing when you did."

Part of her wanted to snap that it wasn't any of his business, 
but they both knew that wasn't true. Someday -- and probably 
sooner rather than later -- he was going to be sitting in her 
chair, making the tough calls in her place. "I needed to see how 
they would handle this on their own," she finally said. 
"Eventually they will have to move on, without me to call on. If 
they can't survive without me, then better that they be killed 
now."

"Before you can care too much?"

She laughed. "It's too late for that," she said, a little bitter. 
More than two hundred years of being so careful, and along came 
three scruffy children -- well, maybe not so scruffy -- who 
worked their way past her defenses. And yet, strangely, she 
didn't really mind. As far as she was concerned, they were *her* 
kids, even if they definitely hadn't turned out the way she'd 
expected. She'd had such plans for them. She should have 
remembered what they said about plans.

But the kids also made her vulnerable, which is why her sister 
had targeted them. And knowing her sister, she wasn't done 
either.

"And then there's Jackie," Dobrinsky said, catching her off-
guard. Of course, of her agents, the petite blonde was *his* 
favorite.

"What about her? You did tell me that she was all right," she 
said, worriedly.

"Physically, yes. However, while you gave the three of them the 
week off, and she hasn't left her apartment yet."

The Director sighed. "I'll take care of her," she said. And she 
had a few ideas of how to do that.

>>>~~~<<<

Jackie sat, staring out into the inky, wet darkness, watching the 
lights of the city as they sparkled brightly. The papers were 
still full of stories about the series of murders, not yet 
realizing that it was over. In time, they would forget about 
them, maybe resurrecting the questions every year or two, 
wondering what happened to the Nightclub Killer. As for the man 
Sanji had killed and put in her car, there'd been a couple 
articles about the disappearance of a Homicide detective, but 
nothing had come of it. She knew that Vic and Mac were still 
waiting to see if they'd been connected to the man, but no one 
had shown any interest in them, thankfully.

Jackie glanced over at the letter sitting on the coffee table. It 
had arrived while she was asleep that day. The postmark was 
smudged beyond reading, but she'd recognized the handwriting 
immediately. LiAnn. She picked it up and read the brief note 
again.

"Hello, Jackie.

I'm home, welcomed with open arms. Bringing back the head of the 
killer of the Queen's heir has ensured my place for however long 
I want it. And with that dealt with, I can now move on to what 
brought me back after my parents killed me.

All my life I have been denied, and denied myself. A poverty-
stricken childhood. Life in a brothel. Life as the adopted child 
of a Tong leader. My time as a fugitive. As an agent. Always 
doing what I was told and never what I wanted.

But now, everything is different. Now I can do as I please, 
experiencing all that life -- and yes, I do mean life -- has to 
offer. So many things I never had the chance to experience, and 
I'm going to try them all.

Our night together was pleasant, but can only be that: One night. 
Like I told Mac, there's no common ground left for us. You won't 
see me again. But I will remember you, and the boys, fondly.

Watch your back, blondie.

LiAnn"

That was it. No explanations of where she was, or what sort of 
queen she was talking about. So many unanswered questions.

Jackie set down the rough paper again. She'd never really gotten 
along with LiAnn. They'd been like two cats, fighting for the 
same territory. Still, she'd respected the woman, and she was a 
little surprised to find that she was going to miss her. For one 
brief moment, she hadn't been so very alone.

Of course, it didn't hurt that LiAnn had been one fantastic fuck.

She heard the click of the door behind her, but didn't turn 
around. She could guess who it was.

"Sitting all alone in the dark? That isn't healthy." The 
Director. She'd reappeared as mysteriously as she'd disappeared 
during the case, not bothering to explain where she'd been or 
why. She'd told them all 'good job' and to take a week off. 
Jackie had gone home and stayed there. She wasn't in the mood for 
clubbing. She wasn't sure that she'd ever be in the mood for it 
again.

The sofa shifted under her slightly as the Director sat down next 
to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Surely it isn't 
that bad," she said softly. "What's wrong?"

Jackie leaned against her, needing the contact. The Director 
wasn't usually *quite* this touchy-feely though.  "I liked him, 
you know. The night we met up at the club, we talked for hours. I 
know he was just manipulating me, but it was nice. We seemed to 
mesh so well."

"And now you feel alone again. But you aren't alone. Not if you 
don't want to be."

Jackie laughed bitterly. "Right. Vic and Mac have each other. 
Dobrinsky has Nathan. LiAnn is gone. Other than them, I don't 
have any one I can just be me with."

"You have me," the Director said, squeezing her gently.

Jackie shook her head. "No I don't. You're my boss, my Prince. 
You can't be that as well as my friend. My..." She stopped, and 
started to pull away, but the older woman didn't let go.

"Your lover?" She seemed to hesitate, then brushed her knuckles 
across Jackie's cheek. "Maybe not forever, but that doesn't mean 
I can't be until you meet that person you're waiting for." She 
leaned closer. "You don't have to be alone."

She let go, and Jackie felt a flash of loss, but the Director 
just stood up and held out a hand to her. "Want to give it a 
try?"

Jackie stared up at her, her thoughts all awhirl. She knew that 
the older woman was just offering physical contact. She knew her 
well enough to know that it would never be anything more than 
that. She wanted to say no. After all, if all she wanted was a 
willing body, she could find that anywhere. On the other hand, if 
nothing else, at least the Director understood her, all of her, 
and her one night with LiAnn had shown her how good that could 
be.

She stood, took the offered hand, and let herself be led into the 
bedroom.

>>>~~~<<<

The jungle was hot an humid, the air barely moving. Very little 
of the sunlight made it through the canopy to the ground under 
the trees, giving everything a twilight haze. In the distance she 
heard a monkey screech. The sound of birds was almost constant, 
as was the drip of water.

LiAnn relaxed, stretched out along a tree branch, not even 
noticing the insects that crossed her naked body as though it was 
just another barrier to get past. Insects were a constant part of 
life in the jungles of southern Asia, and she accepted them as 
that. It was life, in all its glory.

Below, she could hear the sound of laughter, coming from the 
people she now called family. She was thankful that they had 
found her, not long after she'd killed her parents, wandering 
though the farmlands of China. The peasants were already hunting 
her, since she hadn't been able to stop with just her parents. 
She'd bathed in blood until she was sated, then ran for her life.

But the Tigers had found her first, helping her escape, then 
teaching her how to live her new life. She'd been tempted to join 
them, but it hadn't felt right, and they'd recognized that. 
They'd finally sent her to the Golden Courts, where she'd finally 
found a home; the first true home she'd ever had.

She would miss her old partners, though. Mac had been there for 
her, ever since they'd been thrown together by the Tangs. He'd 
stood up for her when Michael had been mean and hateful, jealous 
that his father had brought two strangers home. He'd been the 
first real lover she'd ever had, although she'd certainly been no 
virgin. And when she'd pushed him away, he'd refused to go, just 
giving her enough space to try to figure out what she really 
wanted.

And Vic, sweet Vic, was the first man to make her feel like a 
woman. He'd even wanted to marry her, disaster though that would 
have been. They would have ended up hating each other if they'd 
actually gone through with it. And even though she'd hurt him 
unbearably, he'd still been her friend after everything she'd 
done.

Then there was Jackie, annoying, but loyal to a fault in the end. 
So brave, in going up against the Raksha. And a tiger in bed. If 
she wasn't a vampire, LiAnn might have been tempted to bring her 
home with her. Jackie would have fit so well into the Court life. 
But she *was* a vampire, and there was no place for her in 
LiAnn's world, any more that LiAnn had a place in hers.

She would never see any of them again, and it was probably for 
the best, but they would always hold a special place in her 
heart.

"LiAnn!"

She sat up at the sound of her name being called, completely 
unconcerned by her nudity. Ling was grinning up at her, a grin 
full of sharp teeth and sex. She dropped from the branch, more 
than fifteen feet up in the air, and landed lightly on her feet. 
Ling growled lightly in the back of her throat, a sound that was 
purely playful.

LiAnn wrapped her arm around the tiny girl, and together they 
headed for the building that had been a temple, centuries before.

Yes, her old family would always have a place in her heart, but 
this, this was home.


THE END


Oh, East is East and West is West, 
     and never the twain shall meet, 
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgement Seat; 
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, 
When two strong men stand face to face, 
     tho' they come from the ends of the earth! 

Rudyard Kipling