Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 16:39:10 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARSII--PETS OR MEAT PETS OR MEAT Saturday Evening-- July 9th Peanuts. That was all they'd given her on the plane. Peanuts. Susan had been starving. With Diego under the care of her brother and Jude having arranged plane tickets (for which she was just as glad--having to make her way through the Dream County on the QT was cheap but not exactly safe), Susan had packed, gotten to Newark, and was aboard the flight before she could stop and get anything to eat. Jude, of course, had already eaten. So Susan had remained sullen, irritable, and hungry as Jude outlined her plans for her Toronto sortie. Once at the hotel, they'd checked in. Jude had disappeared almost immediately. Susan had bided her time until well after sunset by grazing through whatever appetizers room service could offer without bankrupting her, knowing well enough that there'd be little opportunity for real food at the Raven. It seemed more than diplomatic not to ask the denizens the location of the nearest steak place. The Raven was dark and noisy. The bouncer gave her a look as she entered--she wasn't enough of a regular to be ignored or enough of a strange to be barred. In fact, she wasn't all that fond of clubs to begin with. But every now and again someone had sense enough to play some Madness, or Oingo Boingo, or They Might Be Giants. And if you sat in the back booths, you could spend the whole night watching everything that went on around you without drawing too much attention to yourself. Great for research. But a bad place to be if you were hungry and weren't on a liquid diet. Susan wandered the length of the club, until she could make her way to the bar. Janette was standing there, stroking a cat who was perched atop the bar and licking a saucer of cream. Susan cleared her throat, eyes wide at the sight of the cat. Janette barely glanced at her, returning her attention to the feline, who'd abandoned the cream when she'd started scratching behind its ears. "You're here. Finally." "Well, if you'd bothered to send me a ticket--" She stopped herself and swallowed. "I thought you didn't like cats." "Most. But Goblin is one of ours. Not like those horrid creatures that attacked us." Susan sniffed and looked around. "Yeah--you said something about garlic." "Betsy did an admirable job of cleaning up. You should have been here to help her." "I don't do floors." This time, Susan didn't back down from the glare--heaven knew her life-long battle with her own kitchen floor was traumatic enough, without trying to scrape the unnameable substances off the Raven's dance floor. " I got here as quickly as I could. I assume the summit didn't go well." Janette turned her back to the cat, who continued to lap cream from the dish . . . although Susan got the feeling that he wasn't missing a word of their conversation. "That's the understatement of the century. Nicola hasn't done a blessed thing, as usual. They've got that EX-Cousin--" "John?" supplied Susan. "Yes." Janette smiled and looked away. "Nicola hasn't even begun to deal with him, yet. How hard it must be for the poor boy--all that warm blood within reach . . . . It's only a matter of time." "We, uh, don't happen to have anyone over there, do we?" Janette shrugged. "Who knows, with the way they're changing back and forth, left and right. How can you trust anyone, anymore?" She sniffed and picked up the cat. "Besides, I have the distinct impression that Nicola doesn't trust ." Susan looked down at the floor and didn't say a word--she might have been tired and hungry, but she wasn't stupid. "You, uh, don't want me to go over there?" "Into that snake pit? You'd be safer with LaCroix." Janette held the cat against her shoulder, tickling it beneath the chin. "Not that I have any plans for sending you to him." Susan let out the breath she'd been holding. "Okay. Do they have any of their people ?" "Oh, they've been in and out. It's so easy to spot them-- they just don't have right attitude. Ambivalence." Janette leaned down and placed the cat on the floor. "Now run and play, little Goblin. Earn your keep. I thought I spotted a mouse in the storeroom the other evening." Susan watched the cat scamper off, then her gaze moved back to Janette. "Are you going to do anything about them? The spies?" "Why should I? If they pay for their drinks and don't cause any problems, what does it matter?" She shrugged, then signaled to the bartender. "Besides, I have other concerns. I want my mail from LaCroix." "And what about Laurie?" "What about her?" Janette took the glass offered to her, giving the bar tender a slight nod. "Her attitude in all this has been very distressing. I half-believe LaCroix put her up to it. It would be so like him, to play me for a fool this way. She'll go back to him, they always do." It didn't take much insight to see through Janette's studied indifference--she was annoyed and angry, yet resigned in that way she often got when it came to anything dealing with LaCroix, as if there was no way she could win and she'd be foolish even to try. "About that truce with Natalie's people--?" "Forget it. They're in too much disarray--they keep looking to dear Nicola to do . And he won't. He's afraid to use the pawns he's gathered, yet he's afraid to act alone. And so he does nothing but pace and ponder. It's so . And the rest simply hurl accusations at one another and nothing ever gets done. As I said, I've half a mind to throw my lot in with LaCroix." Then she smiled, almost sadly. "But, no. He'll be angry with me as well--for using him to keep Nicola busy, for trying to spirit away one of his own." "Which means we wait to see where the chips are going to fall." "You learning." Janette sipped at her glass, then eyed Susan over the rim. "I've asked Alma to contact all of my own and have them come here. She's got some errands to run, but I think she'll get to it shortly. For safety's sake, it would be better, yes?" She sniffed again. "As if I can't take care of my own." Susan glanced down and saw Goblin skulking around the edge of the bar. "Looks like you've got an admirer." "He has his uses. As do all my 'pets.'" Janette picked up her cigarette case from the bar and opened it. "Speaking of which--I'd like you to run to my tobacconist. My shipment's come in." She hesitated, but only for a second. Then, without a word, Susan took the card that Janette withdrew from her case, and headed for the door. Maybe, if she was lucky, there'd be a steak place around the corner . . . . ----------------------- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 14:27:18 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Enemy Territory [part 2 of 2]------------- Enemy Territory Lounging against a pillar, striving to adopt the air of one who is entirely too blase to venture onto the dance floor, Tanaquil could feel the thrum of the music vibrating through the club. *Whoever does the music here really isn't half bad*, she mused. *Not like whoever did the decorating*. Good thing she could identify most of the vampires based on who she'd seen writhing in pain the night before. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been easy to distinguish the genuinely undead from the mere casualty of fashion. Some she could even identify from the show -- yes, there was Spike at the door, and Myra on the dance floor. But where was Alma? "My GOD! What did you put in this?" The sounds of enraged mortality attracted her attention to the bar. Spike was moving smoothly towards the offended skinhead. Oh, no. Janette *hadn't* put *her* in charge of mixing the drinks? Tanaquil attempted to limp gracefully closer. Alma was defending herself tearfully. "But he asked for a Bloody Mary!" she wailed. Tanaquil was intrigued. Surely she had seen some of the words Janette was using in one of those poems of Catullus. She wasn't entirely clear on the meaning, seeing that the Latin dictionaries always gave an equivalent in Greek and the Greek dictionaries sent you back to the same word in Latin, and the parallel translations always translated the poems into Italian instead of English, but she was fairly sure that Alma wasn't physically capable of *that*. Spike was escorting the injured gentleman to the door. If he hadn't had more drugs than an pharmacy in his body, he might have known that what Alma had given him wasn't V8 that had gone off. Janette was now making a noise that Tanaquil had always thought was restricted to offended cats. "Having problems with the help?" Tanaquil asked in her best bored, affected, supercilious drawl. Alma, hearing herself described in this way, decided that she had had quite enough for one night. She uttered a wordless sound of pure rage and stormed away, as only a vampire can storm. Janette was looking thoroughly fed up. Every vampire in the place, including herself, was suffering from a monstrous garlic hangover, half her human staff including all the bartenders had quit after the panther incident, and what with keeping an eye on rattled Ravenettes and Pan only knew how many bumbling NatPack spies, she had no time to spare on vodka tonics. She spun on this strange woman in a fine vampire rage. "This is all your fault!" she hissed. "I have no idea who you are and I don't care. Get behind the bar. Do you know the difference between a sidecar and a sloe gin fizz?" Now here was a piece of luck. Tanaquil moved hastily behind the bar. "Try me." Janette eyed her through narrowed lids. Mortal arrogance was so tiresome, but it could be amusing to puncture. "Give me a gin and tonic. With Bombay Sapphire gin." Tanaquil eyed her back, with the look she normally reserved for one of the cats after it had thrown up on her flatmate's bed. "I thought it was bad policy to serve someone who's obviously lost all judgment at the bottom of a shot glass. Or are you accustomed to cater to sober barbarians in this place?" Janette raised her eyebrows. "Tiens! Not bad. You're not looking for a job, are you?" "As a matter of fact, I am." "If you can handle this crowd tonight, it's yours." Janette began to withdraw. Tanaquil thought that she had never seen anyone look sardonically relieved before. "Bonne chance, ma petite chou." She disappeared lithely through the door Alma had slammed behind her. Tanaquil took a deep breath. She was in! Now, to put the next phase of the plan into action... S. Tanaquil Johnson [end of part 2 of 2]------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 12:30:45 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2: A new beginning [part 2/2]------------------------ Evening, July 9th They stood on the rooftop of LaCroix's apartment building. Lisa, Tokaara, Margaret, and the newest Cousin, Sharon. LaCroix stood before them, smiling at each in turn. "Things are progressing nicely," he said. "Phase 1 is complete." He glanced at Sharon's puzzled frown. "A week of scrambling, using resources, travelling. It's worn them out," he explained. "It's time to move to the second phase." "Which is?" "Lets look at our ranks for a moment, shall we?" LaCroix spoke in professorial tones. "Tokaara and Margaret, you've been with me since the beginning. You saw the way immediately. Margaret, especially. You, my dear, were among the First. And there were others, Sandye, Dennis." He moved next to Lisa. "And a former Die-Hard. One who found her way to me on her own." "My lovely Monica, who is off on other assignments. A former Ravenette." He stopped in front of Sharon and placed his hand on her shoulder. "And now, my most valuable prize. One of Natalie's friends who has seen the light, as it were. And the struggle only made this reward that much richer." "She isn't going to let me go without a fight," Sharon said. LaCroix grinned. "Good. But she won't win. She's only a mortal woman after all. No real threat." "I wouldn't be so sure of that," Sharon warned, then tried unsuccessfully to look away when he pinned her with a sharp gaze. "Perhaps your right," he said after a moments reflection. "But remember that you've burned that bridge. You can't go back to her. She'll never trust you again. None of them will." Sharon nodded. "I know." "Good." "Now, back to the discussion at hand." He paced about for a moment. "Original cousins, a Ravenette, a Die-Hard, and a NatPacker. What's missing." "A Knightie!" Margaret exclaimed. "And a FoD!" Sharon supplied. "Yes, and I really would like a complete set. I want a Knightie and a FoD, and anyone else you can convince to join us. Remember, they're tired, they've been using up their resources. And, they'll be looking for the Abarat. Nicholas doesn't realize the spell can only be used once. If he finds it and figures that out, he'll no doubt do the right thing and use it on that wretched John Dencoff." For a moment LaCroix's lip curled in disgust. "Isolate them. Use up their resources. *Then* move in and show them the truth. Point out their patron's weaknesses." He stopped in front of Sharon again. "If necessary, as it was for you, I'll step in." He looked at each of them in turn. "Also gather information. We can also use it for other battles if they don't prove useful here. You have your assignments," he said, then lifted in the air without a sound. They watched him rise in the air. Then they turned and looked at one another. "FoDs." Sharon said. "We all know that the fasted way to a FoD's heart . . ." "Is through the souvlaki supply!" they finished in unison. [end of part 2/2]------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Cousin Sharon o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Cousin | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 21:14:03 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2 : Natalie, help! ---------------------------------------------------------- Ivy stared down at Betsy's unconscious form. *One of us? Damn all this subterfuge to the nine hells and back and Nick was right.* She checked for a pulse, hoping she had some idea that what she was doing was right. Betsy looked fine, just knocked out. *What to do what to do*. She picked up the telephone and hit speeddial 7. "Hi, Kevin, it's Ivy. I've um, got a little problem. You see ... just come over I need you." "Sure, I'll be right there." Kevin, being a medical intern would surely know what to do. Kevin always knew what to do. Kevin lived a few blocks away, always knew what to do and would make everything okay again. *Stop that!* Ivy put an abrupt end to her mental babbling. Kevin arrived in a few moments. Ivy was glad he was able to figure out which address to come to, probably checked the apartment first then came here, she figured. "She was in the apartment. She's from the wars, you know about those, and well, I hit her." "I see." Kevin knelt beside Betsy and ran expert fingers along the bruise on her temple. "She'll be fine, she should be put under observation. I'll call an ambulance." "No," Ivy said. "It's not safe for her. LaCroix might try to hurt her." "Her, why?" "Why was she in here. If she'd strike against him or connected to me since I have he'll go after her out of spite. He doesn't need much of a reason. I know a doctor we can bring him to." Kevin nodded. "I'll get the car." ----------- Kevin stared at the odd elevator of Nick's loft. "Are you sure this is the place?" "Absolutely." Kevin carried Betsy, who was conscious but dazed up to the loft. "Natalie Help!" Ivy yelled as soon as the elevator doors opened. Natalie ran over and, with Kevin's help lay Betsy on the leather couch. Ivy shuddered remembering John lying in that very spot. Tears streamed unbidden down her cheeks. "I didn't mean it. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't know you weren't an enemy. Please, please be alright." Kevin pulled her away to let Natalie do her work. Natalie, though not used to working with living people had Betsy conscious, eyes focused, and walking in very little time. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 23:56:00 EDT From: 'Most Holy Subject: FK Wars 2: FOSsils by the Tails FOSsils by the Tails Late evening 7/10 Since the prank on Cousin Lisa, 'Most Holy had watched with interest the convergence on Toronto by the warring factions. So too did Chewie, the Siamese who had her own ways of keeping abreast of events. So it happened that as he had completed downloading the war onto the disks for future reference, he sat back to reflect on the events of the day. "You know Chewie, I'm just wondering if a little excursion to Toronto would not be such a bad thing after all. I mean the Die-Hards could use some help and...Oh, did I ever tell you about my trip up there last October?" With a deep sigh, the Siamese replied, "Only every time the Blue Jays are mentioned!" "Touchy. Okay what say we mosey on up there and see if I can be of use to anyone?" "You mosey. I'll fly." It never ceased to amaze 'Most Holy the manner in which Chewie could be so sarcastic for a cat. As he gathered up his gear for his morning bike ride, Chewie scurried up to the keyboard and sent a cryptic message to Gandalf & Merlin: To: Gandalf & Merlin From: Chewie < Chewcat@catnet.Washington.dc Date: 94-07-10 23:54:01 EDT Subj: Need a Paw? Have followed activities of your mom. Expect opportunity to arrive soon for meeting. My dad is seeking roll, I prefer bagels. See you in the dark. Chewie 'Most Holy Chewie (A Noble Siamese) Otter@DRYCAS.club.cc.cmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 16:45:11 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKWars2: Family Feud ends as Lisa leaves the Family Lisa stepped out of the shadows, blocking LaCroix's way. LaCroix smiled coldly. "I'm a great believer in cutting my losses. I never thought I could trust *you*." "Spoken like a true Cousin." LaCroix's smile widened, and he flourished it like a sword. Lisa shrugged. "Maybe. I've certainly deceived you. A few minutes ago a friend of mine -- not poor Anne Fraser, she's not speaking to me any more -- delivered my laptop with the copy I made of the Abarat to the Knighties at Nick's place. It's true *I* can't work the spell twice, but there's nothing to stop someone else from doing it." The vampire's eyes flared red. He purred, "That, my dear, was a fatal mistake." "Yes, because I was dying to know you," Lisa snapped. "And dying is just what you're going to do!" With which riposte LaCroix snatched Lisa into his arms, sank his fangs into her neck -- and fell back with a cry of agony, writhing on the floor. "No, dying is what you're going to wish you could do." Lisa was smiling again, icily. "Didn't you ever wonder why I never seemed to care if you or Larry bit me? I've got Polidori's Syndrome." She seemed to be searching for something in her purse. "What have you done to him?" Margaret screamed nearly as loudly as LaCroix as the rest of the cousins ran into the room. "Polidori's Syndrome. People who have it are poisonous to Vampyres. He'll get well eventually, but he's going to have a terrible bellyache for quite a while." One of two of the cousins made to grab her, but Lisa's hand came out of her bag with a Police Special, and the heroines took the better part of valor. "I'm leaving now. I hope the rest of you enjoy your war." Lisa began backing toward the door, the gun carefully pointed at her erstwhile friends. "Unless someone wants an exit, disguised as a corpse, I'd advise against trying to stop me." The sound of the apartment door slamming brought down the curtain. ----------------- Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 18:32:58 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKW2: An Arrival An Arrival Sharon Himmanen Saturday, July 9. Evening "He wants to see you," Cousin Margaret said from the doorway. Sharon looked up from the beginnings of her plans for making the lives of a few FoDs miserable. Not to mention Susan Garrett--she knew Uncle would like to have Susan Garrett in his collection and Sharon knew things. She'd planned on setting a few things in motion, then take a much needed shower, get a much needed bite to eat, and then settle in for a much needed night's sleep. "Now!" Margaret said, turning away. With a sigh she put down the phone and followed her down the hallway to the study. LaCroix was sitting in a chair. Although he seemed up and in control, she could still see the unusual pallor on his face. He'd fed well before being poisoned by Lisa, but it would take time. "You wanted to see me?" she asked nervously, stopping near the door. "Yes," he said airily. "I have a little assignment for you. One that's uniquely suited to you." She took another step further into the room and waited. "Nobody know's you've defected, do they?" "No." "And you've been . . . missing since Friday morning, after your visit to Betsy, correct?" "That's right." LaCroix gave her a chilly smile. "I believe your . . . friends at Nicholas' will be happy to see you again. To learn that you're . . . safe." Sharon smiled back with a lot more conviction than she actually felt. She didn't want to face them just yet, especially if they didn't know. What was she going to say to Natalie? How could she convince her? LaCroix must have caught some fleeing doubt in her eyes, for he leaned closer to her. As his smile grew sharper, she realized that that this was a test--LaCroix wanted to see just how strong her commitment to him was, and what better way than sending her to another camp as a false friend. He nodded, watching her work it out for herself. He relaxed suddenly and turned to the window, looking out over the city. "You'll be my eyes and ears. I don't usually go for spying, although many a conflict has been won that way," he commented, turning professorial again. "But I suspect that Lisa has some game afoot." "Lisa McDavid?" "Yes," he said. "She's sent them a copy of the Abarat. Now, I've given Alexandra the task of making sure the computer it's on is completely unusable, and that the copy is lost. Alexandra has her . . . charms, but she's basically incompetent. I want you to make sure she's done the deed." "And if she hasn't?" He didn't turn to look at her. "Then the task will fall to you, by default," he said simply. "But, if she did manage to actually do something right, then stay there. Report their activities to me when you can. And wait for me to arrive." "When will you come?" "In a few days," he said absently. "I'll be making a . . . mail delivery." She could hear the smile in his voice. * * * * * "Nick! Natalie! It's me, Sharon Himmanen! Let me in!" She spoke breathlessly into the intercom. It was a full 30 seconds before the door buzzed open. They'd figured out something had happened to her--she wasn't surprised. She'd been missing for days. Standing in the elevator, she tried to control her breathing, but the truth was, she was on the verge of panic at this point. She didn't want to be here. She didn't know how she was going to face any of them, or how she was going to convince them that she was on the level. She'd even seriously considered skipping town, disappearing into the night, slipping away. Could she really destroy the Abarat if Alexandra hadn't taken care of it? To deliberately destroy Nick's chances at mortality? Natalie would *never* forgive her then. LaCroix's words to her on the roof earlier that evening echoed in her head. *You can't go back to her. You've burned that bridge. She'll never trust you again. None of them will.* The ride to the loft was too short and too soon the door was sliding back. She was glad now she hadn't had time to clean up--it would lend a bit of credibility to her story. Taking a deep breath she stepped into the loft. There were a lot of people she didn't recognize. In fact, she didn't recognize *anybody* except for Nick. And Nat, who was coming forward now. All these people looking at her, it made her nervous and she took a quick step back. But Nat was there, grabbing her arm before she could get away. "What happened?" she asked. "Where have you been? We've been worried *sick*!" She nodded. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry. The laptop . . ." "Was a trap," Nick finished. "We know. Mine's been recovered." He was eyeing her suspiciously. "Where *have* you been?" he asked, eying her rumpled clothing, the bags under her eyes. She swallowed. "It's a really long story . . . but I did something that you might consider . . . a little . . . well, a little stupid." "You mean aside from going to PSU by yourself and not getting in touch with anyone for two days?" Nat asked. "Stupider than that," Sharon confirmed. She could tell them now, tell them that she'd switched sides and be done with it, out of here. But something in her couldn't do it, couldn't let LaCroix down, afraid of failing the test, afraid of what he might do. Afraid of seeing the disappointment in their eyes . . . "Do I want to hear this?" Nick asked. "Probably not. The laptop *was* a trap, as you said. But I didn't figure that out until after I sent you the telegram." She paused and looked around. "You did get the telegram, right?" "Yes, we got it, and if you ever send us anything so cryptic again, I swear I'll strangle you!" Nat said. And Sharon believed her. "Well," she continued, rubbing her face. Too many people were hanging on her every word. "I took the laptop and was on my way to the airport when I lost it." "Lost the laptop?" "Yeah. I'd sent you the telegram, then I was going to come up here, just like I said. But the cousin's intercepted me and took it. I spent most of Friday night playing laptop tag with them. Remember, at that point I still thought it was yours--I hadn't had time to check it. "But then, I got it back. Near . . . Columbus Ohio I think. I checked it, and *that's* when I realized it wasn't yours. He'd been leading me on a wild goose chase, wearing me out." "Was there anything on it?" "Just some really awful poetry," she said. Nick turned sharply away. "But no database, no other personal files except a little . . . digit ed image of LaCroix." "Oh no," Nat said. "Yeah, it was an offer." "And let me guess," Nick said, running his hands through his hair. "This is the *stupid* part, right?" She nodded, trying to act sheepish. She was better at this than she thought she'd be, she thought to herself. They seemed to be buying it. She figured if she could convince them, the other people in the room would buy it so she concentrated on Nick and Nat. "I pretended to switch sides," she said after a long pause. Nat closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. "You're wrong. That wasn't a *little* stupid. That was *a lot* stupid! Do you have any idea just how dangerous that was?" "Yeah," she said, nodding. "I'm sure he saw through me right away. We had a big meeting on the roof of his apartment building. He went on and on about phase one being complete, but he didn't go into exactly what that was. I tried to find out, but he said I'd find out when the time was right, after I'd proven myself. "I'm sure, now, that the whole meeting was for my benefit. I kind of panicked and got out of there as soon as I could. And I came here." Before she could continue, the intercom buzzed again. When Nick answered it, Lisa McDavid's voice drifted into the loft. | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Cousin | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 01:52:29 -0400 From: Robin Carroll-Mann Subject: Journey's End Sunday, sometime in the wee hours Robin looked up at Nick's building. She'd never really expected to be here. She hoped it wasn't too late for her to be of help. She hoped they that someone inside -- a FOD perhaps? -- had brought food. In her rush to the airport, certain things, like breakfast and lunch, had been overlooked. More importantly, she hoped that someone up there knew she was coming. She'd sent e-mail to Natalie before leaving, but didn't know if it had been received, and couldn't check, as she didn't have a laptop. Shaking her head to clear away the clouds of fatigue, she stabbed at the buzzer. A moment later, a muffled male voice, said "Yes?" She couldn't tell if it was Nick. "Ummm... this is Robin Carroll-Mann, from New Jersey? I'm a friend of Natalie's?" No response, but the door buzzed and clicked, allowing her to enter. A few minutes later, the elevator door rolled aside, exposing the loft and its motley inhabitants. She recognized Nick and Natalie, but the rest of the faces were one giant blur. Robin found herself stepping forward. "Hi," she muttered to no one in particular. "Don' mind me... I'll just sit over there and listen for a while, OK?" She staggered over to an unclaimed chair, and gratefully deposited herself in it, hoping against vain hope that she would not fall asleep -- or at least that she would not snore. Robin Carroll-Mann rcmann@delphi.com Nat Pack ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 20:36:54 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: The Snake Pit Saturday, July 9 The buzzer sounded. I needed to talk to Nick before anything else happened. I walked over to where he and Nat and Sharon Himmanen were talking, and touched him on the arm. As he turned towards me, I noticed with dismay how tired he looked. He wasn't used to being around this many mortals for such a long time, and the strain was showing. He had to be hungry, and he hadn't slept in days. "Nick, could I talk to you a moment?" He nodded and I went hesitantly on. "Just be careful, okay? Lisa is ... dangerous ... very, very dangerous. Don't trust her--she's changed sides once already." "I know that. And I know who she chose. And why. I'll be careful." I had to say it or die. "Nicholah, whatever happens ... you know ... " He whispered, "I know," and turned back to face the elevator. Heart pounding, I moved around the knot of people in the middle of the loft, and slipped back into the shadows under the staircase. My face felt hot--damn, I was blushing. Or having a hot flash. I had promised myself I would never utter those words that Alyce had used--"take me, Nick"--and I wasn't about to now. But just in case ... --------------------------- Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 13:07:11 EDT From: SusanG2522@aol.com Subject: FKWARSII--Anybunny Here? ANYBUNNY HERE? Late Saturday Night/Early Sunday Morning 7/09 Beth sat atop the hood of her car in the Toftrees Apartment parking lot at College Station. Binoculars poised, she peered upward at the balcony door, but the there was no light shining through the curtain. It had been quiet. Too quite. Janette had sent her up here with a mission--to spy on the erstwhile cousins and, perhaps, double-check that EX-Cousin Laurie was as EX as she claimed. She swung her binoculars to the opposite balcony. There was faint glow of a computer screen in Laurie's apartment --she could figure out that much through the curtain. But that was all. "Those also serve who only stand and wait," she muttered to Hazel, as she picked up her thermos of ice tea and poured herself a cup. Hazel, unhappily drowsing in his cage, merely twitched an ear at the observation. He'd had a harrowing few days, being kidnapped and rescued. What he needed was a nice long nap in a cool place. But a sound keep disturbing him. "Hsst! Hsst!" Hazel opened one bunny eye and peered beyond the rim of the car tire. Two very wide eyes peered back. Hazel's rear leg rose slightly, ready to thump a warning to alert Beth-- "Hsst!" said the cat, for that's what it was, the length of black fur sliding out from the shadow beneath the car. "I've got a message for you." Hazel paused and cocked his head, bunny eyes bright. He didn't really trust cats all that much. But after all he'd been through in the past couple days, trusting smooth skins other than his Beth wasn't such a good idea either. The cat rubbed against the bars of Hazel's cage, staying in the shadow of the tire. "You're supposed to go back to the Raven." Hazel's eyes widened. He twitched his nose and gave a bunny sneeze--he hadn't liked the smell of that place at all. "But you have to go anyway," said the cat, purring softly. Leaning forward, it stretched the length of the shadow, haunches high and belly brushing the ground. "I saw it on e-mail." Hazel's nose twitched again. The rabbit blinked, half- turning. "Maybe you trust me, maybe you can't," said the cat. His purr sounding like a laugh, he turned and sauntered under the car, swallowed by the blackness. "The name's Trouble." The cat seemed to disappear. Hazel watched intently, then saw a black streak shoot from beneath the car, across the tar, and onto the verge in front of the building. The cat continued upward, leaping from a tree onto the balcony, then giving a final swish of its tail before it disappeared from sight. For a moment, Hazel pondered the message. Yes, the Raven smelled funny, but it was cool and there weren't all these awful gnats there to ruffle one's fur. And that one fanged smooth skin had been awfully nice, feeding it green and crunchy things. Hazel thumped a foot against the ground. Immediately, Beth looked down over the fender of the car. "What's wrong, Hazel?" Now most rabbits had great difficulty communicating with smooth skins, but Hazel had trained Beth well. Pounding the same foot again brought Beth down to his level. She opened the cage, saying, "All right--but I can't let you out around here. I thought I saw a cat or something. You can sit on the hood of the car." Hazel waited as Beth put him down beside her. It was tough going on the warm metal, but Hazel made his way to the small folder where Beth had left her maps. Carefully, he peeked inside, then grabbed one at random and pulled it out with his teeth. Three tries later, he found the map of Toronto, with the location of the Raven circled. Beth had gone back to looking through the binoculars. Hazel thumped on the hood of the car again, then stood his ground on the Toronto map as Beth fussed and scolded him for playing with her maps. She left the Toronto map for last and tried to pull it out from under him, but he wouldn't budge. And when she tried to push him away, he nipped gently with his teeth, then thumped again. For a smooth skin, she was pretty bright. "I get the message," she said. "No biting, okay?" Head bowed meekly, Hazel hopped from the map. Beth picked it up, then looked down at Hazel. "The Raven, huh? Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. We're doing nothing out here. Maybe we'd better check in and see what's going on." Beth tucked the map back into her folder, then picked up Hazel. "I thought I saw an all-night mini-mart a couple of blocks away--they'll have a pay phone. And maybe we can get you some fresh lettuce, huh?" Hazel snuggled happily in Beth's arms for a moment, but was content to be returned to his cage. Message received and understood. And there was nothing to lull a bunny into a well deserved sound sleep like the thrum of a car engine during a long road trip. ------------------ SusanG2522@aol.com (With permission of LizHazel and her little friend, too) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 08:41:59 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: I'm In! Date: Sunday July 10 3:46 AM Toronto time (?) To: Nat Pack Cc: Knighties From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu Subject: I'm In! Hello all! I hope I haven't left anyone out. I feel a bit out of the loop. Valerie, what happened after I left Nick's loft last night? Looks like it was shaping up to be a wild party. The good news is that Janette has hired me as a bartender. Long story. She was so pleased with me for taking the alcoholic end of the business out of her hair tonight that she says I can work at the Raven as many nights as I want. She even gave me keys to the place so I can handle supply during the day. She says she's counting on me to keep the customers happy. I think I can manage that. How happy she and her faction are going to be, I don't know. ;) Those of you who are in Toronto, come visit me if you can. I'll be on duty every night until she throws me out. I'm planning some excitement for Monday or Tuesday night, depending on how long it takes me to get organized. Valerie, you can pass this on to Sharon H. if you see her. I don't dare send e-mail to an account that might be unattended. What's up with her? You did say pigeon post??!? Tanaquil P.S. I can always be reached by e-mail. Same bat time, same bat channel. Keep me posted! S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 23:23:25 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Blood on the Rocks Late Saturday/early Sunday BLOOD ON THE ROCKS Janette looked up from her place at the bar, clipboard in hand, as Susan came out of the back room. "And?" Goblin was slung around Susan's shoulders, beneath her long hair. "Beth just called in--nothing doing at State College, so I gave her your instructions to head here, pronto." "Good. Very good." Janette looked back to the clipboard. "My followers seem to be in short supply these days. You learn to travel faster." "We can't fly under our own power." "That be arranged." Susan gulped at Janette's warning, one hand going to scratch between the ears of the furry black cat. "Thanks, but no. My motto stands, 'I'd rather see than be one.'" "I thought it was 'I was misinformed.'" "That's an explanation, not a motto." "Whatever." Janette dropped the clipboard atop the bar and looked over the crowd--most of the mortals in the Raven had drifted away as the hour had grown later, which meant the vampire/human ratio of the club was increasing. "When will Beth arrive?" "Tomorrow morning, maybe afternoon. She'll probably have to take a rest stop for Hazel." When Janette arched an eyebrow, Susan added, "It's riding all that way in a cage." The other eyebrow went up. "Hazel is the rabbit," Susan explained quickly. Janette looked away. "Oh, yes. I remember. Alma seemed fond of it." She shuddered. "Reminds me too much of that 'Warren' business from the last war." She glanced over her shoulder suspiciously. "There's none of that going on, is there?" "Not that I know." "Good. It was all too . . . organized. Which is always a danger." But Janette was still eyeing her suspiciously. "You were part of it, if I recall." "Yeah. Blackbrain. Blackie, to my friends." Janette seemed content as she looked away. "Suits you, actually." Susan cleared her throat. "How's the new bartender working out?" "Well, she speaks English, which is a plus." A lazy smile stole across Janette's lips as she glanced at the large, blond Danish bartender. "And it does mean our other friend will have more . . . breaks." "I'll bet," muttered Susan. In response, Janette picked up the clipboard and thrust it into her hands. "Alma and I are taking some stock over to Nicola's place. I may be gone for some time. try to keep my bar intact until I return." She brushed by Susan, sparing a moment to stroke a nail down Goblin's back and tail. "Pretty kitty." As she left, she heard the faintest, "Me-yow," from Susan's lips, but decided to be magnanimous and ignore it. --- Alma had loaded the case of blood into the trunk of the car and was slamming it shut just as Janette left the Raven. She winced, then frowned, catching the keys Alma threw to her. "It's a delicate piece of machinery," she chided, running her hand along the black metal fender of the car. " a barn door." "Sorry." Alma's tone was sarcastic, but Janette decided to ignore that, too. She slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. There was something about driving in Toronto that relaxed her--excessive speeds being ignored in favor of caution. Janette was a fast driver, but a good one, and the Toronto police bothered her far less often than their American cousins had when she'd last spent any amount of time in that country. Cousins. Ignoring Alma, she slipped her sunglasses from the car visor, opened then with a flick of her wrist, and covered her eyes. She wondered what LaCroix might be up to. He'd been far too quiet. She'd expected some move against her by now, but he seemed occupied, almost distracted. Perhaps by dissension in his own camp? A smile stole over her lips as she considered the idea. Even if she lost Laurie back to her innate cousinhood, it was good to show LaCroix that his hold over mortals wasn't as strong as he thought, that his followers could lose interest in his leadership and his way of life-- As had Nicola. It was not a long drive to Gateway Lane from the Raven. Janette made a note of the added number of rental cars situated around the warehouse and sighed-- followers. Lovely. She popped the trunk, but kept her sunglasses in place, adjusting them slightly as Alma easily lifted the case of filled bottles from the back of the car. "Be careful," she warned, as Alma adjusted the neckline of her blouse downward, taking one hand off the crate. "If you drop any of it, you'll clean it from the sidewalk yourself . . . with your tongue." "The cow, too?" Alma grimaced and both hands returned to the crate. Janette decided not to startle Nicola much, buzzing at the door and smiling up at the camera. ", Nicola. I've brought a peace offering." "Janette." There was a whispered conversation in the background, a few words to his 'friend' Natalie, then the buzzer for the elevator rang. "Wonderful," hissed Janette. She waved at Alma. "Hurry, hurry!" she snapped. Alma scuttled into the elevator after her, crate of wine bottles in hand. Janette carefully reached over and adjusted one of the black silk bows--black for her, red for Nicola. He was still rather wary after the trick one of LaCroix's people had pulled on him during the last war. It had been that Laurie, hadn't it? Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Janette sighed. Ah, she would have made a splendid Ravenette . . . and been less dangerous in the long run. Nicola was standing there as the elevator door opened. Janette ran her nails lightly across his cheek in greeting, but paused, her bright and sarcastic welcome fading--his face was so drawn and pale. It was obvious he hadn't eaten in some time. Quickly, her eyes ranged around the room--there were even mortals there now, of all shapes and sizes. Couldn't they see what he was doing to himself? Without a second thought, she lifted a red ribboned bottle from the case as Alma passed and pressed it into his hands. "You fed me, I'm returning the favor," she said softly. "The refrigerator, Alma," she called, over her shoulder. Nicola took the bottle, but moved past her, following Alma. Mortals scattered before the vampires, if they had the energy. Natalie Lambert, who'd been sitting on a leather chair near that snippy redhead, rose to her feet and headed toward the kitchen. Chin high, Janette ignored all of them and followed Nicola. As he moved to put the bottle in the icebox, she caught his arm. "Nicola, you're hungry. Feed." "I'm fine." Again, he moved to put the bottle away, but her fingers wrapped around his arm, holding him in place. In a voice too low for mortals to hear, she whispered, "You're weak. You're no good to them like this. And if you don't feed soon, you'll be a danger." Those blue eyes met hers, suddenly fearful and she nodded, gesturing over her shoulder with her manicured nails. "I don't think you want an 'incident', no?" Nicola looked away quickly. "Don't tell me I'm too late?" asked Janette, but when he turned his head sharply, his denial on his lips, she heard the slightest sound from upstairs . . . and smiled. "Aaaah, not you. That other one--the new one." "Nothing happened." Nicola wrenched the bottle from her hand and slammed it into the refrigerator, then closed the door. Alma moved out of his way, posing seductively against one of the kitchen counters. Shaking her head, Janette followed Nicola, then let her eyes roam the room. She chanced upon the redhead again, then caught Nicola looking in the woman's direction. "But something have. And something --to the one upstairs. This fixation with mortals can only lead to disaster." Her voice had been louder than she intended, several of the mortals were watching her. Natalie Lambert stood before her, arms crossed. "You have mortals working with you." " me," corrected Janette. "They know their place. As I know mine." She shot a sharp glance at the redhead, as if daring her to repeat her accusation of the evening before. Then she looked over at Nicola again, saw the depth of his pallor, the way he looked around the room, as if not knowing where to rest his eyes. Janette took a step closer to Natalie and said softly, "Get him to feed. Outside, if he doesn't want to disappoint his groupies, show them what he is. But if he doesn't feed soon, you'll have a problem. And it won't be the one upstairs who attacks one of these pretties." She drifted away, back to join Alma. Natalie moved to Nicola, surprising him--not so odd since his concentration was so divided--and taking his arm. She whispered to him, her eyes going toward the refrigerator. Janette merely smiled and looked away, knowing that Natalie would succeed where she couldn't. It didn't matter to her. There were times when she agreed with LaCroix, Nicola denied himself, denied what he was, too often. It seemed amusing that a mere mortal could convince him to feed, when an older, dearer vampire . . . companion could not. And how it must rankle that stoic Dr. Lambert, to tell him to do just the opposite of what she had told him so many times before . . . . "Are we staying?" asked Alma. "For a while," said Janette. She glanced around the room again, at the number of mortals who followed Nicola, or Natalie, or no-one in particular. She saw many of their eyes light as he passed--yes, he could still do that even to her, just as he had for so many centuries. And, just as throughout those centuries, he never seemed to notice. Not unless the interest was returned. Not unless he was . " Maybe I should go check on the new guy?" asked Alma. She glanced upward, toward the second floor. "You'll stay here until I say so," snapped Janette. She watched Natalie guide Nicola to the refrigerator, then take out the bottle--wrong one, dear . . . he prefers the 'red' ribbon vintage--and press it into Nicola's hand. He corrected her mistake quickly. They conversed together in tones that were not low enough for Janette to hear. "--Back stairs, then?" pressed Natalie. And after a moment's pause, Nicola nodded. He walked away from Natalie, never raising his head as he passed Janette and Alma, then slipped out the door to the back stairs, closing it behind him. "It's boring here," whined Alma. Janette smiled as she met Natalie's eyes. The mortal turned away. "Oh, I find it amusing," she whispered. "More fun than I've had in a long time . . . ." ------------------------ SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 03:02:48 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--The Pause That Refreshes? Nick walked down the back stairs quietly. It was a relief to be away from the mortals. And he _was_ hungry. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, tossed it aside, and upended the bottle as he walked. He felt his eyes change as the liquid ran down his throat. He finished the bottle in seconds. He heard a noise near his car and his senses came alert. There was a woman standing there in the faint light of the garage--the married redhead, Sandra Gray. Her heart was racing and he realized with a start that his eyes were still changed and his fangs extended. He turned away to hit the light switch, composing his features back to normal. Then he turned back to her and said, "What are you doing here?" Her eyes flickered to the empty bottle he still held. He set it on a nearby bench. Had she been watching him drink it? "I--I just wanted to get away from all the people for a while." "So did I," said Nick. What _was_ she doing here? She had not given the others her affiliation, although her husband was a representative of the Die- Hards. Was she spying for LaCroix? He approached her. Her pulse was still elevated. Her temperature rose too. He frowned. "I'm--sorry." She licked her lips and added, "It must be hard for you having so many mortals around." Again Nick was reminded of his stripper dreams. He pushed those thoughts away. He halted his steps within a few feet of where she stood next to the driver's car door. "Why are you here?" "I told you. Oh, you mean--" She paused and brushed her hair back from her face nervously. "I--just needed to know it was real," she said. "And now?" "I don't know. Try to help." "Who?" He edged closer to her, watching her intently. "Why you of course!" Her body flared its sincerity. "Don't tell me you're a Knightie." She nodded, her face flushing. 'Not another one,' thought Nick, looking away. He leaned up against the side of his car and sighed. "Why do you all bother? I never asked for any followers." He didn't expect an answer, so was a bit surprised when Sandra said, "Because you're basically good. Because you're trying to hang on to your humanity instead of succumbing to--the beast." He looked at her. Her face flushed a deeper shade of red and she looked away. Nick pushed away from the car. "You should go home," he said. He turned to the stairs. "Why won't you let anyone else help you except Natalie?" said the woman in a stronger voice than she had used before. "Why can't you accept that other people could care about what happens to you?" Nick turned back to her. "Mrs. Gray, this is not some game. _I_ am a vampire. So is LaCroix. There is _real_ danger here." "I'm sure no one knows that better than Cousin John!" said Sandra. Nick frowned. "Why don't you _lead_ us instead of trying to protect us? We came here to _help_! You should be willing to take some responsibility!" Suddenly she seemed a bit shocked by her outburst and said, "Sorry." "No, you're right. I _should_ act." He paused. "But I can't let what happened to John happen to anyone else. You do understand that." "Sure," she said, dropping her gaze, which had turned cold. She headed for the stairs. Nick slumped back against the car and started thinking. (Will a stranger's talk help Nick to come to any decisions to act? Maybe time will tell...) --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 02:51:46 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Up on the Rooftop, Nick, Nick, Nick I couldn't take it any more. The loft reminded me of one of those television news segments showing the aftermath of a natural disaster--a flood, an earthquake, a tornado. Ivy was still trying to get the scrambled data off the laptop; Valerie was in a deep sleep on the couch; people were sacked out all over the loft. Alma was looking bored; Natalie was dead on her feet; Janette was nowhere to be seen; and Nick looked like hell. I was too nervous to sleep, and I'd already gnawed all my fingernails down to the quick. I decided to try the roof, in hope that the night air would clear my head. I trudged up the stairs and looked around for the access door to the roof. Found it, finally, around a corner I'd never seen on "Forever Knight." And, as I should have known, it was stout, and it was locked. Frustration got the better of me, and I put my palms against the door and leaned my forehead against the cool metal. I wanted out. Now. "Great minds ... " Nick's voice startled me. And it didn't help that he'd snuck up behind me so quietly that I hadn't heard him. But I'd recognize that voice anywhere. I just didn't have the energy or the will to turn and face him, so I remained where I was. "What mind? The mind went a few hours ago--now the body's about had it, too. It's been a long weekend." That was an understatement. "You wouldn't happen to have the key, would you?" "No." "Great. Does that mean you don't have the key with you, or that you don't have a key, period?" "I mean there isn't a key. Look to your left and you'll see a number pad. All you have to do is punch in the code." I tried to remember if we'd ever figured out all the numbers in his code. I didn't think so, but thought wasn't one of my best qualities at the moment. "*You* punch in the code. It's your door." "I will, if you'll move out of the way and hold this." I didn't think I wanted to know what *this* was. But I was afraid I was about to find out. I turned around and took the bottle and wine glass from him. He punched in the code, and as the door popped open, took the glass and bottle back, and motioned for me to go first. The air outside was warm and humid, but there was a breeze, and I finally felt like I could catch my breath again. "It's nice out here. And quiet." I walked over to the brick ledge at the edge of the roof and looked over. "Not a great view of the city, but the moon is beautiful." "The moon is always beautiful. Especially when it's full, like tonight." A line from a well-known movie came to mind, and I couldn't help but smile. "If you could just conjure up some wolves to howl at it, one or the other of us could utter those famous words about the children of the night and the music they make." "Have you ever actually heard a pack of wolves howling? It's not a pretty sound." "Another illusion shattered. Oh well. But, if wolves sound anything like coyotes, I'll have to agree." Nick put the wine glass down on the ledge and pulled the cork out of the bottle. With his teeth, of course. And then threw the cork across the roof. "Do you always open bottles that way?" "It's easier than trying to find a corkscrew." He poured the dark liquid into the glass and set the bottle down. "Salud. I'd ask you to join me, but ..." "No thanks." I shuddered at the thought of trying to swallow something that thick, and cold to boot. "I'll stick to Diet Coke, thank you very much indeed." "Would you like a Coke? I think there are some cans left downstairs, somewhere in those mountains of food. I could go ... " "Thanks, but I'm fine." Nicotine might help. I pulled out my last pack and lit up. "Those things will kill you." "You have to die of something. Everybody does." Well, that wasn't quite right, given the circumstances. "Mortals, at least." That wasn't right, either. A look of pain crossed his face, and he refilled his wine glass and took a long drink. "That's what has me worried. All these mortals, here, at my place, where they're in danger. They're perfect targets for LaCroix." I took a drag and considered. "Nick, I don't think LaCroix's the only problem we have right now." "Explain." "I watch the show. On tape now, but I watch it. I know a bit about your relationship with Janette. And, Nick, I think she's the biggest problem here." "You know nothing about my ... relationship ... with her. Nothing." Now I'd made him angry. "I'm sorry--but *we* think we do." "Who's *we*?" "All of us on the list. All of us who watch the show. And I have to tell you, Nick, we've discussed you and Janette. Often." He didn't look happy about that. "Sorry. It's the nature of the beast." Now he looked confused. I explained, "The beast of ... fandom. We discuss everything about the show in excruciatingly minute detail." He decided not to pursue that train of thought. "Whatever you say." He refilled his glass again. "But whatever relationship Janette and I have is not the point. I've got a building full of humans that have to be protected. Not from Janette--she's not going to hurt them. But LaCroix will, if he can. And she's the one who put them in danger--she started the war, by telling LaCroix about the mail, and about the database. Why did she do that? What did she hope to gain, other than my enmity? Why did she tell him?" "Don't ask me. Ask her." "I have. She hasn't given me an answer. Yet. But time is running out. She's going to tell me, one way or another." He drained the wine glass, sat it down very carefully on the ledge, and headed for the door. I didn't know if I wanted to be around for this confrontation. ------------------------------------ Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------- ------------------Sunday, July 10th------------------------------ ----------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 09:28:35 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Just a' lookin' for a home Small hours of Sunday, July 10th, a street in Toronto: Lisa looked over her shoulder one last time. She had rounded the corner from LaCroix's apartment building. As far as she could tell no one was following her. Better put the gun back in her handbag before Murphy's law caused a police car to prowl past and spot it. Canada's gun laws were extremely strict, and she lacked the skill with which Alma had hypnotically dissuaded the cop earlier. Had it really been just eight hours ago? It seemed a lifetime. Perhaps it was. Cousin Lisa's lifetime, anyway. Lisa shivered, although the Toronto night was warm and muggy. Trust her to follow her impulses straight out of the frying pan into the fire. No longer a Cousin, no longer infatuated with LaCroix, she was as unfamilied now in this subworld as in mundane life. Would the Die-Hards have her back? She'd been a Die-Hard before and she *had* continued secretly researching for Nat in her library's unusually strong occult collection in Rare Books. Maybe the Natpack? But much as she admired and respected Nat, Lisa wasn't sure she really belonged in it. For one thing, there'd been too many times when she would have told Nick in words of one syllable not to take his angst out on her. She turned another corner and headed east. Did the Toronto subway run this late? She couldn't remember. Oh, well, *solvitur ambulando.* The Latin tag surfaced from the grab bag of her mind: "It is solved by walking." Should she go and wake up Don Bassingthwaite? No, he was sitting out this war, and it wasn't fair to put him in the line of fire if LaCroix recovered from the Polidorian collywobbles more quickly than she anticipated. Not to mention that she'd never tried trespassing on Don's good nature in person in the middle of the night. He must have a temper somewhere. Oh dear, was that another street she'd crossed without waiting for the light? Tanya Huff was right. They didn't call this city Toronto the Good for nothing. She hadn't seen a single car. Not the FoD's, not with the allergy to garlic that had made it so easy to sympathize with Larry after his turn. She hoped Larry had carried out his intention of running for cover if she distracted LaCroix, but with his tendency to immobilize himself in contemplation of programming problems at the worst possible moments, Larry's whereabouts were anybody's guess. Let's see: was Gateway Lane to the left or to the right? Lisa had an almost supernatural lack of any sense of direction. Might as well go right, if only for the symbolism. She wouldn't make a good Knightie: it might be too tempting to give Nick the swift kick in the pants which she sometimes thought Natalie should prescribe. Good! Lisa recognized the name on the street sign. Gateway was only a couple of blocks away. The ghost of a laugh crossed her lips at the idea of trying the Ravenettes. Janette had never actually attacked her, but the two of them together invariably reminded bystanders of a pair of cats in unclaimed territory. Wait a minute. Cats? If the FOSsiLs got back into the fray, perhaps Sidney's was the proper faction for an incorrigible cat person. She didn't know if any of the Feline Faction would be at Nick's loft, but maybe that was where she'd settle in. 101 Gateway Lane was across the street now. Lisa squared her shoulders. Had they persuaded Nick to turn John Dencoff? Please let it be so! Lisa hadn't heard of the attack until after LaCroix had forced the doorknob of an absent neighbor's apartment and set Larry to work resetting his accounts at Ontario Hydro and the other utilities. Fleetingly, she wondered just how old LaCroix really was. She hadn't even been able to guess at some of the languages he'd cursed Larry in for bothering to argue with the credit departments instead of simply hacking into the computers. One of the other Cousins had casually mentioned that John had been murdered merely for displaying a little creativity about Hazel the Rabbit. Lisa had forced herself to laugh, but at the first possible moment she had crept out to the park where the body had been left. A new spasm of nausea passed over her at the memory of Lacroix's sally. John hadn't been in the park. Margaret had been a little shaken herself, enough to let the location slip. A trail of blood had petered out in the direction of Nick's loft. Please, please let him have made it there in time! Here was the intercom. Lisa bit her lips and pressed the button. "Nick, it's Lisa McDavid. Please, may I come up? I really did it. And besides, I've brought back your gun." Lisa McDavid, unaffiliated d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 08:47:15 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKWars2: Lisa finishes what Alma has be-gun Just after Sharon Himmanen's arrival at Nick's loft: "What?" No doubt about it, Nick had just produced a yelp even if the Knighties would prefer to think of him simply as shouting. "What do you mean my gun?" Nat, following as usual calmly in the wake of Nick's agitation, walked over to the intercom. "Come on up, Lisa." The elevator opened and Lisa, in tears, fell into Nat's arms. The doctor patted her shoulder. Glaring at Nick, Nat said, "Come on, Nick, let's leave the snarls to LaCroix, ok? Lisa, I'm going to tell them." The librarian nodded assent. Natalie continued, "Lisa has been working with me all along, even at the height of her connection with LaCroix. The University of South Carolina has a strange collection of rare books and items on the occult. If you remember, that was why she was attacked in the first war." Nick stood in front of the two women. "For the record, I've known about this all along. It wasn't until Nat explained to me about Polidori's Syndrome that I agreed to let Lisa become involved with LaCroix. But, Lisa, what is this about my gun? It's right over here -- Ohmigawd!" Another yelp/shout, depending on your orientation. Nick stared at the place on the counter where the police special had been. Wincing at the number of decibels which were assaulting her ears, Lisa shoved her oversized handbag at Nick. "Alma said you'd sent it to me in case the Cousins tried to stop me." Natalie interrupted, "You really did it? Our emergency plan?" "In spades," Lisa told her. "Old White-Hair's probably still screaming even as we speak. He's always been greedy; he got two gulps." She shivered and almost fell. Nat said sharply, "Nick!" The detective hastily put the gun down (this time in his line of sight) and caught Lisa before she hit the ground. Nick set her down, unconscious, on the sofa where John had been. Nat picked up her medical bag and hurried over. "Is she dead?" Sharon Himmanen asked. Her tone could best be described as inscrutable. Janette looked up from verbally lashing Alma. "Of course not! Oh, that's right, you can't hear. She's got a heartbeat and she's breathing." She turned back to Alma, in French. Even the non-Francophones understood some of the words, such as "imbecile." At the sofa Natalie pulled an afghan up over Lisa and motioned to Scottie. "Get something with a high sugar content from the FoDs' supplies for her will you, Sharon? Nick, how much is a couple of gulps?" "For LaCroix? Maybe two pints." He transferred the gun to its holster and began to buckle it on. "Ok, then, she'll be all right. We'll just let her rest until she's up to eating." --------------------------------------------------------------- Lisa McDavid, unconscious and unaffiliated d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 19:22:22 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK Wars 2: Meeting the Gang [part 1/2]----------------------- Meeting the Gang Sunday, early morning "Well, this is it!" Jennie looked up at the buzzer uncertainly and wondered if she would be getting in over her head, but she had sent a message to Valerie the night before and received no answer. The last thing Valerie had said was to meet at Nicks loft. There _had_ been a message from Tanaquil this morning that she was in as a bartender at the Raven but that would be closed for the day. For lack of anything better to do, Jennie decided to head for the loft and try to connect with whatever Natpackers were there. Resolutely she reached to press the buzzer. A weary sounding Natalie answered and buzzed Jennie in when she identified herself. The scene that greeted her in the apartment was vaguely reminiscent of the last day of a con. Giving Natalie a hug by way of greeting, she realized that Valerie and Nick were the only two other people in the loft she recognized. Actually, she was pretty certain that was "Cousin" Lisa over there on the couch - shed seen pictures of her - but what was she doing here?!? She turned to Nick, who looked distracted and *very* tired. "Sorry to pop in on you like this, but this was where Id been told to meet everyone. I thought it was best to look here first. Anyhow, its really nice to meet you!" <_Really_ nice> she thought, "Jennie!" Valerie cut in, "I thought you were supposed to come in Friday. What happened?" Amazingly, Valerie still seemed to be possessed of a boundless store of energy despite the travel to get here and being up all night, from the looks of things. Jennie filled the group in on the investigations of the two FBI agents, adding that she thought they must still have poor Brian in custody. She added that Agent Mulder seemed to have an avid interest in the paranormal, remembering the magazine. "So what's been happening up here?" she asked, and Valerie took her off to fill her in on events. ----- Jennie jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com --- This is war, not agriculture. --- [end of part 1/2]----------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 10:41:14 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKWars2: Abrogating the Abarat "She's coming round." Nat checked Lisa's pulse. The librarian opened her eyes and tried to sit up. Sharon Scott, true fellow Southerner, had rummaged through the FoDs supplies and come up with a chocolate moon pie and an RC Cola. Natalie barely restrained her. "You keep your head down. Here, Scottie, sit down on the sofa and feed them to her." The rest of the room continued buzzing -- until suddenly Sharon Scott said sharply, "Does LaCroix know that?" In the suddenly attentive silence, Lisa answered weakly. "I don't know. Probably not, because I don't think he's ever tried it." "What hasn't LaCroix tried?" Nick's voice was tired and there was a distinct droop to his shoulders. "Mass producing vampire zombies. There's a spell for it in the Abarat. And Nick --" The ex-crusader interrupted, "I've just realized -- Lisa, you don't read Sanskrit?" "No. Larry's software translates and transliterates," Natalie reminded him. "Nick, she needs to rest." Nick, in detective mode, ignored the interpolation. "Is Larry still with LaCroix?" "I don't know. I'm through pulling Larry out of trouble. Scottie, are there any more moon pies?" Lisa tried to sit up again. "You've had enough," said Nat, pushing her gently back into place. "You don't want to nauseate yourself on top of the blood loss. Besides, remember your diet. Nick, what does Larry have to do with it?" "Because he can give LaCroix a copy of the software. LaCroix doesn't read Sanskrit either. He wouldn't know about that spell. I don't even want to think about what will happen if he finds out." Nick reached for his jacket. "I think we're going to have to steal the Abarat from the University." Nat smiled tenderly at him. Sharon Scott murmured, "And then you can be cured even if the copy can't be used." "No!" Lisa struggled wildly with Nat. Nick rushed to help hold her down. "If Nick uses the spell, someone else will have to become a vampire!" Shock brought everything to a standstill. Nick and Nat forgot to hang on. Lisa held onto the couch for support. "It's all in there. Vampirism can't just be destroyed. It will go into the nearest mortal as a host if the spell is used." "But you didn't become a vampire when you cured Alexandra,." Scottie objected. "Why?" "I don't know why. Maybe Polidori's makes me immune from being brought across." Lisa tried to stand up, wavered, and pitched to the floor unconscious again. ------------------------------------------ Lisa McDavid, Unconscious once more and unaffiliated D020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 11:51:27 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: The South Shall Rise Again "Lisa. Lisa. Wake up." She had to wake up. We needed to know everything *she* knew about the Abarat. I shook her shoulder again. "Lisa. Talk to me. Nick needs us. You've got to wake up." Absolutely no response. "Lisa, the Library of Congress is on fire!" That ought to wake a cataloger up if anything could. Her eyelids fluttered, but then stilled again. Drastic measures were called for. "Does anybody have a Dr. Pepper?" They all looked at me as if I were crazy. Valerie asked "What?" "A Dr. Pepper, a Dr. Pepper!" Apparently not. "Okay, how about some pecan pie?" (pronounced puh-cahn, not pee-can--trust me on this) Natalie looked disgusted. "Pie? You're worried about a piece of pie at a time like this? Have you lost your mind?" "You told me she needed sugar. If RC and moon pies don't bring her around, Dr. Pepper & pecan pie ought to." Nick stood staring down at us. "Do whatever it takes, but get her awake. We've got to find out what she knows." "You really want me to ... do ... that?" Nick looked at me, then back down at Lisa. "Whatever it takes, I said. Do it now." "Okay, but you're taking the blame for this. She'll hate me for it." "Do it." I looked back down at Lisa. I hated to do this to a fellow cataloger and a cat person, but ... "Lisa--Alexandra's got Java! She's going to hurt him! You've got to wake up and help him!" Her eyes flew open, and there was venom in them as she jumped up to hunt Alexandra down. Nobody hurt her Siamese cat. Nobody. Especially not that bimbo. --------------------------------------------------------- Sharon Scott scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 15:38:53 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKWars2: Lions and tigers and Javas, oh my! Lisa swayed gently, frowning at Sharon Scott. Then she began to laugh. "Oh, no -- poor Alexandra!" Nick said, "She's hysterical," and reached forward to steady her, but the former Cousin eluded him and made for the FoDs supply, where she grabbed a Hershey bar before Nat could prevent her. "No, I'm not. Java always loses control of his bowels when he's scared -- Alexandra will be too busy dropping him and being grossed out." Lisa munched on the candy. "Besides, Alexandra is afraid of cats." Lisa's head jerked up. "You were just trying to shock me awake, weren't you?" "Sorry, but somebody had to do it." Sharon absent-mindedly picked up a pack of potato chips and under Lisa's pernicious influence began snacking herself. "Nat, will she be ok?" Nick asked. The doctor, never having been a compulsive eater, shrugged unsympathetically. "Look, Lisa, this is important. Where did you get the copy of the Abarat you had on the laptop?" "Didn't Alma tell you?" Sharon said, "She's still woozy; she must be! Lisa, honey, Alma is about as reliable as a string and two tin cans." "Oh. Well, Don Bassingthwaite came across LaCroix's name as an added entry in the OPAC --" Lisa helped herself to Sharon's chips. "The what?" asked Nat. "Online public access catalog," Scottie translated. "Yeah." Lisa crunched another potato chip. "I got curious and telnetted up. LaCroix was an a.e.." Now completely on a toot, Lisa opened a can of Pepsi -- the kind with lots of caffeine and sugar. Everyone stared at Sharon, who said, "added entry." "Right. He was listed as the donor of the famous copy of Dracula with interpolated pornographic text and plates that Aubrey Beardsley gave to Stoker for April Fools' Day. Only, I know LaCroix, and if he had had that, he'd never have parted with it. So when I got here, I hurried over to the library, and there it was. The Abarat." Lisa hiccupped. Sharon shook her head. "But how did the cataloger ever mistake an ancient Sanskrit manuscript for a 19th century printed book in English?" "I don't -- hic -- know. My guess is that LaCroix presented it in person and had a little talk with the cataloger." Lisa suddenly put the can down. Her face took on a distinctly greenish tinge. "Nat?" Natalie strode over to her researcher's side. "I knew it. Here, it'll be easier if you do it in the sink." She led the tottery librarian over to the kitchenette. Sharon Scott stared at Nick. "Do you know what this means?" "Yes," said Nick, looking tragic and heroic and adorable all at the same time, "LaCroix knows where the Abarat is. He's known it all along." --------------------------------- Lisa McDavid, Conscious, Queasy, and still Unaffiliated but writing like a Knightie. Just my luck that Nick got his arms around me (last time when he carried me) and I had to be out cold. d020214@unviscvm.csd.scarolina.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 16:54:47 EDT From: Ronni Katz Subject: FKWAR2: The Enforcer arrives [part 1/2]----------------------- The Enforcer heard all the commotion inside Nick's loft. So Lisa got the book and they they can use it to make Nick human. Well...wait until they realize that it's what they think it is but something far...worse. Nick would rather live with his curse than pass it on to someone else - even if by doing so he could be "cured". He's got that odd chivalrous knight code of bullshit he is so . God, why am I even ! I must be on drugs. Or crazy. Or . I knocked on the door. The room went dead silent for a moment before the door opened and I was face to face with Nick Knight. Nick's eyes widened for a moment. He I wasn't mortal. He also in that way we do that I was older, far older, than he was. And far more dangerous. >From within a familiar female voice - Natalie's - inquired, "Who's there?" "What are doing here?" he asked in a harsh whisper. "Let me in and I'll tell you." I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I entered the loft. His mortal allies, the majority of them female (!) were all staring at me. I guess I didn't exactly blend clad the way I was in leather biker gear from head to toe but it gets freaking cold at fifty thousand feet and I don't care if I am undead - I get cold and I like it. I sensed there were others of my kind there. Janette was eyeing me quizzically and the newest member of LaCroix's "family" was watching me from the middle of Nick's staircase. "Well?" Nick demanded as I removed my jacket. I gave him a wry half-smile and sauntered into the loft. John, the new vampire, moved down the steps slowly watching me as though I possessed the secrets of the universe or something. He also looked . "Nick, I thought you'd be a much better host," I began eyeing John. "Here, kid," I said tossing him a bottle from out of my knapsack. "Have one on me." [end of part 1/2] ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 19:22:22 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK Wars 2: Meeting the Gang [part 2/2]----------------------- Meeting the Gang Sunday, early morning Jennie looked at the young man who'd just arrived with interest. Not bad looking, and he wore the leather well, but he'd sent some rather *unpleasant* shivers up her spine when he'd entered. She was willing to bet that was human blood he'd tossed to John, too. She decided it would be a good idea to remain where she was in the corner and try not to attract too much attention... ------------------------------------------------- Jennie jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 17:43:10 EDT From: Ronni Katz Subject: FKWAR2 - Enforcer arrives pt. 2 John caught the bottle effortlessly and he what lay inside. He had the cork off the bottle drained before Nick could stop him. Knight glared at me. "We want him to come !" he hissed. "Not make him a . Not make him like ." "What makes you think I'm so bad?" "You're an Enforcer. I know what are. I also know who are, or, at least, who you were. I don't know what you call yourself in century." "I only changed the surname," I told him. "Had to. Just like you did. Although up here in Canada, you could have still used your name. Brabant is so French, don't you agree?" "Why are you here?" "Clue one," I began as I gestured around me. "I'm alone. Enforcers usually travel in pairs. I'm solo on this mission. A risk, yes, and had I been going to see anyone other than you I wouldn't have dared to take such a risk. But I you would at least hear me out before reaching for the stake...." "Get to the point." "Daniel's alive. And, even though his creation was a violation of the Code, he won't pay for LaCroix's crime." Janette perked up at this point. "Have you seen Daniel?" "Not recently, no. But it was because of that he lives. I lied to the Ancient and told him that I destroyed him so his little chapter in our Code book would be closed ." I turned back to face Nick. "I'm not a fiend," I said. "I about your little War. It's cute. And I haven't played like a child in, well, let's just say it's been a while." "I don't you to with us," Nick stated. He sighed adding in a tone less cutting, "Look, I am grateful you spared Daniel. But you are still one of ." "I'm off-duty," I said. "So all this will be, well, off the record, so to speak." "I don't care." "You'd rather I went and played with the Cousins?" "LaCroix is more your type." I smiled slightly. "Nah, I'm not interested in playing with him. Not when he's getting into all this X-Files weirdness. As if aren't strange enough!" I glanced over at John, whose eyes now shined red gold - the after-effects of having drunk his first meal - and said, "I've got more in my satchel. Enough for us all." Janette gave me a wicked smile. She I had the stuff with me, not that cowpiss Nick lived on. UGH! She also seemed to like what she saw holding the bag. I wasn't what you'd call really good-looking (I kind of resemble Val Kilmer as he looked in ) but if you are into that cowboy swaggering outdoorsy style of looks then I guess I am totally hot. The other women in the room looked skeptical. The girl on the sofa - Lisa - was sitting propped up on her elbow eyeing me very skeptically. She asked Nick, "What's going on? Who is this person?" Nick eyed me carefully. "No one you'd want to know," he said as he remembered our last encounter. His expression went blank for a split second as the memories flooded back... (And all the fans took a drink because they knew he was having a flashback.) The room was swathed in red - the color of blood - because that was how the Ancient liked it. Titus was a man of few words and little patience but he a reputation for being a just man. Carlotta had broken the Code and it was too late for her - she'd already seen the sun and taken her own life - but Nick found it hard to believe the Ancient could have ordered the death of an entire family for the crime of one man. The Enforcers who had meted out the Ancient's justice and drank the blood of those innocent children stood in silence watching Nick as he approached the seated judge. Titus had the lean hungry look of a wolf and he always kept himself just a hungry so he wouldn't feel sated and thereby lose his edge. He eyed Nick like a bug under a microscope and asked icily, "Why are you here?" "I...I need to know why-" "She broke the Code. She knew the penalty. No one can know about us. You are old enough to understand the reason. You have seen what the Inquisition did to us! Now more than ever we need to remain hidden." "They killed children!" Nick declared hotly. He pointed at the Enforcer whose expression was almost mocking and said, " drank the blood of children. Is what we are? Is that our Code?" Titus looked at the man who stood at his right arm - the one Nick was glaring at so furiously one would think his eyes were flames and whispered so only he could hear, "Talk to him, Ron. He needs to be ." But Nick had heard the name - Ron - and that name and that face was one he'd never forget. Nor would he forget how the Enforcer had "calmed him down". He had nightmares about that.... "Nick?" Natalie's voice brought him back to the present. "Do you have another supporter or is this man leaving?" Nick turned to face me. "You can stay under condition. That want you here. I can't be objective." "Fine," I replied. "Let your friends decide if they want a master tactician who can kick butt to stick around or if they want me to go back to Jersey. I was given the weekend off, so it's your call. I am willing to abide by your decision." "If they decide to allow you to remain, you have to take orders from , understand?" I nodded agreement. "Good. Wait upstairs while we make our decision." As I went upstairs I smiled to myself. Nick couldn't be clueless or did he forget we old vampires have sharp ears.... ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 17:51:48 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKWars 2: Beating a hasty retreat Sharon took one look at the newest arrival, the guy clad in leather who'd just tossed a bottle of presumably human blood to John and decided the time had come to beat a hasty retreat. She slipped quietly over to the stairwell door and was out and on her way before anyone noticed. She had to get out of there--she didn't care if LaCroix sent the hounds of hell after her. She'd square things w/ Nat and Valerie later. Now, she figured she'd head over to the Raven. Maybe Susan Garrett was in town. They could take in the evening showing of THE SHADOW . . . Sharon Himmanen shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 12:48:39 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK Wars 2: The Vote ---- The Vote (Sunday morning) The enforcer disappeared upstairs with an unnatural quietness, and the room he left behind was just as silent. Jennie thought, sinking even deeper into her corner. She realized she was babbling, even if only in her thoughts, and forced herself to breathe slowly. She thought irrelevantly and almost giggled aloud. Funny how she always seemed to react to stress that way. The silence stretched out; nobody wanted to be the first to speak. Finally Nick cleared his throat, "Well, you heard the man," he shrugged. "I, ah, think you all can tell what he is and you already know what I think of him...but it _is_ your choice." He looked uneasily around the room until Natalie stood up beside him. "All right, lets not make this difficult. Everyone who's in favor of him staying raise their hands." She looked expectantly at the assorted faces gathered in the loft. People glanced uneasily about them, and a few looked like they were considering raising a hand, but in the end nobody moved. "How about everyone who's opposed?" A few hands shot up confidently, several others following more hesitantly. "I take it the rest of you are abstaining?" Scattered nods. "Okay, then," she turned to Nick, "it looks like we agree with you. Will you go up and tell him?" "No need," the enforcer said from the staircase, "I assumed this would be the outcome." John stood next to him, still looking unsteady and nervous. "They *are* your followers, after all. Well just take our leave, then. Don't worry, I can take good care of our friend here!" Several people muttered in what sounded like protest, but nobody moved to stop the two as they headed for the elevator. As the two came to where Nick stood, he put out a hand to John. "Are you sure?" he queried, "he doesn't exactly follow my philosophy, you know." John met Nicks eyes squarely. "Yes," he said quietly, "but he *will* teach me what I need to know without misgivings. Besides, I wasn't ever actually a follower of yours. I think I should go with him." Nick stood out of the way, and the elevator doors closed with almost disturbing finality. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Jennie jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 19:29:16 EDT From: Ronni Katz Subject: FKWAR: Enforcer's departure The Enforcer descended the steps as noiselessly as he had alighted them and put his knapsack back on. He raised an eyebrow quizzically at Nick saying, "I can't believe a former Crusader such as yourself could allow himself to fight a war without realizing who the enemy is." "What are you talking about?" Nick demanded. "You LaCroix is the one you should be fighting but there is another force at work here that all of you are ignoring." Jennie looked up. Her eyes for a split second met the Enforcer's and he game her a smile that at once fascinated yet frightened her. There was about the slender man that was alluring, but something told her that getting close to this man could be very hazardous to her health. But it would be a way to go! Jennie ignored the effect the Enforcer was having on her and asked, "Who is our enemy?" "My dear, if you wanted the benefit of my knowledge, you should have invited me to stay," he told her. Glancing over at John he added, "At least this new one won't lack for a education. God knows would have become of him if I had left him to be trained by , Nicholas." "He'd hold on to something know as his ," Nick retorted sharply locking eyes with the Enforcer. "And what has all this gotten you? Other than this roomful of lovely ladies, all of whom I would just love to get into your arms, if only for the most fleeting of moments, you're being - or rather to be human has only done one thing. It's made you !" And with that the Enforcer swatted Nick as one would a fly sending him sprawling. "Have your War and your little games with these pretty little flowers. John and I have more important matters to attend to." Although Nick was caught off-guard by the Enforcer, he was up and on his feet in seconds. It would have been quicker if he hadn't been so tired and hungry and he could tell when he looked into his opponent's eyes that the Enforcer why he'd been so slow to recover. Nick's eyes were glowing red-gold in anger for a brief moment and then he calmed himself. He ignored the Enforcer, whose eyes laughed mockingly at him although the rest of his face was impassive, and he approached John, "Are you sure you want this??" he queried looking genuinely concerned. "You he doesn't subscribe to my philosophy. He may make you...something other than you want to be." John met Nick's eyes squarely and replied, "I know, but he teach me what I need to know without misgivings. Besides, I was never actually a follower of yours, so I think it's best I go with him." John dared a glance at the Enforcer, whose only response was a single eyebrow raised in very Spockian fashion. He looked back at Nick and said simply, "He's a , Nick. That's what am now, too. I need to learn how to live like this I start thinking about it too much." Nick nodded and made no reply. He John would have plenty of time to get philosophical about his new lifestyle. Right now learning to survive would be paramount and, as much as he despised the Enforcer, that ancient creature was, if anything, a skilled survivalist. The Enforcer snapped his fingers and inclined his head to the door and John followed him out like a pup on the heels of his master without hesitation or a look backward. "I can't believe he walked out just like that," Jennie ventured as she emerged from her corner. She watched the elevator doors close with an almost disturbing finality and found herself wondering what would become of poor John. She gazed at Nick and he seemed to sense what was on her mind. "He'll be all right," Nick reassured her as well as himself. "now, I think it's time we got on to the matter at hand." "What do you think he meant by all that real enemy stuff?" "I'm not sure, Jennie. But I've got a sneaking suspicion he's trying to imply Jeanette and the Ravenettes might be up to something...." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 17:19:01 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWar2: Final Exit of John and the Enforcer As they stepped into the cool night air, John thought he could almost sense the nearness of the sunrise. Perhaps less than three or four hours away. That would be something else he would have to get used to: though he was immortal, the sun would destroy him in less than an instant. He looked warily to the man at his side...the Enforcer. How old was he, John wondered? Hundreds, perhaps thousands of years? "Young one, you *must* learn to stop staring at people. Mortals dislike it, and our kind has even less taste for it." he said as John averted his eyes. "You will need to learn many things about our people--our race, perhaps--in order to survive the millennia. An Enforcer I might be...as the younger ones call us, perhaps simply because we are so old that we always get what we want...but I have desires and dreams not so different from your own. We all wish to live." "I understand. I'll try not to stare. It's just that..." the words faltered. "I'm so old? Is that it? Well, you'll find that almost every vampire you meet will be older than you, John. What you have to keep in mind is that age does not necessarily constitute wisdom. Look at Nicolai and LaCroix, after all. Continuing their senseless plots against one another. Even letting mortals become engaged in their fray. I became involved in this "War" primarily because you were created." "Me, why? Because LaCroix took revenge on me for my betrayal by turning me into a vampire? Was that going against some sort of code or something?" he asked. As they walked along the street, the Enforcer became quiet, perhaps almost amused. "Call me Ron, John. I don't care to play LaCroix's games...all this is really quite hysterical, you know. I'm sure you don't think so, given your recent condition, but you'll see the humor of it one day." The Enforcer continued. "Yes, creating new vampires is not what one would call judicious in this day and age. What with videocameras and credit records...and the volumes and volumes of other senseless records these mortals inflict upon themselves. But still, it's not against any sort of code. Both Nick and LaCroix have created new members of the Blood. Some were less successful than others at making the adjustment." "But your case is special, John. You weren't created by LaCroix. He simply meant to teach you a lesson by draining you a few pints of your precious blood. Your condition was induced by the Abarat, an ancient tome of spells relating to...among other things...vampirism." "What?! I'm not following this at all." "Patience. I'm explaining." he retorted. "Your cousin Lisa used one of the spells in the Abarat to cure another vampire. But the way that *particular* spell works, the 'curse' must find its home in another human vessel. That vessel was you. As Lisa cured one person of vampirism, you--unknowingly--took on the curse." Realization began to sink in, if slowly. "I've been mad at LaCroix for nothing...it's all been one horrible misunderstanding." "Yep. Sorry, kid." he said, a smirk on his face. "All this fear of LaCroix, and he's probably not that upset with you at all. But don't start thinking you should take it out on anyone. Cousin Lisa had no way of knowing that the spell would possibly work that way." "Yes...that's true. Even she thought LaCroix had turned me." "Well, get over it. Time to move on. You're a vampire now whether you like it or not, and you need to learn a few things in order to survive your new condition. Then you can go apologize to LaCroix or whatever, and there won't be any misunderstandings after that. We'll all be one big happy family." then he burst into laughter. "What...what about a cure?" he asked quietly. "Cure for what? Vampirism? Don't be ridiculous. Unless you want to go get the Abarat and inflict it on someone else, there is *no* cure, John." "No...no, I couldn't do that." "Well, then. Let's go teach you how to fly, since it's just a few hours until daybreak. And we don't want you char-fried on your first birthday." "Fly? I can do that?" The Enforcer looked at John, then rolled his eyes and burst out laughing again. "You are almost *too* rare, John. 'Can I fly?' he says." HA! Then both of them took to the air, the Enforcer pulling John behind him. John E. Dencoff jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------ Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 13:06:08 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: Arafats and Abarats and little vamps eat Ivy Ivy moved into the kitchen, it was quieter there. She was jumpy, too much so and it nearly cost Betsy. The Arafat had been uncovered, she'd been sure she'd felt it and Alma's slip only confirmed it. How long would the other's believe it was just a common mispronunciation of Abarat? And what if one of them knew the truth? She sighed. If only Nick could know truth. If only she dared tell. Still, the Arafat had touched sunlight and now she could only wait to see if it did good or evil. Bracing herself she walked back into the main room. The remaining people looked tired and wary. Natalie fussed over Betsy, reassuring both of them she was fine. *Which is lucky for a gal who's been crescent kicked by the daughter of ... * she didn't want to complete the thought. But she needed to and the truth needed to be told. She bee-lined for Nick, then altered her course and took Natalie's arm. "She's fine," Natalie said. "Good. Um, I need to talk to you." Natalie followed her out into the hallway. Kevin glanced at Ivy's exit but she signaled him she'd be right back. He took his turn fussing over Betsy and ignoring Nick staring oddly at his yarlmuka. Ivy closed the door. "What is it?" Natalie asked. "It's about Nick and ... coming back." Natalie's eyes flew wide open. "My father ... he .. he came across in the early 1900s and ... returned 30 years ago." "He came back across?" Natalie lit up like a firework on the fourth . "We have to tell Nick." She reached for the door but Ivy interposed herself. "There's more you need to know," Ivy told her. She subsided. "He didn't come back of his own free will." She gave a short sad laugh, "He's looking for someone likeminded, someone like LaCroix, to grant him his immortality again. The Arafat -- not Abarat -- was used to turn him. He killed his brother for making him mortal again and tried to destroy the Arafat. Failing to do that he hid it, buried it I think. I it, it's resurfaced. It will work, if we can find it." "We have to tell the others, those we can trust," Natalie said. Ivy got out of her way. "You tell them. If they still want to associate with the offspring of one as evil as LaCroix, well, I'm in for the fight, they know where to find me. Either way, I will do all I can to serve Nick." -------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 14:13:34 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK Wars 2: Moving On Moving On Jennie looked about the loft. If possible, the place looked even more like the last day of a con than before: People were draped over every available surface, talking with each other, sleeping or just staring at nothingness. There were food and caffeine-laced beverages all over the place (although she had to admit, the food was far better fare than *she* usually got at cons!) and to top it all off, she had that kind of "I'm not really here, I'm just dreaming this all" feeling she got when she hadn't slept much for a few days. She was still trying to process the days events so far. She thought back to the enforcer and shivered. The memory of the *smile* he gave her on his way out was all too vivid. She didn't think she wanted to deal with that just now. Instead, her thoughts turned to Janette, and what Nick had said as the enforcer left: >"What do you think he meant by all that real enemy stuff?" >"I'm not sure, Jennie. But I've got a sneaking suspicion he's trying to >imply Janette and the Ravenettes might be up to something...." Maybe that should be her next move. She remembered a message from Tanaquil that she was in at the Raven; perhaps she should head over there, just to check things out. Good thing she had all that black clothing; looked like she would need it. She wove her way through the crowded loft to speak quietly to Natalie. "Natalie, I'm going to push off now. I don't think I can do anything here, but I want to check on Tanaquil tomorrow and I need a few things. Heres the address where I'm staying and you can always leave e-mail for me if you need to get in touch." She held up a scrap of paper with scribbling all over it. "I should be able to get in touch with you if I need to, too." "Wait a minute, you're not planning anything dangerous, are you? I don't want any more casualties in this war, if we can avoid it." "Don't worry, all I'm planning now is to go to the Raven and observe. Ill be careful to dress appropriately and not do anything to attract attention. I don't even plan to make direct contact with anyone, just get the layout of the place." "Well, all right, but you still should take care." "Will do. Bye." ------------------------------------- Jennie jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 18:53:26 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKWARS2: Delivery![part 1/2]-------------------------------- Delivery! Sharon Himmanen Shortly after I leave the loft--morning, July 10 She'd moved quickly about a block and a half from Nick's loft. Still in the warehouse district, she figured there wouldn't be much chance of flagging a cab until she got into a slightly more metropolitan area. So imagine her surprise when one pulled up along side her without warning. Slipping inside, she gave the cabbie, a young, non-descript man, the address for the Raven, and they pulled away from the curve. She leaned back, closing her eyes and breathing a small sigh of relief. *Anything* was better than being in that loft, especially after the Enforcer showed up--too many people. a new vampire, both he and Nick looking a little ragged from not having fed w/ so many mortals around, Lisa McDavid's collapse and revelations . . . A shrill ringing drew her out of her reverie. The cab driver reached down to the seat beside him and flipped open a portable phone. He listened for several seconds, nodded, then handed the phone back over the seat to her without looking around. "It's for you," he said in a monotone. Numbly she took it from him and held it to her ear. She already knew who it was. "Well?" LaCroix asked. "Things were getting a little strange," she stammered. "Hmmm. The Abarat?" She hesitated. While Lisa's arrival had drawn everyone's attention away from her, it had also prevented her from checking on the laptop copy. Should she tell LaCroix what Lisa said about the Abarat? "I've only been there a short while. I couldn't get close enough to check on it." "Then why did you leave?" "I told you, things got weird. Lisa McDavid showed up, then an Enforcer showed up, and he gave John Dencoff a bottle of blood. That's when I left." "An Enforcer. This is very interesting. And John is there as well!" LaCroix chuckled loudly. "Nicholas is a FOOL! Keeping John Dencoff there with all those mortals. Something's bound to happen sooner or later." There was a long pause on the line, then LaCroix spoke again. "Well, I can't say that I blame you for wanting to get out of there. Self-preservation is an admirable quality as long as it doesn't get in the way of business. You can ask Janette about that sometime. "But, I find myself wondering if you aren't having second thoughts about this. You should talk to John Dencoff about the fate of people who fail me," he said, his voice deliberate. Every hair on the back of her neck stood up at his words. "In any case, I want you back there, but there's no reason why you can't utilize your time away from there wisely. It's likely no one will notice your absence with all the activity and if they do I'm sure you can come up with something reasonable." "I probably shouldn't stay away too long," she said. Suddenly the loft wasn't looking so bad after all. "Just long enough to start work on the tasks I assigned you," he said. "With Lisa's defection, that makes a Knightie, a Die-Hard and a FoD that I'd like added to my collection. Concentrate on one of those groups. After all, what's the point of being a Cousin if you can't wreak a little havoc on people. Spying is so tedious, even if it is necessary." Sharon nodded. It was only last night that Margaret had interrupted her as she was making plans. She'd take care of that task, then head back to the loft to check on the copy of the Abarat. And she'd try very hard not to think of John Dencoff and his unfortunate fate. LaCroix broke the connection then. She noticed that the cabbie was driving around in circles around downtown Toronto--that was fine with her. She had a few calls to make. As she finished making her calls, the cab pulled up outside Nick's loft. The cabbie handed her a key. "To the stairwell," he said. Then he added, "Don't worry. I know what to do." Sharon slipped out of the cab and used the key to open the stairwell door. [end of part 1/2]---------------------------------------------------------- Cousin Sharon o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Cousin | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 22:33:17 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: Lisa leaves for a needed rest Sunday, am Lisa had been recovering on the sofa when the enforcer arrived. She couldn't figure out if he was a hallucination brought on my loss of blood and/or a sugar rush from all the junk food she'd been eating. Either way, she decided that enough was enough. She'd had a very trying week and was in need of a long rest. Where to go though? LaCroix probably wouldn't relinquish her readily. He had started spouting all that nonsense about collecting a Cousin from every group. He wouldn't want to give up his "Die-Hard" just after announcing his plan to gather one of every type. *You'd think we were baseball cards or something.* Lisa slowly walked into the kitchen area and poured herself a glass of water. She had almost finished it when she heard Natalie approach. "Are you feeling better now? You really should try to rest." "It's a bit crazy around here Natalie. I could try to faint gracefully on the couch again." "Nick doesn't really have guest facilities, does he?" Natalie's gaze slowly crept over the living room. People were everywhere and conversations started and stopped without accomplishing anything. *I don't know when this meeting will end.* She made up her mind and turned to Lisa. "Why don't you go to the St.George Residence? The Die-Hards can protect you while you recover, and then you can choose whether or not you want to get involved in this insane war again. If you don't you can always catch a red-eye flight back home." "Do you think they'll take me in? LaCroix might be coming after me." "They knew the consequences before they offered a sanctuary. Take them up on it. At the very least you'll get a few days peace and quiet before LaCroix finds you again." "I better leave without attracting too much attention then. There's no telling if LaCroix has spies here. He always has a few extra cards up his sleeve." Natalie went slowly over to Bruce and got the Die-Hard telephone number from him. When she telephoned the residence she was initially hooked up to a strange recording. Rrring! Rrring! Rrring! Rrring! (click) "Shhhh! Do you hear that? Silence. I'm in my new quiet room. If you want to ...." "Hello?" The voice sounded as if they'd just woken up and Natalie was startled to realize that it was early Sunday morning. A time of rest and relaxation. Sleeping in time for those people who weren't crazy enough to know vampires. "Yes, this is Natalie Lambert. I'm calling for Lisa McDavid. She's in a bit of a bind and would like to take advantage of your offer of sanctuary for a few days." The voice quickly became more alert. "This is Tracy. Do you need me to pick her up. It would be easier if she came over in a taxi. I'd have time to fix up a room for her." "I'll put her in a cab then. If she leaves soon, she'll be there in about a half hour." "Could you put her on please. She needs to know how to contact me once she reaches the front gate." Natalie handed over the phone to Lisa who had been half falling asleep against the kitchen counters. "Lisa? This is Tracy at Die-Hard headquarters." "Hmm? Yeah, I really need a place to hole up. Physically I'm beat and I don't know if LaCroix will come after me or not." "It's alright. Take a taxi to the residence... Do you know the address?" "Yeah. I took a look at the charter before I split up with LaCroix. It's right on the inside cover." "Trust Dawn to be efficient. Just dial this number at the phone outside the gate and I'll come down and pick you up." "I appreciate this." "It's what we came forward in this war for." "I'll see you in a bit then." "All right. Bye." "Goodbye." Natalie took over again a dialed a taxi number from memory. If they were lucky the vampires in the living room, would have been too busy to try and overhear what they were planning. Lisa and moved quietly through the living room. Everyone was occupied and didn't notice for awhile that she didn't come back in. --------------------------------------------------- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 08:29:32 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKW2: Food and Laptops (revised) July 10th The room was in a slight uproar when she slipped back in. She thought she'd made it back into the loft clean, undetected, but as she turned from closing the stairwell door softly Natalie caught her eye from across the room and frowned slightly. "Damn," she muttered to herself. She wondered if Nat would buy an "out for some fresh air" line. Sharon didn't think so. Doing her best to ignore Natalie for a few minutes, she slipped over to the group of people gathered in the living room area of the loft and listened quietly for a few minutes. From the conversation she was able to gather that John and the Enforcer had left the loft a short while ago. She continued to listen quietly and caught snatches of something that sounded like John had tried to attack Valerie Meachum and she thought back to LaCroix's chuckle upon learning that John was still at the loft. There was a light touch on her arm, but it came so unexpectedly, in the middle of her thoughts, that she jumped slightly. It was Natalie. She motioned for Sharon to follow her and led the way into the kitchen. The look on her face indicated that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "You look like you're about ready to drop," Natalie said, leading her over to a table piled with food. "And I'll bet LaCroix didn't feed you either." She flinched slightly at the mention of his name. And Nat's gaze grew even more concerned. "You want to talk about it?" she asked, folding her arms across her body. "Talk about what?" "What happened while you were with LaCroix," Nat said, and Sharon felt her blood freeze. "Something more happened, didn't it? You didn't really get a chance to finish your story, what with all the excitement." Sharon swallowed, shaking her head, trying to keep her breathing even. "No, that was about all. Just . . . little details here and there." Nat looked like she was going to say something else, but instead she shrugged and indicated the table. "Well, you're going to eat something. Then you're going to go to my place and crash for a few hours. Doctor's orders!" she said, holding up her hand to stifle Sharon's protests. With a sigh, Sharon nodded, and looked around her. The table and nearly every flat surface in the room was covered with food of every sort imaginable. And it wasn't your typical large gathering, post-funeral type food collection either. She couldn't spot a platter of coldcuts or a tuna casserole among the lot. "Where'd this all come from?" she asked in wonder. "The FoDs," Nat said smiling. The FoDs brought all this, she thought. And then she thought about what she had in store for Pamela Rush and suddenly she didn't feel like eating anymore. "Uh, I'm not really that hungry. Maybe later," she said. She looked up and noticed two laptops sitting on top of the refrigerator. One looked like it was in pieces. Ignoring Nat's protests, she indicated the computers. "Oh, those," Nat said. "You know, you people have an amazing number of laptops. There's gotta be at least a dozen in this loft alone!" she said, her voice full of amazement. "These," she said, moving over the refrigerator and lifting the undamaged one, "are Nick's laptop, and Lisa's copy of the Abarat." The last was said wistfully. "The Abarat?" Sharon asked. She cursed inwardly at the slight edge of fear and eagerness that crept into her voice. Nat noticed it too, because she looked up sharply. "The file's destroyed or something. Ivy worked at it yesterday." She put the computer down on the table. "But," she said, looking up brightly. "Maybe your famous 'computer aura' will do the trick!" Nat pushed the laptop over to Sharon and looked at her hopefully. Nat had said it was 'destroyed or something'--this was her opportunity to make certain. She reached behind it and flipped the computer on as Nat came to stand beside her, watching what she did closely. The computer seemed to boot normally so Sharon called up the file of the Abarat and saw what Nat had been talking about it. Some of the words were there, but a lot of it was scrambled, and there seemed to be whole sections missing. Just to make sure, Sharon slowly scrolled through the entire document. "See," Nat said. She tapped Sharon slightly on the shoulder. "You're losing your touch," she teased. "You really must be tired." Sharon shrugged. Nat would notice if she didn't at least make the effort. "Does this machine have Nortons on it?" Typing the dir command, she saw that it did so she used the file editor to search the hard drive for various tex string on the hard drive, including those that might be in hidden files. Those that were present in the mangled sections of the Abarat showed up but that was it. Glancing up at Nat she shook her head. "It's gone." Sharon wondered just how Alexandra had managed to pull this off--she had thought the airhead vampire would simply take a screwdriver to the laptop and trash the thing. "There's *no* hope for it?" Nat asked. "I'm sorry," Sharon said. "If there's anything more to be done, I don't know what it is. A destroyed file is sometimes retrievable, but more than likely it's completely unsalvageable." Nat sighed and thoughtfully fingered the computer casing. Then, she looked up at Nick and Sharon felt a sharp stab of guilt as she saw the sadness in her friend's eyes. "Well," Nat said shakily. "Considering what Lisa told us about it, it's just as well. Nick wouldn't have been able to use it anyway. Still, I'd hoped there was . . . something . . ." Nat's voice trailed off. Sharon didn't know what to say. She should have been happy that the task of destroying the Abarat hadn't fallen to her. But that was overshadowed by what the loss of the Abarat meant to both Nick and Nat. It just didn't feel right to be happy just now. (to be continued . . .) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 22:38:26 -0500 From: Betsy Vera Subject: Betsy makes an offer Sunday morning at the loft. Sometime after John and the Enforcer had left, `most everyone had managed to fall asleep (except for the people whose story threads require them to be awake). They were spread out all over Nick's loft, some in sleeping bags, under blankets--it looked more like a conventioneer's hotel room than Nick's loft. Natalie got up just before dawn. She found Betsy already awake, drinking some orange juice from the FoD's supply. Betsy hadn't slept for very long. Too much excitement, probably. Finally she was having some *fun*--though getting knocked out wasn't she'd had in mind, waking up in Nick's loft more than made up for it. It _almost_ made up for Ivy's guilt-ridden solicitude. Almost. Betsy had told her several times that she was okay, no hard feelings, etc., but Ivy had kept asking for forgiveness and this had driven Betsy up the proverbial wall. But, she'd finally convinced Ivy that everything was fine, and Ivy had returned to the apartment below LaCroix's to check on her eavesdropping equipment. "Couldn't sleep?" Betsy smiled. "I guess I want to make sure I don't miss anything." Now Natalie smiled. "I wish _I_ could've missed some of it. There's so much going on, I don't know which end is up anymore. I just wish this war would finish so we could go back to normal." "Normal? As in vampire bars and vampire all-night DJ's? _That_ kind of normal?" Natalie sighed. "So maybe it isn't *normal* normal, but I think it's the kind of normal I'm used to now." She shivered. "I don't believe I just said that." "Here. Have a doughnut. If that isn't normal, nothing is." Natalie picked a chocolate-covered doughnut from the box Betsy offered, thought twice about it, and also grabbed a powdered-sugar one. "So, what's next?" asked Betsy. "What's next is, we try to think of a way to make LaCroix behaves reasonably--ha!--and returns the fan mail to us before he can do who-knows-what with it." "Yeah, I've been thinking about that. Can't you blackmail him with something? Something you could threaten to publicize?" "Like what? He's never left any witnesses; besides, I can't think of anything he'd be ashamed to have spread around." Betsy got this innocent look on her face. "How about, oh, I'm guessing here, something like, say, a recording of LaCroix talking baby-talk to his pet goldfish?" "A wha----!!" Natalie choked while an incredulous laugh and a piece of powdered-sugar doughnut tried to use her windpipe at the same time. After a few minutes, she had recovered enough to ask as she reached for some kleenex to wipe her eyes, "Where are you going to find something like that, even if it exists?" "It's on Ivy's tapes. I was listening to them when she surprised me in LaCroix's apartment building." "Hold it. These tapes are *real*? You're not just making this up?" Betsy feigned indignation. "Do I look like the type of person who would invent something like that? The kind who could come up with dialogue like, `And `ow is daddy's favowite fishy today? Umm? Is `oo hungwy? Oo, yes, I can tell `oo is vewy hungwy. Look! Daddy bought Spiky's vewy favowite fishy food. Nothing but the best for Spiky-wiky, awen't you my Spiky-wiky?' By now, Natalie was laughing so hard she was in danger of falling off her chair. Finally, after a long while, she got herself almost under control. "Spiky-wiky?" "That's what he said." "Just when you think you know everything about vampires..." Natalie started to laugh again. "Look," said Betsy after she waited politely for Natalie to recover again, "why don't we ask Ivy for the tapes and put them in a safe place; then, if you need them, you'll know where they are." "Ivy went back to the apartment." "I could go get them, if you like. I don't think I'm going to get any more sleep, anyway." Natalie thought about it. "Okay. Better take Robin Carroll-Mann with you. Safety in numbers, and all that." -------------------------------- Betsy betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu (the second-longest .sig in the midwest) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 03:11:56 EDT From: DionneEN@AOL.COM Subject: FKW2 Missing Goblin... Dionne sat down at her Mac and started typing. TO: FKFIC_L@PSUVM.PSU.>EDU FROM: DionneEN@AOL.COM SUBJECT: Missing Goblin I know everyone is terribly busy with the war (I can barely keep up), but has anyone seen a little black cat with yellow eyes? She took a pouch of Tender Vittles and ran away a few days ago. I've already checked everything around here, I'm convinced she's tried to join the war. I think she might have gone to the Raven, but she's not very smart (it's just a little brain) and I don't want her to get hurt. If anyone sees a black cat named Goblin could you please e-mail me at: DionneEN@aol.com Dionne Empress of Cat (sans subject), Die-Hard Goblin Cat (MIA) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 13:14:06 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: Ivy waits for ghosts Ivy returned to the apartment below LaCroix. She stared in disgust at the frail little lock and promised herself she'd replace it, eventually, it didn't really matter now. Not much did. Her father and those who'd known him had been the driving factor behind all those moves, from New York to Boston to LA to Paris and finally to Toronto. Now it looked like, having found people who might understand, she might have to move again. *I should get a cat* she told herself. She looked at the equipment, both of the tapes had been filled already. She set up another two and let them go again. LaCroix wasn't doing anything terribly interesting to listen to. She got a can of soda and stared at the wall. *Maybe this was the wrong thing to do. I shouldn't have told Nat.* Her mind drifted again to that lovely letter from the dear Ravenette. Maybe she would have a place there despite the truth of her. She sighed. Maybe the NatPack would forgive her her heritage, but would Nick? And how would they react if she told them she was thirty two? ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 10:22:17 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--One More From the Road Sunday Afternoon - One More From the Road It was dark and quiet inside the Raven, although occasionally an insomniac vampire wandered through to the bar, grabbed a bottle or a glass, then disappeared down the back stairs again. Susan wouldn't have minded it so much if they didn't flash her a smile. There were so many types of smiles. But every one a vampire gave her said one word loud and clear --dinner! Still, there was plenty of stock on hand, thanks to some emergency provisioning after the garlic disaster of a few nights ago. They all knew what Janette would do to them if any one of them touched Susan. But--she shivered, standing just inside the front door of the Raven--all you ever needed was one idiot who didn't care and . . . . There was a pounding on the door. Susan jumped, startled, then quickly threw back the heavy bolts. A somewhat road- soiled woman stood there, with a cage on the ground beside her. A rabbit peered out of the cage, bunny eyes bright. Just then, Goblin shot out of the darkness, heading on instinct for the open door. Susan scooped him up quickly-- something about being around vampires for a while tended to improve your reflexes--and cradled him against her shoulder. "Beth, I presume. And Hazel?" Beth smiled as Susan held the door wider, then picked up the cage and walked into the Raven. "Yeah--you must be Susan." Susan closed the door behind her and put Goblin on the floor, then started resetting the locks. "Thanks for calling before you showed." "I figured it was better somebody knew I was around the block. Waking vampires from a sound sleep is probably a good idea." "Too true." Susan gestured toward a booth. "Why don't you sit down for a couple of minutes. Maybe have a cup of tea? I'll give you the key to my hotel room, you can sack there until the duration." Beth sat down in the booth and put Hazel's cage on the floor. "Thanks. Are you going back there?" "Not just yet." Susan poured Beth a cup of tea from the thermos she'd prepared earlier and set it before her. "Janette kind of left me in charge until she gets back. I think she'll be over Nick's loft until sundown." "Nick's-- loft?" Beth nearly sputtered on her tea. Susan knelt down beside Hazel's cage, where Goblin was hanging out. "Careful, Beth, your old Knightie loyalties are showing. And Janette's real paranoid about that sort of thing right now." Beth's eyes were still wide. "Have you--uh--seen him?" "We've never really been introduced. He was nice enough to put in a word for me the last time the war ended, when Janette saddled me with the writing workload from hell." Susan scratched Hazel through the bars of the cage. "Can I let him out?" "," corrected Beth. "Sure. If you don't think it's a problem. And--" She looked pointedly at Goblin. "Oh, don't mind him, he's an exceptional cat. Real breeding, that one." Susan opened the cage as Beth picked up Goblin. The cat purred as she ticked it under the chin. "Uh, Susan--Goblin wouldn't happen to be your cat?" "No, I've got a dog. Diego Garcia. Picture Walter Matthau with fur." Susan looked up as Hazel scampered under the booth table. "I patched into the net through Alma's computer--he belongs to Dionne. Janette'll get tired of him sooner or later and send him home. Probably with a diamond collar or some such nonsense. She appreciate favors, after all." Beth smiled. "Well, Goblin's a girl cat, not a boy cat." Susan blinked. "Well, damn. Maybe I have taken a biology course instead of astrophysics after all." She retrieved Hazel, who was wandering a bit afield and began to pet her. "Gotta warn you, Beth, it doesn't look good for the boss lady." Beth's eyes narrowed. She let Goblin slip to the floor as she picked up her tea. "Any attacks?" "Nothing yet. But she won't let us make a move. I know she's got Mary up to something. And Betsy S.'s supposed to come in tonight--I sent her home, no sense all of us being dead tired, if you'll pardon. But she's playing her cards real close to her chest, happy cards though they may be." Sighing, Susan released Hazel, whom Goblin was nuzzling--they seemed to be getting along well enough--and rose to her feet. Wearily, she stretched, then slipped into the other side of the booth. "I know she was real cheesed off at Nick and LaCroix for taking advantage of her like they do. And I know . . . she stole some of Nick and Natalie's mail. Anything to do with him being cured." Beth's eyes went wide again. "You're kidding? Did she destroy it?" "She didn't say yes and she didn't say no. But you know our girl, always careful and a packrat to boot." She leaned closer to Beth. "Whatever you do, volunteer to clear out her basement. Make's Charles Foster Kane's Xanadu look like Walmart. But I think she's got it stashed somewhere around here. And if we find it, your knightly connections may come in handy." "You're going to betray Janette?" "Betray?" Susan sat back against the booth, wounded. "Not on my life--which wouldn't be worth a plug nickel if I did. You didn't see what happened when she lost Monica. And she Monica. No, I just want to keep her out of trouble. I brought my skeleton keys just in case." Susan reached into her pocket and withdrew a small case, which she opened to reveal a number of keys of shapes and sizes. "Where's you get those?" "I was born in Brooklyn. They give them to you in the hospital instead of those stupid little hats. you never outgrow." She flipped the case shut. "So maybe you could keep your eyes open when you're here. Just in case." "Sure," said Beth, as Hazel and Goblin chased one another around the dance floor. "But Janette'll go ballistic if she ever finds out." "Then let's hope she doesn't find out. At least until I'm back in Jersey." --- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 14:21:20 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FoDly arrival Sunday evening, July 10: Chicago Midway Airport Sherry sighed and tugged the strap on the overstuffed carryon farther up her shoulder. The whole group had embarked from Louisville Standiford with no problem, but, as usual, something had to go wrong somewhere along the line: their connection to Toronto had been forty minutes late arriving and was still setting sullenly on the concrete apron no closer to the boarding gate than it had been in the past half hour. They all needed to get some quality sack time tonight but at this rate wouldn't even arrive until the wee, small ones. She almost began to wish that she hadn't decided to come; after all, it was not as though she would be paid for it. Maybe there would but time for her to get in touch with Det. Schanke; Cal Lynn had had a wonderful time visiting the Schankes last month -- not that Sher expected quite that much of a red-carpet treatment, but she would certainly call. (to be continued...) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- -------[Monday, July 11th]----------- ------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 01:51:09 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Back at the Die-Hards Again, Again July 9, 1994, near dawn "Why didn't we stay?" asked Bruce as we stepped out onto the street. "Maybe I could have seen if something was wrong with the laptop." "There'll be time for that later, I'm sure. I think Natalie was trying to give Nick a breather from all us mortals." "Yeah. Guess you're right." "We weren't accomplishing anything anyway," I said in some irritation. "Just talking around in circles." "Yeah. We were all kind of rudderless in there." We started to walk up the street. "We should get a cab back to the Die-Hard Headquarters--tell them what happened." "Yeah, I guess." I looked at him. "You read their Charter thoroughly. "Would they attack LaCroix?" "Not a chance." "But he has Die-Hard information--" Bruce looked sharply at me. "Well, maybe not. Since they don't have any applications filled out." We had reached a phone booth and Bruce called for a cab. "Why didn't you tell them you were a Knightie?" "I don't know any of those people. One of them could be a spy for LaCroix." "Well, I don't know how effective you can be by yourself. There didn't seem to be many of his followers there." "Yeah," I said thoughtfully. Then I yawned. "God, I'm tired." Our cab arrived. "We'll go back to the hotel as soon as I can make my report to the Die-Hards," said Bruce. We got into the cab and before long were let out at the St. George Residence. I sat in the living room with coffee and a donut while Bruce went off to pow-wow with the Die-Hards. But pretty soon I was having trouble keeping my eyes focused on the magazine I was reading. I put it down and rested my head on the back of the couch, thinking, 'I'll just rest my eyes for a few minutes.' I began to dream. Nick was in bed with a young and very shapely red-haired woman, both of them nude and engaged in passionate embracing. He bared his fangs and bit her and after a moment, she bared fangs and bit him in return. What followed after that could rival any porno movie. "Honey?" came a voice. I came awake with a start. "C'mon, cab's here. Let's go back to the hotel and get some rest." I sat up straighter, drained the rest of the coffee, and then stood. As we walked out to the cab, I thought about the dream. It wasn't the first time I'd had a dream about Nick and the stripper. I wondered if he actually knew her. No. If he did, he wouldn't still be hanging around with Natalie Lambert. A story idea? Maybe I should write the stuff down for "Knightly Tales?" I pulled my thoughts back to the waking world. "So what happened with the Die-Hards?" I asked Bruce. "Are they going to do anything?" "They've decided to issue an invitation to all the groups for a meeting on Sunday night, the 17th, to discuss the hostilities, in the hopes something can be resolved to end the Wars." "At the Die-Hard Headquarters?" "Yeah. Starting at 9:00 p.m. Charter restrictions will be in effect, of course." "Do they expect them all to come?" "Well, we're hoping." "But why the 17th? A lot could happen to really escalate things before then." "They want everyone to have sufficient notice of the meeting time, I guess." Sounded stupid to me. But then it didn't seem like anyone else was that organized either. We finally reached our hotel room and fell into bed. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 15:10:00 PDT Reply-To: jennise@dgi.com Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: M'lady Printcap the goddess of peripherals Subject: FKWARSII - Jennise Takes a Trip EXT. PHONE BOOTH - TUSCON, AZ - NIGHT - 2 A.M. Jennise stands in the night air speaking on the phone. She keeps her back to Karin and speaks softly. Karin strains to hear what's being said but finally gives up. JENNISE But you said I could... LACROIX(V.O.) The situation here requires your presence. JENNISE Yes sir. I'll pick up the package and be there as soon as possible. Jennise slams the receiver down and turns to Karin. JENNISE Well, I was right. He knows where Margaret is. KARIN Where? JENNISE (ignoring her) He sounds a little weird. Hmmmm. KARIN Where is Margaret? JENNISE She's at his place. I need you to make some traveling arrangements. I've got an errand to run and I won't have time to fly all the way to Toronto when I get back. KARIN You said you just wanted me to help you find Margaret. That you'd... JENNISE Let you get rid of those damn carpets if you helped me. I'll keep my word. You just handle the travel arrangements. I'll be back before dawn. Karin looks after Jennise as she takes to the air. KARIN Just call me Karin Welss, Vampire Travel Agent. JENNISE(V.O.) Don't forget a ticket for yourself! EXT. MCCRORY HOME - NIGHT 3:30 AM Jennise flies around the exterior of the house. No windows are open. She lands by the back door. It doesn't take her long to pick the lock. She quietly steps inside. INT. HOME OF SELMA MCCRORY - BEDROOM - NIGHT - 3:30 AM Jennise steps into the bedroom. She watches Selma a moment before shaking her awake. JENNISE (whispering) Selma. Selma. Selma slowly wakes up. Her eyes go wide when she realizes the woman sitting on her bed is not her mother. JENNISE Geez, you're a heavy sleeper. SELMA Who are you? JENNISE Jennise. Die Hard extrodinare. I'm running an errand for the Knighties. They need your help and I could get you to Toronto the fastest. SELMA Nick needs me? JENNISE Actually, he needs that cute little Comp Sci degree you just got. Consider it work experience. SELMA Let me get changed and leave my Mom a note. JENNISE Can I use your phone? SELMA Sure. Is it local? Jennise chuckles, picks up the phone and dials Dublin CA. JENNISE Acme carpeting. Go ahead with that installation. No, the Dark Purple. Selma hurriedly throws on some clothes. Her lips move quietly as she scribbles out a note. Jennise hangs up the phone. SELMA Okay, I'm ready. JENNISE You're not afraid of flying are you? SELMA Course not. Uh, can we use the window. Jennise laughs. JENNISE I prefer it myself. After you. Selma opens the window. Jennise swipes the note from the pillow, then joins Selma at the window. JENNISE Up. Up. and Away........ -- Jennise Hall ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 01:08:47 -0700 From: "Elizabeth L. Bales" Subject: A New Recruit... Or Then Again, Maybe Not I chewed absently at a hangnail and stared at the screen. *I must be the wishy-washiest reader on this darn list! Can't make up my mind whether or not to get involved in this war. Can't decide which faction I'd join anyway. Not sure if I'd be useful anyway...* I sighed. *Gee, sounds like I'd fit right in with Nick, the King of I'm Not Sure. But somehow I feel more drawn to the NatPack. So I guess that's my next decision... Or maybe the Die-Hards?* I laughed out loud. *Yep, wishy-washy, all right. Okay, well, I'm unemployed anyway. Might as well do something with all that time....* I reached for the phone and dialed. "Midge? Hiya, it's Elizabeth Bales. What kind of price can you get me for a flight to Toronto, leaving right away?" Fifteen minutes later, I hung up the phone and winced. "Oww. Why does air travel have to cost so darn much?" Then I got up and started packing. Next stop, Toronto. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 00:22:01 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars: Tok's Reprogramming Tok's Reprogramming ------------------ Tok had been in a state of near-collapse ever since the strains of had started coming out of her laptop. She had vague memories of Nan coming in and bundling her into a car. Gandalf and Merlin had been with her, plus at least one other cat she didn't recognize. There'd been some buzz on the lists about some group called the Friends of Sidney. "You don't suppose ...," Tok thought to herself fuzzily as she tried to focus on one of the strangers. "Naw ..." That was the last she remembered for quite a while. * * * * * * * * * * "Fly like an eagle, to the sea ..." Tok shrieked and tried to sit bolt upright, but something held her down. Several somethings, to be more accurate. At least one cat draped over each arm and leg. Gandalf lay on her chest, purring loudly. When Tok fixed her gaze on him, he gave her THE LOOK. Anyone who has ever been owned by a cat knows THE LOOK. Your cat knows you've been incredibly foolish, and this is the beginning of your punishment. As continued in the background, Tok heard Nan's voice over the "music". "We've been friends for a long time, Tok. Once we've rescued you from LaCroix's influence, we'll be friends again. Lucky for you, I recovered my tapes." The next several hours were a battle. , over and over again. Nan whispering to her about the misfortunes that had befallen other Cousins, John in particular. Gandalf, crouched on her chest, purring. Merlin, alternating sides, licking Tok's face and ears. Suddenly, blessedly, there was a moment of silence. Tok breathed a sigh of relief. Music began again, but this time, it was Rick Springfield. She opened her eyes and realized the strange cats had gone. She was alone with Nan, Gandalf, and Merlin. They were in Nan's hotel room; she recognized it from her view through the window. Things were different now. Her thoughts finally seemed clear. She at her friend Nan. "I'm sorry, Nan. I don't know what came over me." "LaCroix, of course. You should've known better." "You're right. How can I make it up to you? And to you guys?" she added, looking at her two feline friends. "Help us. Join the Nat Pack and help us put a stop to this war." Nan stared at her, awaiting her response. "Well ... I don't know what we can do to help, but I'm game. Anyone who's a cat person should be a friend of mine. You think you guys could protect me from you-know-who? He won't take kindly to this." "We'll do the best we can. Let's go." ----------------------------------------------------- +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus (Nat Pack) tokaara@aol.com | | Gandalf & Merlin (FOSsiLs) | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 16:01:14 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: Wars II: Lunch with Schanke Lunchtime, Monday, July 11: Toronto Sherry was very excited and just a bit nervous. After two years of following the adventures of the FK characters on tv, she was finally going to meet one of them vis a vis. She had been pleasantly surprised by Det. Schanke's warm welcome when she had called the 27th earlier that morning; he had immediately suggested a lunch date and now she was actually on her way to meet him at the Parthenon. The cab slowed and started to pull over to the curb... Sherry instantly recognized Schanke who was strolling up and down in front of the restaurant; he looked just as he did on tv except much more suave. As she debarked, lugging her parcels, he turned to look, then crossed the walk with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. "Hello! You must be Ms. Crabtree! I'm --" " --Don Schanke, of course! I'd know you anywhere! But how did you know...?" "Well, I am a detective," he said, smiling modestly, "and, besides, it wasn't that hard..." he indicated her stylish FK t-shirt. "And call me, Sherry, please." "Right. And I'm Don." "Great tie!" she commented, "I have some lawn furniture with the same pattern." "Thanks. My wife gave it to me." "Oh, I'm looking forward to meeting Myra, too. Before I forget," she added, searching in her capacious shoulder bag, "here are two tickets for the concert for tomorrow night. I hope you both can attend." Schanke tucked the pasteboard passes securely into his inside coat pocket and patted his jacket back into place. Looking up at the store-front facade of the Parthenon, Sherry was overwhelmed with nostalgia: this had to be... "This is *the* Greek restaurant, right?" "Well, yes, it is --" "The one where you --" "The one where I -- " They spoke in perfect unison: "--had two souvlaki for lunch!" "Jeeze," sighed Sherry, "a landmark." * * * * * * * * * * * A little later they sat comfortably across a small table from each other talking almost as much as they were eating. Sherry had presented Schanke with the blintzes and he had promised to take good care of them. Sentimentally, Sherry had ordered souvlaki, but Don was making headway on a large platter of giouvetsi. The soup course -- tsatsaki -- had been cool, rich and creamy. They were sharing a selection of tyropita and spanakopita. As they talked, Schanke was vaguely aware of a niggling puzzle: Sherry reminded him of, of...someone else. But he couldn't quite recall... the conversation was eclectic, covering a wide variety of topics (they had discovered a mutual love of a wide range of musical styles) but finally working its way around to common acquaintances. "...wouldn't actually call Pamela 'pig-headed'," Sherry was saying, "at least not to her face. Of course, you could call her anything you want to before nine a.m. and she'd never notice. Prob'ly wouldn't notice a nuclear holocaust before her second cup of coffee." "You think *you* work with bizarre people," laughed Schanke, "let me tell you about my partner --" "Oh, damn, that reminds me!" interrupted Sherry. "I was supposed to find out whether...that is, do you know anything about this *war* thing?" "Huh?" "I guess not. Listen, this is going to sound weird, but I don't know who else to ask. Have you noticed anything kinda *strange* going on the last week or so? Especially with Nick and Natalie?" "Hey, is there ever any time when Knight is *not* being strange? But, yeah, I know what you mean, although I can't figure how you know it. It started the day he screwed up a conference call on me and Myra...uh, actually, that's another story. But that was early last week and Nick's been nervous as a cat ever since -- *when* you can find him! He's here then he's not and then he calls in sick; then he's back, then he's not and then he takes some vacation time. And I've been pulling double shifts covering hi sorry ass! And Natalie was at work on Friday, but *now* she's all of a sudden on vacation, too! You think there's something going on with those two?" Schanke looked genuinely concerned. "I hardly know where to start; in fact, I'm sure I don't know the whole story, but I can tell you that Nick has an enemy, a real nut case who thinks he's...well, sort of aligned with occult forces, or something like that," she paused at Schanke's startled look. "I *said* it was weird! It's not *my* fault. I didn't *write* it! But this guy -- he uses the LaCroix most of the time, but we have known him to use the name Cross or LaCrocks, as well -- he's a real piece of work. He's probably at least as dangerous as he is crazy." "Great. Just great. So a crazy is stalking my partner and I hear about it from a visitor from the States. He couldn't just tell me about it? He couldn't just *ask* for help? N-o-o-o-o. Knight has to do it *his* way, the Lone Ranger way. As soon as I help him get this guy, I'm gonna tell Nick exactly what I thank of that, too!" "I certainly agree he ought to have told you; forewarned and all that. Besides, I don't think he's going to be able to handle this on his own. And there's Natalie's welfare to consider, too." "Nat! You think she's a target, too?!" "Well, you gotta *know* what she's doing on 'vacation' and she's vulnerable. And Nick would be very vulnerable if she were in the line of fire." "Listen, I gotta go get hold of Knight and find out what's going on. He shouldn't be out there alone on this. I really hate to cut lunch short, but you know...?" "No problem!" "Don't leave just 'cause I have to; they have great desserts here -- try the kataifi." "Maybe I'll get one to go, but I have some shopping to do myself. In fact, can you recommend a good lingerie shop?" "Uh, no, not really. Myra buys all my, uh, you know... But, tell me," he said, hurriedly adding a generous tip to the bills on the table, "one thing: I keep having this feeling that I know you from somewhere although I'm sure we've never met before, right?" "No, I'm sure I would have remembered." Even the arch look that went with her answer suddenly seemed familiar to Schanke. "But you're probably thinking of my *sister*; she's on tv, too, and a lot of people think we look alike, except my hair is much redder." (to be continued...) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 19:48:40 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Decisions, Decisions July 9, 1994, late afternoon Bruce and I were awake, both of us considerably more refreshed after our rest. As we dressed to go out to grab a bite to eat, Bruce decided to make a check-in call to the Die-Hards. He talked to Kathy and his expression became serious. "What is it?" I asked after he hung up. "There was another meeting of the Die-Hards. They called off the meeting plans." "Why?" "Well, it was pointed out that the--cross on the door--would make the St. George a less desirable location for a meeting." "So what does that mean?" "No one knows yet." I sighed. Another prime example of waffling. They wouldn't attack LaCroix, but it seemed no one wanted to take charge of the peace, either. But I kept my opinions to myself rather than perhaps get into an argument. "So what now?" I asked. "Well, I'm starving. After that--I don't know." "Maybe we should go back over to Nick's place--see if anyone there has come up with anything." "If there's anyone there." "Well, probably Natalie will be. That's assuming Nick hasn't gone to work or something. In that case, we'll just have to see if we can track down Natalie." "Should we call?" "No," I said quickly. Bruce eyed me suspiciously. "You just want to see him again, don't you?" "Well, as _you've_ told _me_ in the past--'I'm married, not dead.' There's no harm in looking, is there? You do." "Not as long as looking is all you do." "I'm sure you don't need to worry about that," I assured him. We left the hotel--in quest of dinner and...delight? --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 14:38:44 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK Wars 2: Answers Answers (Sometime on Monday) Arriving back at the Bed and Breakfast after shopping, Jennie decided to check in back home. She felt somehow disconnected from her everyday life and wanted to make sure she could still find reality. After a bit of rummaging in her purse, she found her phone card and dialed the numbers. When the answering machine picked up, she dialed her code and began to listen. But as the machine spat out still more messages from Robin Bonke, she realized it was entirely possible that she *had* erased it. Beep! Click! Buzzzzz... Okay, that was more normal. Usually about half the messages on this machine were hang-ups. Beep! "Hi, Jen, its me. Ill give you a call later. Bye!" Beep! "Hi, Jennie, its your brother. Ill call back later." Well, shed call them both when she got home. If she got home. Beep! More Robin. Amazing how that woman seemed to attract trouble; Oklahoma City instead of Toronto was pretty bad. Beep! "Tag!" <*That* would be Pete. If he isn't obnoxious, he's *really* brief!> Beep! "Hey, Hazey, its Nancy! Where have you been? Are you still at work talking to people on the Internet again? You know, its really scary how you can obsess over TV shows the way you do. Well, give me a call when you get home if its not too late. Talk to you later!" Beep! Jennie punched in the replay message code... --------------------------------------------- Jennie jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 07:40:09 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Underground Blasting July 11, 1994, evening "I don't know how I let you talk me into this," whispered Bruce in a tone a bit louder than I liked. "Shhh." I continued in a lower whisper, "Come on. You have an FCC Class II Radio Telephone License." We had gotten inside the building of Underground Radio 490 and were creeping down the hall to the control room. "Ivy was working on disrupting his finances and utilities. Maybe adding radio transmission problems will cause him to throw in the towel." "Yeah. But if the Die-Hards find out--" "Screw the Die-Hards! You didn't want to choose them anyway, did you?" "Shhh!" said Bruce. He put a hand on my arm and stopped. We had come to a door and we peered around the edge of it. It was the control room and, as I expected, it was empty. We walked into the room. "You see, I told you," I said in a normal voice. "He's been so busy it's being run on automatic." Bruce took a seat and began fiddling with the controls." Wish we could have brought country music tapes to substitute. I _hate_ country music and it's not his format, either." "What I've got planned is better. I'm going to increase the broadcast signal beyond his allowance." After a few more minutes, he said, "There. That should get him in trouble with the Canadian FCC." He stood. "Hopefully he won't find out about it until he's been contacted by them." "But if he comes back sooner, I've got a surprise of my own for him." "Well, he'll still be cited for a violation." Bruce watched as I spread what I had brought all over the chair. "There. Finished," I said. We started to leave. "Oh, almost forgot," I said. I went back and attached a note to the control board. ------- "LaCroix. Something's up at the station," said an aide of his some time later. "What?" "You'd better hear for yourself." LaCroix walked over to his stereo and turned it on. Underground Radio 490 blasted away at him at a horrifying decibel and he didn't even have the volume turned that high. LaCroix drove angrily to the station. He found the door expertly broken into. He strode to the control room and sat down, frantically adjusting the controls back to their permitted frequencies. A note taped to the control panel said, "YOU WERE STUCK ON THE WRONG FREQUENCY. KNIGHTIE NIGHT" LaCroix ripped the note off the console and, snarling, stood up. Or tried to. He found the chair he was sitting in stuck _firmly_ to his backside. He screamed in rage and ripped it off, tearing his pants and jacket in the process. Too bad no one was there to see what kind of underwear he was wearing. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 08:17:16 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: WAR2: LC gets an invitation Monday, July 10, evening: somewhere in Kentucky The heatwave had mitigated somewhat, making it a fine, warm summer evening in the Bluegrass. Pamela kicked down the clutch and turned the ignition, smiling as the powerful Honda engine roared into life between her knees. Well, Ok, so maybe more like in front of her *kneecaps*. she chided herself solemnly, She had a long road to go in the long summer evening, but all of it was 'round and 'round and 'round. She would start, as usual, with the big side lawn -- almost half an an acre --that separated The Stone House from the main road. The grass was overlong, dotted with dandelions, bluettes and clover in bloom. Pam engaged the 42" cutting blade as she chugged off the driveway onto the grassy lot; it made a wide, sharp, darker green line behind her as she drove. One long, straight strip first.... Sherry had called late the night before -- although Pam had been awake, watching the SciFi Channel, the only decent late-night programming available since CBS went mad and cancelled Crime Time -- to tell them that she had arrived in Toronto and to check on the health and welfare of Muffin. ...a 90 degree left turn at the bottom of the first strip; a clean angle was always tricky.... Sherry said the whole company was at the Airport Hilton and that she planned to call Det. Schanke early on Monday. Pam hoped she had caught up with him before the cheese blintzes went off. Sherry had been very accommodating about packing the insulated knapsack full of blini in her carry-on luggage instead of extra underwear. After all, she had said philosophically, that's why they made wash 'n wear. ...the next several cuts would be curved or semi-circular; that would be much easier.... * * * A few minutes sometime Monday night when LaCroix is not occupied in anyone else's storyline: Toronto LaCroix, nattily attired in a monochromatic sort of way, debouched at street level and surveyed his domain: the city, the night. Having had the collywobbles an unprecedented twice in one week, he was feeling a little sorry for himself, but who better to appreciate his sufferings? Now he was fairly if precariously recovered, so long as he did not look at swaying, waving, heaving, swinging...actually, it was better *not* to *think* about it either. And somehow he still was not overly keen on flying much; it involved a little too much up and down, back and forth, swaying, bobbing, dipping.... Oops. No doubt he would be perfectly recovered quite soon. Meanwhile, it would be pleasant to tool about in his newest acquisition. He regarded it almost fondly: the elegantly equipped, night-black Hummvee squatted brashly in the NO PARKING zone directly in front of LaCroix's apartment building awaiting him. No doubt it would serve him more faithfully than his ragtag group of followers with their constantly shifting allegiances and inconstant devotion to the dark. Opening the driver's door, LaCroix was outraged to notice that someone had *dared* to insert shoddy paper flyers under the wiper blades. As they were completely recessed, it was very tedious getting them out without leaving shredded messy bits. There were two different coloured handbills: One of them promised some sort of benefits from association with a group called "The Die-hards." Good name; he liked it. In fact, it sounded very familiar...but, unfortunately, it was impossible to tell from the soggy remains exactly what they supported or proclaimed. The other flyers advertised the "Louisville -------pera Company in Conc----" with smudged dates and times almost illegible. A concert? Perhaps he *did* deserve a little treat? He had heard of Louisville -- the River City, the gateway to the south and to a hospitable and gracious way of life...and death, no doubt. It might be entertaining.... * * * Back to earlier that evening : somewhere in Kentucky W-h-e-e-e! Those tight little S-curves were always fun, even with only 16 Hp under the hood. Well, that was finished; now, should she mow over it? Or let it stand a day, or two, or more? thought Pamela, And she bumped the big mower back across the driveway, leaving behind her a succinct message carved out of the tall Kentucky grass and wildflowers in 42" wide swathes: LACROIX SUCKS After all, it could hardly even be construed as an insult. (to be continued...) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 16:09:36 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Janette Has An Off Night [part1/3]------------------ Janette Has An Off Night Tanaquil poured herself a glass of wine (not, needless to say, Janette's private reserve) and settled herself on stool behind the bar for a few precious moments. Damn platform shoes. Weekday evenings were always slow, and Monday nights especially so. Three nights behind the bar and two days spent ostensibly in more tedious tasks like taking inventory and receiving supply shipments had been more than sufficient to allow her to case the joint. Already she knew a great deal about the club's operation, and about the daily schedule of its inhabitants. So far the job had been even easier than she had expected. Tanaquil absently scratched Goblin behind the ears as she watched the dancers on the floor. Janette had been so preoccupied with the arrival of a new shipment of her "private reserve" that afternoon that she had eagerly seized upon Tanaquil's announcement that she would be working on inventory in the back room for at least two hours. That had given her all the time she needed in Janette's room. That had been the trickiest part, since it had to be done while Janette was awake. Tomorrow she could easily do what needed to be done for the evening while the others were asleep. As for the other thing, she could easily come up with an excuse to be away from the bar for five or ten minutes... It had not taken her long to realize that actually finding proof of whatever devious plan Janette was hatching was going to be virtually impossible. Even the Ravenettes clearly didn't know, and it was making them very jumpy. She did think, however, that the activities she had planned for tomorrow would grab Janette's attention. What would happen then was anybody's guess. If Janette ever suspected that this was her doing, she would be out on her ear. But it would be worth it, if only because Tanaquil was looking forward to the show. [end of part 1/3]----------------------------------------------------------- ----- S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 16:20:47 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK Wars 2: Raven Watching Raven Watching Jennie checked her appearance in the full length mirror one more time. She hardly recognized herself, with all the work shed done on her appearance today. A trip to the beauty shop had changed her hair from practically straight to a wild tumble of curls and made it about three shades lighter. Definitely blond now. It was currently twisted up into an arrangement which allowed the curls to fall artistically from the top of her head and looked far more elegant than Jennie was used to being. She had applied the new makeup, which was darker than she normally wore and she was now wondering if it was ever going to come off. It was like magic markers. A glimmer of an idea swam through her mind at that, and she left it stewing in the back while she checked to make sure her dress fell correctly and her high heeled black boots didn't look scuffed. The dress was all black, with an uneven hemline that made it trail out behind her when she walked. She liked the effect and between that and the choker shed been given for her birthday this year, she thought shed at least be allowed into the Raven. On the way, she stopped at the address Robin had given her for LaCroix, only to have to hide as the man himself stalked through the parking lot. She hoped he was too distracted to hear her heartbeat over the whine of the air conditioner she had taken refuge near. He stopped next to a gorgeous car and she could hear him muttering, "Hmm...Kentucky...July 12...I *could* use a treat..." He hopped into the car and took off. Jennie took her time leaving, in case it was a trick. ----- The Raven was just as shed thought it would be, full of loud music and dancing people. Heavens, was that Tanaquil with the plum and black hair behind the bar? No wonder shed gotten in so well - nobody would expect a Natpacker to even *have* those clothes, much less wear them! Still, Jennie had to admit they were quite effective and she admired how well the woman was pulling this all off. It had been a bad idea, coming here alone: already shed been hit on by two suspiciously pale young men who'd seemed surprised when she didn't immediately fall into their arms. Still, they hadn't made any fuss as they moved on, so it wasn't too bad. Yet. Now there was a very friendly cat brushing up against her legs. She looked at it sadly. "Well, hi there! What are you doing in here? Oh, you're nice, but I'm allergic to you and I didn't bring any of my medicine with me tonight!" The cat, amazingly, moved on. Jennie went back to looking about. She laughed with everyone else when the music suddenly cut to a bad combination of "Yellow Submarine" and some poetry that sounded vaguely familiar. It was rather fun, watching Janette try to control her instinctive reaction to decimate the sound booth and lose. When it was all over, she just couldn't resist. She made her way through the crowd to Janette before she could make her exit and stopped her with an upraised hand, trying to keep the mischievous twinkle out of her eyes. "That was a simply *wonderful* piece of performance art, my dear!" was all she got out as Janette fumed past her. Deciding that a discreet retreat might be called for now, Jennie headed back to her room. ------------------------------------------------ Jennie jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 14:36:00 PDT From: M'lady Printcap the goddess of peripherals Subject: FKWars 2: Arrivals I'm posting for dear wonderful Sharon Scott. Karin was brought across at the end of the last war. So she is a Vampire. ________________________________________________________ Jennise and Selma landed on top of the building housing the tattered remnants of the Cousins. Using the fire escape, they moved downward to LaCroix's apartment. At his door, Jennise stopped and listened. She could hear the thumping of at least one human heart. So far so good. Forcing the doorknob, she thrust Selma into the apartment ahead of her. Margaret stood openmouthed at the sight of the two women. "So here you are, Margaret. Do you know I've been hunting for you high and low? And you've been here, all the time. Why don't you keep in touch?" Jennise was not happy. Margaret looked abashed but held her ground. "I've been helping Uncle. He *needed* me, and he didn't want his whereabouts known to just everybody." She looked at Selma, and then back at Jennise. "So why did you bring this ... Knightie ... here?" "I'm not *just everybody*, Margaret. And I brought Selma as ... well, as a peace offering to LaCroix. I thought he might be able to use her to good advantage with that herd of people over at Nick's place." "I'll be sure to tell him that. Of course, you never know about him--he may or may not choose to accept your bribe." "Margaret, Selma is *not* a bribe. I just feel kind of bad that I haven't been around to help out during the present 'difficulties.' If I hadn't been wasting my time looking for you ... " Selma was following the conversation with a look of utter confusion on her face. "I'm, I'm, a bribe? What does that mean?" "It means, dear heart, that you're LaCroix's, to do with as he pleases. He may use you as a pawn in the game against Nick. He may save you for ... later. I've given up trying to predict what he'll do. But you're his creature now. Do *not* forget that." Selma's look of confusion changed to one of fear. "Jennise, I thought you were my friend!" "Friendship means nothing when LaCroix's involved. You should know that by now." Jennise turned to Margaret and asked "Where is he? What's wrong with him? He sounded real weird on the phone." "He's out. Don't worry about him, Jennise. He'll be fine. He's not your problem." "So he's not fine now?" Margaret stuck to her guns. "I told you--he'll be fine. He accidentally ingested some poisoned blood, but he's recovering rapidly. He'll be back to normal in a few hours." Jennise stood there, undecided as to whether she should force the issue, or accept Margaret's word on his status. "Okay, Margaret, but if anything *else* happens to him ... " "It won't. I won't let it." "Karin's at the studio. She went to check on things. She'll be by after. Be careful. Don't trust anyone. This is war, remember? " "Yeah, I remember. I've been here since it started, and it has not been a barrel of laughs. But Uncle's got things under control, so fly away home." Jennise choked back her retort, spun around, and left the apartment, slamming the door as she went. As she took off into the night sky, a smile began to form on her face. "Yeah, right, he's got everything under control. Why don't I believe that?" She made a wide circle around Toronto, then headed for the Raven. "What better place to catch up on local doings." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 21:42:13 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK wars II: Jennise develops a tail Selma shook as Jennise launched out the window. "Jennise..." she cried. Margaret came up behind her. "Forget it. She's gone." Selma looked sad, but somewhat bemused. "And I was going to tell her about the cute blond guy that's been following behind us all the way from Sacramento." "What cute blond guy?" Margaret asked. "The guy in the trenchcoat." "Who?" "Nevermind." * * * Jennise looked behind her. Selma's parting shot caused her to turn around. A few hundred feet behind her was a familiar looking man. "LaCroix!" She fumed. She was being followed by that idiot that LaCroix had brought across a couple of months ago in Paris, and she wished he had stayed there. She was plenty mad. She swore as she ducked around a high-rise, hoping to lose him. ------------------- * + * . * Selma McCrory selmamc@aol.com . . * * . ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 23:49:12 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: A Proposed Excursion Monday, July 11th, 11pm Dawn (unknown to the supervisor of the building) was settling in quite nicely at the St. George. The room across the hall from Tracy's was comfortable enough to stay in for a few days. Picture the scene: The two rooms occupied were typical residence rooms, although the one Dawn was staying in, was quite a bit smaller. The two rooms formed part of a suite of four and had a shared kitchen and bathroom. The two doors were open and the occupants will start to talk to each other shortly. A bit of a comfortable disarray in both of the rooms, but really quite clean otherwise. "Tracy? I don't suppose you feel like going out tonight?" "Sigh... Dawn. I have to go to work in the morning. Where did you want to go on a Monday night?" "Well it's just occurred to me that I've never visited 'The Raven'. I've admired everyone from afar for too long. I want to express my admiration to at least one of them." "Why Janette? If I was going to meet one of them, I think it would be Nick. You know that guy has a simply gorgeous smile." "I know he does Tracy. I got a copy of the picture you shot of him. However, Nick and Schanke are quite likely to be at work, and somehow my courage isn't quite up to meeting LaCroix tonight." "That's never stopped you before. I've seen you nervous. You start to crack jokes, and barrel right through the situation." "Hmmm, there's not much I can refute about that. Would you like to come with me? I'm going to call up Kathy too. We can all dress up in some black clothes and explore the Raven." "Dawn, you don't any black clothes." "Okay, But I do own a dark gray shirt. That should count for something." "I don't have an iron you know. I somehow doubt that the bouncer is going to let you in wearing an old wrinkly gray shirt and blue jeans." "You take the fun out of life. Very well, I'll just have to borrow some of your clothes. I'm sure they appreciate nice silk shirts even if they aren't black." "You want to go?" Dawn looked at Tracy. Tracy looked at Dawn. They both stared at pictures on the wall for a brief period of time (authors note: The Clanad was playing in the background). "Let's go." "Okay, I'll call Kathy and see if she can go." "Do you think anyone will notice?" "Nah... If they do, they'll just think were Knighties, or Nat-Packers trying to spy on Janette. The place is probably swarming with them." "So which of my shirt do you want to borrow. The gorgeous dark forest green one or the dark rust coloured one?" "Considering where we're planning on going, I don't think there's any real choice in the matter." --------------------------------------------------------------- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 21:06:40 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: Ladies night at the Raven Early Tuesday July 12, 1am Despite protestations of work, Dawn had managed to drag Tracy and Kathy down to the Raven with her. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction had brought him back. Dawn had been curious for a long time. She'd seen the inside of the Raven lots of times on TV (Canadian episodes of course) but that didn't compare to the real thing. There was one rough point at the door. They were quite nicely dressed, but none of them were fit the profile of the usual Raven customer. Kathy and Tracy had managed to find some black clothes and put on the requisite heavy makeup, but Dawn had to make do with a dark red silk shirt with a matching miniskirt. Then there was the matter of makeup, or lack thereof. Dawn had left what little she had in PEI last summer, and never bothered to get any more. The pale skin fit in, but the freckles covering all visible surfaces didn't. In the end they had to sneak in while the bouncer was occupied with another group. "Come on. Lets get over to the bar." "You know Dawn, we might need our wits about us. Are you sure you want to get something to drink tonight? You don't exactly have a large capacity for alcohol." "I am leaving the Raven without ordering a glass of red wine." They ambled over to the bar. The music was loud with a strong beat and the dance floor was packed. Janette wasn't to be seen but Dawn managed to catch sight of Alma draped over a short man in the other corner. There were two bartenders behind the bar. The woman further down was dressed quite strangely (by Dawn's standards') in seventies clothing, and had purple streaks in her too-black-to-be-real hair. She appeared quite busy so they headed toward the blond man who looked a bit like a young Rutger Hauer. "Hi. What do you have?" The man looked at Dawn for a minute and then casually shrugged his shoulders. "Jeg taler ikke engelsk." "What? Hey that sounds familiar..." Tracy and Kathy were all in favor of heading down towards the other bartender. It was now clear why she appeared to be so much busier than the one they were facing. "No wait a minute, let me try something first." Dawn thought back to the language tapes she'd been putting in her walkman. "Taler De engelsk?" The bartender gave Dawn a broad smile. He'd managed to figure out what she'd tried to say, but the bad accent clearly indicated that she knew little Danish. "Nej" Tracy tugged on Dawn's shoulder. She wanted something cool to drink and standing around watching a language barrier in place wasn't fun. "Let's go." "I'm not leaving the Raven without getting a glass of red wine." Dawn straightened up and gave it her best shot. "Vi vil gerne have en flaske rod vin. That should do it." After a minute the bartender returned with red wine. Unfortunately he handed over an entire bottle. Dawn decided trying to figure out how to tell him she only wanted a glassful and paid for the entire bottle. She turned around and looked for Kathy and Tracy. They were gone. The poor lighting in the Raven didn't help her search but she finally found them talking to two elegantly dressed men on the other side of the dance floor. Their eyes seemed a bit dazed. "Kathy, Tracy? Are you going to introduce me?" Dawn had her suspicions and in the introductions that followed, she gave both of them a long handshake. She could feel the lack of warmth in their hands and had her fears confirmed when the hidden temperature detector in her palm gave her a warning tingle both times. Dawn was glad she wasn't wearing her glasses. Bad nearsightedness and astigmatism was a blessing sometimes. Combined with the poor lighting and being a bad subject for hypnosis, she managed to easily ward off any hypnotic influence they might have tried. "You know it's been very nice meeting you, but we were just planning a short visit to this nice club tonight. Checking it out as it were." Dawn grabbed sleeves and pulled them towards a booth in the back. She smiled madly at the two vampires as they left. Janette might not want vampires to actively hunt at the Raven, but accidents happen and Dawn wasn't taking any chances. The two men didn't seem too distressed. After all, the night was young. Halfway to the booth, Tracy and Kathy seemed to wake up a bit. "Hey! Weren't we over at the bar a minute ago?" "You know Kathy, maybe you shouldn't have worn your contacts tonight." They spent the next hour casually watching the other customers. Kathy didn't drink wine at all and Tracy would only drink a single glassful. Since Dawn didn't want to waste the nice wine, she ended up drinking over half the bottle." They didn't spent the entire time in the booth of course. They wandered throughout the crowd on the dance floor and had a few interesting conversations with the humans. Tracy spent an animated 10 minutes with the black and plum haired bartender discussing rings and where to get the best bargains in Toronto. Things went fine until (farsighted) Tracy spotted Janette heading toward the bar area. "I want to get her autograph..." "Dawn, don't you think it might be better to wait for another time? Like when you're sober." Dawn was in a cheerful mood, and as always when she'd had a bit too much to drink, found everything very amusing. "That'ss funny Kathy. I'm puurfectly able to go up and assk for an auto... autograph." "Let's go then." Kathy took a step back from the determined lurches of Dawn and whispered to Tracy. "Have you got protection in case things get out of hand?" Tracy whispered back, although it was doubtful that Dawn would have cared even if she could hear. "I've got an atomizer full of garlic juice. That'll stop her if I get a chance to use it." Janette didn't really pay attention to Dawn until she was quite close. In the Raven, Dawn's non-black clothes and non-tortured shoulder length straight brown hair stand out though. Janette could tell that the approaching customer had had perhaps a little much to drink and was prepared to call the bouncer if Dawn turned out to be an annoying drunkard. After all, Janette was the owner, she didn't have to put up with it. "Can I have your autograph?" Janette wasn't quite sure how to take the question, but when Dawn pulled out a pink piece of paper out of back pocket of her miniskirt she decided to humor her. "And who would you like it addressed to?" "Just Dawn would be great, you know I've always admired how you manage to take anything life throws at you and survive." "And would you be a Ravenette then?" Dawn thought about that for a minute, but then (since thinking took too much effort) she just went ahead and blurted out the first thing that popped in her head. "Actshually I've short of declared myshelf the head of the Die-Hards. Did you get the package I shent you?" (Authors note: Dawn tends to lisp a bit when she's had a bit too much to drink.) "Die-Hard? Perhaps you'd like to go in the back and we could discuss the many benefits of joining my very well dressed group?" "Oh, I couldn't. I'm a vegetarian." "And why would that stop you?" "I'd probably throw up all over you if I saw you drinking human blood, that'sh why." Janette looked at Dawn for a minute, then gestured to the bouncer. She had enough problems in her life without dealing with crazy humans. She absently tucked the pink paper in her pocket. "Get her out of here." Janette watched Dawn being led to the door. She wasn't really concerned with the encounter although a *I wonder what charter she sent me* did pop through her mind. She quickly turned to the handsome Danish man behind the counter and began an interesting conversation on the merits of back rooms and could he meet her there in half an hour. She felt like treating herself tonight, and he might be just the thing to do it. Outside the Raven: Kathy and Tracy picked up Dawn off the ground where she had sat after being left my the bouncer. Dawn was beginning to sober up when she noticed someone else approaching. "Good evening Dawn. I certainly didn't expect to see you here." Dawn looked at the woman wearing the black leather outfit and the image of a Killer Croc figure appeared prominently in her mind. "Jennise?" "Yes, it's me. I thought I'd drop by the Raven for a little refreshment. Have you thought about my offer?" Dawn had briefed both Kathy and Tracy about the vampire's offer of assistance as a Die-Hard. When her identity became clear and Dawn wasn't jumping to introduce them, they went ahead and introduced themselves. "Hello, I'm Tracy and this is Kathy. We're both Die-Hards." "It's a pleasure to meet you. Has Dawn had a bit too much to drink perhaps? She seems a bit disorientated." "She doesn't have any capacity to speak of so it doesn't take much." Tracy was measuring up Jennise. The offer of help was appreciated, but one had to be careful with vampires. You could never tell when they'd get a bit hungry and decide you looked appetizing. Jennise looked like she could control herself so Tracy relaxed a bit. "That's too bad. Perhaps we could talk more later when she's feeling a bit more coherent." "Hey! I heard that. I'm perfectly aware that my facultiesh are perhapsh a bit out of order. You're welcome to drop by the St. George anytime Jennishe." Kathy grabbed one of Dawn's arms and Tracy took the other. They both had to get to work in the morning, and it was time to draw this evening to a close. They all made the obligatory "goodnights" and parted company. ------------------------------------- --Will Dawn remember any of this in the morning? --Will Janette find the copy of the Die-Hard charter in the lost and found box? --Will that cute Danish guy end up being a late night snack? Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 16:33:00 PDT From: jennise@dgi.com Subject: FKWARS II: Jennise snips her tail (Pt. 1) ------------------------------------------------------ EXT. SKY ABOVE TORONTO - EARLY TUESDAY JULY 12 - 2:15 AM Jennise dives around the side of a sky scraper. Keeping one eye trained on the skies behind her she pulls the cellular phone from her pocket. JENNISE Karin! I need you! Meet me at the Raven. NOW! PLEASE! She replaces the phone, flies up above the building and looks around. There's no sign of the man in the trench coat. JENNISE This night is NOT turning out like I planned. She flies toward the Raven. EXT. SKIES ABOUT THE RAVEN - NIGHT Jennise chuckles as she watches a Bouncer deposit Dawn on the side walk. She looks for a hidden place to land. EXT. RAVEN - NIGHT Jennise, barely able to hide her smile, strolls toward Dawn. Kathy and Tracy struggle to get her to her feet. JENNISE Good evening, Dawn. I certainly didn't expect to see you here. DAWN Jennise? JENNISE Yes, it's me. I thought I'd drop by the Raven for a little refreshment. Have you thought about my offer? Dawn smiles up at Jennise, her eyes glaze over just a bit. TRACY Hello, I'm tracy. And this is Kathy. JENNISE Pleasure. She's wasted? TRACY She doesn't have any capacity to speak of so it doesn't take much. JENNISE Too bad. Maybe we can talk more when she's more coherent. Jennise notices the Blond in the trench coat standing at the fringe of the crowd of people waiting to get into the club. DAWN Hey! I heard that. I'm perfectly aware that my facultiesh are perhapsh a bit out of order. You're welcome to drop by the St. George anytime Jennishe. JENNISE I'll take you up on it. But meanwhile. If you need me. Here's my cellular number. Kathy takes an arm and Tracy takes the other. They lead Dawn off. Jennise enters the Raven. The Blond man follows her. -- Jennise Hall email: jennise@dgi.com jennise@netcom.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 16:36:00 PDT From: M'lady Printcap the goddess of peripherals Subject: FKWARS II: Jennise snips her tail (pt. 2/2) Jennise snips her tail (pt. 2/2) -------------------------------------------------------- INT. RAVEN - NIGHT The place is still crowded. Jennise searches for and finds Janette in the crowd. She heads toward her. During their conversation Jennise keeps searching the crowd for the Blond Man. JENNISE S'up Janette. JANETTE Bon soir. What can I do for you Jennise? JENNISE Do you have any idea where LaCroix is or how he's doing? It seems to have hit the fan while I was out of town. JANETTE LaCroix has never made a habit of clearing his plans with me. JENNISE That's right. You got your own side it this war. Janette signals toward one of her bouncers. JANETTE You're not going to force me to ask you to leave are you? JENNISE You're not going to force me to hire a hag to play you are you? Janette glares at Jennise, but signals the Bodyguard to return to his duties. JANETTE This series you're written for LaCroix is ridiculous. JENNISE Oh just wait till you see it. You come of REAL good. (she sees the Blond Man) Uh, can I use one of the back rooms? JANETTE Use the cellar. Less chance of disturbing my patrons. JENNISE You're a doll. Janette glares at Jennise as she disappears into the back of the club. The Blond man Follows. INT. RAVEN - CELLAR - NIGHT Jennise descends in to the dark room. Her eyes glow lightly, allowing her perfect vision. Just as she clears the bottom step the Blond Man steps through the door. He leaps over the stair railing and tackles Jennise. Jennise hisses as she's hit. They roll into the large cabinet. Jennise punches him several times in the kidneys. She manages to push him off her and get to her feet. She rushes in and kicks him a couple of times. He grabs her foot and pulls her off balance. She lands hard on her back. He goes for her throat. Suddenly, three pairs of hands pull him off of her. He struggles for a few moments and realizes he can't break the grip. Jennise stands and smiles at the three Musclepires holding the Blond Man. Karin steps out from behind the wine racks. JENNISE You made good time. KARIN Don't you just hate jealous older brothers? (nods toward the Musclepires) They're on loan from Janette. JENNISE And just what are you doing following me? BLOND GUY Making sure LaCroix knows what you're up to. JENNISE Does he know what you're up to? He says nothing. JENNISE Thought so. Look Pops knows exactly what I'm up to because I told him before I left. I've got too much at stake to lie to him. She opens the coffin. JENNISE (to Musclepires) Put him in here. BLOND GUY You can't do this to me! LaCroix will... The coffin lid shuts out the rest of his protestations. KARIN Thanks guys! It always helps to have big strong muskleey vampires around when you need them. JENNISE I told you to warn me before you said stuff like that. KARIN Sorry. Jennise puts a companionable arm around Karin as they follow the Musclepires up the stairs. JENNISE So did you take care of the problem at the studio? KARIN Yup. I just need to check with LaCroix and make sure he approves my decision. JENNISE Cool. I think I should make some changes to ep 8. Must give Janette a proper "thank you" for letting us use her coffin. As the door opens into the club rockin' music blares in. JENNISE After a little dancing though. -- Jennise Hall email: jennise@dgi.com jennise@netcom.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 09:19:18 CDT From: "Bonke, Robin" Subject: FKWARSII: Arriving in Toronto (Exo-WHAT?! part II) The flight, a simple straight line to Toronto, had turned into a Gordian knot no one, not even Robin wanted to untangle. It was three a.m. Tuesday morning and she was *finally* in Toronto, package, carryon, and all (except for the golf bag, which was Miami). The initial flight developed autopilot problems and was forced to land in Indianapolis. She was booked on the next flight, but actually ended up in Oklahoma City. Someone, somewhere, she thought must be very, very, surprised to be in Canada. Not that she could blame the ticket agent--who could keep it together with *that* many people looking to rebook? Never mind the poor woman, had to deal with another contingent whose plane had developed electrical problems, and was headed for, you guessed it, Oklahoma City. From there it got worse. Mechanical problems, delayed flights leading to missed connections, wrangling with airline officials about the initial mishap (she ended up paying anyway), weather delays and cancellations, and missing luggage . She hadn't brought a laptop, so contacting anyone else was out of the question. Jennie's was the only number she knew, and Robin couldn't get a hold of her. By the time she finally arrived in Toronto she hadn't slept much, hadn't eaten much, and had seen the inside of way too many airline terminals from (nearly) coast to coast. The thought of delivering the package to dear Uncle didn't much faze her any more, not even the prospect of handing it over to an Uncle who was feeling peckish. Could it be any worse than the last few days? She got her rental car, a green Nissan Sentra, and, armed with a map of the Toronto area, set out. Four hours and a six-pack of SuperJolt and large bag of Gardettos later, Robin found herself in front of a building that looked familiar. It was Nick's loft. [as anyone who's ever taken directions from me knows, this is what would have happened to them. A very tired and frazzled me who directions from myself *would* end up here--or at the Raven. If anyone wants to take up the thread of the package, feel free. If not, maybe it's new GameBoy cartridge Uncle's been dying for. Or whatever. :) ] robin bonke rbonke@usr.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- ------------[Tuesday, July 12th] --------- ------------------------------------------ Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 16:09:36 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Janette Has An Off Night [part 2/3]---------------- --Daylight. The heat was intense, the brightness burning even through eyes squeezed tight shut, the pain unbearable. Janette, barely clinging to the saddle, was stifling under the thick folds of black material. The claustrophobic longing to push the cloth away and breathe freely warred with the sickening odor of burnt flesh. Panic overwhelmed her. She opened her mouth to scream 'Nicholah!' but no sound came. Hands were fumbling with her clothing now. Pain exploded in her head as the cowl was torn away -- -- "DON'T tell my heart -- my achy breaky HEART -- you know it just wouldn't underSTAND --" The crash of the clock radio hitting an antique mirror and taking several perfume bottles with it was drowned out by an unprintable string of twelfth century French curses. WHAT in the name of all the demons in the underworld was that horrible noise? Janette was hopelessly tangled in the silk sheets, and she wasted several moments trying to free herself before she remembered to remove the black eye-mask she always wore to bed. She winced at the sight of sunlight showing through a chink in the heavy drapes -- really, those fledglings were becoming appallingly careless. She tolerated their absurdly puerile preference for sleeping in coffins or hanging upside down in closets in the wine cellar, and she turned a blind eye to their breathlessly adolescent habit of snooping around in her private sanctum in the vain hope that they might actually acquire a veneer of culture in the process, but the least they could do was avoid barging into the curtains. The vampire fumbled for the jewelled watch on the side table. The hands pointed to half past ten. Merde! She had only just got to sleep. The alarm wasn't supposed to go off until late afternoon, and it certainly wasn't supposed to sound like *that*. Switching from medieval French to a particularly colorful medley of Arabic epithets, for variety's sake, Janette picked her way delicately across the room and retrieved the offending object from a wreck of broken glass that reeked to high heaven of *Opium* and *Obsession*. She stalked to the door and threw it open. "ALMA!!!" ----- [end of part 2/3]---------------------------------------------------------- S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 18:53:26 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKWARS2: Delivery! [part 2/2]------------------------------- Delivery! Sharon Himmanen Kentucky, the home of the FoDly Pamela Rush, Tuesday, July 12 ----- Pamela had never seen so many trucks in her life--each one bearing the name of some large food distributor. The sight was enough to bring any good FoD to tears. Why, the thought of the delicacies contained within... Boy, but Schanke had really come through for them this time, she thought, picturing the darkly handsome detective fondly. When the first dozen had rolled up to her drive, she had calmly had the drivers unload the boxes and containers into one of her many underground coolers that surrounded her house. Within a few hours they were filled to bursting. But . . . something was wrong. Something was very wrong. There were more trucks, and when she looked at the packing slips brought by some of the drivers she saw that more was on its way. A lot more. More than she had freezer space for. Tears of a different sort sprang to her eyes as she ran for the phone, stumbling in and among boxes of foodstuffs that were rapidly turning soggy in her living room. "We're sorry, Detective Schanke is on stakeout and can't be reached at this time. Would you like to leave a message?" a pleasant male voice intoned in her ear as she shakily dialed Schanke's number. So she called in favors. As the trucks continued to roll endlessly up to her house, she called all her friends, she called the local charities, the hospitals, relatives, orphanages, supermarkets, bakesales, yardsales, anyone she could think of. And she watched gladly as they came and took some of the cartons. But it wasn't enough. Still the trucks came. And with the newest batch of trucks, the ones that were being unloaded onto her lawn in the hot sun, came a car. And in that car was a Heretofore Unnamed Lurking Cousin sent by Sharon H (hereafter known as HULC). He was a non-descript young man. And he had an offer--they would take and save all this valuable food. The terms were simple. Very simple. And Pamela would get a new Uncle in the bargain! [end of part 2/2]---------------------------------------------------------- Cousin Sharon o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Cousin | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 14:26:28 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FK War2: "Delivery continues" Tuesday evening, July 12: The Stone House, somewhere in KY Pamela was distraught. FoDly forces were in disarray. Truckload after truckload of good food from highly reputable comestible vendors had been delivered to the Stone House all afternoon Tuesday until Pam and John were totally OUT OF FREEZER SPACE. Food was stacked every where. Indoor cats were nibbling on torn cartons of chicken Marengo; outdoor cats swarmed around defrosting cartons of beef Stroganoff; the raccoons and foxes and 'possums that lived down the ravine out back, who usually appeared only late at night to steal cat food, were out in force in broad daylight, chewing through containers of eggplant Parmigiana and making off with whole boxes of asparagus Polonaise. Rabbits that usually nibbled on lettuces from John's garden were feasting on salads Nicoise instead. When the first truckload had unloaded its savory cargo, John had merely inquired mildly whether they were having a dinner party; when the 27th truckload had been delivered, he had asked rather pointedly where the hell all the other FoDs were and why they were not present to help sort and store. "Aren't you telepathically linked with them, or something?" he asked sarcastically. "The only thing I've had telepathic communication with recently was a plate of braised sweetbreads with Mornay sauce," Pam whined. And still the food kept coming. "No, no!" she screamed at delivery persons, "the dessert selections go in the library! Only appetizers A through L go in the sewing room!" Hours ago, John had given her one last very dirty look, made a snide comment about the foolishness of fannish activities at her age and locked himself in the master bathroom with a Black Forest cheesecake. For the first time in her entire life, Pamela did not feel like going out for lunch. When the HUNK -- no, sorry, HULC (he's not all *that* 'non-descript,' Sharon!) -- arrived in the late afternoon, he was forced to park way up on the main road, thereby getting a good view of LACROIX SUCKS still quite visibly cut into the taller grass of the long side lawn. Only a slightly raised eyebrow indicated that he had noticed the rude remark, but no doubt the message would be reported.... Couched in simple terms -- all that the frazzled Pamela could process by now -- he made his offer quite clear. The valuable foodstuffs would be saved, safely stored and cheerfully appreciated by eager, hungry people *IF* Pamela pledged herself to follow LaCroix and to concrete over the side. Although desperate, Pam was not entirely without dim hopes of finding a way out. What was it that the cute little blond kid on tv said? "Make sure there are plenty of escape routes." (1) Think, think, think! (1) Bart Simpson If Sherry were here she could take a whack at seducing the HULC. Flirtation was Sher's favorite indoor sport; but she was in Toronto. There was LaCroix's notorious lack of consideration for his henchpersons' basic needs -- the HULC was probably starving. But she noticed that his eyes did not constantly slide towards the Rum Chiffon Pie or the Watermelon Pickle Fruitcake as a FoD's would have. In fact, he seemed to be immune to the display of attractive viands: he wasn't likely to turn FoD. There must be another escape route: pledging allegiance to the Cousins' mad Uncle was unthinkable -- every one *knew* that he had no palate whatsoever. Think, think, think.... Pamela was in a real piccalilli, the kind with a little cardamon and lots of dill. (to be continued...) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 20:55:41 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK Wars 2: Clowning Around Clowning Around (Tuesday) Jennie looked at all the stuff collected in the back of her rental car and grinned. This could be a *lot* of fun. It seemed that Tanaquil and Elizabeth were doing quite well with the Raven, and Jennie did not want LaCroix and the Cousins to have too much time on their hands, so she had called Natalie to outline her plan. "Wherever did you get an idea like that?" Natalie inquired. "When I was trying to remove all that goop I put on my face to go to the Raven. Besides, I had most of the stuff for that part of the plan with me. It wont actually hurt any of them and it should wear off in about a week or so." "Well, you shouldn't go alone. Tok and Nan aren't busy, but I don't think Tok should go near the cousins just now. See if Nan can go along." "Tok could help us get set up, though. Where can I reach them?" ----- Nan and Jennie got into the car and drove carefully to Uncles address. Parking the car near the entrance, Jennie checked to make sure her nose wasn't going to fall off and the two walked as calmly as they could manage up to the apartment door, knocking loudly. "I hope this works!" Nan muttered. Jennie just nodded, not quite trusting her voice. The door was opened by a young woman, and she appeared to be alone in the room. "What..." she began, but Jennie didn't give her a chance to finish, just held the cloth over her mouth and nose until the woman stopped struggling. Carefully, she let the woman droop to the floor and stepped over her, into the room. Looking around, she started to make her way as quietly as she could to the next room. Nan made sure the outside door was closed. Jennie stopped and motioned for Nan to join her at the door. She held up the little bottle of chloroform and another rag and supplied Nan with a cloth like hers. Two voices could be heard talking from the next room. Jennie opened the door as if she belonged there and walked in, Nan following. The rooms occupants were busy with a computer and didn't look up at first. By the time they did, it was too late. Two more down. The only other occupant of the apartment proved to be asleep and was even easier to deal with. They both heaved sighs of relief when they realized Lacroix really *was* out of the apartment for the day. "Okay, Ill start on them and you go get the stuff out of the car. " Jennie took several bottles, a few paintbrushes and some magic markers out of her bag. Those dyes she had brought for the "demonstration" were going to prove useful after all. ----- Jennie and Nan surveyed the apartment with big grins. They had decorated the entire place with streamers, balloons, and other party favors, all with a circus theme. Brightly colored balloon animals perched on just about every surface. Jennie was especially proud of the bats - they were her own design. To top it all off, they had thrown several bottles of very fine-textured glitter all over the apartment. It would take years to get rid of all of that! The best, however, were the four hapless cousins. Their faces had been painted, much like Jennie and Nans were when they arrived, only *this*clown makeup was permanent dye. Of course, it would eventually wear off with time, but there was nothing they could do to remove it immediately. Nan and Jennie had done their best to make them comfortable until they woke, after all they didn't want to seriously hurt them. They even left headache remedies and glasses of water within easy reach of each one. To top it all off, they left a note near the fish: Lighten up! You all need to learn to play and stop trying to scare each other so much! Join the living, we get to have fun! They checked the four cousins again: they were just about to come to, so the two Natpackers slipped out. They chuckled gleefully as they headed into the sunset. "I don't envy them the headaches they'll have when they wake up!" Jennie grimaced. __________________________________________ Jennie jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 16:09:36 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Janette Has An Off Night [part 3/3]---------------- By the time evening came, Janette's flawless complexion looked almost haggard. The clocks, which had been hidden all over the room in ingenious places designed to take longer and longer to find, had gone off every hour on the hour. The loss of sleep was bad enough, but what really made Janette shudder was the choice of radio stations. Rap. All-talk -- she had been forced to listen to Rush Limbaugh for nearly fifteen minutes before they found that one. Country, twice. Golden oldies -- that station had been in the middle of a twelve-hour Elvis marathon. Modern rock, which wouldn't have been so bad had it not chanced to be broadcasting a live concert: the Screaming Weasels, Unplugged. But the very worst, the absolute nadir had been the seventies revival station. Janette would have infinitely preferred to continue in blissful ignorance of the Bee Gees' existence. Alma was wearing an expression of martyred innocence, which, since it happened for perhaps the first time in Alma's un-life to be genuine, would have had all the charm of novelty had Janette been in any mood to appreciate it. At some point, Janette had concluded that Alma must have developed a death wish or maybe a dangerous strain of insanity if this was her idea of a practical joke. After that, she stopped wasting her breath on the younger vampire. A few hours spent trying to get that perfume out of the carpet would cure her of a taste for practical jokes, permanently. ----- Tuesday night was half-price night, and the club was accordingly packed. Janette was looking thoroughly peevish, and Tanaquil had twice noticed other vampires backing away from Alma with an offended expression and sneezing. She did her best to look discreetly sympathetic and self-effacing. It was almost midnight and the crowd on the dance floor was well warmed up. The guy from the sound booth would be down for a refill on his coffee in -- yes -- just five minutes. Time to slip into the shadows and wait; it would only take a second to set the next phase in motion. Standing at the bar, Dave looked around impatiently. Where was the bartender? He only had a moment before the song ended and -- The music abruptly cut off. He swore and dashed up the stairs to the sound booth, only to find the door locked. The music was starting again now. At least -- "In the land Where I was born Lived a man Who sailed the sea..." That wasn't all, though. That sound was peculiarly overlaid and garbled with another sound. Dave realized, with a sinking feeling, that the two strains were coming from different speakers. Someone had fiddled with the stereo hookup. But what WAS that? It sounded nauseatingly familiar. "April is the CRUELEST month, breeding LILACS out of the dead land, MIXING Memory and DESIRE..." Somebody's poetry reading, obviously. Where had they got the narrator? The man sounded like Oscar Wilde on helium. "I *loathe* T.S. Eliot," hissed Janette at his elbow. "His poetry is bad enough, but listening to him read it is a punishment I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. What is going on here? And where is that whiny Liverpudlian singing coming from?" "And when we were CHILDREN, staying at the archduke's-" "We all live in a yellow submarine-" "My counsin's, he took me out on a SLED-" "Yellow submarine-" "And I was FRIGHTENED. He said, MARIE-" "Yellow submarine!" "Marie, hold on tight. And DOWN we went-" "Sky of blue -" "In the mountains, there you feel FREE-" "Sea of green " "Mr. Lister, the crowd is LAUGHING!" "I'm sorry, Miss De La Nuit, I don't know what's going on, the door is locked..." Tanaquil, by now safely back behind the bar, wondered how long it would take before Janette lost patience altogether and ripped the door off its hinges, witnesses or no witnesses. She rather thought the next item of the concert she'd arranged would push her over the edge. It was the Captain and Tenille singing "Muskrat Love", with Allen Ginsberg reading "Howl". ----- "Has anyone seen Goblin?" The Ravenette looked really worried. "I haven't seen her since sundown." Tanaquil made sympathetic noises and tried to look concerned. In fact, now that Janette had gone to her room to recover after one of the club-goers congratulated her enthusiastically on what he referred to as "new and daring performance art", Goblin ought to be turning up any -- The shriek of pure, unadulterated rage arrested the entire club. Janette stormed down the stairs and dropped the cat in front of Susan. It had its claws hooked firmly in Janette's best choker and was chewing on what appeared to have once been antique black lace. "I thought you said you were going to take care of this beast!" Susan wisely let her run through several European languages before she tried to placate the by now distraught vampire... ----- The last customer had departed, and the business of clean up had begun. Janette reflected that, taken all in all, she had had worse days. During the Black Death, for instance. Spike appeared at Janette's side. "Um, Janette, I found this stuck under the door, and it had your name on it, so..." "Fine, Spike. Thank you," Janette said wearily. She tore open the envelope, and stiffened as she saw that the lettering on the paper inside was of the crude type that one sees on ransom notes, cut out of newspapers and magazines. "WE kNOw wHaT YOU are DOinG," the note read. "it WON'T WorK. THERE iS No sideLINE in this WAR. how DO YOu THink NICK will REact WhEn hE FINDS OUT thaT you PLayED hiM FOR A fool? TALK to uS. mAybE WE cAn GIve YOU What You WAnt. pS hope YOU ENjoyeD yoUR evEnING :) WIth AFFecTION (to a) NeBUlous AesTHetIC TEmpEstuOUS POUTing AmbITiOUs CAlcUlaTing KITten Janette was making a sound like steam escaping from a kettle. "Kitten," she repeated in a quiet voice that had been known to frighten brave men into tears. "KITTEN??!" Alma peered over her shoulder. "I don't understand," she said in her peculiarly piercing voice. "Is it from those mean people who sent the panther?" Let us draw a merciful veil over the scene which follows... S. Tanaquil Johnson [end of part 3/3]---------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 15:02:44 EDT From: DionneEN@AOL.COM Subject: FKW2 Correction Janette stormed down the stairs and dropped the cat in front of Susan. It had its claws hooked firmly in Janette's best choker and was chewing on what appeared to have once been antique black lace, with a very fishy odor. "I thought you said you were going to take care of this beast!" Susan wisely let her run through several European languages before she tried to placate the by now distraught vampire... --- DionneEN@aol.com Dionne Empress of Cats, Die-Hard Goblin Cat ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 11:54:49 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FS WARSII: "It's Forever Dark at the Opera" Late Tuesday evening, July 12: Toronto LaCroix was accustomed to arriving rather later than was fashionably late amongst mortals; at this season he would not make his entrance until after 9:00 pm. Although other patrons might be greeted with full parking lots, closed doors and frowning ushers at this time of night, for some reason attendants tended to fall over themselves to park, greet and usher LaCroix fervently and respectfully wherever he went. Traffic was fairly light by the time the Hummvee braked in front of Roy Thompson Hall; the parking valet displayed only adolescent, sullen blankness at sight of the unusual vehicle, but LaCroix heard the subvocalized 'way cool' as she climbed into the red, leather interior. Exactly four minutes later, LaCroix was settled in a dress circle seat. Within a few more minutes, people seated two or three places on either side of him became unaccountably restless and soon slunk off towards the lobby or lounges, leaving him with plenty of elbow room. LaCroix idly scanned the rest of the audience, the sudden dimming of the house lights no impediment to *his* view. An attractive couple in front of him -- a dark and magnetic man with a blond and dazzling woman -- caught his attention momentarily because the woman appeared to be staring quizzically back at him. then his attention was drawn to the stage by the entrance of the choral group and the first strains of music. In this one thing, Nicholas was *right*: mortals could create immortal greatness in art and music. Great music -- music like this -- music that made even LaCroix feel, feel ... NAUSEOUS. *WHY* was he feeling nauseous *again*?! Maybe it was because he was listening to a perfectly appalling, fiercely shrill tenor rendition of "Indian Love Call." Oh, gods. LaCroix scrambled for the program he had ignored since the usher thrust it upon him. He expected, he hoped, he prayed a soulless prayer for the names Verdi, Puccini, Mozart, Donizetti, Rossini, Moussorgsky or Bizet to appear before his eyes. Instead, the names Friml, Lehar, Herbert, Weill, Kern, Sullivan and the ever dreaded ROMBERG jumped off the program and struck him in the face like a plateful of weinerschnitzel set before someone expecting 'canard des cerises.' The "Louisville *Light* Opera Company in concert..." It was an evening of *operetta.* "Argh." A choked exclamation escaped between the sensual lips, now twisted in a moue of disgust. Feral eyes flickered, searching for an escape route. But centuries of theatre and concert going habit was strong, strong enough to keep him politely seated until a break in the program. Finally, "Indian Love Call" crescendoed to a supersonic tenor note and faded away. LaCroix started to stand, but strains of Borodin halted him momentarily; could it be that *real* music was on the program, too? He sat down...waiting...then.... It *was* Borodin, it was fate, it was destiny, it was...kismet! Specifically, it was "Baubles, Bangles and Beads" from KISMET. Mercifully, it was short. LaCroix made the gathering motions of a person preparing to sneak out of a crowded auditorium, but the next piece began while he was still half crouched over his seat. it was "My Name is John Wellington Wells" from THE SORCERER. In keeping with the theme of the number, fx pyrotechnics and strobe lights dazzled the audience at the "sorcerer's" command. LaCroix blinked away from the ultra violet lights flashing in his eyes; neither he nor anyone else in the audience noticed a few extra glittering motes floating around him. the beautiful blond woman LaCroix had noticed before glanced casually at him again, smiled, and let her gaze sweep innocuously on across the audience as though he held no special interest for her. Even as LaCroix stood upright, the thought suddenly crossed his mind that, really, the lyrics *were* rather clever, the tune *was* spritely, the baritone really much better than the tenor had been. Perhaps he would stay...just for a few minutes. The nearly invisible particles of...pixie dust? -- organic hallucinogenic? -- radioactive dandruff? -- settled and clung to his clothes and skin and hair. The Gilbert and Sullivan medley swept on through "Three Little Maids from School" and "A Wandering Minstrel I." A Jerome Kern song or two was next; LaCroix was very moved by "Ol' Man River." The inevitable Sigmund Romberg medley followed: the "Drinking Song" from THE STUDENT PRINCE was rousing; the "Rif Song" from DESERT SONG pounded through his veins; and "Give Me Some Men Who Are Stouthearted Men" was absolutely inspiring: LaCroix was almost ready to salute and volunteer. Suddenly, a pink spot illuminated the soloist stepping forward for the next piece and LaCroix froze in surprise and shock. A petite but well-rounded redhead with a turned up nose, the woman now spotlighted on the stage reminded him of, of...something he couldn't remember, but something that was both enticing and horrifying. Something -- no! -- *someone* buried deep in his subconscious...or in his dreams. The orchestra played the introductory phrases and a full, golden, mezzo voice effortlessly filled the cavernous auditorium, endowing "Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life!" with a whole new meaning. LaCroix was enthralled. The smokey-crystal notes flowed forever and ever and then, in a single heartbeat, it was over far too soon. LaCroix barely heard the Lehar, the Weill, the Straus that followed. He searched his program for the soloist's name: Sherry Crabtree. It was unexpectedly familiar to him; his perfect memory immediately matched it to the return address on one particularly nasty, plain manilla mailer that had defiled his living room with its unwelcome and revolting contents not so long ago. She was a FoD. An unexpected development. A delightful coincidence. An unlooked for opportunity to recruit a FoD and...whatever... (to be continued...) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 17:36:37 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FK War2: It's Forever Dark at the Opera, pt. 2 Tuesday evening, July 12: Roy Thompson Hall, Toronto Sherry was again the featured singer in the last piece on the program, a heartrending performance of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes." LaCroix was content to wait a few minutes after the applause subsided to avoid the crush of overheated mortal bodies in the aisles. He allowed fantasies of the FoDly little songbird in private performances for his own personal entertainment to play through his thoughts. She would soon sing to *his* tune alone; he would kill two birds with one bite. The crowd had for the most part dispersed and LaCroix could see a small number of people going in and out through what was obviously a door to the backstage area. He headed in that direction himself with a self-satisfied smile. His preternatural hearing picked out the singer's voice from the backstage babble and guided him to a large dressing room crowded with both performers and members of their appreciative audience. Yes, the glowing red curls signaled her position even though the crowd around her towered over her petite height. As LaCroix entered the dressing room, a statuesque blond moved away from the circle, laughing and waving goodbye over her shoulder. She swept past LaCroix without a look; his attention was focused on the redheaded singer. In moments, everyone else in the room began to look at their watches and mumble goodbyes, suddenly anxious to leave. Sherry walked her guests to the door and closed it behind them. As she turned back towards the makeup table, she seemed to notice LaCroix for the first time and took a step backwards in surprise. "Oh, I didn't see you.... That is, are you looking for someone? I don't believe we've...?" "I just wanted to tell you...how very much I admired your... performance, Miss Crabtree," he said with an irresistible old-world bow. "Ms." He could say 'what?' with his eyebrows. Sherry really liked that in a man. "It's 'Ms.' Crabtree, but call me Sherry, or Sher."" "Ah, 'cher'." LaCroix would show her 'cher.' For her part, Sherry, always sentimental, was touched by such an old-fashioned pick-up line. And he had that very interesting air of a man who is accustomed to getting what ever he wants, besides being on the tall, good-looking and well-dressed side. She wondered whether the attractive stranger had had dinner yet; she never ate *during* a performance -- well, there just wasn't time -- and was ready for a late supper herself. LaCroix could be very perceptive when he wanted to be charming. "Perhaps we could go out for a...bite...to eat, ma cherie?" "That sounds like an excellent suggestion, Mr., uh, Mr...?" "Cross. But call me Frank." The frisson of excitement that swept through her was visible only in the dilation of her pupils, but that might have been caused by the prospect of supper. Still, she recognized the alias from FoDly intelligence and realized that she was facing the greatest challenge of her life right here, right now. She had not expected a FoDly presence in Toronto to draw the *personal* attention of LaCroix himself; having no particular plan for this contingency, she fell back on instinct: alarm 'em, charm 'em, and disarm 'em. "Well, Frankie, you *are* a big one," she remarked coyly, making a double-play with a sweep of her heavily made-up lashes and tossing her heavy mane of hair about coquettishly. Suddenly, the feeling of 'deja vu' that had afflicted LaCroix when he had first seen her on stage returned in spades; she was so much like.... "But that was a dream! A nightmare!" he exclaimed aloud. "What?" Sher did not appreciate his attention wandering. "You remind me of someone...but it was only a bad dream.... She wasn't real; in fact, she was only a p---" "Don't say that word!" "Oh. Right. I forgot. But she, uh, you, uh...." "You may have met my half-sister. People say we look alike, except that I have red hair and I'm taller." "Not much." "Watch it, buddy!" Amazing. *That* tone of voice was an exact match, too. "That's not possible. She wasn't real, she's merely, merely...a television character." Sherry rolled her eyes. "And people say that *I* live in a fantasy world," she commented to the ceiling. "Listen, uh, Frank, that's neither here nor now. Why don't we put our cards on the table and see how many eggs we have in our baskets? I know who you are, but I don't understand what game you think you are playing with me." LaCroix was unabashed. If she was indeed aware of his identity there was simply less tedious explanation to make and a quicker cut to the... denouement. "I can offer you many enticements," he began in a deep, mesmerizing tone. "All you have to do is relax, give in, allow me to take care of everything for you.... I can give you so much: you'll be rich, famous, an international singing sensation. If you wish, I can arrange things so that you will never grow old, never fade, never lose that glorious voice..." It was indeed an attractive offer. And Sherry was indeed tempted although more so by the prospect of long, cold winter nights of flirtation and seduction than by promises of fame and fortune. Yes, the prospect was.... Wait a minute. What about the prospect of supper? "What about supper?" "What?" "Supper. First you promise me supper; then you go off on fame and fortune and eternal youth but I still don't get any supper!" "You will certainly get something to sustain you after while, but the topic is hardly worthy of discussion in comparison to what I am offering you!" "Supper is not worthy of discussion?!" "Not in comparison to 'eternal life,' you idiot!" "THEN A POX ON ETERNAL LIFE!" She turned suddenly towards the dressing table and swept a collection of bottles and containers off it into the air. As they flew across the room and smashed into the walls or dropped like dead birds to the floor, some of them began to spew forth sparks, then gouts of coloured flames and then billowing clouds of purple smoke. Sherry's small figure was immediately lost to sight in the concealing fireworks. LaCroix could no longer sense her and realized even before the smoke cleared that he was alone in the room. Whether her disappearance was legerdemain or trompe d'oeille or stage effects, or whether some small part or even all of it could be due to real magic, LaCroix either could not or would not hazard to speculate. He only knew, as he hunted about for the Hummvee outside the concert hall -- the attendants having long since departed -- that whatever was in all that pixie dust and fire and smoke and stuff, it had completely settled his stomach for the first time in days. Pam Rush (pkrush01@ukcc.uky.edu) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 17:23:34 -0700 From: "Elizabeth L. Bales" Subject: A New Nat-Packer Enters the Fray Elizabeth smiled -- she hoped charmingly -- at the bouncer at the door and paid her cover charge. It was hard not to flinch as she entered the Raven. *I knew there was a reason I hated clubs!* she thought, reflexively covering her ears. It was nearly midnight Tuesday; she had arrived in Toronto at an ungodly hour the night before and fallen immediately into bed at her second-rate (but cheap! her subconscious insisted) hotel. She'd slept till nearly noon, and then spent the day getting oriented in Toronto. *Good thing I borrowed my SO's laptop... I don't know how I'd log in otherwise. I'd be totally at sea without the Internet.* She'd seen Tanaquil's posting, asking fellow Nat-Packers to come visit her at "work", and thought that sounded like a grand way to start off her participation in the war. She wound her way through the crowds on the dance floor. Everyone seemed miles taller than her diminutive 5'3", especially considering most of were wearing heels, while gone for comfort with her low-heeled shoes. She kept nearly bumping into folks. *Serious Goth scene in here...* she mused. *Good thing I wore black; at least I don't stick out too terribly much.* She had reached the bar by now, and eyed with some dismay the woman behind it. *She wasn't kidding about the tacky part.* The bartender, presumably Tanaquil, looked about and ducked suddenly under the counter. *Huh?* Elizabeth thought, blinking. She settled onto a stool and wished Tanaquil hadn't chosen just that moment for a trip to the ladies' room. "Hey, where's the barkeep?!" bellowed a man from just behind Elizabeth. She turned to answer, and the music cut off. Her ears rang in the sudden quiet. The man turned, cursing, and ran for a set of stairs that looked as if it went up to the sound booth. A moment later the music started up again, and Elizabeth's shoulders rose defensively. *I hate clubs... What the ?!* "In the land Where I was born Lived a man Who sailed the sea..." Elizabeth snorted. *The Beatles? This place is too Goth for the Beatles.* As a nasal voice intruded on the cheerful four-part harmony and her ears sorted the sounds, her eyes widened. *Oh my god... Someone hates Janette...* Elizabeth had turned to stare up at the sound booth; sudden motion out of the corner of her eye made her turn sharply on her stool. Tanaquil was back at her station, looking entirely too innocent. 'What'll you have?" Tanaquil called over the horrendous din. "I don't suppose you know how to make a Kermit's Left Testicle?" Elizabeth replied. Tanaquil stared at her. "A " "KERMIT'S LEFT TESTICLE!" she shouted, assuming Tanaquil hadn't been able to hear her over the noise. She noticed a couple of patrons giving her funny looks. She hadn't thought they were close enough to hear, and chalked them up as Very Special Friends of Janette's. Tanaquil grinned suddenly. "Elizabeth?" "That's me! Nice to meet you." They shook hands, wincing mutually as the Captain and Tennille began a Noise Fu match with some poet Elizabeth didn't recognize. "Well, I've never heard of Kermit's Left Testicle," said Tanaquil, "but I'll fix you something else if you like." Elizabeth laughed. "Nothing alcoholic, I'm the cheapest drunk you ever met. You got any iced tea back there?" --------------------- Elizabeth Bales Nat-Packer fatima@netcom.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- ------[Wednesday, July 13th]------- ----------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 10:17:40 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKWars2: Thicker than water Lisa paced the length of the waiting room at a deserted gate in the international departure area of Toronto airport. She was too tired to read and as usual, the seats appeared to be surplus from the Spanish Inquisition. Anyway, sleeping wasn't safe yet. She couldn't fall asleep if she kept walking. All the anti-suicide instructions were clear on that. It wouldn't hurt to close her eyes if she kept walking .... Suddenly a cold hand slammed across her mouth. Lisa was lifted off her feet by an arm thrown tightly around her body from behind. The palm of the hand cupped carefully out of range of her teeth. "I'd advise against screaming," LaCroix told her matter-of-factly. "By the time anyone came you'd be dead. And don't bother reminding me that you're poisonous. There are other ways to kill." He allowed her feet to touch the floor. "If I let you sit down, will you be quiet?" Lisa nodded, and was dragged backward to the nearest row of chairs. The hand was withdrawn. She said somewhat breathlessly, "If you were going to kill me, you wouldn't bother with theatrics. What do you want?" "Such directness!" replied the vampire. "I didn't know you *could* set a straight course. Did you think I'd let you leave Toronto without seeing you off?" "My war's over. Even you couldn't want more of it right now." Lisa folded her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling, and bit her lips. "Go ahead and cry. I give it a fortnight before the Die-Hards bore you to tears," LaCroix's response was almost genial. "Tell me, did you really think I didn't know your little research project was continuing?" "On the contrary. I figured the minute I got anywhere near something useful, you'd find an excuse to come crawling out of the woodwork." Lisa wished she weren't allergic to tobacco smoke. A cigarette would have given her something to do with her hands, not to mention the weapons possibilities of a lighter. She settled for crossing her legs. "I always thought of you as a sort of canary in the mine." LaCroix's laugh held genuine amusement. "Do you know, I never thought of that? Check, my dear." He flicked his fingers across her cheek. "But not mate. There is no return to mortality." "Well, in that case, you certainly spend a lot of time thwarting something Nick can't possibly do." "Nonsense -- I'm only trying to keep the dear boy's hopes up," LaCroix said. "As long as you keep feeding his pathetic delusions he'll put himself through more suffering than anything I could do to him. Dr. Lambert, too." Lisa allowed her eyes to close. "Come off it," she answered wearily. "I never trusted a word you said before. What makes you think I'm going to start now?" "I'd be disappointed if you did. It'd be like playing chess against myself." LaCroix reached down uninvited and possessed himself of the book from the outside pocket of Lisa's purse. "The Times Crosswords. You're stuck, I see." He indicated a blank in a half-filled puzzle. "Really, Lisa, that one's elementary. Think upside down and backwards." Lisa took the book out of his hands. "Upside down and backwards." She read the text, "Emergency reductions by a third reveal a beast." "Remember, it's a *London* crossword," LaCroix sounded like a schoolmaster. "London," she repeated. "Emergency. Oh, it's 999 in Britain, so take off a third ... 666. The number of the beast in the Book of Revelation." She rummaged for something to write with. "That one *would* be easy for you." "Here." LaCroix put a pen into Lisa's hand. Cross brand. She suspected the irony was deliberate. "Write it in before you forget." "I'll remember that one. Now, Spanish shawls in -- Damn it, you're doing it again!" Lisa thrust the pen back at him as if it were a stake. "What am I doing?" inquired her antagonist urbanely. "Luring me into playing games with you." Lisa glared at him. "I am, aren't I?" The pen was calmly replaced in the pocket from which it had come. "You're a game-player, Lisa. Nick's not. None of them are. Why cut yourself out of the greatest game of all?" "Playing Russian roulette against you?" "I prefer to think of it as three-dimensional chess. Besides, I thought you had more loyalty to Nick." "I'm dreaming this. In a few seconds I'll wake up in one of these chairs with a crick in my back." Lisa replaced the book in her handbag. LaCroix looked at her with raised eyebrows. She said impatiently. "If I'm not dreaming, you've finally driven me insane. What does loyalty to Nick have to do with this?" "You're throwing away your best chance to keep an eye on me. And what of the games? There's always the chance that you might win this time. It's only a matter of wits." LaCroix smiled again. "There's still an opening in the Cousins." "Don't you grin at me. I *meant* to poison you; I hate you!" Lisa stormed to her feet and turned her back. "Good." LaCroix nodded. "That's a step in the right direction." "Don't you remember what happened after you said that to Nick?" Lisa's scorn could have been used to clean corrosion. "Certainly, but you're not going to make that mistake." "Mistake?" Lisa frowned in genuine bewilderment. "Yes, mistake. After he went off in that huff, Nicholas never knew where I was or what I might do." LaCroix rose. "It's your move, my dear." Visions of Nick, defeated because he hadn't known what his adversary might be planning, flooded through Lisa's mind, followed by a flash of self-honesty. It wasn't for Nick that she wanted to go back. It was because she needed her fix. Her gloomy tiredness had nothing to do with blood loss. She'd been in withdrawal from the adrenaline rush she always got from challenging LaCroix. She turned to face the vampire. "All right. I'll come back. But only because I want to -- Uncle." LaCroix laughed again. "You're the only cousin who's never called me that to my face. Touche'. I suppose we are of the blood now." Lisa couldn't help giving him an evil smile in return. "And everyone knows, blood's thicker than water." ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------ Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 12:39:51 -0700 From: "Elizabeth L. Bales" Subject: FKW2: Yet Another Bad Day for Janette Wednesday morning, 12:45 a.m. Elizabeth grinned conspiratorially across the bar at Tanaquil. "I like it, by the way," she said. She paused, looking thoughtful, and an evil gleam came into her eyes. Tanaquil blinked. Elizabeth, even in the heavy eye makeup and dark plum lipstick that had helped her gain entry to the Raven, had looked so... innocuous. Kind of innocent, even. Elizabeth leaned a little closer. "I have an idea..." Tanaquil made little shushing motions and inclined her head toward another patron. Elizabeth glanced over at the man; his skin was even paler than hers, and he returned her gaze with a chill awareness that made her stomach clench nervously. His lips curved in a predatory smile. Elizabeth gulped, flashed him a nervous grin, and waved weakly before returning her attention to Tanaquil. "Uh... yeah. Listen, I don't suppose you could take a real short break just now? I have a couple of questions to ask you...." -- Wednesday morning, 8 a.m. Janette wasn't sleeping well. Her dreams were filled with horrid images of herself, trapped in a brightly lit room, with the Bee Gees and Donny Osmond blaring through hidden speakers. She moaned and twitched, but did not wake. -- Wednesday morning, 10:30 a.m. Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Janette groaned and rolled over. Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! She batted in the general direction of her bedside table. Where *was* that cursed alarm clock? Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Alarm? She didn't *use* an alarm clock. Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Janette sat straight up in bed, clawing her sleep mask away from her eyes. She looked wildly about herself, and -- The scream reverberated throughout the Raven. Curled up on the bar, Goblin raised her head, startled. "ALMAAAA!!!" Alma burst through Janette's door, eyes wide. "What? What's goin-" "GET RID OF THEM!!" Janette screamed. Alma looked about Janette's room, her face puzzled. "The KITTENS!" Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Alma finally looked down at the floor. Janette's carpet, still damp from having five bottles of cologne soaked out of it, was now covered with small white shapes. Alma blinked. Kittens? Yes, there were little toy kittens here. They waddled a few steps, sat down, and emitted piercing squeaks before rising to waddle a few more steps, sit down -- "But, Janette, they're kinda cute." Alma bent to pick one up. She cuddled it in her arms and petted it, smiling uncertainly. "This doesn't have anything to do with those mean cat people, does it?" Outside the Raven, a small flock of pigeons was startled into flight. -- Wednesday evening, just after sunset Janette hummed to herself. Finally a good day's sleep, and she had such plans for the night... She finished putting up her hair and reached for the drawer where she kept her choker collection. Eyes on her reflection in the mirror, she slid the drawer open and reached inside. Something jingled. Her eyebrows lowered in a frown. *Jingle? None of my chokers jingle.* Something felt wrong with the texture, too. She glanced over at the drawer, and her eyes widened. *Cat collars?!* She hooked one out of the drawer and stared at it. The small bell attached to it tinkled merrily. *What is Alma thinking, that she puts collars for that -- that in drawer?* She sniffed. *As if Alma thought. And where has she put my chokers?* She looked closer at the drawer's contents then, and her eyes widened again, this time in rage. She snatched another of the collars and brought it near her face, just to make sure she'd actually seen what she thought she'd seen. It was really very pretty, for a cat collar. The black leather gleamed in the light, and the little engraved silver name tag on it shone softly. Its graceful, script-style lettering read, quite clearly, "Janette". Janette began to emit sounds remarkably similar in pitch to those the ill-fated kitten toys had made. -- Outside, Elizabeth strolled down the street, whistling cheerfully. Behind her, fresh paint gleamed on the Raven's wall... NAT-PACK 2 JANETTE 0 Elizabeth Bales Nat-Pack fatima@netcom.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 11:39:23 -0230 From: "M. J. Farrell" Subject: FKWARS2: Mary Had A Little Box... Mary pulled up in front of the Raven, and got out of her car, carefully balancing a white cardboard box in one hand as she closed the car door. The bouncer at the door knew her and waved her over. She spent a few minutes talking to him, her eyebrows getting higher and higher, before entering the club. She walked up to the bar, deposited the box in front of the blond bartender, leaned across the bar and started talking rapidly to him. The other bartender, the woman in the seventies outfit, listened in vain to their conversation, but couldn't follow the rapid exchange of Danish. They were still talking when Janette came up behind her and cleared her throat. "*Where* have you been?" Mary turned around and hopped up on a bar stool. "Following your instructions, of course." She indicated the cardboard box with a jerk of her head. Janette pursed her extremely red lips, "It certainly *took* you long enough!" The lady bartender wandered aimlessly down the bar and managed to stand directly behind the two women. Mary, by now used to the haughty nature of her patroness, ignored the tone of voice and continued. "I *would* have come sooner, but that lovely little plan of ours backfired." "You mean Lisa.." "Found out I sent her the tickets. Luckily my boss barely knows how to turn on his computer, must less log on and find out about that alt.bestiality thing.." One delicate eyebrow shot up. "Pardonne?" "Uh..nevermind. I straightened it out anyway....though it delayed me acquiring this." Janette lifted the corner of the box slightly and smiled at the contents. "Tres Bonne! We have work to do, Marie. A lot has happened since you left." "Yes...", Mary winced, "I heard about the sound system thing." "Obviously, the little spies from the other faction are getting cute, n'est pas? I have no objection to their presence, one must accept that in a war of this nature..but THAT!" Janette shuddered. "NO ONE gets away with something like THAT!" The female bartender drew back at the venom in Janette's voice, and began inching back down the bar. Janette scooped up the white box and headed towards the back room. "Come, I shall brief you in here." "Just a second." Mary turned to the Danish bartender and asked him a quick question. He shrugged, and lifted the lost and found box out onto the counter. She rummaged through it, and made a satisfied noise as she withdrew a velvet choker. "Found it!" She was putting things back into the box, when her eyes fell on the title of a manuscript-looking book on top. She frowned, picked it up, and took it in the back room with her. ------------------------------ Mary, Ravenette mfarrell@admin.cabot.nf.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 18:19:25 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Home Again, Back Again, Jiggety-Jig... Wednesday evening, July 13... "Didn't I just *leave* here?" Valerie muttered. Under any other circumstances, the Toronto skyline would have been a welcome sight indeed--she had managed to fall head over heel in love with the city just after Christmas of 1989, when it was buried under slush and tinted by the rose-coloured glasses of a first-time _Phantom of the Opera_ pilgrimage. And just over a week from now, it was *exactly* where she intended to be, for Toronto Trek...always provided there was anyone left of her FK friends to meet there. Which was why she was back here now, and didn't especially want to be. And in fact she hadn't just left--she had been back in Columbus, back to her "real" responsibilities, since Sunday morning. Rollerskating 10 kilometers around downtown Columbus and especially over the old brick streets of German Village hadn't really been her first choice of activities to tackle after three days of little sleep (though the food sent by the ever-resourceful FoDs was a *godsend*--without it there would have been more warriors than Lisa passing out on Nick's floor) and her tumble down the stairs in desperate flight from an over-the-edge John. But Tara had sent out the photo-op press release Friday morning, so if Valerie didn't show up bright and early at the Human Race in pink tutu and tights the Marketing/PR Coordinator would have had her overworked little guts for garters. After that she had been in sporadic contact with Natalie and the rest of her little squad, apprehensive but unable to reasonably protest as one by one her compatriots donned war paint and prowlin' clothes to infiltrate the Raven. Jack had been duly alarmed by her squawk of "they did WHAT???!!!???" at word of the scoreboard graffiti...but maybe that was the way things needed to go at that. Finally, this afternoon, the year-end summary report numbers that had been giving her nightmares to completely bury any aftershock of nearly being baby-vampire lunch on Saturday afternoon balanced, the database was set up for the 94-95 contribution campaign so the whole mess could start all over again, and her outdoor _Henry V_ rehearsal was cancelled due to the fact that the sky was dropping alarming quantities of water on Central Ohio. So here she was, plunging back into the thick of the war...if she could find it. According to Nat, there had been various skirmishing the last few days, but no real breakthroughs, though the now-substantial contingent of NatPackers tenaciously hanging out at the Raven seemed hopeful. Valerie had considered joining them, and in her current attire of black bodysuit and colorful gypsy skirt might even manage to reasonably blend in...except that, after Friday night's outburst, she had not doubt that Janette knew *exactly* who she was. Her appearance at the Raven would only jeopardize the precarious positions of Tanaquil and the others. *If* she talked to them. She had no doubt of their ability to pretend completely cluelessness about her identity...and maybe an attempt to patch things up with Janette was exactly what was called for. Taking a deep breath, she gave herself an assessing look in a nearby shop window. After raking her baby-fine cloud of red waves into some semblance of intentional disorder (*I really need another perm but it'll get FRIED*) and deciding that her pale complexion could squeak by in spite of a faint dusting of freckles but she really needed to find and all-night drugstore and grab some liner, mascara and lipstick, she was decided. For better or worse--and she had visions of being literally bounced out on her behind, probably brought on by too much Animaniacs--it was time to return to her chosen role of diplomat. -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 20:57:02 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK Wars 2: All Dressed up and nowhere to go but down All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go but Down Wednesday night Jennie yelped as her foot slipped on the brick and caught herself with her hands, feet dangling precariously over the long drop to the ground. She mentally whimpered, trying in vain to pull herself up to where her feet could catch a hold. "You look like you need a hand," a wonderful, familiar voice said in her ear. Strong arms wrapped around her, but she had to pry her fingers off their hold, she was so panicked. She quickly clamped them around Nicks neck as he brought her safely to the ground. "Are you all right?" he asked as he set her down. When Jennie nodded, not trusting her voice, he continued. "You were taking a foolish risk for the war, weren't you?" Jennie concentrated on letting go of his neck before it became embarrassing and then tried to stop her hands from shaking so much. Finally she hid them behind her back. "I suppose so, but it was nothing unusual for me. It seems like I'm always climbing up to fairly high places, then realizing I have no idea how to get down. You should see me when I go hiking." She walked over to a sizeable garment bag which was lying in a heap on the sidewalk and picked it up. "So, what were you doing in there?" his eyes twinkled merrily. "I thought maybe Janette might have gotten tired of wearing black all the time, so I brought her something else to wear. "I'm afraid to ask. What did you bring her?" "Oh, surgical scrubs in all different colors, lab coats, things like that. I even brought a bunch of those cute little booties that go over your shoes and make you slide all over the place on smooth floors." "Those aren't _all_ of her dresses in that bag, are they?" "All but the one on her back." He just looked at her, amusement warring with exasperation in his face. "I was gonna give these to Natalie to hold on to, but if you would just agree to keep them for at least a couple of days Ill surrender them to you." He nodded. "Okay, but why did you go to such lengths for a practical joke?" "Its keeping her off balance. She hasn't even retaliated!" "You don't want to be there when she does!" "It *is* war." "Do you all *realize* what you are risking?" "Do you realize what we would be risking if we didn't stand up to bullies like LaCroix? And Janette is just as bad, with her power games. They try to control all of us, which makes it just as much our fight as yours. " Nick looked for a moment like he was about to protest, but instead he sighed and hoisted the bag over his shoulder. "Just promise not to pull anymore stunts like this, or Ill tell Natalie shed better restrain you." "I'm not planning anything more right now, and Ill be more careful in the future. Okay?" "You didn't promise." "All right, I promise!" Nick gave her a dubious look, then turned and vanished around the corner. Minutes later, Jennie saw the Caddy drive past on the street. Looking around, she spied some interesting graffiti, with a discarded spray can lying next to it. Picking up the can, she changed the number 2 to a 3. It now read: NatPack 3 Janette 0 ------------------------------------------- Jennie jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- ------[Thursday, July 14th]---------- ------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 14:37:25 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Being Accommodating Thursday - Pre Dawn BEING ACCOMMODATING They sat at the booth in the back, nursing various non-hemoglobin drinks and trying not to fall asleep, which should have been difficult, what with the loud music. But after spending most of the evening trying to scrape that Nat-Pack message off the wall outside the bar, Betsy S., Beth, and Susan were exhausted. Goblin sauntered by and gave a slight meow. Susan picked her up and the cat crawled onto her shoulders, playing with her long hair. "That," she said after a moment's pause, "was . Didn't they realize we'd have to clean that up?" "I guess they imagined Janette out there with a scrub brush," said Betsy S., looking woefully at her hands. "At least you guys missed the big clean up on Friday night. Garlic's great for removing blood stains but it's hell to clean out of your clothes. When I got back to the hotel and got into the elevator, everyone got off at the next floor. It was embarrassing." Beth let out a very weary and slightly hysterical giggle. Susan looked up, alarmed, but Beth seemed fairly sane. "Mental picture--Alma out there, with the gum scraper, the solvent and the sponge?" Beth S. smiled, then started to laugh and Susan joined in. They began upping the ante, having turned 'Alma watching' into a game over the past few days. Keeping track of Alma's eclectic wardrobe and her paramours of the hour had turned into a form of entertainment that surpassed even the best seats at the hottest Broadway play. "I'm happy to see you're enjoying yourselves," cooed Janette, as she appeared beside the table. The laughter died down quickly and she glanced at each of them in turn, but her smile seemed genuine. "That horrid sign is gone from the wall, yes?" "Once Susan found the stuff she was looking for," said Betsy S. Susan cleared her throat. "Brooklyn," she explained, caught by Janette's curious gaze. "Graffiti 101. Had the stuff shipped in by courier--works great on brick, but not so hot on elevated trains. I added a couple of gallons to your cleaning store in the basement, just in case-- " "There will be a repeat of this incident," said Janette sharply. She snapped her fingers and Goblin leapt from Susan's shoulders to the table. The cat slid gracefully over to Janette, arching against her. Almost absently, Janette reached down to tickle the cat beneath the chin. "I was wrong about that coroner's followers--they organized. dangerous." Beth sat up a little straighter in her seat and met Susan's eyes. "What are you going to do?" "Protect myself." Janette met Beth's gaze. "Where are you staying?" "Susan's hotel room." It was Susan's turn to be pinned by those blue eyes. "Is there anyone else staying with you?" "Well, Jude came in with me, but she's moved most of her stuff to the Royal York. Said something about research." Janette's eyes narrowed. "She's a 'Knightie'?" "Yes." Picking up Goblin, Janette cooed at the cat for a moment, shifting it in her arms. "Why can't you seem to bring across anything but Knighties?" she scolded. Susan's eyes widened. "Just following tradition, ma'am. You started it." Janette seemed taken aback, but then she smiled softly. "Ah, yes . . . Nicola. That's true." Then, she sighed. "The room--it has drapes, I suppose?" "Are you kidding? Industrial strength. a fridge, cable, and coffee maker." "I won't need the coffee maker, although the refrigerator will be a welcome addition." Extending her free hand in Susan's direction, Janette said, "The key?" Susan paused, momentarily baffled. But when Janette snapped her fingers, she hurriedly dug into her pants pocket and produced the key to the hotel room. Janette's carefully manicured fingers curled around the key. "You and Beth may stay here. There's a lock on my door--no one will disturb you. I'll make certain of it. play the radio--if you can one that still works. And--my apologies about the perfume. The carpet won't be replaced until next week." "Uh, sure," said Beth. It seemed enough of an answer for Janette. "Oh-- I'd forgotten. I've made appointments for you all at the salon. Full treatment. And you can choose what you'd like from the designer next door. Something appropriate for the club." She case a cold eye on Susan. "Some of you did not come at all prepared." Susan glared back. "I don't like dresses. So sue me. They always get tangled up when you're dodging out of the way of a speeding car or trying to climb over a train trestle." "The Raven does not have any train trestles, so you'll be safe enough. And I want you all in the right mood for your mission." "Mission?" squeaked Betsy S. This was news, considering that most of her time at the Raven had been concerned with items of a janitorial nature. "Um." Janette cooed to Goblin again. "I think our little visitor may be lonely. She hasn't found a rat in days. And that rabbit is just fit company for so lovely a little lady--is it my pet?" Goblin rubbed her face against Janette's cheek and Janette kissed her nose, then set her back on the table. "I want you to get me a cat." Beth was still fuming over the slight against Hazel. "A tom, I'll bet." Janette raised her eyebrows. "A male what I'd considered. Although I think our Goblin would be more interested in a playmate than a lover. And I've got just the one in mind." Betsy S. smiled. "Great. We'll drop by the pet shop and pick it up on the way back from the salon." Susan cleared her throat. "I don't think that's what Janette's planning." "You're right." She pinned Susan with her gaze. "I want you to bring me Sidney Lambert. I won't harm him," she said quickly, as the others protested. "In fact, I've got very good reason to not want a little hair on his fuzzy head harmed. Consider it . . . protective custody. LaCroix's people might very well go after him. And Nicola would be distraught if anything happened to his coroner's cat." "Forensic pathologist," said Beth. Janette glared down at her. "Pardon?" "Nat's a forensic pathologist." "Whatever." Janette shrugged, then let Goblin brush her arm with its tail. "If this helps to prevent these attacks on myself and my property . . . so be it." "But to go after the cat is just so . . . gauche," said Susan, after a pause. Janette cleared her throat. "The woman who's fondest desire is to find a copy of the old pulp 'Spicy Zeppelin Stories' is educating me on what is or is not gauche?" Then Janette shook her head. "Natalie's people escalated this. They're responsible. To attack me, my club, get darling Goblin in trouble by covering my lingerie and favorite choker with fish oil--" She shuddered, then picked up Goblin. "I leave it to you. Do it tonight, when the 'forensic pathologist' is not doubt at Nicola's loft, entertaining his harem." She glanced at Susan. "And come back with a dress. I'd hate to have to enforce the dress code among my own." There was silence for a moment as Janette whisked away. Susan put her hands on the table and leaned her head forward. "We're doomed." "You don't think we can do it?" asked Betsy S. "She we can do it," said Beth, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder comfortingly. " probably get away with it. But . . . cat-napping?" Sighing, she leaned back. "I speak from experience--having a pet stolen is fun." Susan sat back against the booth. "Well, at least staying in Janette's room will give us a chance to case the place. And if we find those letters, it'll be easier on the boss when all this hits the fan if she has something to trade." Beth cleared her throat. "I guess I'll take the floor." "Are you kidding? You think I'm going to sleep in that bed? Who knows who's been in there? Ick!" Susan sighed. "Betsy, see what you can find out about this salon business. If we don't show, Janette will have our heads. So we're going have to make a run through there and the designer dresses, give us enough time to case Janette's place, then come up with a plan for stealing the cat." Beth cleared her throat. "You know, we just go to Nick . . . ." "What'd I tell you about that Knightie stuff?" cautioned Susan. "Besides, if we do manage to find the missing letters, going to deliver them, not me. I don't want to get within ten feet of him." Betsy S. looked wounded. "Don't you like Nick?" "Oh, I like him well enough. But I keep promising to be nice to him in my fiction and . . . things never really work out that way." When the others continued to stare at her Susan said, "Two words, ladies, to close the discussion- -party favor?" Both Betsy and Beth paled visibly. "Oh, yeah," said Beth, after a pause. "I see what you mean." ---- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 19:51:06 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWAR II-- RLS Revisited Very Late Afternoon -- Thursday RLS Revisited The car Janette had rented for them was big, with enough horsepower to leave the competition at Daytona crying their eyes out in the dust. Susan and Beth sat in the car, awaiting the signal. Then they saw the black handkerchief wave from the side of the building. They had--having among them the sense God gave a duck--enough savvy to park behind the building. Betsy S. was playing forward scout, checking out the locale. A call to the Toronto Coroner's office told them that Natalie had been working day shifts, no doubt spending her evenings at Nick's place trying to keep tabs on the current hostilities. She'd be home in an hour. It was enough. Betsy, dressed in a smashing sheath number with accompanying black-beaded purse, was waiting at the front door. "Hurry," she said, in a hushed whisper. "We've got an hour," Beth answered. "We're right on schedule." Beth's choice had been a sleeveless two piece, with a matching toreador jacket. "I think she's worried about us not being dressed like working girls." "I wouldn't say 'that'," Beth chuckled. In response, Susan pulled the low neckline of the black dress she'd gotten closer together. Yes, it was long. And, yes, it had long sleeves and a high 3/4 black lace stiff collar. With her hair done up in the back, even Jude wouldn't recognize her. But that damned neckline . . . . She busied herself with the skeleton keys, quickly gaining them entrance to Natalie's apartment building. "Second floor," said Betsy, breathlessly. "Apartment 208?" "Doesn't matter," answered Beth, "It's right at the top of the stairs." She glanced over her shoulder at Susan. "You know, you didn't need to hit Henri like that." "Henry had his hands in an area marked 'invitation only,'" countered Susan. "I think it was 'Henri,' French," corrected Beth. "In a pig's eye. I haven't heard an accent that bad since 'Hogan's Heroes.'" Susan pushed the pair of them apart and leaned down to peer at the lock. "A number three," she announced, as she fished the skeleton key box out of her pocket and selected the correct key. "Well, Janette might not be happy when she sees her couturier with a black eye." "It match her wardrobe," commented Betsy. Susan waved a hand at them. "Sssh! This is tougher than hot-wiring cars, if you don't mind I'd like a little si--" There was an audible click and Susan looked up, smiling. "Well, whaddya know? It works. Good old number three." "Why don't I stay here in case he runs out," said Beth, as Susan opened the door to the apartment. "Cats have been known to do that." "Aw, you don't want Nick to know you were here," said Susan. But after grinning at Betsy, she said, "Okay, I understand. Old habits die hard." They left Beth in the hall and slipped into the apartment. Betsy muttered an "Oh my God!", while Susan's exclamation was an emphatic, "Corpus Christi!" They couldn't manage anything other than blindly shutting the door behind them until that horrible orange paint stopped strobing before their eyes. " is a color not found in nature," said Susan, appalled by the very audacity of the hue. "You'd think a woman like that would have more taste." "Well, she like Nick." "Yeah--what I said." Then Susan grinned at Betsy's questioning glance. "'S'okay, it's a joke. So you grab the cat and I grab his dish and toys--" "I don't think we have to worry," said Betsy, pointing. Sidney was sitting on the couch very properly, a small plastic bag beside him. As they approached, he leapt into Betsy's arms and gave a small yowl of welcome. "This is an unexpected development," said Susan. She picked up the bag, looked inside, then looked over at Sidney. Then looked inside the bag again. "What?' asked Betsy. "Cat toys, water bowl, traveling food dish, canned cat food- -" She looked up sympathetically, "I know, the dry stuff tastes like shit, huh?" Sidney yowled and snuggled deeper into Betsy's arms. Susan looked back into the bag. "A bow. Unopened catnip. And . . . aw, can't we leave the dead mouse at home?" Sidney yowled again and Susan sighed. "Okay. The mouse comes with." Betsy shifted the cat in her arms, then walked across the room, toward a computer with an active screensaver. "Does Natalie leave her computer on?" "She might. I know I do--saves me wearing out the damned on/off switch." Susan put the bag down on the couch and sat down before the computer. She touched the enter key to clear the screen saver. "Hello!" The message was e-mail, to Sidney. To: Sidney_L@tor.cor.go From: Alma@goddess.raven.com Subj: Visit? Would you like to come out and play? Sending over a car. Luv Goblin Cat, Ravenette Susan looked at Betsy, who was peering over her shoulder, then they both looked down at Sidney, who was cleaning his whiskers. "You sly devil," said Susan, patting him lightly on the cheek. "Bet you know all the lady cats on the net." "What'll we do about the message?" asked Betsy. Susan hit the save key and cleared the screen. "Save it, of course. Might be the only thing that'll save our asses from Nick and Nat--Sidney makes his own dates, we're just providing transport." Betsy glanced at the screen, as Susan quickly brought down the email system. "Wasn't that Alma's account?" "Yep. I've been using it while Goblin's around. Guess she figured out the password, too." When Betsy stared at her, Susan added, "Come on, it's Alma. Give you one guess." Betsy smiled. "Sex." "In one." Then Susan glanced down at Sidney. "Not in front of the cat." "Oh, he's used to it, a big boy like him, making dates over email," said Betsy, as Susan picked up the bag from the couch. "And he's living with a single woman--" "Yeah, who makes track record with men look like Olympic Gold," countered Susan. She headed for the door, Betsy behind her. "Let's see--prints on the keyboard, prints on the doorknob--the cops back home can cover that. Sometimes it helps if you happen to know who shot what printer when. They tend to run interference for anything less than a major felony." Then she snapped her fingers. "Almost forgot!" Susan reached into her pocket and withdrew the black leather collar with the nametag. She tossed it toward the couch, where it landed with unexpected accuracy. Then she looked at Sidney. "Ready to go?" He meowed and clung tightly to Betsy. Susan waited until she was out, then closed the door behind them. "Uh, Betsy? Did you know gray cat hair looks stunning on black silk?" --- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 20:50:31 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--On The Town Thursday Evening ON THE TOWN Susan sat in the passenger seat, Beth drove, and Betsy sat in the back. Sidney was strapped into a pet seat and not all that happy about the situation, but quieted down when Susan threatened to toss the dead mouse. Beth turned mint green. "I'm in a car with a dead mouse?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. "You keep a rabbit and that's a rodent, isn't it?" asked Betsy S. Beth sniffed, offended. "You're thinking of a guineas pig. Rabbits are elegant, well-bred creatures, from the family--" BZZZZZT The sound stopped Beth and she turned her eyes to the road. Susan looked over the seat at Betsy, who looked right back at her. "Saved by the Bzzzzt," said Susan, glancing down, as it sounded again. "Car phone?" "That'd be guess," countered Betsy. Susan took the top off the armrest, nearly jumping as the car phone Bzzzzted at them again. She picked up the receiver. "Yeah? Hello?" "Bonsoir." Susan looked over at Beth, eyes wide. "Hi, Janette. We've, uh, got your package. And we're bringing him back home." "What?" The voice was loud, even over the music, loud enough for Betsy to hide her eyes, Beth to wince, and Sidney to tuck his little whiskered nose inside the pet restraint belt. "But you ! There are those awful Nat-Packer people EVERYWHERE! They'll know him in an instant. You must hide him somewhere. Somewhere ." Susan glanced over the seat, at Sidney. "Well, actually, he was planning on rendezvousing with our little lady friend at the club." "Lady friend?" "Goblin's been email dating on the sly." There was a pause from the Raven side of the line and Susan heard a French phrase that would best be translated as 'you naughty kitten.' Or, it might have be, 'Oh my God, that banana's on fire.' She'd never been particularly good with languages. Betsy cleared her throat. "Why don't we have Alma meet us at the corner with Goblin? Then we'll take the kids out for a night on the town. Maybe the park. The Wharf. It's a nice night and I'd actually like to see some of the city." Susan made an 'OK' sign with her fingers. "You hear that, boss?" "Of course I did. And if you call me 'boss' again, I'll flay you alive. If it ever got out that I was arranging a dating service for cats--" "He's brought her a dead mouse," offered Susan. "Sounds like true romance to me." "A dead--" Janette cleared her throat. "Alma will meet you at the corner. And it can't take three of you to watch those cats--leave Betsy with me. I need someone to ward off these horrid friends of that coroner." "Forensic path--" began Beth, but Susan shrugged, indicating the line was dead. "Guess we stop at the corner." She turned toward Susan and grinned. "Hey, Betsy, sorry you're gonna miss the wharf and the fish market? It was your idea after all." Betsy sighed. "Maybe tomorrow night. I just hope they haven't spray-painted the wall again." Alma was standing at the corner, Goblin in her hands. It was something of a Chinese fire drill as Susan left her seat, Betsy left the rear of the car, grabbed Goblin from Alma and handed her to Susan, who proceeded to the rear of the car with the cat. After a moment of arranging seat belts, they drove away. "Where to, ma'am?" asked Beth, touching her forehead as if it were a limo driver's cap. "Dinner, first. The wharf. We'll get some fish and chips for them and us. On Janette's tab." Susan took a deep breath. "But Sidney, not a word to Nat, okay?" Sidney and Goblin were staring into one another's eyes, nose to nose, rubbing whiskers. And Susan sighed. "What?" asked Beth, grinning. "True love?" "No. Just real glad Goblin turned out to be a girl cat. Or we never would have been able to post this to FK-FIC." --------- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 21:36:31 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKW2: Natalie Has Enough Natalie Has Enough Sharon Himmanen Thursday, July 14; evening Three days. Three days of hanging around Nick's loft interspersed with a couple hours here and there to go to Nat's with a bunch of people to get some sleep. Three days and she was ready to climb the walls! She'd managed to avoid being alone with Nat for extended periods of time, but that hadn't stopped Nat from dropping a few hints about having "a long talk" sometime soon. There was no doubt--Natalie knew. Or at least strongly suspected. And although the demands on her time from the others was almost overwhelming, Sharon was aware that Nat watched her as closely as possible. Not that she had had anything to do. She hadn't had an opportunity to get in touch with LaCroix, which suited her just fine. She was ready to jump ship again and head back into familiar, and admittedly better-suited waters. The story she'd concocted should cover her ass pretty well, although her conscience kept reminding her that she owed everyone the truth. She should never have allowed LaCroix to talk her into switching sides, she thought to herself. It was definitely time . . . But the image of John Dencoff standing in Nick's living room drinking a bottle of blood just wouldn't go away. And neither would the sight of Lisa McDavid collapsed on Nick's couch, the holes in her throat standing out for everyone to see. Her attention was drawn back to the present as Natalie slammed angrily into the loft and stalked up to Nick. "I've had enough!" she exclaimed. "What's happened?" Nick asked, placing his hands on her shoulders. She shook him off. "Somebody took Sydney!" "What?" Sharon asked. "Somebody broke into my house and took Sydney!" "Could it have something to do with graffiti, cat toys, alarms, Beatles music and poetry?" someone asked, and got a withering stare from Natalie. "I thought you told Tanaquil to just *spy*!" Natalie exclaimed, turning to Valerie.. "I *did*." Nat nodded. "We've got to do something. Maybe if we go over to the Raven, *maybe* this situation can be salvaged." Nick shook his head. "With three attacks on her club Janette is most likely beyond reason at this point," Nick said. He'd been slipping off at regular intervals to drink the blood Janette had brought and looking much better for it. "Well then, what if *you* went and talked to her?" Sharon asked. Nick shook his head. "I doubt she'd tell me anything at this point either," he said. "No, she's just taken out insurance. Sydney will be fine." "It's worth a shot, though," Nat said, looking at him expectantly. "If somebody *did* disturb her beauty sleep, I'm the *last* person she'll want to see," he said with an amused smile on his face. Natalie glared at him for a second. "All right, that's it!" she said. "It's time to end this thing now!" She turned to Sharon. "You supposedly had a meeting with LaCroix, right?" "Well yes, but--" "So you know where he is, right?" "No," Nick interrupted, his voice low. "Out of the question. You don't know what you're dealing with." Nat nodded. "Of course we don't have the foggiest idea *what* we're dealing with because we've been sitting around this loft for days twiddling our thumbs!" The volume of her voice rose as she finished the sentence. "Now if you want to continue to *do* that, be my guest. *I'm* going to get to the bottom of this! With or without *your* help!" She moved to the center of the room where some of her followers were gathered. "Someone get hold of Tanaquil and any other NatPacker planning to go to the Raven and tell them *not* to attack Janette anymore. They're there to *spy*, OK? Then she whirled and stabbed her finger in the air just in front of Sharon's nose. "You! In the kitchen! Now!" (to be continued . . .) ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 09:00:55 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKW2: Plans Nat stormed into the kitchen. Sharon easily stood a full head taller than Nat, but she looked positively meek as she trailed behind. Once in semi-private, Nat didn't beat around the bush. "You *really* switched sides, didn't you?" Natalie hissed, cornering Sharon near the cupboards. Sharon averted her gaze and simply nodded. In a way it was a relief to finally have it out in the open. "And you've been here spying all this time?" Again she nodded, and snuck a quick glance at Natalie. They were both silent for several seconds, and Sharon watched the anger drain from Nat's face and body. "Why?" Nat asked. "What could he possibly have said to you that convinced you?" Her voice was softer now, bewildered. Sharon let out a quivering sigh. This was still going to be hard, even though the truth was now out. She had to make a concerted effort to keep her voice steady. "I don't really know myself," she said. "I'd *thought* about it--during the last war . . . I don't know . . . The truth is, he didn't really have to try very hard." She looked down at her shoes and felt the heat creep up her neck and flood her face. "Under normal circumstances I'd bolt completely in the opposite direction, just out of spite, you know, but . . .he really believes that Nick betrayed him. There was real pain." Nat sighed. "I don't doubt that for a moment," she said. "What else did he say?" "A lot of stuff about truth, and lies, about how both you and Nick lie to yourselves and to each other." Nat's eyes widened at that. "There's a fine line between self-delusion and hope," she said. "Maybe LaCroix realizes that . . . and maybe he doesn't." Nat looked at her, eyes full of concern for several moments. "So, what happens now?" Sharon looked at her in amazement. "Isn't it obvious? I leave the loft and find LaCroix. I can't stay here now." Nat seemed slightly taken aback by that. "You still want to follow him?" Looking quickly away, Sharon tried to clear her throat but found that it was too dry. "I don't really have a choice, do I?" "Who says?" Her voice was small and tight. "Maybe we should ask John Dencoff." Nat shook her head vigorously. "That won't happen to you. I won't let it." When Sharon looked doubtful she added "He let Valerie go. He doesn't *want* followers who aren't totally committed to him." "What about Nick?" "That's a different situation entirely," she said firmly. Sharon nodded in agreement. "And what about you and the others?" "What about us?" "He said--he said you'd never trust me again. I mean, how could you?" "He was wrong about that. I *do* trust you. I trusted you to tell me about your defection in your own way, your own time. That's right," she said nodding at Sharon's quick look. "Your story was good. But I knew something was up. Slipping out, then sneaking back in on Sunday didn't help, either." She smiled, then just as quickly turned serious again. "I trust you to make the right decision now." "There's one more thing," Sharon said, taking a deep breath. She might as well get it all off her chest. "He wanted me to destroy the copy of the Abarat if it was still intact." "I suspected that too. Would you have?" Sharon looked directly in her eyes and shook her head. "No." Natalie smiled. "So, your decision?" She was still a little fearful of the consequences, but she nodded. "I'd like to switch sides. Again." "Maybe you could try the Ravenettes this time," Nat suggested, then tapped her on the arm teasingly at Sharon's stricken look. "I'm kidding! As far as I'm concerned you never left. You just got . . . sidetracked. But now, is there anything you *haven't* told us about LaCroix?" "Well, you were right. I can get in touch with him. Presumably he's wandering about. He's got the apartment that Ivy staked out and I'm sure he's got an additional bolt hole or two. Oh, and he has the mail. When he sent me here, he told me to wait for him to arrive. He said he was going to deliver it himself." "Right," Nat said. She turned to the living room. People readjusted their postures quickly, trying to look nonchalant but it was obvious that everyone had been trying to listen in on their conversation. She turned back and grabbed Sharon's hand. "Come on!" "Where?" "I have an idea!" She led the way back into the living room and swept past Nick, heading toward the elevator with Sharon in tow. "Nat?" Nick asked, moving to follow them. He'd heard every word. At the lift door Nat spun back toward him. "Don't you have guests to entertain or something?" She smiled sweetly at him, then pushed Sharon back into the elevator. "What are you--" "Girl talk!" Nat said, slamming the lift door in his face and hitting the button. "He's going to follow us," Sharon observed. "Good! That's what I want. Oh, damn!" "What?" "I should have collected Valerie. I want her in on this too. But we can't go back up. I'll call her later and have her meet us." Sharon looked at Nat suspiciously. "What *are* you up to?" By this time they'd reached the street and headed out to Nat's car. "I want you to arrange a face to face between me and LaCroix," she said matter-of-factly. This was enough to stop Sharon in her tracks. "You want me to *what*?" "Get in. You heard me." "Nat--" Sharon started to protest sinking weakly into the seat. "And you're going to be my back up. Three years of studying vampires hasn't left me unprepared. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. But hopefully that won't be necessary." "Nat--" Sharon said again, her voice high-pitched and full of panic. At the wheel, Nat turned to her. "We're going to make all the arrangement. *Then* we're going to make sure Nick finds out about it. He's bound to step in to protect us. We have to set it in motion on our own. If we tried to do this with Nick he'd waste all sorts of time forbidding us to go and trying to talk us out of it. Believe me, I know!" She started the car. "Maybe if I can get the two of them *talking* to one another we can figure out just what the hell is going on!" Sharon knew there was no convincing Nat. And in a way she agreed with her. So far Nick had been totally ineffectual during this conflict and he was really the one who needed to step in and take charge of things. But another thought occurred to her and she turned to Nat. "You trust me this much? Knowing I was working for LaCroix and allowing me to lead you into a face-to-face with him?" Natalie nodded. "I trust you." Sharon sighed and settled back in her seat. She wouldn't let Natalie down again. (to be continued) ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 22:40:03 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWar2: Casting Call Thursday evening The assemblage watched from various sidelong angles as Nat stalked into the kitchen, trailed by a rather sheepish-looking Sharon. Valerie must h looked pretty sheepish herself, because Nick shook his head and reassured her, "She knows you can't really control what people get up to, and you shouldn't try." "I know. But to be perfectly honest, once I got over being loudly flabbergasted, I had to admit I kinda liked their style. I would have told them so last night, but i didn't want to blow their cover." Nick sighed. "I'm just glad you didn't tell Janette." "Not that it did any good," Valerie replied. "I didn't even rate a full sentence. 'You. Out. Now.' I didn't think she ever talked like that..." "You'd be surprised." Valerie chuckled. "Oh, colorful archaic curses wouldn't have surprised me a bit. But I'm afraid she's beyond that stage. I think my attempt at parley was too little, too late." "A lot too late," Nick agreed. "Even if you're not the leader per se, you're pretty vocal, so all that stuff pretty much got pinned on you the second you showed your face." "A wasted effort. But then, I've been making a lot of those." Valerie frowned, running a hand back through her hair. "All I've done is run my mouth and get a lot of really unconstructive attention." "Hey, you helped Scottie," Nick pointed out. "Hooray, hurrah," came the flat reply. "*Anyone* could have done that." Valerie shook her head abruptly, trying to dispel the lead-grey mood. "Listen, I'm going to take a walk around the block, clear my head. I can at least get back into my Pollyanna routine and play cheerleader for the *effective* people." Frowning, Nick suggested, "How about a walk around the roof? War is one thing, but I don't want to find you in my caseload either. There's still plenty of ordinary danger out there, and wandering around this neighborhood in the middle of the night isn't smart." "The roof it is," Valerie agreed. "Maybe a good look at the stars is what I need." "Okay. How 'bout I come check on you in a little while...or maybe send Nat?" Offering a crooked smile and a shrug in reply, Valerie slipped off to what seemed to have become the retreat of choice. But the stars held little inspiration tonight, though they seemed surprisingly bright for being seen from a city of this size. Learning what they were made of, how they worked, even that the light she was now seeing could have originated long before even LaCroix's existence, had never diminished the magic of those points of light--if anything, it enhanced it. Her firm belief--an odd one, perhaps, for one who agreed with Natalie on so many things; or maybe not so odd--that magic and science were anything but incompatible was of little comfort tonight, when neither seemed to hold any answers. It was one of those rare occasions in a world she still stubbornly reserved her right to wonder at, a night when the stars were just stars. "I see an artist looking for inspiration." The quiet voice startled her, something very seldom accomplished by anyone mortal, certainly not when all her senses were straining to catch any clues that might be held in a passing breeze or stray sound. Valerie turned to face a poised black woman who seemed to have materialized out of the shadows, and an elusive spark in the stranger's eyes told her it was indeed no mortal who had caught her unawares. She had already been ambushed by one vampire this week, and she didn't like it. "What do you want?" she asked cautiously. She considered edging toward the door, then thought better of it. There was no way she could outrun a vampire, so she might as well stand her ground. "You haven't lost your Cousin composure, I see, even though you're fool enough to follow *her*." The woman took a deliberate step forward, but Valerie forced herself to keep still, lifting her chin a little higher. "I'm here to make you an offer, one that should suit you quite well." "Offers from 'Uncle'?" Valerie inquired sweetly, silently thanking God and every saint she had ever heard of that her voice remained steady. "You people *are* behind. I defected *months* ago. And I've had *no* regrets." The stranger merely smiled. "The offer isn't from Uncle. It's from me. I operate under my own power...and I'm in a position to give you something you've worked long and hard to achieve." A nasty suspicion was forming in Valerie's mind. "And what might that be?" "Your big break, of course." "I don't follow you." "But you will." The additional implication of the statement was clear. "How would you like a featured role in the *real* second season?" Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. She had heard whisperings of... "Jennise." "Bright girl." The vampire smiled brilliantly, white teeth against dark skin in the darkness. She looked like the Martino painting of Poe's Berenice, a prime example of the sinister beauty popular in turn-of-the-century art and an image that gave Valerie the distinct impression that someone had just injected liquid nitrogen into her spinal column. "I have just the place for your talents." "I don't think so." "Wait, you haven't heard the whole deal!" It was probably pointless to keep up her veneer of cool for a vampire who could hear her heart leap into her throat, but Valerie did it anyway. "Oh? And what deal is that?" "You come to the set with me now, and you still might get a chance to salvage your relations with Janette. The boss *does* like it when his children get along, after all. If not...well, it would be a simple matter to trace the garlic incident back to you." "I had nothing to do with that! We still don't know *who* was behind that!" Jennise chuckled softly. "Of course not. But Janette doesn't know that. And right now it wouldn't be at all difficult to lead her to the conclusion that you were behind it...on the orders of the good doctor, no doubt." "She knows Natalie better than that," Valerie insisted. "Does she? I understand she was witness to a rather vehement call to arms. And at the moment I really don't think she's going to think it through too carefully. I expect she'd find out she'd been had eventually, but not before ming sure you and your little group suffer for it. Not to mention your precious patron." Valerie bit her lip. She could still scream and run--she'd never get past Jennise on her own, but especially after Saturday she knew she could count on the Banshee Special to bring Nick in an eyeblink. But what Jennise threatened would have far wider repercussions than just her own physical danger. Implicating Nat in last week's vicious terrorist attack on the Raven, even if Janette later found out the accusation was false, could shatter relations among the factions irreparably. Worse, it could lead her to make a move against Nat herself, destroying the precarious balance of relationships among the key players. And after all, it was only a TV show, even if it was LaCroix's twisted vision giving it shape. How bad could it be? "Okay," Valerie conceded at last. "On one condition: as soon as possible I get to assure everyone that I'm all right." "Of course you're all right," Jennise agreed, flashing the creepy smile again. "If you behave, you'll even get top guest billing." Before she even took another breath Valerie knew she was going to regret this. -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 17:18:13 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Nick Confronts LaCroix July 14, 1994, evening Nick looked out the window at Nat and Sharon and listened to their conversation. He visibly paled as he heard Nat's plans. She mustn't go to see LaCroix! He had to stop her before she got into more trouble! He glanced around the room briefly, then headed up to the roof. He'd tell Valerie to keep the rest of the people comfortable until he returned. But Valerie wasn't there! He looked around the empty rooftop. He'd warned her about the streets at night, so he doubted she would have gone down the fire escape. 'LaCroix!' he thought, fuming. Now it was even _more_ imperative that he get to him. He launched himself into the air. In minutes, Nick stood outside LaCroix's apartment building. A short elevator ride and he stood before LaCroix's door. He didn't bother to knock, just turned the handle of the locked door. A few mortals looked up when he entered, one young woman coming toward him. Nick grabbed her by the front of her shirt neckline and hissed, eyes gold and fangs bared, "Natalie Lambert and Sharon Himmanen are on their way here. You're _not_ to let them in and if you (he looked at the others)--any of you--harms either one of them, you'll answer to me, do you understand? Now, where is LaCroix?" "Why, Nicholas, how impolite! You didn't even bother to knock." LaCroix was smiling slightly. Nick let go of the mortal servant of LaCroix and said, "Where's Valerie Meachum?" "Valerie Meachum?" asked LaCroix, bewildered. "I've no idea." "Don't lie to me, LaCroix. If you've harmed her--" LaCroix became serious. "I have no idea where this--Valerie is. What are _you_ doing here? Besides being your usual chivalrous self when it comes to your coroner and her mortal friends." "I came to talk to you. I should have a long time ago." LaCroix lifted an eyebrow and looked Nick over. "Yes, you should have." "I want your assurances that your 'followers' won't let Nat and Sharon in here or harm them in any way." "A truce of sorts, you mean. Very well." He looked at the three people in the room. "Do as he says. And, really Nicholas, there is no need to continue that vampire fierceness of yours. Come, we'll talk." He indicated another door in the room. "On the roof," said Nick. LaCroix sighed. "If you wish." The two vampires took off out the window and soon were on the roof of the building. Nick had suppressed the vampire in himself, although he was still angry. LaCroix had a _lot_ to answer for. "I don't know why you insisted we come up here," said LaCroix, running a finger in the dust of an air conditioning master unit cover. "It's being bugged." "By the woman in the apartment beneath mine, do you mean? That's of no concern to me. I have--other homes in the city. Although I must say, Nicholas, you have fared better in this conflict than I have. Your people have given me quite a few irritations--damaging my credit, my finances, tampering with my radio station. I was rather surprised you condoned such activity, or did you order it?" "I ordered nothing of the sort. Whatever was done--people did it on their own." "While you stayed bravely home to protect the mortals in your care." "There was a reason, after what you did to John Dencoff." "Yes, I heard about that. I suppose it will do me no good to tell you his becoming a vampire was not my intention." He paused, but Nick simply glared at him. Then Nick said, "And what about Lisa McDavid?" "Lisa and I--had a disagreement. That is solved now." "If you've harmed Lisa--" "Relax, Nicholas. Lisa is back home in South Carolina. Contact her if you don't believe me." He walked away a few steps. "Did you come here merely to chide me for my treatment of my followers?" "Bringing John across--" "He betrayed me!" LaCroix lashed out. Then he calmed and said, "You know how I hate betrayal. And as I've said already, my intention was only to punish him--_not_ bring him across. Really, Nicholas, I do not want unwilling followers...in most cases." "This has to end--now." "And what do you suggest we do to end this? As I recall, it was _your_ hoarding of _my_ mail that started these conflicts in the first place. Although if Janette had not called me with the information that you had my mail--" Nick frowned. "Wait a minute! Janette called _you_ and told you I had the mail? That's not what she told me." LaCroix lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "Really? It appears that our dear sweet Janette has been playing us both for fools. I wonder why?" He paused and added, "Perhaps that is the reason Natalie's followers have been hounding her lately? I must say, I am impressed by that group's mobilization." "Nat's working on stopping that. I want the mail back." "My, Nicholas, you _are_ being abrupt tonight. Having all those mortals hanging around your place has worn you to a frazzle, I believe. Actually, I expected you here sooner than this--after the Enforcer took John away." "This is getting us nowhere. What do you want in return for the mail?" "I'm not sure." "Look, I'll admit I was wrong to keep your mail from you." "Truer words could not be spoken. Although I believe I understand your reasoning." "But you've no reason to keep the other groups' mail. That is just as wrong as what I did." "You're right. But then, I have no scruples like you do." "What good is it to you? You just said you don't want unwilling followers." "That is true. But you never know who can be--persuaded." "Come on, LaCroix. You've had the mail long enough to have gotten all the information you wanted from it. You need to give it back." "And what of the future?" "One of the Die-Hards had a suggestion about that. He said we should all set up our own mail drops rather than use a central location." "A capital idea!" said LaCroix. "Very well, Nicholas. I'll return the mail. But it is in another location. I will collect it and get in contact with you regarding a time to return it, with perhaps some conditions." "Such as?" "I will inform you of that when I contact you again. Janette will have to be involved too, don't you agree?" Nick thought about Janette for a minute. "Yes," he said. "Then go back to your mortal friends. Tell them--you've arranged a cease fire." "All right. But I warn you, LaCroix, if this is some sort of trick--" "It's no trick. This 'War' has almost ceased to be amusing." "Nat and Sharon--" "They won't be allowed to see me." Nick still wasn't sure if he could trust LaCroix and resolved to find Nat and Sharon himself. "All right. I'll be waiting to hear from you." The two vampires flew back down to LaCroix's apartment. "Ms. Lambert and Ms. Himmanen. Were they here?" asked LaCroix upon entering the living room. "No." "Well, Nicholas, perhaps you'll be able to find them before they get here." He walked to the other door in the room and disappeared into it. Nick looked briefly at the mortals in the room, then left in search of Nat and Sharon. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 23:39:51 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Nick Corners the Conspirators? July 14, 1994, evening Nick left LaCroix's apartment and headed for the elevator. Maybe Nat and Sharon were on the way up. The elevator was empty. And Nick saw no sign of Nat's car outside the building. Where could they be? He'd been sure Nat had gone off half-cocked--losing Sidney had really gotten her angry. They'd had time to get here. So where were they? Nick took to the air and flew around a while, but didn't see Nat's car anywhere. He decided finally to go back to the loft and see if they were there. Maybe her normal good sense had triumphed after all. Her car wasn't outside the loft, but Nick decided to go in and see if anyone else might know where Nat was. He took the elevator up and, spying Sharon Scott in the kitchen, walked over to her and said, "Have you seen or heard from Nat or Sharon?" "No. Why?" Nick sighed in exasperation. "I thought they both were planning some fool idea of going to see LaCroix. But apparently that's not where they went." "Did _you_ see LaCroix?" Nick ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah." "So what happened?" asked Scottie, her expression excited and concerned at the same time. "We talked. He's agreed to return the mail, with conditions. He wouldn't say _what_ conditions. He wants to call a cease fire for now and said he'll be in contact about a meeting to, I hope, settle all this once and for all." "Do you trust him?" "Well, _trusting_ LaCroix is never wise. But I think he's getting as tired of the conflicts as we are." "What about Janette?" "He wants her to be there too." He thought of Janette's lies to him and added grimly, "And so do I." Then he paused and added, "But we've got another problem." "What?" asked Scottie. "Valerie's disappeared." "What? How--" "I don't know. She went up to the roof for air but she wasn't up there when I left. Unless?" he added hopefully. "I haven't seen her. What do you suppose has happened to her?" "Well, LaCroix seemed to be--surprised at her disappearance so I don't think he has anything to do with it. Considering how much the Nat Pack has been harassing Janette lately though, it's possible--" "That Janette kidnapped Valerie?" asked Scottie, alarmed. "It's possible. I'll check it out. I wish I knew where Nat and Sharon went. LaCroix promised he wouldn't see them if they came by, but--" "I doubt they would do that, not since Sharon's defected back to the Nat Pack." "You may be right." But he was worried about them anyway--and about Valerie, too. Scottie put a hand on his arm. "I'll make a few phone calls--see if I can track them down. And I'll make sure they stay if they come back here." Nick put his hand over hers briefly and smiled slightly. "Thanks. I'll be back as soon as I can." Then he flew off to the Raven. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 04:23:20 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: The Die-Hards try to get everyone together... Thursday July 14th evening. Scene: Dawn's at the St. George trying to get caught up on her reading. Tracy has gone on vacation to New Brunswick and Dawn hasn't heard from Kathy for a couple of days. Lisa has decided to go back home so there's no one currently staying at the St. George except for Dawn. Rrring! Rrring! (click) "Hello?" "Dawn? It's Jennise. Do you remember seeing me Monday night?" "Of course I do. I wasn't drunk. Just a bit tipsy." "Un-huh. Sure. Anyway even though I do admit to following LaCroix's orders now and then, I still consider myself a Die-Hard." "Do you feel mediating tendencies coming on, or do you want to stir things up?" "Maybe a bit of both. They'll be shooting a scene from episode seventeen of version of Forever Knight on Sunday evening." "Sounds like fun. Do you think I could come and watch?" "Actually I was thinking you could invite everyone over. Get everyone at the same place at the same time. If we can't settle this, then maybe open fighting will finally occur, and that'll decimate the ranks a bit." "You sound a bit bloodthirsty. Have you had anything to drink tonight?" "It's warming up in the microwave right now." "Oh...okay." Despite what Dawn had said (in a state) to Janette at the Raven Monday night, she wasn't really squeamish. Whatever people wanted to eat was their business. Of course that was only if they didn't try to enforce their eating preferences on you. "Do you want the location then?" "What the hell. We've got to get together somehow, and I don't see anyone else phoning up a church hall to book a meeting. I was thinking of inviting everyone to the St.George residence, but the very large painted cross at the entrance might be uncomfortable." "Why do you think I phoned instead of popping over. You have to stand right under the bloody thing to phone up to your room. Anyway here's the location shoot. People will be setting up and practicing late Sunday afternoon, but they won't be shooting for real until the sun goes down." "Having the sun shine down on the characters be out of sync with the show." "Exactly. So it'll be at..." ----------------------------------------------------------- Friday am: All over Toronto, small printed invitations were shoved under doors, into mailboxes, tacked to bulletin boards, dropped on work tables etc. The message was short and succinct. The Die-Hard's were inviting everyone to meet on Sunday evening. Nothing on the message indicated why that location and time had been picked. Everyone would have to go to find out. :) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 00:52:28 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Searching for Valerie July 14, 1994, evening Nick entered the Raven. He spied Janette by the bar and stalked over to her, thoughts grim. She noticed him approaching and picked up her drink. "I want to talk to you," he said. Janette set down her drink and smiled up at him. "Go ahead, Nicolah." "In private." Janette dropped her gaze for a moment, then her eyes came back up to his eyes again. "I--prefer to speak here," she said sweetly. "All right. Where's Valerie Meachum?" Janette's cool composure dropped some. "Valerie Meachum?" She frowned in thought for a moment. "Oh, that irritating redhead friend of Natalie Lambert's?" "Where is she?" Nick said in a low, angry tone. "What have you done with her?" "Done with her!" exclaimed Janette. "I've done _nothing_ with her!" She hesitated, then added, "Except ask her to leave my club the other night. I haven't seen her since." "Are you sure she isn't keeping _Sidney_ company?" "What do you take me for, Nicolah?" she said. She lit a cigarette and blew smoke at him. Nick grabbed her arm. "You'd better not be _lying_ to me on this, Janette." "I don't know where she is. Honestly." One of Janette's vampire bouncers was edging up to them. Nick glared once more at Janette, then released her. There were things he'd say to Janette--but not now. He had to find Valerie. He turned and stalked out of the club. Nick wasn't sure he could trust Janette's word any more. She didn't _seem_ to be lying, but-- And if he found out she _was_ lying about Valerie... He decided to go back to the loft and see if anything had happened there. When he entered the loft, Scottie said she hadn't been able to trace down Nat and Sharon yet, nor had she heard from them. "What about Valerie?" he asked. "Haven't heard anything from her either. She wasn't with Janette?" Nick sat down in a leather chair. "Janette _says_ not, but I'm not sure." Scottie came over to the couch and sat down. "I'm sure they're all all right." Nick smiled slightly at her. He knew Scottie was trying to be comforting, but this was no longer a game. Not after what had happened to John Dencoff and Lisa McDavid. "I'm--going back out--to search. I'll check back from time to time, though." And soon he was airborne--again. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- ------[Friday July 15th]---------- ---------------------------------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 01:47:26 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--The Early Call July 15, 1994, dawn Nick returned to the loft. It would soon be sunrise and there was nothing more he could do. He'd been in and out of the loft all night. There had still been no word from Nat or Sharon _or_ Valerie. He let Scottie convince him to drink a bottle of blood. Most of the other people who'd been at the loft had left, but he took the bottle upstairs to his bedroom anyway. He was very tired and very worried. What could have happened to Nat? And Sharon and Valerie? The blood revived him some, but he was weary to the bone. He wanted to sleep, but knew he couldn't. He wondered what to do. Finally he went back downstairs. "Any word?" he asked. Scottie turned a pale and weary face to him and shook her head. He walked over to her. "Did you get any rest last night?" "Some," she said. He put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Get some more. Use my room. I--won't be needing it." Scottie smiled slightly at him. Then she nodded and walked slowly upstairs. Nick sat on the couch and looked at the phone. He tried Nat's number, but there was no answer. A little after 9:00 a.m., he called the coroner's office. Grace answered the phone. "Hi, Grace. It's Detective Knight. Is Nat around?" "Goodness, Detective. Why aren't you in bed? Is it an important case?" "No. I'd just like to speak to Nat." "Well, she's--" Grace stopped speaking, and he heard her muffled voice say, "Yes, it's Detective Knight. For you." "Tell him I'm busy." There was a pause. "Do it, Grace." "Okay," said Grace's muffled tones. Then she said to him, "Natalie's busy right now. Would you like to leave a message?" Nick thought for a moment. Nat didn't want to speak to him. Well, at least he knew she was safe. And if Nat was safe, Sharon probably was too. "--No. No, I'll talk to her later," said Nick. He hung up the phone. He was glad Nat and Sharon were safe. But Valerie was still missing. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 14:01:12 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Room Service Friday -- Early Morning Room Service "Cat's don't like brie," said Susan, as Sidney sniffed delicately at the air. "I have it on good authority." It was only when Goblin meowed her assent that Sidney's manners kicked in and he deferred to the tastes of the lady, returning to his plate of sardines. Goblin had delicately worked her way through a peeled shrimp cocktail and was now engaged in a serious bout with a bowl of cream. Beth was sitting on the other bed in the hotel room, lazily dangling bits of lettuce and greenery in front of Hazel. "The room is starting to smell fishy." "The whole thing's fishy," declared Susan, adding, "No offense," to the cats on the floor. "At least Betsy had the foresight to have a couple of his and her litter boxes delivered. And I like that cedar stuff for the bottom of Hazel's cage." "Unfortunately, so does she," sighed Beth. "And knowing Janette, it costs a hundred bucks a pound." "Only the best for her pets." Beth grimaced. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that." "Well, it's true." Susan spread some brie on a pepper water cracker and regarded it thoughtfully. "Nat treats her people like friends, LaCroix treats his like . . . I dunno, half of the time he scares the hell out of them with threats and the other half he treats them like favored juvenile delinquents. Nick doesn't seem to have a handle on what to do with his followers, but since most of them are women who are hot for his bod--" she glanced down at the cats again. "Sorry, forgot there were children present." "A lot of the Ravenettes are hot for his bod, too. It's just that we're cooler about it. What about the FoDs?" asked Beth, catching a bottle that Susan tossed to her. The wine glass followed, as did the corkscrew. "Oooo, the good stuff? Thank , Janette. Never thought I'd be able to afford this in my lifetime." Susan plumped up the pillow behind her head and munched thoughtfully on a cracker. "The FoD's have the best of all worlds--Schanke has only a limited notion of who or what they are--bet you he thinks they're some sort of police restaurant society or something--so they never have to deal with word from on high stuff. Plus they get regular meals." She picked up her glass of amaretto from the bedstand and sipped at it. "You know, being as we have the drinks and they have the food, we should arrange some sort of Ravenette/FoD get-together sometime." Beth chuckled. "Oh, Janette would that." Then, she sobered. "And Janette--half the time she spoils us and the other half she treats us like servants." Susan nodded. "That pretty much covers it. Makes you wonder if she knows how to treat people any other way. Or if she's ever been treated any other way." "But why put up with it?" asked Beth. Susan sat up, sending cracker crumbs flying. "You're drinking a $500.00 a bottle glass of wine and you're asking why?" Beth squeaked and looked down at her wine glass again, causing Hazel to fidget slightly. "$500.00?" Susan sank back on the pillows and dusted the cracker crumbs off the bed. "Not that it's all materialistic, you understand. Janette, well, she'd never admit it, but she needs us. For little errands and things. And to amuse her." She glanced over at Beth. "None of the other groups are like that. We're needed. That's why we're here." Susan frowned and rose from the bed. "Never philosophize over brie." Hazel picked up her ears and made a slight snuffling sound. When Susan looked over, Beth translated, "Bed time." "Good idea, bunny-friend. I think the kids are just about done, too." Susan walked over to Sidney and Goblin, who were daintily licking their paws. She picked up their tray from the floor, setting it on the table, then pulled out two velvet quilted cat sleepers from underneath the hotel bed. "Okay, kids, bedtime. And separate beds, please, this is a family rated list, thank you very much." Goblin sniffed daintily, although Sidney looked the tinniest bit disappointed. Beth was returning Hazel to her cage. Closing the door, she looked around the room. "We locked in for the day?" "Guess so. At least till the boss calls." Susan paused at the dresser, hand resting on her latest manuscript. "Second thoughts?" asked Beth, as she flopped down on one of the hotel double beds. "We could get that stuff back to Nick and Nat today." Susan hesitated, then shook her head. "No. Better wait to see what happens before we start making contacts. It's enough that we're the only group in town with a traveling menagerie. I wonder how the hell Sandye does it." Taking one last look around the room--Hazel in her cage, Goblin in her basket and Sidney in his . . . although his basket had moved quite a bit closer to Goblin's seemingly on its own, Susan nodded. "Okay, everybody know where the restroom is? Curtains drawn? Beth, you wanna do the honors of lights out?" Beth flicked off the lights and Susan made her way to the other double bed. The double draperies on the window industrial strength, no wonder Janette had been so pleasantly rested after using the hotel room for the day. "Do you think we're doing the right thing?' asked Beth's voice, in the darkness. Susan sighed. "We're not here to do the right thing. We're here to help Janette. Right and wrong doesn't apply." With that, Susan turned over and went to sleep. Then Hazel began to snore . . . . ---------------- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 19:22:10 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKW2: Preparations Friday, July 14, afternoon "Valerie Meachum's missing and Nick went to see LaCroix," Sharon blurted out as Natalie let herself back into the hotel room they were holed up in. "What?" "I called the loft while you were at work. Sharon Scott told me Nick flew out after us and paid LaCroix a little visit." Natalie's eyes widened. "Well, hallelujah!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "It's about time. What happened? Did they bash each others brains in?" Sharon shook her head. "No. He agreed to meet LaCroix at the Die-Hards meeting on Sunday night." "What about Valerie?" Sharon shrugged. "LaCroix said he had nothing to do with it. She just went missing." Nat sighed. "Would she have gone off on her own?" Again, Sharon shrugged. "She might have." "Well, is anyone out looking for her?" "All I know is that she disappeared from the roof of Nick's loft while we were in the kitchen." A worried frown crossed Nat's face. "All right. I hope to God she calls someone if she's in trouble. Unlike *somebody* I know! I swear, between the two of you and Nick this is all more trouble than it's worth." She paused to think for a moment. "Janette'll be at the meeting to. Does everyone from our group know about it?" "I have no idea, although the Die-Hards have plastered the city with invitations. Wouldn't be surprised if all of Toronto shows up." "Still, we've got a lot to do between now and Sunday. Come on!" "Where are we going now?" "To the store. There's a little idea I've been wanting to test out, and we might as well give it a practical test." ----- "I can't *wait* to see what you've got in mind," Sharon said, her arms loaded down with grocery bags. "It's a real stunner," Nat said. She took one of the bags from Sharon's arms and dumped it out on the table in their hotel room. Dozens of weird looking toys spilled out all over the table. Nat picked one up. It was a fuzzy spider. Attached to it was a long tube that led to a large rubber ball at one end. Nat set the spider down on the table and squeezed the rubber ball. The spider jumped across the table and landed on several others. As Sharon watched, she pulled the tube away from the spider, and carefully detached the other end. "Hand me the garlic powder, will you?" she asked. Sharon reached into one of the other bags and pulled out a pound bag of garlic. "Lets see, we have to get some of the garlic in here. We'll need a little funnel or something." She thought for a moment then went to the desk and got some of the motel stationary and rolled it into a little funnel, sticking one end in to the rubber thingy (for lack of a better word). Taking up the bag of garlic she tilted it over the funnel. A small cloud of the stuff rose as it poured into the rubber thingy. "When dealing with vampires, it never hurts to take out a little insurance," she lectured. "Amen," Sharon said. When it was half full Nat pulled the funnel away and hefted it in her hand. "OK, now for the moment of truth!" she said, stepping over to the bathroom. Sharon followed her curiously. Nat opened the bathroom window and turned to Sharon. "Cross your fingers!" With that, she turned and gave the ball a hearty squeeze. A huge cloud of garlic spewed out of the open end. Unfortunately for both of them, the wind happened to be blowing in their direction, and the two of them were soon coughing and waving garlic powder away from their faces. "Great!" Sharon exclaimed, exiting the bathroom in a hurry and stepping out the front door into the fresh air of the balcony. "Hey," Nat said, following her. "At least it works." "Yeah, it should do in a pinch," Sharon said. Nat grinned at her. "Or a clinch!" They both started laughing hysterically. "All right," Nat said after a minute. "We've got a bunch of these to make. I have no intention of letting any of my people end up as vampire snacks. We're going to be armed and ready. We'll put the word out on email for everyone to stop by and get one of these before the meeting starts." Sharon ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 23:15:54 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Steaming envelopes I was pacing back and forth in the loft. I'd called everywhere and everyone I could think of, trying to find a lead on Valerie and Sharon H.'s whereabouts, to no avail. If they hadn't vanished into thin air, they were doing a fairly good imitation. And then the buzzer sounded. I ran to the intercom, and punched the button. A female voice said, "Delivery for Nick Knight." "Who's it from?" "A friend. Someone who's been a friend for a long, long time." Jeez. That had to be LaCroix. I wasn't about to open the door to one of his minions. "Just leave it at the door." "Hey, lady, you got to sign for them. You don't sign, you don't get the packages." Plural. More than one. What the ... ? "Well, okay. Be there in a minute." I hoped it wasn't *more* laptops. That's just what we needed. I opened the door cautiously. The young woman standing there holding a clipboard was surrounded by large canvas bags. She thrust the clipboard in my face and said, "Sign. Here." I signed. And the woman stood there looking at me expectantly. Oh, hell, she probably wanted a tip. And I'd spent everything I had just getting to Toronto. Which didn't leave a lot of extra cash for the Trek. She'd just have to live on her salary. I picked up the closest of the bags and pitched in into the elevator. And the next, and the next, until all 5 were inside. The woman still stood looking at me, but the expectant look on her face had changed to one of disgust. I shut the door in her face, and I heard the truck door slam and the screech of tires as she took off. Another unhappy camper. When the elevator stopped, I wrestled the bags off. Should I wait for Nick to get back, or should I open one of them and find out what was in them? It was like finding one of your Christmas presents before it got wrapped, when you were a kid. You wanted desperately to know what it was, but if you *did* look, then you'd have to fake surprise on Christmas morning. This time, curiosity won out. ------------------------ Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 23:47:02 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Steaming Envelopes pt.2 >This time, curiosity won out. The bags contained mail. Nick's mail; Natalie's mail; Janette's mail; Schanke's mail; Sidney's mail. And, curiously, LaCroix's mail. Either he'd forgotten to take it out, or whoever sent it here had failed to take it out, or he had some devious reason for sending it. And when LaCroix was involved, I picked door number 3--deviousness. I started sorting the envelopes into piles, by intended recipient. It's what catalog librarians do for a living. Organize things. Reaching the bottom of one sack, I started on the next. And the next, and the next. The piles on the floor were becoming hills, and then small mountains. When I finished, one pile had become Mount Everest. Nick's, of course. I wasn't surprised, although LaCroix might be. He seemed to think *he* was the main character on the show. And now what? Should I just leave the piles there, and invite the mailees over to get their mail? Or ... should I just take a little peek at a few of the letters, just to make sure they were really addressed to the right person? Three guesses as to which idea won out. I'd start on Nick's. I got a large pot out of the cabinet, filled it with water, and set it on the stove to boil. I'd never actually steamed an envelope open before, but it worked in the movies. Eventually the water boiled, even though I was watching it, and I picked an envelope at random from the pile. And managed to steam it open, burning my hand in the steam only a couple of times. It was what we used to call a "mash" note. Silly, simpering, so sweet it was disgusting. "Dearest darling Nick, I send a thousand kisses your way. I worship at the altar of your gorgeousness." I kept reading, and the purple prose got more and more syrupy. Drivel. Absolute drivel. Skipping the rest of it, I glanced down at the signature. And there was my name, embellished with little hearts and smiley faces. I hate little hearts and smiley faces. With a passion. I had *never* been known in my entire life to draw little hearts and smiley faces--just ask anybody. And I certainly had never written anything like this. Never. Ever. I carefully put the letter back into the envelope, picked another from the pile, steamed it open, and found even worse drivel. This one began, "Come to me, sweetums. I'm waiting for you." Give me a break. But, again, it was signed, "Scottie." Damn the steaming--I started ripping envelopes open, skipping the contents completely, and going right for the signature. It was mine, every time. NO! I DIDN'T DO THIS! I COULDN'T HAVE! I *WOULDN'T* HAVE. So who had? ---------------------------------- Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 12:59:26 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Steaming Envelopes pt.3 >So who had? I decided to check the letters to the other characters, and found, to my great relief, that they were signed by various Forkni-lers. With the exception of Schanke's pile--an inordinate number of his letters were signed by Pam Rush. And most of them contained recipes. So who had tampered with Nick's letters? LaCroix wasn't a likely suspect--he was much too busy devising tortures for his fair-haired boy. But he might have had someone else do it for him. And, knowing his followers, I had a pretty good idea who that *someone else* might have been. Someone who was a master at torture. Someone who was in Toronto right now. In LaCroix's apartment. COUSIN MARGARET. It had to be. Only she would know enough about me to know that I hated smiley faces and hearts. Almost as much as I hated frogs. Well, in fact, since Valerie's gift, which I was *still* wearing, I was sort of getting used to the things. The little froggie entrechat on the shirt somehow reminded me of Mikhail himself. Okay. I knew what Cousin Margaret had done. And I knew where she was. But before I could do anything about her, I needed to do *something* with the piles of mail scattered across the room. LaCroix's into one bag, Janette's into another, Nat's into a third, and Schanke's into a fourth. Which left me with the dilemma of what to do with Nick's mail. I'd opened all of it, and there was no way to put the torn envelopes back together. Besides, I definitely could *not* bear to have Nick read it. I'd never be able to hold my head up again. Should I destroy it? That didn't seem quite ... legal. Or moral. Or ethical. After all, these people had taken the time to write to him; to express their emotions, however disgustingly bad that expression was. But I couldn't let him see my name at the bottom of *every* one of the missives. Then I had an idea--a plan that would serve Nick's interests as well as mine, and allow justice to be served. -------------------------------------------- Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- ---------[Saturday, July 16th]------------ ------------------------------------------ Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 17:59:48 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARSII--Cat Calls CAT CALLS Janette tapped her cigarette out into the ashtray on her desk and then picked up her telephone. She hit the speed dial and waited, frowning as the hotel answered. "Room 612," she instructed. For a moment she thought the phone would simply continue ringing, as it had for the last two hours. But, finally, the receiver was lifted. "Toronto Animal Hostel." "Pardonnez-moi?" asked Janette. On the other end of the phone, Susan cleared her throat. "Sorry, boss. What can I do for you?" "I've warned you about calling me that," snarled Janette. Cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear, she lifted a cigarette from the box on her desk and looked for her lighter. "Where have you been?" "Oh, out and about." "In the sunlight?" Susan didn't react at all to the note of horror in her voice. "The kids were kind of feeling cooped up, so we went out to another park--on leashes," she added quickly. "And how are . . . the children?" asked Janette. "Healthy and more or less happy. We were also on an emergency kitty litter run--Sidney didn't like the kind in his sandbox and if we're going to stay here another day restroom facilities are top priority." There was a sound from the room beyond the phone and Susan's hand evidently covered the receiver as she said, "Beth, he's at the lampshade again. Could you--? Thanks." "Well, yes," said Janette. "Anything to keep him happy. And pretty Goblin?" "Is one very cool cat. Natalie's going to have one hell of an email bill--I think Sidney's going to keep in touch with this one. She's playing him like a violin." "A true Ravenette," said Janette. She glanced over her desk again, but her cigarette lighter was nowhere to be seen. "Just keep him content. We've received word from those Die-Hard people that there's to be some sort of meeting on Sunday--it would be the perfect time to dictate the terms of the return our little friend to his mistress. I'll make arrangements and let you know." "Sure, bo--Janette. Thanks. Have the uh . . . attacks stopped?" "Yes," sighed Janette, not bothering to hide her relief. Absently, she opened her top desk drawer and rummaged through it--no lighter. "Apparently, our message was received. Though that coroner's little friends are still prowling my club." "Forensic path--geez, now she's got doing it," muttered Susan. "Okay, so we'll hang until we hear from you?' "I think . . . hanging would be a good thing," said Janette, after an uncertain pause. "Cool. Catch you later, boss." "Don't call me--" The dialtone sounded in her ear. Janette gave a heavy sigh and placed the receiver in the cradle. Then a smile lit her lips and she picked up the telephone again and dialed. "Toronto Coroner's Office? May I speak with a Dr. Lambert, please?" She spent the time waiting for the government drone to connect her by going through her second desk drawer. No lighter. Finally, the phone was lifted. "This is Dr. Lambert." "Dr. Lambert? How pleasant to hear you," cooed Janette, sinking back in her desk chair and swiveling it from one side to the other. "This is Janette." "I know who it is," said Nicola's coroner, her voice suddenly cold and angry. "Where's Sidney?" "Safe, I assure you. Safer than you or I, at any rate, so long as these hostilities continue. I'm afraid he'll be quite spoiled by the time you get him back. And he's also growing rather fond of one of my pets." "If you touch one hair on his tail--!" Janette clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Temper, temper, Dr. Lambert. Remember, you're a civil servant and I'm a taxpayer--I pay your salary, no? Be gracious for that reason, if no other. We should be more friendly, you and I, with so much in common." "Is there a point to this phone call?" asked Dr. Lambert. "There . I've been told there's to be a meeting, some sort of accord? I will be there, prepared to dictate my terms for the return of your little feline friend. Some people called the 'Die-Hards'?" The coroner paused. "I know them." "Wordy, but thorough. Be assured that Sidney will be well-cared for . . . so long as your people behave themselves in my club." Janette leaned over her desk and frowned, still searching in vain for her cigarette lighter. "They've been informed." "Good. So, I shall see you on Sunday, then? No doubt the Die-Hards will tell you where? Au revoir." Janette clicked down the connection, cutting it, and replaced the receiver. She sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile. How kind of Nicola to have attached himself to such a clever woman. It made the game so much more interesting--almost . . . cat and mouse. To cap off her victory, she was only lacking a cigarette. Janette realized that she hadn't opened the bottom drawer of her desk. She did so, stared inside, then closed it again quickly. It wasn't possible. How could they be so foolish? Again, she opened the drawer, still not quite believing what she had seen. It was a treasure trove of cat toys--rubber and windup mice, small balls, bits of yarn and string, wadded paper . . . enough to drive any fun-loving cat into fits of ecstasy. And, amidst the rubber and catnip scented wreckage, was a small silver bowl with 'Janette' written around the rim. Janette's eyes narrowed. Slamming the drawer shut, she picked up the telephone and dialed the hotel. ---- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 23:09:00 EDT From: 'Most Holy Subject: FKWARS II--Curses, Foiled Again! Curses, Foiled Again! Saturday--16th July--20:14 "Its time, don't you think? I mean if the war is drawing to a close, this might be the last chance to let the Die-Hards know we have it." Chewie was sitting on the bed of the hotel, staring at 'Most Holy. 'Most Holy peered over his classes (as 'Most Holies are known to do) at the Siamese sitting on the bed, "I figure since no one has posted anything else regarding the Abarat, then LaCroix is still thinking he burned the original last week. That being the case, I think a quick stop in Hamilton at that deli I found last fall, did I mention the trip last fall?" "*Yes* you mentioned it, now could we get back to business? You go pay the bill while I contact Merlin & Gandalf and see if what they're doing about Sidney. Oh, don't forget to save some of that neat Canadian money for Alex." ----------------------------------------------------------- To: Gandalf &Merlin From: Chewie< Chew@catnet.DC.edu Subject: Time for Mail Call Having reviewed recent posts, including notice of L.C. stealing *the Book* and end-run with Sidney. Thought we should inform you that L.C. burned wrong book. We are taking the original to the St. George tonight as soon as 'Most Holy makes a stop for rolls (still holding out for bagels). Will contact you from Die-Hard HQ as soon as we make the delivery. Chewie, FOSsil --------------------------------------------------------------- By 12:30, the rental Camaro had stopped in front of the St George and with some relief, a human and a ruffled Siamese (she never did like to drive) quickly walked up to the entrance. "You figure they'll believe us when we tell them how we acquired the book?" With a harsh whisper, Chewie said, "Look, no one can hear me but you, so stop talking to me like everyone can or they are more likely to call the Metro police." "Okay, but at some point I've got to say it was you who watched LaCroix, not me." "Fine, but make sure to refer to Sidney at some point so we get some credibility." At that moment, the door opened and a rather bulky figure filled the entrance, "May I help you?" came the sentries query, "A tad late for going calling, don't you think?" "I'm 'Most Holy and this is Chewie. We're FOSsils and we need to make a delivery *NOW* so get somebody up that we can give this package to and we'll all sleep easier." A few minutes later, a woman appeared down the stairs with a "this had better be important." look. "Well, what is so bloody important that you had to wake me up at 12:45 in the morning!" "Is there someplace we can talk? I think I have something the Die-Hards might be able to put to good use." 'Most Holy followed her into the Die-Hard library and sat down on the nearest couch. --------------------------------------------------------------- "Well, Chewie and I are both FOSsils, that is probably pretty obvious. Last Thursday, we decided that it might be a bet that LaCroix might try to acquire the original Abarat back, just for kicks. Fortunately, since I have some librarian friends, I was able to get into the Fisher Rare Book Library and make well, shall we just say, a substitution?" "What, How did you know anything about LaCroix going to the library?" "We figured that eventually, LaCroix would need to re-acquire the original Abarat, just for security reason if nothing else. I went into the library with a copy of a "pornographic" edition of Dracula which had been re-bound to make it look old, made the switch, and as I was leaving, had Chewie stay behind to watch." "Why her, why not just stay yourself? Of course, he could have heard your heartbeats but might overlook something as small as a seven lb cat." "Exactly. Well, on Friday night, almost on cue, one elderly vampire decided to make a withdraw from the library. Chewie had to bite her tail to keep from sneezing, but noticed that LaCroix didn't bother to actually *look* at the book, he just took it off the shelf and flew away. I don't know much about Toronto, had to guess where this place was. We knew that the Die-Hards were a good choice to leave the Abarat with, wouldn't want word to get out that we were spending time at the Hard Rock with something like that in our possession." "A wise choice. Look since you're here, you might as well stay with us until the war is over, "Uncle" won't be happy when he discovers that what he burned is less that he supposed. Just make sure you observe the Charter, and you're welcome to stay." -------------------------------------------------------------- As Chewie needed her paws into the chest of 'Most Holy, she pawsed (sorry, it has been a long day) and asked, "Now that the war is winding down, do you think we can take some time off?" "I think a trip to Omaha would do nicely..." 'Most Holy, A FOSsil tail the end Chewie, A Siamese without peer 'Otter@DRYCAS.club.cc.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- ---------[Sunday, July 17th]----------- --------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 12:16:06 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FK Wars2: FoD Post-prandial-mortem 11 AM Sunday, July 17: The Stone House, somewhere in KY A FoD Post-Prandial-Mortem Sherry and Tony had come to Pam and John's for a leisurely Sunday brunch, consuming a large and varied meal alfresco. The two men had strolled off to inspect the damage to the lawn from the crates and crates of food that had been delivered the preceding Tuesday. "So," began Sherry, once the two FoDs were alone, "how did John take it all?" "Well, he wasn't happy for a couple of days, but all those threats about running away from home were ridiculous. For one thing, he still doesn't know how to get money out of an automatic teller." "I can't believe you had that much trouble *here*. The Cousins were much more ambitious and more efficient than I thought!" "Yes; it must have cost someone a big bankroll, too." "Well, you got rid of it, finally." "Yes, but I was desperate for a few hours! I finally started to think about it from the other end of the problem: what kind of situations were the polar opposite, that is, when had I run *out* of food." "And you thought of...?" "A couple of possibilities: *in-laws*. But I've never actually run *out* of food when my in-laws were visiting, we just got down to leftovers and things that didn't go well together." "So, close, but *not* in-laws." "Right. Then I thought about 'starving artists.' They usually sweep through food like locusts. But remember when I helped at the Arts Alliance fund raiser last year? Even after the artists ate, there were some crackers and little bits of decorative parsley left. So, I thought about it some more and suddenly it hit me...." "Teenagers!" " --especially teenage boys! The black holes of calories. Food in a house with one teenage boy disappears like light into a black hole: it's physics. The food just ceases to exist." "And the effect --" " --is geometric in application. Two teenage boys can make four times as much food disappear as one teenage boy. So, after I quickly calculated the volume of food available, I imported nine teenage boys. It was all gone in about five or six hours. But it's too bad you didn't come home in time to meet the Cousin they sent down to parlay; I was really curious about whether or not you could have dissuaded him from his Cousinly ways." Sherry shuddered in the warm sunlight and shook her head vigorously. Pamela looked at her in surprise; it wasn't like Sher to turn down a challenge. "I've had enough of, uh, you-know-who and his people." "Oh?" "If Myra Schanke hadn't been there that night, I don't know how much more forceful *he* would have been and I honestly don't know how I would have held out." "I told you that you were susceptible to tall, cool, elegant men with cruel eyes." "No you didn't; you told me I had a soft spot for chubby cheeked blonds." "Ok; those, too. Gee, I wonder how it would -- " "I *just* said that I did not want to think about that right now!" "Ok, ok," said Pamela, holding up her hands pacifically. After a moment of silence, she murmured as though to herself, eyes fixed blankly in the middle distance, "......they'd be *cool* in the summer...." "Pa-mel-a!" "Ok! Maybe we'd better stick to the warm ones." "Like dark, magnetic Polish-Italian men with great --" "Especially *those*, but remember that most of them are happily married." "Ah, well. There's always food. At least it doesn't try to bite you back." "Yeah; want to take home some leftovers?" asked Pamela, indicating the still laden table. "If you insist. It was very nice, thank you. I especially liked the herbed chevre, the artichoke fritters, the crab mousse and the white chocolate-hazelnut cheesecake." "John ate all the Black Forest. I quite liked the lamb medallions with red pepper coulis and the haricots verts salade." "Wait a minute. Isn't that the entire 'A Perfect Sunday Summer Brunch' menu from the Silver Palate cookbook?" "Hmm, well...yes." "But that would take a professional restaurant kitchen and staff to prepare! Unless...?" "Unless a truckload of Silver Palate catered box brunches were delivered to your door." "You kept some of it?" "Let me put it this way: how much freezer space *do* you have?" ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------- --- FINI FODUM -- PAX ILLUMINIT MUNDI --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Pamela Rush and Sherry Crabtree pkrush01@ukcc.uky.edu swcrab01@ukcc.uky.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 19:06:49 -0400 From: Robin Carroll-Mann Subject: On the Road Again "We're lost again," Betsy V. commented. Robin C. shot her a baleful look. "I'm doing my best, ok?" "I thought you'd driven in cities before." Robin sighed. "I have. I didn't say I was any good at it." Betsy's eyes rolled up in a way that suggested she was in communion with a Higher Power. "No wonder it took all day to find Ivy." "Well, we found her, didn't we? And we got the tapes." "Yes, we did," Betsy said, in a voice that dripped with satisfaction almost as visible as cream on a cat's whiskers. "I can't wait to see the expression on LaCroix' face when he finds out we've got these." Robin shivered, although she had switched off the AC, and the warm air was flowing in through the vents. "I can wait. I can definitely wait." "It *is* creepy," Betsy agreed. "I mean, it's one thing to know that there are real vampires -- it's something else to see them." "--and to have *them* see *you*," Robin added, "and know that they're looking at you like a FoD eyeing a slice of pepperoni pizza... I will be extremely glad to get to the island and turn that over to Nat." She pointed at the non-descript plastic bag on Betsy's lap. Betsy nodded agreement. "Having this with us puts us pretty high on the list of LaCroix' un-favorite mortals. No wonder Ivy said she'd make her own way to the island." "So the sooner we get there, the better, right?" Robin asked. It seemed to be a rhetorical question. She shifted lanes and stepped on the gas. Betsy resumed her silent conversation with Someone Above. It was going to be a looooong drive. ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 17:43:50 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: Die-Hards go to the Islands Sunday July 17th, 7:30pm Dawn put on some comfortable cut-offs and a t-shirt. Broken-in purple and black hiking boots were put on her feet. Then she packed her backpack with lots of necessary items like Smartfood popcorn, water, and a book to read in case things got boring (not that she expected it to). She even tossed in a few protectionary measures in case things got out of hand. She had called up Kathy and hour previously so she should be waiting soon at the St.George subway station. Dawn put on her backpack and absently patted her pockets for keys and her wallet. *I have to get on to the ferry. I wonder if they've started setting up for the shoot yet?* She looked like she was ready for a hiking trip. She she was ready for anything that might happen. ------------------------------------------ Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ------------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 18:54:00 EDT From: 'Most Holy Subject: Things that go "bu" on the ferry Sunday evening, on the Ferry Things that go "bump" on the ferry "Chewie, bless it! You're really starting to annoy me with those claws!" 'Most Holy was likely to have appeared slightly wack-o to the other ferry passengers. Talking to one's chest was not considered "normal" even in LA, let alone Toronto. But this conversation was not with himself, but with a Siamese with an *intense* dislike of water and given their present location, the cat was not amused. "I *Told* you to leave me in the hotel, the Cup is on! But noooo, you have to drag me along, on a oat, just so you can be there to see the end of this war!" Chewie had managed to wiggle her nose out from the inside of 'Most Holy's jacket and gulped at the fresh air. If cats were capable of turning pale, the sight of the water (lots of water) would have done the trick. "Well, I just know how you like to feel included in things and it just wouldn't have been proper for me to have drug you all this way just to leave you behind. Besides, I have a feeling Sidney is going to be there and you have been wanting to make his acquaintance." "Yeah, well..." At that moment a woman, looking for all purposes like she was going hiking for a long time, rounded the upper deck of the ferry and walked up to another woman standing against the rail. After exchanging pleasantries, they seemed to be comparing contents of their backpacks which seemed to contain all manner of wonderful things to Chewie's way of thinking. "Do you suppose that is a FoD? I men anyone who carries Smartfood has to be okay." Chewie was starting to slip out of 'Most Holy's jacket, a quick shove had the Siameses firmly in-place. "It could be, let's go over and see. Maybe they'll share their food with us." "Forget the rest, I want the popcorn!" They strolled over to the two women just as Chewie poked her head out of the jacket. "Is that a Siamese in your coat or are you just happy to see us?" Asked the one dressed as an add for L.L. Bean. "I'm known as 'Most Holy, and this is my partner, Chewie." "I'm Dawn and this is Kathy. Why are you walking around with a cat in your coat?" "We're going to watch the shooting of a tv show called "Forever Knight," she has never been to one before and I thought she needed to broaden her horizons." {"I'm going to broaden your horizon!" thought Chewie.} The two women glanced at each other, "Are you involved in the war by any chance?" asked Dawn with a slightly wary look. "As a matter-of-fact, we're FoSsils." The Siameses vigorously nodded her head. "We'll, we're Die-Hards and we're going to the showdown too. If you want, you can tag along with us." "That would be great. Just one thing, could you spare some popcorn for a hungry Siamese?" ------------------------------------------------------ 'Most Holy Otter@DRYCAS.club.cc.cmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 02:43:47 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: Feary Ferry Nick at Night July 17, 1994, evening I looked out across the water, then at Bruce. He was visibly pale. "Don't worry, honey. This is a ferry." He was eyeing the water. "Yeah." "They--do this every day without accident." Bruce looked sharply at me. "Don't even mention that! You know I swim like a rock." "Well, at least you don't get seasick." Not that I was throwing up or anything, but my stomach _was_ a bit queasy. But maybe it wasn't _entirely_ from the boat ride. To distract myself, I looked over to where Dawn and Kathy were standing. "Who are Dawn and Kathy talking to?" Bruce looked in their direction. "I've no idea. It's not a Die-Hard, I don't think." A Siamese cat was poking its head out of the man's jacket. "Look, a cat. Do you suppose he's with the FOSsiLs?" "Maybe. Maybe we should make our way over and see." As we walked toward them, a thought hit me. "I wonder when the last boat goes back to the mainland. Did Dawn say?" "No. But we can ask her." --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 21:51:07 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: Another Trip On The Ferry Sunday evening Another Trip On The Ferry ------------------------- Nan, Tok, and Tok's two cats boarded the ferry. "I suppose this trip is really necessary?" Tok asked Nan. "You saw the flyer. Besides, we haven't been able to find Sidney anywhere. Janette or whoever's got him will bring him here tonight. We'll be there to keep them honest." "How far do you think it is to the island?" Tok already felt a little queasy. "I don't get along well with boats." "Quit whining, OK? You said you'd help Natalie, remember? I thought you liked cats." "I do, I do ... Alright, let's just do it." Tok began searching through her fanny pack. "Lemme see, there has to be some Bonine in here somewhere." As the group made for a position by the rail, Gandalf turned to Merlin. "What did I tell you, little brother? You can't take these humans anywhere." "You think Sidney's really in trouble?" asked Merlin. "Maybe, maybe not. Knowing him, he's probably partying with some lady cat. Wasn't Goblin over at the Raven before?" "Yeah, right." Merlin turned to look at Tok. "Mom's not looking too good, is she?" "She'll be fine by the time we get to the filming." Gandalf moved into a corner. "We'd better get some rest. We'll probably have to clean up after this, you know." "I hear you, big brother." The two cats curled up for a nice restorative cat nap as the ferry cruised toward Hanlan Island. +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus (Nat Pack) tokaara@aol.com | | Gandalf & Merlin (FOSsiLs) | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 17:15:06 -0700 From: "Elizabeth L. Bales" Subject: Yet Another Arrival Elizabeth embarked from the last ferry and looked around. *Wow, I didn't realize there'd be such a horde of people here...* She stopped by the commissary booth -- yet another non-FoD with strong FoD tendencies -- and circled around to get nearer the set. The heavy makeup and little black dress of Tuesday night were gone, replaced by clean skin, a man's shirt, and a worn pair of baggy jeans. She figured she was safe from Janette, as even her long brown hair, now pulled back in a barrette, had been swept up into a French twist that night. Spotting a familiar face in the crowds, she made her way to where Tanaquil stood and silently offered the other woman a doughnut. Tanaquil looked at her, puzzled, for a moment. "Uh... Who... Oh! Elizabeth! I didn't recognize you in those glasses!" Elizabeth grinned and settled down to watch the fireworks. *Yep. About as safe as it gets, around here...* ---- -Elizabeth Bales Nat-Packer fatima@netcom.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 19:36:29 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: The spectacle begins Sunday July 17th, 9:30 pm The sunset had been spectacular, and Dawn congratulated herself for arriving early. Plenty of time to get there, and get a good spot to view the spectacle. "The Spectacle" was how Dawn had started to think of what she expected out of this evening. Right now the location was still being set-up. Trucks were being moved, it looked as if the green cadillac was under a white cover sheet. For some reason a crane was on the beach. *Flying shots?*. Kathy and Dawn had settled in on a slight rise, under a lushly green tree. They could see almost everything... and Dawn planned on capturing everything she could. Two different cameras were there and Kathy was in charge of the one on the tripod. Dawn planned on getting some nice candid shots. Dawn figured everyone would start to arrive in about a half hour. *I wonder if people want the Die-Hards to mediate? Well they can ask if they want. I plan on enjoying myself tonight.* She finished hooking up the listening device. It was one of those gadgets for people with poor hearing. You were supposed to be able to easily hear conversations across the room. *And they tell you not to eavesdrop, Hah! I bet that's what almost everyone does with these things!* 'Most Holy and his beautiful siamese cat Chewie had gone to get a close up of the set before it got too busy. *I never knew that cats liked Smartfood.* The large bag of popcorn, unopened before they got on the ferry, was almost entirely gone. *I love cats. I wish they could have stayed longer.* Kathy however was severely allergic to cats and had sneezed the entire time the two had been there. Her eyes were still a bit puffy. *Maybe they could come back later.* Dawn leaned back against the tree, and opened up her water bottle. Already she thought she had recognized a couple people on the set. *When I saw the actor playing LaCroix through my binoculars, I thought I'd faint. I wonder where they found him? Just imagine. LaCroix being his charming self but being able to get around in the daytime too. That actor is going to get some severe double takes.* *This is going to be fun.* ---------------------------------------------- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 19:39:33 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Peasants! Sunday -- 7:30 PM PEASANTS! It was dark by the time the limo pulled up to the dock. Susan looked across at Beth, who had Hazel's cage tucked underneath her arm, a shoulder strap attached to the handle. Betsy sat beside her, with Sidney in a shoulder cat carrier, his nose, whiskers and paws slipped over the fabric and strap. Susan was saddled with a similar arrangement, only her carrier held Goblin. And the extra bag on the other shoulder carried the manuscript . . . and a few other things. Only Janette seemed composed--although she was chain smoking like crazy. She'd filled both of the limo's rear ashtrays and the drive to the dock had been less than twenty minutes. She'd chosen something very chic and very forties, in black of course, with a black silk kerchief tied around her hair. Her cohorts, however, were dressed with an eye to their upcoming nautical adventure. All of the dresses were black, with white stripes around the hems and sleeves and resembled the dresses they'd purchased at the salon the day before--Betsy's was silk, Beth's had a jacket (with epaulets), and Susan's was made of a sturdy jersey . . . with a disturbing neckline. The door to the limo opened and a hand appeared. Janette was helped out, then Beth, across the way. Susan was next, then Betsy. The limo driver was a blond vampire, not one of the club regulars, as far as Susan, Beth, and Betsy could determine. He seemed to be very careful of minding his P's and Q's, wearing a yachting cap and jacket, silk shirt and slacks, but he was all in black with white accents and piping, down to his deck shoes. As Janette turned toward him, she whispered something. Turning pale, which was quite an effort since he was pretty darn pale to begin with, he swept off the hat quickly and stepped to one side, gesturing toward the dock ramp. Susan looked over, only to see the ferry. She almost thought she recognized a few of the faces. How big was this gathering going to be? Janette had only said they were there to dictate terms, but Susan had a sinking feeling that Janette was the one who was going to take dictation--in spades. "Come, come," called Janette, as she headed down the dock on the arm of the blond vampire. "We must be fashionably late only--and that requires finesse." The others followed, rounding the car. That's when they saw the speedboat tied up at the dock. It was black from stem to stern, the only device was at the bow--a red shield with a black raven. A small flag on the stern bore the same insignia. Betsy gave a long, low whistle. "That's . . . beautiful! Oh, can I drive, Janette? Please!" "We have a driver," declared the vampiress sharply. The blond vampire took her hand, helping her into the boat. Once inside, she picked up a white box, set it on her lap, and strapped herself into a seat just inside the small windbreak of a cabin. Betsy was next, her eyes wide at the sight of the boat. She moved toward the bow and controls, but Janette pointed toward a seat at the stern and she moved quickly to take her place. Sidney let out a yowl and dived deep down into the cat carrier. Hazel seemed just as thrilled at the prospect of sea travel, but Beth keep muttering to the shivering rabbit, murmuring comforting words. "I don't know why you had to bring that creature along," hissed Janette, in annoyance. Beth answered the cold stare unflinchingly. "Because there's all sorts of pet-napping going on and I couldn't take the chance of leaving her behind," she countered. "Besides, Hazel completes the set." Janette raised an eyebrow, then withdrew dark sunglasses from a compartment near her seat and covered her eyes. "Set?" "Three," said Beth. She pointed to the two cats and Hazel. "Three of us. Three of them. Three . . . of you." Janette paused for a moment, a smile edging up the corners of her lips. "Nicola, LaCroix, myself--how very perceptive you are! Yes, it a good omen." Then she looked up at Susan, who had paused on the boarding ramp. "Come in. Hurry, we haven't much time." Susan swallowed. "Did I ever mention, I don't boats? Planes, yes. Gyrocopters. Elephants. Stray narwhals. And the occasional paddle-wheeler. But not speedboats." Janette peered at Susan over the top of her sunglasses, eyes narrowing. "I won't have my people travel like those other peasants. If you don't come in the boat, you swim. Understood?" Her lips set in a grim line, Susan walked the plank into the boat, gratefully accepting the cold helping hand of the blond vampire as she stepped into the interior. Quickly, she sat down beside Beth and strapped herself into the seat. The boarding plank was tossed to one side and the blond vampire seated himself behind the wheel. After a second, the motor kicked in and the boat sped off and away from the dock, toward the island. "This," Janette said, over the roar of the motor and the water spray and wind, "is for LaCroix." She tapped the white box with red fingernails. "A peace offering." "Better it than one of us," Beth whispered to Susan. Janette frowned, having overheard the comment. "Dr. Lambert shall be content to have her kitten back. And Nicola--" The frown slipped into a slinky smile. " can handle Nicola." Then she nodded toward Susan. "What have you brought with you? I said nothing--" "A story I'm working on," said Susan quickly. "I figured this might get boring. And I know how much you want me to get to the sequel to 'False Heart.'" For a moment, Janette pursed her lips, then she looked away, as if distracted. "Yes. All right. It could do no harm." Of the three, Betsy shivered the most, having only short sleeves, but her eyes were bright and she kept running her hand along the edge of the boat, as if imagining herself at the controls. Beth met Susan's eyes, then looked down to the manuscript. They didn't dare say anything, but the sentiment was shared--just in case. It was an out Janette didn't know about. The ride took only a few minutes and they soon pulled beside a small dock on the island. Jennise stood there, her eyebrows raising slightly as she caught sight of the blond vampire, who glared back at her. Again, Janette leaned across and whispered something to him. He paled immediately and busied himself with the gangplank. Janette, as usual, went first. She thrust the box into the blond vampire's hand, then took his other as she walked across the short plank. Once there, she and Jennise made kissing noises at one another. "Are we the last?" asked Janette eagerly. Her smile sharp, Jennise shook her head. "No." When Janette pouted, she added, "But you're not the first." "Good." Janette turned, as Susan, then Beth and Betsy joined her on the dock. "I've brought a few of my Ravenettes." "Yes. I know." Jennise nodded at then, then Janette took her arm and they began to walk up the dock to where there were a number of trailers. "Nice dress--where'd you pick it up, Philip Marlowe's House of Fashion?" Taking a deep breath, Susan, Betsy, and Beth looked at one another, then followed, leaving the blond vampire to tie up the boat, each shivering at the low snarl he emitted as they walked away. So far, the trip had been smooth. But only so far. --- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 15:56:26 -0700 From: Jennise Hall Subject: FKW2: FOREVER KNIGHT: The Alternate Universe (1/4) Sunday 10:30 pm EXT. BELOW GIBRALTAR LIGHTHOUSE - HANLAN ISLAND - NIGHT Film equipment is all over the place. A large crane with a harness attached stands not too far from the lighthouse. A section of the parking lot has been cordoned off to be used in filming. Several cameras are being set up for shooting on the beach. Behind the cameras are several trailers. These cover Wardrobe, Make-up, Dressing Rooms (men's and women's) and Offices. Crew bustles around. Among them Sandye and Dennis adjust one of the sets of lights. Dennis pssts Sandye's attention frantically. When she looks up he gestures toward the familiar faces beginning to arrive in the parking lot. They attempt to do their jobs with their faces hidden. EXT. WARDROBE TRAILER - NIGHT Jennise approaches the trailer. VALERIE MEACHUM(V.O.) Fine. I'll find her myself! Valerie comes crashing out of the trailer. She bumps into Jennise and lands on her keister. VALERIE What is this?! Valerie wears a lab coat over a just-barely long enough dress and spiked heels. Both purple. She wears a wig, that's been permed....badly. Her make-up is too heavy. She looks like a cross between a woman dressing too young and a slut. VALERIE This is NOT the wardrobe we used in rehearsal. JENNISE We had some problems with that. VALERIE Problems?! What kind of problems can you have with a suit. I mean it was the latest design and it looked WONDERFUL. JENNISE Several of our creative team, had a problem with that. VALERIE They what!? Just who's on this creative team? JENNISE Janette for one. EXT. PARKING LOT BELOW THE LIGHTHOUSE - NIGHT Karin rushes into the group of milling visitors. KARIN Laurie! They embrace. KARIN I was worried none of the Cousins were going to make it. Did Margaret come? You're gonna love the show. Jennise has... DIRECTOR (storming over) What is this! Security! Where is Security?! KARIN (into her Cousin's ears) That's the Director. (to Director) These people were invited to watch the shooting. DIRECTOR I was told these were closed sets. LaCroix steps out of the crowd. LACROIX Apparently someone opened it. The Director gulps and stares uncertainly at his Executive Producer. KARIN Uncle! Jennise opened it. Uh. Invited...We didn't realize you would be joining us, tonight. LACROIX Where is Jennise? Everyone looks about. LaCroix is the first to see her standing in front of the Wardrobe Trailer. LACROIX (amused) Then we'll let her deal with this. EXT. WARDROBE TRAILER - NIGHT Jennise and Valerie still argue. VALERIE Look, I roller-skated ten kilometers around downtown Columbus last week in a pink tutu and tights on a glorious Sunday morning, but this *this* is too much! I won't do it. JENNISE Fine. I hired a stand in just in case. Jennise gestures over her shoulder toward a lost looking, nerd type. Lanky straight hair, huge glasses, and no shape. Valerie studies the woman with distaste. VALERIE I have a contract. JENNISE I don't mind letting you out. Valerie gives the actress another once over. VALERIE Would she at least get the wig? JENNISE Nah, I think she's perfect as it. And she couldn't act her way out of a paper bag. VALERIE All right! I'll do it. LACROIX(V.O.) (quietly) Jennise. Join us. Jennise looks wide eyed at her boss. She grabs Valerie by the arm just as Valerie notices Natalie standing a few feet behind LaCroix arguing with Nick. Jennise drags Valerie along to the parking lot. VALERIE (during the walk) No! No. This is not in my contract. I can't let her see me like this. _________________________________________________________________ Jennise ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 18:32:28 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--A Minor Squabble July 17, 1994, 10:30 p.m. (or thereabouts) > "Jennise looks wide-eyed at her boss. She grabs Valerie by the > arm just as Valerie notices Natalie standing a few feet behind > LaCroix arguing with Nick." "He _did_ have something to do with Valerie's disappearance," said Nat. She started toward LaCroix, but Nick grabbed her arm. "Valerie said she went with Jennise, not LaCroix." "They made her lie!" "If that's so, _I'll_ find out from LaCroix. I don't want you going near him on your own." "Let go of me," said Nat. She had noticed Jennise was dragging Valerie toward the parking lot. "All right," said Nick, releasing her. "But you let _me_ check out what's happening. Valerie's supposed to be _working_ here, remember?" Natalie sighed. "Okay." She watched as Nick moved to follow LaCroix. Then she followed him. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 15:59:38 -0700 From: Jennise Hall Subject: FKW2: FK the Alternate Universe (2/2) Sunday 10:50pm Gibraltor Lighthouse ___ Hanlan Island EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT As Jennise joins the Director, Karin, and LaCroix, Valerie rushes over to Nat, who stares incredulously at her costume. NATALIE And just who are you supposed to be? JENNISE Hi, Pop... LaCroix. You made it. Great. DIRECTOR (interrupting LaCroix's response) I can't shoot with all these people around. JENNISE They're just gonna watch. DIRECTOR I can't. I won't work under these conditions! JENNISE If you ever want another job on this continent you will. DIRECTOR You can't... LACROIX Perhaps she can't. But I most assuredly can. Karin and Jennise watch triumphantly as the Director slinks off to his duties. KARIN Thanks, Uncle. JENNISE Would you excuse me, please? I have some new pages to give the actors. She waits until LaCroix nods yes. Then she darts off through toward the set. JENNISE (over her shoulder) Valerie! Don't miss your queue! EXT. MAKE-UP TRAILER - NIGHT Janette wonders through the hubbub by the trailer. Members of the crew automatically give her room as they pass. She does a double take as LaCroix, steps out of the trailer adjusting his black leather trench coat. She glances across to the parking area and sees LaCroix, clearly amused, huddled with Nat and Nick as they argue. JANETTE LaCroix. The Actor studies Janette's startled expression. LACROIX-ACTOR (he smiles charmingly) No. But I will be playing the part tonight. JANETTE I'm sure you will do a fabulous job. Perhaps we could discuss it after the set is wrapped for the day? LACROIX-ACTOR I would enjoy that. Alma, dressed in a beautifully revealing black dress steps out of the trailer. Janette's jaw drops. JENETTE And just who are you supposed to be? ALMA Janette! What are you doing here? JANETTE That is my question. Did LaCroix's little writer put you up to this? ALMA Ha! She's no one. LaCroix himself hired me. JANETTE We'll just see about this! _________________________________________________________________ Jennise - One an Only _Daughter of LaCroix_ ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 19:34:13 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWar2: Creative Control "*Who* are you supposed to be?" Valerie all but flinched at Nat's question, served up with equal parts incredulity, annoyance, and utter bewilderment. "Believe me, you don't want to know," Valerie sighed, pulling her around the corner of the dressing trailer. "This is *not* what it was supposed to be...not that I had any idea what it was supposed to be..." "How did you get mixed up in this, anyway? With all that Shakespeare you've been doing you can't be *that* desperate!" "I'm not, I'm not!" Valerie assured her hastily. It took only a few moments to fill Natalie in on Jennise's blackmail, during which time the doctor's frown deepened alarmingly. "I don't *think* Janette would have believed her, but..." Nat shook her head. "Still, there had to be a solution besides getting roped into this travesty and that get-up." Valerie shrugged, glancing down at the offending wardrobe. "Well, I wish I'd thought of one. Still, at least this way I can try and salvage--" She cut herself off, but too late to derail the train of thought. Obviously Nat had just registered that the top purple thing they had put Valerie in somewhat resembled a lab coat. "Oh, you've *got* to be kidding!" "Nat, I swear, this is not what they showed me before! Jennise says it was Janette's decision, in which case I'm sunk because neither you nor I is exactly on her list of favourite people right now. And I *never* thought she'd have me playing you in the first place, but then I thought it might be a chance to give this thing a *little* truth--you wouldn't believe some of the things I've seen the last few nights, it's positively slanderous--but I'm not having a very easy time of it." "Obviously," was the succinct reply to the frantic tumble of words that somehow rode on a single breath. Finally, though, after looking at the ensemble from every angle and ascertaining that it was not going to improve, Nat took the only remaining option: she cracked up. "Well, I wouldn't be able to walk two steps in those things, so I guess I'm actually getting *more* credit for one thing." Relieved and joining in the laughter, Valerie contemplated the footwear in question. "Well, it isn't easy; but I got practice at it when I got some even worse ones once to spite a director who didn't cast me because he thought I was too tall and actually told me so. I bought these godawful things at the thrift store and wore them to see the show and towered over him by about three inches." A light bulb went off over Valerie's head. "In fact," she went on, snapping her fingers, "I must be just about eye-to-eye with ol' Uncle himself." Natalie grinned up at Valerie from her own perfectly respectable but non-beanpole height. "Looks that way." She gave the spectacle one last chuckle and headshake. "Go get 'em, Tiger, with my blessings." One of the various gofers scurrying around the set poked his head around the corner. "Valerie, you better get over there before he reaches critical mass!" "On my way." She strode toward the location for her next scene, concentrating on not tottering in the impossible shoes and tossing a wink back at Natalie. "If nothing else, I can promise you dignity." "More than I could hope for," Nat laughed, clearly not holding out a lot of hope for the brave offer but appreciating it anyway. -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 22:41:41 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FKWARS2: Schanke on location 1 Sunday night, July 17: Hanlan Island FK shoot Schanke had managed to arrive early at the Hanlan Island location; his infallible sixth sense had divined the location of the commissary immediately and he had cadged coffee and two particularly gooey jelly donuts from a giggling caterer. He had always had good rapport with food service personnel. As he started off on a rambling tour of the set, his cheerful interest in the mechanics of the film shoot resulted in a lot of friendly banter with the crew and a certain number of sticky, jelly smudges on particularly sensitive bits of equipment. This "Forever Knight" thing would probably be good publicity for the Toronto PD; it was nice of the production company to invite members of the *real* 27th out to see them film. It looked as though there must be guests from other organizations as well, though; in fact, the place was crawling with extraneous people and the guy the crew had identified as the director was alternately ranting and raving and sulking in corners. Schanke had seen both Natalie Lambert and his errant partner in the distance, but they kept moving about and he lost them in the dark, the crowd and the confusion. Anyway, filming was about to start.... Sometime later, Schanke waved his fresh cup of coffee in the air to make a point in the conversation he was having with a technician, who had begun to look as though she would rather be some where else, when a hand grasped his shoulder from behind and a familiar voice sounded in his ear. "Schanke! What are you--mmhphlt--" Knight's question ended in an unhappy mumble as the coffee cup collided with his nose. "What am I doing here? What are you -- look, would you get your own coffee? -- what are *you* doing here? *This* is undercover?" "What? Oh, undercover, yes. I'm undercover. Act casual. Pretend you don't know me." "What's to pretend? I haven't seen you in what? nine, ten days? I barely recognize you. And when I call your place, a woman answers. I call maybe eight or nine times and a *different* woman answers every time! What's going on, Knight? I promise I won't tell Natalie." "That was, was just the case...the undercover case. How'd you find out about that?" "Hey, I'm a detective! Besides, when I couldn't get hold of you, I finally got Nat at the morgue, although she's been gone a lot, too. There were some strange stories going around, believe me, but Nat told me you'd gone undercover on special assignment for the Crown Prosecutor. Nick, Nick.....you coulda told *me*. I was worried, buddy. And besides, it would have made all the double shifts and overtime I pulled covering for you easier if I had known you weren't just out on some screwball, loose cannon mission of your own." "You're right, Schank. I owe you for this. And I'll make it up to you." "Oh, I *know* you will. I'll make sure you do." Pam Rush ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 20:09:04 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: Musings from the pavement Selma sat on the pavement, avoiding everyone rushing to and fro. She would have enjoyed the island more if it hadn't been for the many people there. Besides, she had no intention of running into Nick, who was her former leader. It was unfortunate that the only time she had run into Nick was when he was entering LaCroix's apartment and he had almost taken out his fury on her, not caring who she was. There was something to be said for the business here. LaCroix had been using her as a runner and private secretary ever since he had found her at his apartment. Maybe it delighted him enough just to have one of Nick's people. But he had kept her primarily in the area. And now, he had taken her to the filming area, where she had been studiously avoiding Jennise. Avoiding everybody. *I wonder if I could just sneak off?* she wondered quietly. She bowed her head. *No, he'd get me in a second.* So she sat, waiting until LaCroix came for her. -------------------------- * + * . * Selma McCrory (Cousin) selmamc@aol.com . . * * . ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 17:21:55 -0700 From: Jennise Hall Subject: FKW2: FK: The Alternate Universe (3/4) EXT. HANLAN ISLAND - GIBRALTOR LIGHTHOUSE - NIGHT On the beach Selma stands in front of the Nick-Actor, a blond playgirl model type, in a familiar Australian cattle coat(correct me please!). A stake is seems embedded in his chest. A cross lies at Selma's feet. SELMA I don't wanna do this. I don't wanna do this! DIRECTOR QUIET on the set. SELMA This is wrong! NICK-ACTOR Will you shut up! I can't work with such an obvious amateur! DIRECTOR Shut up!!! The set is suddenly quiet. DIRECTOR Action!! SELMA Die you evil spawn of the dead! She shoves Nick-Actor off balance. Nick-Actor screams in pain and falls to the ground. Selma stares down at the Nick-Actor laughing. At the top of an embankment, Valerie appears. VALERIE No!!!!! Selma looks up at the sound, turns and runs toward the lighthouse. Alma appears beside Valerie. She hisses at the escaping Selma, but turns toward the wounded Nick-Actor. DIRECTOR Cut! The cameras stop rolling. The barefoot Alma, strolls down the embankment to Nick-Actor's side. Valerie remains in the same position. DIRECTOR Roll cameras! ALMA Nichola! Valerie hobbles over to Nick-Actor, as best as any woman wearing three inch spikes can run on sand. VALERIE Nick! Alma pulls the stake out of his chest. Valerie moves to lift Nick-Actor's head onto her lap. ALMA Careful. He'll need blood desperately. With a defiant look at Alma, Valerie cradles Nick-Actor's head on her lap. VALERIE Nick? Nick? Please be okay Nick. Janette, can't you do something!? Alma glares at her. AT THE LIGHTHOUSE Selma frantically climbs the embankment heading toward the 'set' portion of the parking lot. High above, standing in front of the lantern, watching is LaCroix-Actor. A moment later the crane begins to move. It lifts LaCroix-Actor, a terrifying grimace on his face (an actor making excellent use of the fear response), over railing. The harnessed actor swoops down and grabs Selma. She begins screaming and kicking frantically. The camera tracks them as they are lifted and the crane is swung toward, Nick's position on the beach. The two are placed gently on the ground a few feet from the trio. DIRECTOR Cut! Get them out of that stuff pronto! _________________________________________________________________ _____ Jennise ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 22:12:06 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Your 15 Minutes Start Sunday--Between filming Your Fifteen Minutes Start Now Susan, Betsy, and Beth were horrified. They stood off to one side and watched the scene progress, stunned silence giving way to silent disbelief. At one point, Beth reached down to drape part of her carryall over Hazel's cage-- wanting to preventing permanent psychological brain damage. "It's . . . it's worse than Kung Fu," whispered Betsy, in the tiniest of voices. They'd finally caught up with Janette. She stood there watching, her expression carefully blank, the slightest of smiles on her lips. When the director called cut she turned toward them and, for a second, they thought they saw her mask slip. There was something like sadness in her eyes. Susan took a step toward her. "Boss?" But Janette didn't rise to the bait. Her smile slipped back into place and she snapped her fingers--Betsy produced a cigarette and a pack of matches. Janette took the cigarette and, after Betsy lit it, released a cloud of smoke into the air. "I'd been wondering what Alma's been up to these past few months," she said, her voice light. "I can't think what she hopes to gain from this--other than annoying me. I'll make her pay, sooner or later, and LaCroix won't protect her." "She's nothing like you," said Beth, uncovering Hazel's cage. "Sweet." Janette reached out a hand and touched Beth's cheek lightly, then looked over her shoulder, toward the filming. "Is it so evident to them?" she asked very softly, so quietly that they almost couldn't hear her. "Can everyone see how dreadful it is?" "This show? Of course," said Betsy. "Not the show--" snapped Janette turning toward them. "The way they treat me, how I crawl and cringe and give them what they want. Even in this . . . mockery of LaCroix's that Jennise and Karin have concocted for him." She froze, then smiled again, her anger suddenly vanished but lurking beneath the surface. "No matter. Perhaps it will make Nicola wake up. I doubt it, but there's always a chance. At the very least it'll annoy the hell out of him. And that's a comfort in itself." The three Ravenettes looked at one another, not certain what to say. Janette tapped her fashionably clad foot against the ground and took another drag from her cigarette. "But the actor they've chosen to play LaCroix . . . has promise. Don't you think?" Without waiting for an answer, Janette threw the cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of her shoe. "I'll handle LaCroix on my own--the box will suffice for him, as I said. Nicola's--" she glared at Beth "'forensic pathologist' will come to terms easily enough. But . . . Nicola . . . ." She frowned and looked away--for a moment that sadness was back. "I see now that I've pushed him too far. He won't see what I've tried to show him, how they misuse me. He'll think I betrayed him. And Nicola does deal well with that. Not at all . . . ." Before they could say anything the smile and false face was back in place again. "If you need to leave, you may use the boat. And you needn't stay here on my account. Things may get . . . messy in a bit. I may not be able to offer you much protection." Again, the three Ravenettes looked at one another. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Susan, as the other two nodded their assent. Janette's smile, for the briefest second, was real. Then she turned back to watch the next scene being filmed, grimacing as one of the staff touched up Alma's makeup. It was as much of a thank you as they'd gotten so far. But it sufficed. ----- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 21:17:59 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK wars 2: Hilary makes a spectacle Hilary was having a bad week. First her mail had gone down for a month, and then her boss had decided to redecorate the place. She had ended up with a bad neck. But she had gotten a bit of a vacation, so she was heading towards Toronto, where various messages from Selma told her everything was happening. When she got to the airport in Toronto, she had called the loft and was informed as to what was going on and where everyone was going. She decided to drop in. She managed to plead her way onto a flight that was going skydiving, and convinced the pilot (with her great charm) to let her parachute off to the island where everything was happening. "Yahoo!" she shouted as she fell towards the beach. She opened her parachute and landed safely. She looked around as the parachute fell behind her. An angry man came up to her. "And who are _you_?" he asked. "Hilary McLachlan," she answered confidently. The man glared at her. "Who are you?" she asked. "She's a friend," a woman said, coming up from behind. "Hi, Hilary! It's Selma." Hilary looked at the blond woman. "Selma? Is that you?" Selma smiled. "It's me. Wig, silly coat, and everything." They hugged. "What for?" "It's the show," Selma answered. "That fellow is the director, and you're on the set. You better get off. I'll see you later." Hilary nodded. "Catch you later?" "Catch you later. Blue Lights, Hilary." Hilary smiled. "Blue Lights." Selma walked off to talk to the director, and Hilary walked off, unfastening her parachute and wandering towards the trailers. ------- * + * . * Selma McCrory (Cousin) selmamc@aol.com . . * * . ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 20:53:57 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Not A Spectator Sport Not A Spectator Sport "Hsst, Valerie! Nice threads!" Valerie, who had just walked off camera, spun around. It took her a moment to identify the grotesquely dressed figure partially hidden in the shadows cast by the garish lights on the set. "Tanaquil! Is that you?" She eyed her ally ruefully. "I could return the compliment, but my mother raised me to be truthful. She always said, 'If you can't say anything nice...'" "'Honey, come over here and sit by me!'" Tanaquil finished with a grin. "I like the shoes. They look almost as uncomfortable as these feel." "Well, they couldn't be much uglier. How did you get here?" "Told Janette that Sundays were my night off and snuck over on the ferry. Technically I'm still under cover, but I doubt that will last long. I'm hoping she'll be too -- distracted -- to waste time getting even with me. I have a nice little garlic spritzer, just in case. Now how did they rope you into playing the B-version of our favorite forensic pathologist?" "Jennise threatened to convince Janette that we were responsible for that panther business as well as the practical jokes. Speaking of which --" "Well, if it isn't Ms. 'Who's Keeping Score?'!" The acid tones of the real Natalie emerging from the shadows made both of her followers jump. "The score-keeping bit wasn't me, honest! I only arranged Tuesday's entertainments." Tanaquil was looking slightly sheepish. "I'm sorry if I went over the line, but *someone* had to nudge Janette off that barstool of hers. After that things sort of got carried away." "Forget it. Just try to look inconspicuous, OK? I suspect we're going to have some excitement around here before the night is out, and I'd rather you kept out of Janette's line of vision." Natalie slipped away, looking distinctly harried. "A dot on the horizon, that's me," murmured Tanaquil, and faded into the shadows. "Valerie! If you need backup, I'll be around." S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 00:45:07 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWAR2: A single picture is worth... Sunday July 17th, evening *snap* -picture of Janette and Alma/Janette meeting. *snap* -picture of Natalie laughing with Valerie. *snap* -picture of the playgirl actor/Nick with a stake being shoved through his chest while Selma looks on. *snap* -picture of 'Most Holy and Kathy with a siamese cat poking out of his jacket. *snap* -picture of Janette with the actor playing LaCroix at the top of the ferris wheel (during a break on Centre Island). *snap* -picture of Dawn with Alma (getting her autograph). *snap* -picture of the frustrated ferry workers (who can't close until the shooting crew goes home). *snap* -picture of the director when he started to pull his hair out. *snap* -picture of LaCroix trying to direct LaCroix. (info from hearing detector: apparently LaCroix has to do the voiceovers since the actor playing his character doesn't have a good enough voice.) *snap* -picture of everyone at the big confrontation. *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap* *snap* Dawn had gotten a lot of *great* pictures. She asked Kathy to stay and watch at a distance while she tried to get some close up candid shots without being noticed. She was milling around the costume vans when she spotted Schanke. He was talking to a cameraman who was looking as it he'd rather be somewhere else. Dawn quietly walked up behind them and patted Schanke on the shoulder. "What?" Schanke's voice was a bit muffled as he was trying to finish a jelly filled donut and talk at the same time. "Hi. Are you Detective Schanke with the 27th Precinct?" "Why yes I am. And can I do for you?" "Well, I was wondering if I could get your autograph?" Dawn saw LaCroix approaching out of the corner of her eye and steered Schanke to another area under the excuse of trying to find a pen. She didn't want LaCroix's attention on Schanke tonight. Dawn had considered various approaches and finally decided on the sweet and cheerful approach. A lot of men help you if you turned it on. A big fan of garlic dishes, Dawn admitted to having thoughts of joining the FoD's every once in awhile. But then she had thoughts like that about every faction. That was why she remained a Die-Hard. "... I saw you on that TV show "Cop Watch" some months back. I can't believe I'm finally meeting you. I thought you did a really good job with the assignment." "Why thank you. I could probably make it in show-biz, but I'd never leave the police department. 'To serve and protect', that isn't something one tosses away to become a movie star." "Your partner was in it with you, what was his name? Nick something..." "Nick Knight. He's here tonight if you want to get his autograph too." "Really? I'd love to. Are you sure he wouldn't mind?" "Well actually he's here tonight on some undercover work, but I'm sure he'd be willing to take a couple of minutes off. Hey there he is over there..." Dawn and Schanke went over to Nick. He was talking with Janette. They appeared to be in the midst of a quiet argument, but Schanke went over and interrupted. Dawn started looking everywhere else but at Janette for a minute, but then decided to face whatever would happen. "Nick! This is Dawn. She saw us on that "Cop Watch" show and wanted to get our autographs. And Janet what are you doing here?" "It's Detective Schanke. I speaking with Nichola, before you interrupted us." "This'll just take a minute, come'on Nick." "Very well. Do you have some paper." "Here." Dawn gave Nick the paper and pen, and then looked straight at Janette. "Hello. I don't know if you remember me..." "Monday night. The Raven. You threatened to throw up on me." "Yes... I'd like to apologize. I almost never drink and I'm afraid I had a bit too much that night. I would never dream of doing such a thing to you." "Very well. That's one apology so far tonight. I doubt I'll get any more. Here give me that." Janette grabbed the paper and pen from Nick and quickly scrawled her signature. "I believe you asked for an autograph Monday night?" "Thanks a lot. All of you. I hope you can settle whatever differences you have amicably." "Faint hope." That was from Nick, who had been silently waiting for the interruption to cease so he could get back to his conversation with Janette. "I really appreciate it. I'll be going now." Dawn managed to pull Schanke away from Nick and Janette. They went back to their conversation as if Dawn had never interrupted. Dawn talked to Schanke for another ten minutes, and left him after buying him another coffee. Apparently his earlier one had been spilt. She went back to Kathy and filled her up on everything she'd seen. Faint regret in her heart that she hadn't managed to get LaCroix's autograph. *I think the last thing I want to do tonight is draw attention from that quarter though. Not if I want to remain out of the hostilities.* She settled back in to watch the end of the war. --------------------------------------------- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 19:27:17 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII-And Around She Goes Friday Evening -- Confrontation 1 -- And Around She Goes Janette took the actor's hand as he helped her off the Ferris wheel, careful to lean her weight against him as she pretended to fall. It was almost too easy--the delighted smile, the light in the eyes. Nice to know she hadn't lost her touch. "The director was looking for you," said LaCroix's voice, from behind them. The actor playing LaCroix, who was his double in so many ways, jumped, startled as LaCroix could never be. Janette released him and took a step back, looking toward the ground. LaCroix placed his hand on her shoulder, his fingers caressing her neck as he added, "Something about a script change?" "Thanks, Mr. Cross," said the actor. "I'll see you later?" The last was directed toward Janette. She managed a vacant smile, but still wouldn't look up. "Be careful," said LaCroix, whispering in her ear. "I'll need him later. We've a few more episodes to do. I should very much hate to have to replace him. And speaking of replacements--" His fingers touched her chin, then turned her head so that her eyes met his. "Settling for second best has never been your way." "Nor has it been yours." Janette wrenched away from his grip. She folded her arms and stared out across the grounds of the park. "Casting Alma in my part!" "A bit of irony, nothing more. I wanted a pretty face. And, at that, she is second best when compared with you." His words were meant to woo, to soothe. Instead, they infuriated her. But Janette knew how dangerous he could be. She looked up, spotting her Ravenettes nearby and LaCroix's people not so far away. There was no help there. "I hope you're finding my show interesting," said LaCroix. He moved to face her but, when she turned away from him again, added, "Informative, then? Perhaps instructional?" "It taught me nothing." Now she look at him, meeting his eyes for a brief second, then looking past him. "Where's Nicola?" "Over there." LaCroix pointed lazily over his shoulder. "You know where he is. And yet, you've only stumbled across me by accident." When she glanced back to meet that cold gray gaze, she saw that she was right. LaCroix frowned. "I needed to speak with you--" "And happened upon me. But you where Nicola is. You know where Nicola is." "Dear Janette." He moved to stand behind her, placing a hand on either shoulder and whispering in her ear. "Sibling rivalry? And only now?" "It's always been there," she admitted, as his grip on her shoulders tightened when she didn't answer immediately. "If I did not . . . care for him so much, I would have done away with him long before this. Do you think so little of me?" One of his hands trailed the length of her arm, catching her hand in his. Moving to face her, he brought her fingers to his lips. "I think of you often. Far more than I should." His eyes widened slightly as he released her hand. "You've always been so well-behaved. Is this why you've set us against one another, to get my attention? Because, Janette, it does not amuse me to be used." "This. And other things. I'm tired of being taking for granted, used by you against him and he against you." Then, that sudden strength of will left her as she saw the steel in LaCroix's eyes. "I know it won't change," she added, softly. "It will change. But . . . at least you'll know. You won't care, but you know." For a moment, his smile seemed softer. "Yes. I'll know. You've gotten my attention." But then he took her hand in his, fingers wrapped tightly around her own. "But what shall you do now that you've gotten it? As any parent, I'll have to discipline you for your misdeeds." Janette lifted her head, meeting his eyes squarely. "I have something for you." She gestured toward the Ravenettes with her free hand. It was Betsy who held the box, the others walked a few feet behind her, none of them obviously thrilled to be anywhere near LaCroix. He released Janette's hand at their approach and eyed them each, in turn. "Such pretty birds you've gathered, Janette. But only three--the rhyme says you need four and twenty to feast well." "Not them," hissed Janette, taking the box from Betsy's shaking fingers. "This." LaCroix stared at the box, then took it from her. He frowned suspiciously, then turned aside and opened the lid. Had it been anyone else, she would have described the sound as a gasp. But, of course, LaCroix did gasp. Although his hand seemed to shake slightly as he replaced the lid. His eyes were cold and hard as he whirled back to her. "Where did you get this?" "One of my Ravenettes--and not one of these," said Janette quickly, as he turned that hard gaze on her followers, who took a step back together. The rabbit rustled in his cage beneath that baleful glare and neither cat was more than a lump at the bottom of its carrier. "She's safe from you. And she's true to me--your secret remains there, for your eyes only." LaCroix clamped his hand down on top of the box. He looked to his side. "Margaret." One of the cousins came forward, scurrying at his command. He thrust the box into her arms and said, "Put that in a safe place. Your life depends on it--as it does you not looking at the contents." The cousin gulped, having enough will to cast a curious eye at Janette. Then she proudly walked off with her burden, receiving jealous glances from the other cousins present. "Even them, you play one against another," said Janette thoughtfully. "Are you content?" "I . . . accept your gift. You're forgiven. This once." LaCroix licked his lips and smiled again at the Ravenettes. "Although if you'd offer me one of your little pets--" Raising her hand, Janette hissed and the Ravenettes scattered, taking to their heels across the park. LaCroix laughed and, after a second, Janette laughed lightly as well. "A pity," he said, watching them run. "Such fun we might have had. I thought your followers would have more backbone. Why you keep them around?" "Because they amuse me. And . . . I need them." When LaCroix's eyebrows rose at the admission she, herself, was surprised to hear from her own lips, Janette turned away. "Which brings me to a point--the one of yours who came to me . . . Laurie?" LaCroix shrugged. "A momentary aberration on her part. A fit of conscience. It passed." "Yes." Janette cleared her throat. "You have her back. I want my Monica." "I'll ship her to you direct--" "No!" LaCroix seemed startled as she whirled and Janette assumed a careful expression. "No--I don't want her forced to do anything. She chose to take your side in this because she'd thought I'd betray her and any of my own to prove a point. Perhaps . . . she was right, at that. I'll approach her in my own way, in my own time. But if she decides to return to me, will you release her?" LaCroix looked back to his people and Janette followed his gaze--Monica wasn't there. "Would . . . it please you?" "Yes," she answered, softly. "Very much." "Then make your offer. She's free to stay or leave as she wishes. I prefer my followers to be--" "Trustworthy?" asked Janette. LaCroix's lips quirked into a smile. "Let's say, willing? Now, I must get back to my series--so much to watch over, you know." As he turned to leave, Janette touched his arm and gestured toward a group watching a scene being filmed. "If you're still in the mood for something, may I suggest that one?" "The red-head?" "Yes. The man other there is her husband." When LaCroix's eyes twinkled, she added, "It seems she's one of Nicola's harem. I was there when they gathered and that one seemed ready to faint whenever he walked past . . . although most of them acted that way, now that I think about it. You might . . . give her a thrill?" Chuckling, LaCroix stalked away. Janette waited for a moment, watching him, then sighed. She glanced to the Ferris wheel. No beginning and no end. It turned and turned and turned again, the same path over and over. The carts swung in place, one time to the right or another to the left, but they swing. It didn't change, really. It never would, no matter what she did or said. She'd been wrong, perhaps to have even tired . . . . Shaking her head, Janette sighed once more, deciding it would be her last of the evening. She looked up, scanning the crowd for any tell-tale wisps of black. There were other bargains to be made this night, if this 'war' was to be brought to an end, so they could return to their normal lives. The same path, over and over . . . . ---- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 04:35:31 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--LaCroix Makes An Offer Sandra Can't Refuse? July 17, 1994, evening There were people everywhere--crew people, actors, spectators-- all milling about in organized and unorganized fashion. I wasn't quite sure exactly what was going on. They were filming an episode of "Forever Knight" apparently, but my mind wondered how it could be when all the people on it were _real_. A man who looked like Nick stepped out of a trailer and walked toward the set. But when I looked in another direction, I saw Nick talking to Natalie Lambert. Two such good-looking men in one place was almost too much for my senses. 'This must be some strange dream I'm having,' I thought. "It's no dream," said a voice behind me. LaCroix stood there--very close. I started to move away, but he took hold of my arm. "Come and walk with me." My heart pounded and I couldn't move. But when he pulled on my arm, my feet found volition. He was leading me away from the main crowd and toward a much more deserted area. I wished now that I hadn't let myself get separated from Bruce. But there were so many people there, it hadn't seemed to matter. Finally we stopped and he released me. He walked a few steps away and then turned and said, "I hope you and your--husband?-- enjoyed the little joke you played on me." "Joke?" I said, my voice sounding weak to my ears. "At the radio station. I'll have you know you ruined one of my favorite suits." So he _had_ sat in the chair! My lips quirked slightly at the thought, but that was all. I knew I couldn't laugh. Nor did I really want to. "But how--" "Did I know it was you? I had surveillance cameras." My heart quailed. If he should turn Bruce and I in to the police... "Don't worry. I have no intention of telling the police, even though I _could_. It was a quite clever Knightie attack." "My--my husband's a Die-Hard," I said. "But you are not?" I didn't reply. He looked me over. "No, of course not. Nicholas has always had a--certain attraction for women. All of his...female followers...would love to...sleep with him." I felt my face flushing. "But your fascination is somewhat deeper than that, isn't it?" I couldn't reply. He stepped toward me. I pulled out the cross around my neck and held it before me. LaCroix merely smiled. "I am far too old to fear such trinkets." He stepped closer and took the cross in his fingers, briefly touching my own fingers as he did. I dropped my hand to my tote bag and tried to regain some calm. Maybe I could reach another of my defenses... LaCroix smiled and continued his speech as if there had been no interruption. "It is the vampire as well as the man who attracts you." My thoughts went unbidden to the memory of Nick in his garage, eyes gold and fangs bared, when he had been startled from his drinking. I tried to push the thought aside and the reaction I'd had to it. "Despite your rather ordinary exterior, you are a woman of strong physical appetites. You'd like to have sex with a vampire-- preferably Nicholas." "I--I wouldn't. I'm married." "He wouldn't anyway. He'd be too afraid of his--passions-- getting the better of him with a mortal. Rightfully so, I might add." He had dropped the cross and his hand fingered the collar of my blouse. "But there are other alternatives. There are... ancient vampires who have more control...and a wealth of experience to draw from. And of course the pleasure is greater when both parties are vampires." His hand moved further down the front of my blouse, his touch feeling chill even through the fabric. His cold blue eyes were staring into mine and I couldn't look away. I felt myself getting warm again. "I could fulfill your...secret desires," he said. Then he stepped back and I saw he had my wallet in his hand. He looked down at my driver's license, then back at me. "Sandra," he added. He walked behind me and I felt him touch my hair. "You have lovely hair," he said into my ear, his breath cool on my neck. "Think about my offer." I heard a whoosh and then a small thud. Turning, I saw I was alone. I picked up my wallet and put it, my hand shaking, back into my tote bag. I took a few deep breaths, then made my way back to the set and (I hoped) the safety of the crowd. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Sun, 17 Jul 1994 17:24:07 -0700 From: Jennise Hall Subject: FKW2: FK : The Alternate Universe (4/4) EXT. TORONTO ISLAND BEACH - NIGHT Selma and LaCroix-Actor stand in their last position. Alma and Valerie still hover over the unconscious Nick-Actor. DIRECTOR All right! Action. LaCroix-Actor marches Selma toward Nick-Actor. ALMA (to Valerie) Get back, you Fool! Valerie gently lays Nick-Actor's head on the beach and steps back a few feet. LACROIX-ACTOR Janette? VALERIE Will he be all right.? LACROIX-ACTOR Shut up, you sniveling, woman! Alma pulls the stake from Nick-Actor's chest. He howls in pain. ALMA It missed his heart. She lunges for Selma. LaCroix-Actor stops her. LACROIX-ACTOR She's for him. LaCroix-Actor grabs Selma's wrist and rips it open with his teeth. He forces her arm down toward Nick-Actor's mouth. As the thick Ribena drips onto his lips Nick-Actor begins to drink. After a few drops Nick-Actor holds the would be killer's wrist himself. NICK-ACTOR Thank you, LaCroix. I owe you another one. Between the two iron grips Selma is unable to move. A moment later Nick-Actor, pulls her closer and buries his fangs into her neck. He continues to drink even after Selma goes limp. LACROIX-ACTOR That's it my boy. Nick-Actor finishes. Selma's body falls forgotten. She stares blankly into the camera. LaCroix-Actor and Alma help Nick-Actor to his feet. VALERIE Nick? Nick-Actor turns to her, his eyes still glow with hunger. NICK-ACTOR Nat. Valerie takes a step toward the ocean. ALMA I told you. You should have waited at the Raven. Valerie picks up the cross. Nick-Actor blanches. Valerie holds it behind her back, safely out of Nick-Actor's view. VALERIE I'm okay right where I am. Thank you. SCHANKE-ACTOR(V.O.) Nick! They all look up in time to see, a buff, but macholy scraggly looking, Schanke, munching on something on a stick, leading a bloodied TEENAGE BOY across the beach toward them. He barely gives Selma a second glance. TEENAGER He broke my nose! This is police brutality! I'll... Schanke punches him in the stomach cutting off his sentence. SCHANKE-ACTOR Geez. Nick. You look horrible.I caught this one waiting at the get-away car. VALERIE Schanke. Your timing is perfect. SCHANKE-ACTOR It's a sign of a good cop. Nick, why don't you handle this guy and I'll take Natalie back to the morgue. Nick-Actor smiles hungrily...uh gratefully. He takes the boy into his arms. NICK-ACTOR What are partners for. SCHANKE-ACTOR Hey, saves on the paper work. VALERIE No. I want to stay. Make sure he's all right. SCHANKE-ACTOR He'll be fine, Nat. Stop whining and come on. These guys'll take good care of him. They always do. With her lip poked slightly out, Valerie follows Schanke. She and Schanke walk toward the cameras. VALERIE What is that? SCHANKE-ACTOR Cheddar flavored rice cake on a stick. Delicious. And good for you. Want one? VALERIE No thanks. DIRECTOR And! Cut!!! Print that one! Selma hops up off the beach. She sees Nick over by the lot and runs toward him. SELMA Oh, Nick! I didn't want to do it! They made me! ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 03:11:19 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: On the good ship S.S. Identity Crisis, pt 1 "Oh, Nick! I didn't want to do it! They made me!" Selma shouted as she ran up to Nick. He looked deeply confused. "Who are you?" he asked. "Selma McCrory. I'm one of your followers. Or I was. I think I might still be." Apparently the explanation didn't help. "Slow down," he said. Selma realized, calming herself down, that Nick genuinely didn't know who she was. They'd never met, and she was enough out of the action that the people at the loft had any need to mention her. "Ask Nat about the disks, the ones that should have arrived marked 'Medical Supplies'. Anyway, I was one of your people, except Jennise lured me to LaCroix's place, telling me you needed my help. And I got stuck there." "Which makes her one of mine," a third voice interrupted smoothly. They both turned around to see LaCroix. Selma shook her head. "I wasn't meant to be one of yours, LaCroix. Face it, you've seen me for the last week. I'm a lousy liar and a lousy persuader. I'd make a terrible spy, which is why you left Sharon to do the spying, even though I'm more of a computer person and could have destroyed the Abarat easily." "Even you have your uses," LaCroix said softly. "Although, I might add, not in acting. I've got to have a word with the casting director." "Why don't you do that," Selma said. She raised her arms. "I'm going back and washing this stuff off." Selma left, walking towards the trailers. Nick glared at LaCroix. "I'll talk to you about this later," he said, stalking off. (to be continued) ----------------- Selma McCrory (affiliation? _Which_ affiliation?) selmamc@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 07:58:45 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKW2: I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. Demille Sunday evening, July 17 Sharon and Nat had been standing off on the sidelines watching the scene play out in horror. "Boy!" Sharon breathed. "The spoilers never prepared us for *this*!" Nat was slowly shaking her head. "This is unreal!" Suddenly, Sharon chuckled. "Oh, I don't know, Nat. It looks to me like they got your good side!" she said teasingly as Valerie Meachum tottered over to the make-up person who began dabbing her face with bits of cotton. Her reward for that comment was a semi-sharp jab in the ribs with Nat's elbow, before she too smiled. "Yes, the *shoes* definitely complete the picture." Suddenly she sobered. "All right. I want to find Janette. She's here somewhere with Sydney. And where are Nick and LaCroix? Lets get this show on the road?" o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Nat Pack | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 10:25:40 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FKWAR2: Schanke on location 2 (final) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Early morning hours of FK shoot on Hanlan Island, July 17-18 Knight had been less than pleased to find his partner running loose on the "Forever Knight" location and had been trying to talk him into going home. Schanke's presence was one complication he did not need. "I think the excitement is over, really," Knight said, "This is supposed to be your day off. Why don't you go home and spend what's left of it with your family?" "Excitement? You call *that* excitement? Were you watching them film on the beach? What a concept! A *vampire* cop. They'll never sell it. And the actors...well, I could do better. Heck, *you* could do better. Fantasy is ok, I guess...now, 'I Dream of Jeannie,' *that* was a good show! But *cops* and fantasy -- nah; it'll never work." "Well, this version of it seems to need some work, but --" "You can say that again. Look at the way they wrote the sidekick -- a complete doofus." "Oh? You think he should, uh, turn his partner in?" asked Knight in a studiously casual voice. "Nah, not that. He should back up his partner. But he's forgotten the most important thing a good sidekick does...." "Which is?" "Man, week after week, episode after episode, a sidekick has to make his partner *look good*." (1) "Yeah, I guess so," admitted Knight with an unusually acute flash on human selflessness and the grace to look vaguely ashamed of himself. "And *some* weeks," continued Schanke pointedly," it's much harder than usual!" Knight could hardly meet his partner's look, but, practiced sidekick that he was, Schanke changed the subject just in time. "Oh, great," Schanke said, keen nostrils flaring in the light, night breeze, "the kielvasa's done at the commissary. Catch you later...." And he was gone in the warm, garlic scented night. ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 19:28:32 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Pretty as a Picture Sunday Evening Confrontation 2: Pretty as a Picture It was mayhem. The park was alive with light and crowds of happy mortals, enjoying the thrills, chills, and spills--Nick absently wiped his hand down the front of his shirt, remembering the coffee Schanke had spilled on him. Schanke was here. LaCroix, with his twisted sense of humor, had sent him a guest pass. Wonderful. It was something else to confront LaCroix about. Yes, they'd gotten past most of their current disagreements at LaCroix's apartment, when he'd been searching for Nat, Sharon, and Valerie, but there were still a few things he wanted to clear up. Janette's involvement, among them. He wandered the crowd, looking for someone--anyone, who looked familiar. Valerie he'd seen, in full makeup and performing in LaCroix's heavily edited and re-written rendition of their current lives. She seemed well enough, so that was one person off his check-list. But there were so many others in the crowd! The many people who'd come and gone from his apartment, like Scottie--he'd tried to apologize for having left her alone to accept the delivery of LaCroix's mix of fake and real mail on Thursday night, but she'd appeared somewhat stunned when he'd spoken to her. In fact, all she'd been able to manage for a while were muffled squeaks. If he'd been able to reach Nat, he'd have brought her over on the spot--the woman looked like she was having some sort of fit and Nick didn't trust LaCroix's minions not to have planted some slow-acting poison or drug on the letters Scottie had so patiently and thoughtfully sorted. But she'd refused to go to the hospital and seemed relatively fine now--although her face flushed and she seemed to duck back into the crowd whenever he tried to move toward her. Sandra and Bruce he'd spotted. In fact, he'd caught a glimpse of LaCroix approaching the woman . . . but then he'd thought he'd spotted Nat and by the time he'd turned around, LaCroix was gone. The thought of LaCroix loose among these innocents, because that's what most of them were, infuriated him. They had no idea what they were dealing with, how seductive and deadly he could be. And so he searched for Nat, but made a mental note to look for the others who would be here. Sharon would be at Nat's side, of course . . . she hadn't been left alone for her own protection since she'd escaped LaCroix. Nan, he'd recognized, and Ivy, who he'd spotted with Robin. There were others, too, from the meeting at his loft and more that he remembered having seen during the last war, at the meeting in the Raven. He'd spotted what he'd guessed to be one of Janette's followers in the uniform of the day and heard a meow from the bag over her shoulder. He'd run to her, spinning her around, thinking he'd found Sidney-- The cat had been black as midnight and had hissed at him, although elegantly. And the Ravenette had turned tail and run into the crowd before he'd gotten a good look at her. She was only one among many, after all. And there were some he wouldn't see--Lisa, who'd been sent home, suffering only temporary injury, but still having been injured in her attempt to help him. And John, of course, whose wounds had been worse than fatal. If it wasn't so bright, he'd do better to take to the sky and try an aerial view. But there were too many mortals here. Where the hell was Nat? That's when he spotted Janette. She was standing beside one of the costume vans and had a young woman by the collar. It was Jennie--he'd saved her from breaking her neck when she'd broken into the Raven and stolen Janette's dresses--heaven only knows what she left in their place! "I want them back, dry-cleaned and pressed," demanded Janette, shaking the woman. "And not a seam out of place or a button missing or--" Nick stepped between them, easily taking Janette's fingers from Jennie's collar. "Disappear," he suggested to Jennie, then turned his attention to Janette. Janette looked past him, watching the young woman stalk off. She leaned back against the trailer and swallowed, not meeting his eyes. "One of yours?" "Does it matter?" "No. It suppose not. Any lady in distress deserves the protection of a knight, yes?" She fluttered her hand at him. "Except me." The words were bitter. Not what he expected. But he had no sympathy for her. "You don't deserve any help. And the way you've acted is hardly lady-like." "No?" She looked at him, then turned away. "Nicola, let me be." He caught her arm, fingers encircling her wrist. She froze in place and stared down at his hand. "As always, the gentleman," she hissed. But he didn't release her. Instead, he pulled her close. "Why? Why did you lie to me about LaCroix? Why did you tell him I had the mail?" "Yes, I lied to you. It was what you wanted to hear, what you wanted to believe--that LaCroix had once again thrown a gauntlet at your feet and challenged you." She slipped her wrist from his grip and glared at him, fire in her blue eyes. "What you did was wrong. It was only a matter of time before he discovered the truth--what did it matter if told him?" He couldn't quite believe her, she was backing up everything LaCroix had told him. "You did this intentionally? Set us at each other's throats on purpose?" Something stopped him-- the sound of Schanke's voice. When he looked up, he pasted a smile on his face and said to Janette, "You'll stay here." That much he'd learned from LaCroix--how to put enough of a threat in his voice to control her. She glared at him, but assumed a false smile as well, as Schanke introduced the woman with him as Dawn. The name was different enough to ring a bell and a wink from her, as she handed him the pen and paper then turned to Janette, made him sigh-- another one. This was Dawn of the Die-Hards, one of the people responsible for that phone-book sized charter and offer of a safe-house. Then again, laser defenses-- He'd barely gotten the paper signed before Janette wrenched it from him and signed her own name, while speaking to Dawn. Dawn accepted the paper with a smile. "Thanks a lot. All of you. I hope you can settle whatever differences you have amicably." "Faint hope," Nick muttered. Janette managed to keep the smile on her face until Dawn had pulled Schanke away, then glared at him. "It's always the mortals, isn't it? Even now--you're furious with me, but you must be nice to the mortals. Pfaugh!" "Do you know what you've cost them? How your petty plans have hurt them?" He grabbed her shoulder, pinning her to the outside of the trailer. "Oh yes, I remember the scene. Nicola and all of his brave warriors scattered around him like so many walking wounded. Don't blame me! You could have stopped it before it started. took the mail. And--" she placed her hand over the one with which he pinned her, but couldn't shake him, "did it never occur to you to simply phone LaCroix and ask him what had happened? No, you assumed it was a war. And rather than call him, you came to me and that I help you." Her strength seemed to leave her when she couldn't move away from him. "If you had only taken charge, none of this would have happened. If you had only --" "It was between LaCroix and me," said Nick angrily. "No one else should have been involved." "You're right. You're . . . right." Janette turned her head. "Nicola, let me go. I don't want to argue with you. I'm too tired. Go back to your little garden of admirers and send them packing. Live in your dream world. Don't let them see what you truly are." He released her. "Is that what that was all about, when you brought over the blood?" "You were starving. You were starving yourself because you didn't want them to think you were fallible." She met his eyes and straightened, he saw some of the fire return to her. "What was worse, you let that poor boy torture himself. He should have been cared for, fed, watched constantly. But you left him ." "I . . . got over the first part," he admitted after a pause. Nick turned away, looking out past the trailers, to the lights of the park. Janette moved behind him, touching his shoulder. "And did they run away? Were they ashamed?" "No," he whispered. "Because that's who you are. You are a . That's why most of them are drawn to you. Yes, yes, you have a noble soul, and some of them find this tortured-nobility business fascinating--" Nick managed a slight smile as she dismissed the whole of his existence with a wave, "but if it wasn't you, it would be LaCroix. These mortals! Faithless to the last." His smile grew broader, as she made a sound of disgust. "That's right--you don't care about them at all, do you?" "Why should I?" Janette asked brightly. "We're like the stars," she gestured toward the heavens. "I'll be here long after all of them are dust. They're nothing to us." "Ummmm, just as well." Nick rubbed his chin with the side of his hand. "Because I thought I saw LaCroix with one of your Ravenettes--" "Where?' asked Janette, moving past him, brow furrowed. "I told them to avoid--" He caught her arm and pulled her close. "So you care?" She raised her chin defiantly. He saw the denial in her eyes, but then she looked away. "What if I do? Does it matter? They're only mortals." For a moment, he forgot where he was. They stood between the trailers, cut off from most of the sounds and fury of the filming and the park attractions. And Nick pressed a kiss to her forehead, the curves of her body so familiar to his arms-- But Janette pushed away. Her eyes were wary, angry. "No. Not now. It's always like this. You're lonely, or you're wounded, or you're confused. The mortals disappoint you and you come to me. Well, I'm tired of it, Nicola. I'm tired of being used, by you and LaCroix. You asked me why I lied to you, why I called LaCroix? It was because I grew tired of keeping your secrets on your terms, of being a pawn in your games." "Is that so?" he countered. "Well, maybe I'm tired of games, after all of these centuries. Maybe I'm tired of ." For a second, her lips formed a startled 'o' shape, then tightened into a frown. Nick thought for a moment that she was going to slap him, but instead she turned on her heel and stalked around the corner of the trailer. "Oh, Janette," he said, throwing his hands in the air. He'd barely moved a step to go after her when he heard the sound of hands clapping together. Nick whirled. LaCroix walked around the end of the trailer, applauding slowly. "Well , Nicholas. I see you haven't lost your touch." He turned and walked away, but LaCroix fell into step beside him. "She told you exactly what I told you. You know I told you the truth the other night." Nick stopped and turned. "Yes," he admitted, with some reluctance. "Janette started this." "And we'll finish it for her." LaCroix smiled at his hesitant expression and clapped him on the shoulder. "Tonight. After all, I've got my own interests to protect. And these mortal pranks have gotten out of hand, wouldn't you say?" Nick paused, suddenly realizing that he hadn't found Natalie. And if she hadn't made her peace with Janette yet-- "What did you have in mind?" LaCroix grinned. "I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking." He placed his arm across Nick's shoulders and fell into step beside him. "I should think our best offense is a united defense, wouldn't you agree--?" ---------------- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Mon, 18 Jul 1994 21:18:38 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Kittens Have Claws Sunday Night Confrontation part 3 -- Kittens Have Claws Natalie and Sharon walked around yet another backdrop, ducking out of sight just as LaCroix passed by. Sharon shivered involuntarily. Nat put a hand on her arm and whispered, "It's okay. We'll take care of it." "Take care of what?" asked Tanaquil, quietly slipping up behind them. Nat let off a short cry, her hand to her throat. "Dear God, don't that!" "Sorry," said Tanaquil, but she couldn't help grinning. "I do look pretty scary, don't I?" "No less than Val," suggested Sharon, matching her grin. "That's an idea, Nat--why not talk LaCroix into putting Val in get-up." Before Nat could answer, Val peered around the edge of the scenery. "Did I hear my name mentioned? get up?" Then Tanaquil struck a pose. "Those are the platform heels of doom, aren't they?" Natalie laughed. "Come on, come on. We've got to find Janette and Sidney." "You were looking for me?" They turned. Janette moved out of a shadow, beneath another backdrop that leaned against the one they'd hidden behind. There were other shadows behind her--her Ravenettes. She snapped her fingers and one passed forward a lit cigarette in a holder. Janette puffed at it. "So, all the little Nat-Pack, together? But you are missing some of your tricksters, no? Just as I am now missing a bartender." She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Tanaquil, then flicked the ash from her cigarette away. "No matter. Bartenders are a dime a dozen. Although I do something about the hair, darling." >From the darkness behind her came the sound of a cat, a lone 'meow'. Natalie straightened. "Give me Sidney." "First, you'll hear my terms. Agreed?" "Terms?" whispered Valerie, sidling up to Nat. "I don't like this. Maybe we should wait for Nick--" "I'm tired of waiting for Nick," snapped Natalie, her eyes still locked with Janette's. Janette smiled at the comment. "Good. So let us deal, woman to woman, hmnnn? Men are unreasonable. And unreliable." Again, she tapped her cigarette against the backdrop. "First, I want everything of mine returned in good condition, including my wardrobe and chokers." "Wardrobe?" asked Natalie. Tanaquil leaned forward and whispered, "Jennie. They're at Nick's loft, in the garage." "Oh." Natalie nodded. "Okay." "Second--I want no more action taken against my club or myself." Natalie cleared her throat. "If it means anything, I never intended that to happen. Some of my friends got a little carried away." She glanced over her shoulder at Tanaquil and asked quietly, "Elizabeth got the word, right?" "She said something about cat toys. But she's here somewhere, I can check--" " have the cat toys," said Janette sharply. "But if you can't control your . . . friends, your word is no good to me, Dr. Lambert." "If Nat says to stop, everyone will stop," protested Sharon. "It just takes some time to get the word out. Nat's got a of friends." Natalie gave her a smile over her shoulder. Janette cleared her throat. "Yes. Third--if you ever send spies into my club," she paused and took a drag from her cigarette, then blew a smoke ring into the air. "Please make certain they're dressed properly. that they can dance. I do have an image to maintain and clubs fall into and out of fashion so easily these days." "I'll work on it," said Natalie dryly. "And I sympathize. Is that it?" "That's it." Janette smiled. "Agreed?" "Agreed," said Natalie. Val put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook her head, warning them not to take any action. When Janette nodded, one of the Ravenettes came forward. She slipped the cat carrier from her shoulder and knelt on the ground. Sidney crawled out of the bag and shook his head, straightening his fur. Natalie knelt down, smiling. "Come here, boy. Come here, Sidney, poor baby!" Sidney took a step or two toward her, then turned. Meowing, he ran to the feet and up the dress of another Ravenette, who carried another bag on her shoulder, which was also meowing. "Ow, geez, Sidney, I'm a scratching post," she muttered. "Betsy, can you give me a hand?" The first Ravenette, Betsy, removed Sidney. The second Ravenette slipped her own cat carrier from her shoulder. The cat that emerged from the bag was black as coal, with gleaming eyes and a sharp red collar. She stretched as she came out of the bag, then nuzzled Sidney's whiskers with her nose. "Goblin," explained Janette, as Natalie looked at her, astonished. "She's a Ravenette, too. Belongs to one of the Die-Hards, I think. Such a clever kitty." Natalie was stunned. She watched as Sidney tucked his nose against the other cat's collar. "You sent another cat to seduce Sidney?" The second Ravenette cleared her throat. "Actually, Dr. Lambert, Goblin and Sidney have been email dating." "They've been ?" The third Ravenette stepped forward, a rabbit cage in her hands--Natalie recognized her from the last war . . . but hadn't she been one of Nick's people then? It was so hard to keep track any more. And that thought made her glance back at Sharon, just for a moment. "Beth, right?" She nodded, looking to Janette. "Have you ever come home and found your computer on? But you could swear you turned it off before you left?" "Yeah, just the other--" Natalie rose to her feet and gulped. "Sidney's been sending email?" Janette chuckled. "The nature of the beast," she said softly. "Dr. Lambert, you might ask your bartender friend for a drink. You look like you need one." "That's ," she corrected. Then, she smiled. "Sidney, you little devil!" At the sound of his name, he meowed and looked over his shoulder toward her, then nuzzled Goblin. But Goblin leapt away, into the second Ravenette's arms. Sidney tried to follow, his claws digging into the jersey of her skirt. "Betsy, please help Susan," said Janette. She tapped the ash off her cigarette again. "And return Sidney." Betsy carefully disentangled Sidney from Susan's skirt. He made a helpless little meowing sound and scrambled up on her shoulder, as if he were going to launch herself across the distance to reach Goblin, but Betsy held him tightly. She handed him to Natalie. "He's a good cat," she explained. "He was waiting for us when we went to pick him up. We didn't want to frighten you. But he was having so much fun with Goblin." Janette had moved beside Susan. Goblin had settled on her shoulders and was hiding beneath her hair. "That's right," cooed Janette softly, scratching the cat between the ears. "Never let them know you'll miss them. It only makes parting more difficult." Sidney meowed again and snuggled against Natalie. She looked to Val and then to Sharon. "What should I do?" she whispered. "I've never seen him like this." "The cat's got it bad," said Tanaquil. "There's nothing that says he can't still send her email," said Val, with a shrug, when Natalie stared at her. "I'm sorry. I know it sounds crazy. But if that's how they met--" Sharon smiled. "Val, sounds crazy when you're wearing an outfit like that." "We're settled then, you and I?" asked Janette, still scratching Goblin behind the ears. "Yes, I guess we are." Natalie shook her head. "I never would have figured you for a cat person. Or a pet person." "One never knows." Then, Janette smiled. "We should be on better terms, you and I. Especially since we have so much in common. But--" Janette shrugged, "it's too late." "It's too late." Natalie walked forward, lessening the distance between them. Janette's eyes narrowed as she approached. "Can you tell me--you started this, didn't you?" Janette looked past her, at the friends that had followed her across the distance. "Yes." "Why?" There was a moment when Janette paused. She looked back at her Ravenettes and Natalie wasn't certain she was going to answer. But then she said, "Many reasons. I was tired of being used, tired of being caught between LaCroix and Nicola. And one of the cousins contacted me--she asked to defect to the Ravenettes. LaCroix might have laughed it off. Or he might have killed her . . . you never know with him." "So . . . you started a war to hide a defection?" asked Sharon, stunned. "It does seem a grand gesture," admitted Janette. "But I'm known for grand gestures. And--" she met Natalie's gaze, "knowing LaCroix, what was I to do?" Natalie nodded, then looked to Val. "I think we should have talked to Janette in the first place. Janette laughed. "How odd, since only people ever attacked me! Neither Nicola or LaCroix took any move against me--" One of the Ravenettes, Betsy, was pushed from behind, into Natalie, who sprawled back against Sharon, who knocked over Tanaquil. Susan and Beth were brushed aside as well, Goblin hitting the ground on all fours and Beth protecting Hazel by holding the rabbit's cage up as she fell. LaCroix had grabbed Janette's right arm and Nick her left. "I think we'll remedy that situation immediately," said LaCroix. Grasping Janette's chin in his hands, he turned her gaze toward him. "And no claws, kitten. This time, you're outnumbered." ----- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 00:02:17 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Is it Live or ? Sunday Evening -- Confrontation 4 (and final) -- Is it live or is it . . . .? "Nick?" asked Natalie, astounded. "What the hell are you doing?" "Saving you. Saving all of you." Nick glanced at Janette, who eyed him with fear. "She's dangerous, she's lost her mind. We're not going to hurt her, we're just going to take her somewhere to cool off, maybe for a century or so." Nat scrambled off Sharon then glanced at LaCroix. He raised an eyebrow, then smiled, when he saw her beside Sharon, who was still trying to gather her wits. Putting an arm beneath her shoulder, Nat hissed, "Find Betsy V., Ivy, and Robin, NOW!" Then she pushed Valerie after her saying, "Just get everybody!" Val hesitated. "Everybody?" "Everybody," repeated Natalie. "Good," said LaCroix, as Janette struggled. "Let's put on a show, shall we?" "Let go of her!" cried Susan, one of the Ravenettes. Betsy was still on the floor near Natalie and was holding onto Goblin's collar for dear life--the lady cat's ears were flattened and she hissed at LaCroix, showing her fangs. Beth had placed the rabbit cage behind her and stood behind Susan. "Sidney?" asked Nat, suddenly panicked. "I've got him," said Tanaquil, from behind her. "He's not happy, but I've got him." By this time, Susan had pulled a thick manuscript from the other bag she carried. She held it aloft in one hand, and had Janette's lighter open and flaming in her other. "Let her go or I swear I'll burn this." "A story?" asked LaCroix. He shrugged. "I have my own writers." "I've hidden something inside the story," she explained, turning her gaze to Nick. "When Janette had your mail, she pulled the same thing on you that you did to LaCroix--she held back some of it." "Susan!" cried Janette, more than a slight tint of anger in her voice. Susan paled, but wouldn't look away from Nick. "She pulled certain pieces out of your mail and Natalie's mail, possible cures, suggestions on how you could come back across." She waved the papers lightly and held the lighter flame near the edge. "The manuscript's typewritten on onion skin--it'll go up like a torch. And the mail goes with it unless you let Janette go." Nat took a breath and looked up at Nick. He stared back at her in turn, not knowing what to say or do. But then Janette said, "Susan, give the papers to Natalie." Susan hesitated, looking at Nat, then back at Janette. "You can't be--" "Give them to Natalie. Now." She glanced at Beth, then at Betsy--they both nodded. Susan closed the lighter, placing it on the floor, then stretched out her arm and gave the papers to Natalie. "Thanks," whispered Nat, but Susan's eyes were still fixed on Janette. "They're obedient, I'll give you that," said LaCroix. "Although I would have let her burn them." "I've made my peace with you," Janette hissed at him. "I gave you the box. You said I was forgiven." He smiled sadly. "Forgiven, yes. But still unpunished. And I think Nicholas would agree that you've been a very naughty girl. Interfering in all those mortal lives . . . ." "They to be involved," protested Natalie. She handed the sheaf of paper behind her, to Tanaquil, then rose to face Nick. "Nick, it's not her fault John was brought across. It's not your fault. LaCroix bears most of the blame--he bit John, but after that it was an accident." "It wouldn't have happened if Janette hadn't started the conflict," said LaCroix smoothly. But Nick released Janette and took a step away. "Natalie's right. If Janette were that dangerous, she'd have let those papers burn. Let her go, LaCroix." "I don't think so." LaCroix grabbed her other arm and pulled that behind her back, catching both of her hands together. His other hand rested at her throat. As Nick moved toward him, LaCroix said, "I'd think twice. I can take off her head before you move. Not that I'd want to, of course. I want an end to this as much as you. And I think I'm in a position to dictate terms." "Wanna talk about a dysfunctional family," whispered Tanaquil, from behind Natalie. "Bad blood," was Natalie's only reply. Then she looked up. There were others there, in the shadows--LaCroix's followers, the cousins. Though not overtly threatening, their presence alone was enough to send a shiver through her. She remembered some of the faces from last time--the one who'd switched Nick's blood was there, as was the leader of the last war's peace coalition--and there were some new faces as well. But then the shadows slid back, as voices and footsteps approached. Sharon pushed Ivy and Robin forward and Betsy was only a few steps behind. "I think," said LaCroix, nodding down at Sharon. "I want her back. She's mine, after all. You do realize she betrayed you." "She was misled," said Natalie fiercely, placing a hand on Sharon's shoulder. "And before you start dictating terms, I've got something you should listen to." She glanced up at Nick, who raised an eyebrow questioningly, then looked over at Ivy. "Do you have it?" "Robin's got it," said Ivy, as Robin pulled a cassette tape from her pocket. Betsy V. took the walkman from her belt, inserted the cassette, then walked toward LaCroix. When LaCroix glared down at Betsy, Natalie cautioned, "Believe me, you want to use the headphones." LaCroix reached out and took the walkman from Betsy with the hand that had been at Janette's neck. Nick seemed ready to make a move, but Natalie held up a hand and smiled, warning him off. Just then, Val arrived, with a herd of Knighties and Die- Hards in tow, as well as the stray Nat-Packers. Natalie made a motion for her to keep them quiet and she did so, using her best back-stage "Sssh!" LaCroix's eyes widened as he turned on the cassette and listened to the first few moments. He glared down at Natalie. "One never knows about people and their pets," she said, seeing Janette smile at the echo of her words. "We've got a full twenty minutes of that." "Not any more." LaCroix tore the headset off and tossed it down to Betsy V. "This one's mine. Destroy the tape," he ordered. Betsy just grinned at him. "Sorry, I'm a double agent." LaCroix stared at Nick, who shrugged, "I told you your place was bugged when I apologized." Ivy and Robin stared at one another. "We got Nick apologizing on tape?" asked Robin. "I want a copy of that," hissed Natalie quietly, out of the side of her mouth. "Next time, remind me to buy the trading cards the war," said Selma, moving forward to stand beside Natalie. "I can't keep track of who's working for who anymore. Somebody could get walloped by accident." She had no idea why Ivy let out a short yelp and put her hands over her eyes. Betsy patted her shoulder. Hilary leaned forward and whispered, "What are trading cards?" Nick took a step toward LaCroix, who raised a hand to Janette's throat again. "They've got copies of the tape," said Nick. "Dozens of copies. And there's a loud-speaker system right here. Maybe we should just hook it up--" "No!" said LaCroix quickly. "There's no need . . . no need to act hastily." He withdrew his hand from Janette's neck, then released her hands and smoothed down the sleeve of her dress. In response, she smacked him in the shoulder, then stalked her way past Nick, to join her Ravenettes. "I'm certain we can come to terms," finished LaCroix, holding out his palms. "The rest of the mail?" asked Nick. LaCroix pointed out Cousin Tok, who was standing beside one very disappointed Nan and two cats, Gandalf and Merlin, who leaned down their heads and put their paws over their eyes. "Did you follow my instructions?" "To the letter," said Tok cheerfully. "The rest of it's in the costume van." "There you are," said LaCroix. "And I think we should take that suggestion you mentioned, Nicholas, about the separate mail drops--?" "That was Bruce," said Nick, pointing out where the man stood, beside his wife. LaCroix smiled, particularly in her direction. "Ah, I've met the lady. And you sir, are a--?" "Die-Hard," said Bruce. "Well, if you must make a wrong choice, better to make no choice at all," commented LaCroix. "I do rather like the name. Sensible suggestion." "Very sensible," agreed Natalie. "I wonder why we didn't think of it before?" "Perhaps because we never suspected that of us might tamper with the mail?" offered LaCroix, pointedly glancing at Nick, who stammered momentarily. "Now if you'll collect your mail and all scurry off like good little mortals, I've got a show to produce. So if you don't mind--" "What in the hell? Let me --" said a voice, from the edge of the crowd. They parted like the red sea under a stream of invective to allow passage for a dark-skinned vampiress. Her eyes were gold by the time she fought her way to the center and she glared at Nick, Natalie, LaCroix, Janette, and anyone else who dared to get in her way. "Not now, Jennise," said LaCroix irritably. "Can't you see I'm in conference? If there's another script problem, I trust Karin to take care of it. And you're so adept at handling that actor--" "No such luck, Pops . . . uh, LaCroix," answered Jennise. She handed him a piece of paper. "Just got this faxed to us from the cops and with not a moment to spare, either." Everyone looked up, dazzled as spotlights blazed down from overhead, accompanied by a thwop-thwop-thwop sound. "Are we being invaded?" asked a man at the edge of the crowd, with a Siamese draped over his shoulder (and holding in its paws something that looked suspiciously like part of a bagel). "Or is Oliver Stone part of this shoot?" Nick put his hand over his face. "Police choppers," he announced, with a dismayed tone. "Why the hell would they send--?" He had no idea that someone would yell, "Run!" ---- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 16:35:00 PDT From: M'lady Printcap the goddess of peripherals Subject: FKWARII: Chaos and Mayhem EXT. GIBRALTER LIGHTHOUSE - HANLAN ISLAND - NIGHT THWOP. THWOP. THWOP. CHUCK WAGON Sandye and Dennis smile at each other over respective cups of coffee. In unison they drop the cups in the can, put phone operator type headsets on their heads and sauntered off in different directions. MAKE-UP TRAILER NICK (hand over his eyes) Police Choppers. Why the hell would they...? VOICE RUN! People scatter. Jennise grabs LaCroix's arm. JENNISE You'd better read this! She hands him the fax. LACROIX Relax Jennise. It's merely a remnant of the war. LaCroix glances over Jennise's shoulder. he does not react as Sandye walks by, gives a thumbs up and continues on. JENNISE Remnant of the war! What happened while I was out of town! LaCroix nods toward a commotion near the helicopters. LACROIX Perhaps you should shut that Director up before he makes matters worse? JENNISE The hell with that moronic Director! What about the cops? LACROIX Now is not the time to test your independence. Jennise looks at her Vampire father dubiously then jogs toward the helicopter. BEACH SET Two helicopters sit on the edge of the parking lot. Not too far from all the equipment. The Director storms through the mass of Uniformed Cops, who now rush forward trying to stop people before they can leave. DIRECTOR Who's in charge here! Chaos. Cops corner cast and crew. No handcuffs are pulled out. They seem only to question. DIRECTOR What is the meaning of this! This is a closed set. COP I (surveys the area) And all these people are crew? DIRECTOR And just who the hell are you? COP I Detective Kwambe. We're looking for Jennise Hall or Frank Cross. You Cross? DIRECTOR No. I...he was just over... He looks toward the make-up trailer. No sign of LaCroix but a furious Jennise jogs toward him. DIRECTOR He's not there. But that's Jennise the fruit cake who hired me then summoned several thousand people to make... JENNISE Namecalling is a little childish isn't it. The Director's mouth hangs open. How did she hear that? JENNISE (her most charming) Officer! What can I do for you? COP I It's about your permits. JENNISE Oh. Easy. They're in the office follow... COP I That's not necessary. We have record of each and every one. And the worthless checks you wrote the payment on. COSTUME TRAILER LaCroix strolls past the trailer in the general direction of the lighthouse and parking lot. The area has thinned out considerably. The faint sound of boat engines can be heard below the confused voices. Sandye pokes her head out from around the corner. SANDYE Uncle! Everything is ready. LACROIX Margaret? SANDYE She's safely on her way. LACROIX Very good. At my signal. SANDYE You got it! LaCroix continues. He walks calmly. The chaos does not touch him. Sandye watches him walk a few yards further. She glances away momentarily as several of the powerful lights go out. A few crew members slink in and out of patches of shadow. SANDYE Okay! Everybody down on the beach! The cops want everybody down on the beach! The words begin to echo through the crowd. Cops pick it up and begin herding those they're interviewing toward the beach. Sandye grinds wildly. Very pleased with herself. PARKING AREA JENNISE Worthless! She looks around frantically. COP I Where is Frank Cross! JENNISE They bounced!!!!! Jennise sees no sign of him in the chaotic crowd. COP I If you don't tell me where he is you'll have to face charges of fraud alone. JENNISE Cross! Cross! Where is that blond...W Handcuffs snap into place on her wrists. GIBRALTER LIGHTHOUSE LaCroix stands on the walkway in front of the dark lamp. From this vantage he watches, a mad smile on his face, as the chaos plays out before him. He watches the various boats launch. He watches Dennis duck behind one of the cameras. BEACH SET Dennis points the camera toward the lighthouse and gives LaCroix a thumbs up sign. GIBRALTOR LIGHTHOUSE LaCroix watches the Cop put hand-cuffs on Jennise's wrists. His smile broadens as several officers scattered along the beach point up at him. PARKING AREA Jennise glares up at LaCroix. She hears him quite clearly over the din. LACROIX (normal voice) Daughter. You did well. Jennise pokes her tongue out at him. COP I Somebody get up there. NOW!!!! Many of the cops run toward the lighthouse. LaCroix turns and walks around the landing, out of sight of those on the beach. The cops have barely made it 5 yards when the lighthouse explodes. While cops land heavily on their backs all around her, Jennise stands her ground. Most are too preoccupied with their own pains to notice her liftherself into the air. Spinning and laughing maniacally. ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- ---------[Monday, July 18th]------------ ---------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 03:18:43 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--The Escape July 18, 1994, sometime after midnight (maybe?) Nick looked around him in some bewilderment as the police choppers began to come down on the beach and in other vacant areas around the film set. People around him started to scatter and someone shouted, "The mail!" Then Schanke ran up to him. "What's going on?" asked Nick. "Police raid of the set. The permits for the shoot were paid for with bounced checks. Man, what a bummer!" "You're telling me." "Hey, is this throwing the undercover case?" Nick thought quickly. "It could. I've got -- informants -- working here that I don't want to get arrested. Not to mention Nat's wandering around. Get me a boat--a big one. I'll go try to round up my people." "Gotcha!" said Schanke. Then he ran off toward the dock area. Nick spied Bruce and Sandra Gray nearby. He ran over to them and took their arms. They turned startled faces to him. "Come with me," he said. "I'll see we get out of this." Then he released them and ran off in the direction of the costume van, trusting they would follow. People were gathered around the door of the van, passing out white sacks. Natalie was there, and Valerie and Scottie. And lots of others. He halted and said, "To the docks, everyone! Schanke's commandeering a boat!" 'I hope,' he thought. "Stay close to me," he added. "Don't run. But if you see any of your friends, try to call them over." Everyone fell into step behind him as he walked away. They moved almost quietly through a scene of mayhem. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 03:36:43 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--The Gray-t Escape July 18, 1994, sometime after midnight (As the police choppers are just appearing overhead) People scattered. Someone yelled, "The mail!" and a few of the people scattering turned their steps in the direction of the costume van. Bruce grabbed my arm and said, "What did he mean--he met you?" I glanced in LaCroix's direction, but he wasn't looking our way. "Later!" I said. "Come on, we've got to try to get out of here! Unless you _want_ to get arrested?" "We've done nothing wrong," said Bruce. The police choppers were setting down in the beach area and in other vacant areas near the set and men in police uniforms were disembarking. "Yeah, but who knows how long we might be detained before they discover that." Suddenly someone grabbed my arm from behind me and, startled, I turned my head to see Nick Knight standing behind us. He had his other hand on Bruce's arm and he said, "Come with me. I'll see we get out of this." Then he let go of us and ran off in the direction of the costume van. Bruce and I looked at each other, then ran off after him. We caught up to him in time to hear him say, "To the docks everyone! Schanke's commandeering a boat!" He paused and added, "Stay close to me. Don't run. But if you see any of your friends, try to call them over." Bruce and I joined the others and we followed Nick away. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Wed, 20 Jul 1994 11:09:48 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: Dawn packs up at the Island... ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- Sunday/Monday... right around the big confrontation Dawn had been busy snapping pictures when she felt Kathy start tapping her on the shoulder. "What is it?" "Take a look over there. It looks as if the shoot is being invaded with cops." "Damn! Things were getting interesting. Did you manage to get everything on tape?" "Everything. I wish we could get a copy of whatever was in that Walkman though." "Maybe we can get one later. Put it with our 'little collection' of damaging, valuable, and fascinating Forever Knight items." "What are we going to do now though? It looks as if the police will sweep the Island. I want to be questioned by the police." "Neither do I. It wouldn't look good to my supervisor. No more little allowed trips to Toronto." Dawn and Kathy started to quickly pack everything back into their backpacks. The cameras, tripod, listening devices, tapes, and extra food managed to all fit, but it was a struggle. Dawn tried to think of how to get off the Island. "I could phone up my brother to come pick us up in a private plane... No that would take too long. What's everyone else doing?" Kathy was looking down the hill through the binoculars (still unpacked). "It looks as if they're all heading towards the docks." "Maybe one of them brought a boat. Let's head down and see if there's room for us. We Forever Knight fans, even if we haven't participated too much." "You were planning on helping to mediate though." "The best laid plans. I got sick with a cold after that trip to the Raven. Didn't feel like doing a thing all week. Maybe in the next war." "Next war? I thought this would be the war to end all wars! I'm too busy to participate again!" "Kathy, Kathy, calm down! I'm sure there won't be another war. At least too soon. Now let's go down to the docks." Their voices grew fainter as they moved down the hill. "You know Kathy, I wanted to try some things during the war and never got a chance to." "What kind of things?" "Well find out what kind of underwear LaCroix wears for one. Seriously though I'd like to...." ------------------------------------------------------------------- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------- Date: Wed, 20 Jul 1994 00:48:49 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKWARS2: Mail Call! "Here!" Nat said, shoving a gaudy chartreuse polyester blouse tied up into a makeshift sack and nearly overflowing with letters into her arms. "Hey, Nat!" Sharon said, grinning and shifting the bundle so that it wasn't directly in her face. "This must have been part of the wardrobe for *your* character!" Nat rolled her eyes. "Just get on the boat!" Stumbling off through the mayhem she ran in the direction everyone else seemed to be heading in. At the boat, she tossed her bundle on board and turned, looking back toward the costume van, wondering if Nat needed any more of the mail carried. She'd just decided to head back out when she thought she saw LaCroix in the distance, looking at her. Shivering slightly, she turned and boarded the boat quickly, scooping up her bundle once again. Most people were sitting around holding on to whatever pieces of mail had been placed in their care. Margaret Newman was there too, looking very pensive and clutching a white box, clasping it to her body. She looked none too thrilled to be on board. Hefting her bundle, she sidled over to the railing, near Tanaquil who was still clutching a miserable Sidney and settled down for the ride back. Looking back toward the shore, she scanned the area for LaCroix but if he *had* been there, he'd made his escape by now. Sharon o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Nat Pack | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 14:14:33 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--Still Raiding Sunday Evening -- Still Raiding People were piling onto the boat and the ferries were filling fast. The police contingent sent to shut down shooting were less interested in the park goers and people watching the filming than they were in the set. Nick waved a few more familiar faces toward the waiting boat, then walked over to a patrolman he recognized. "What's up?' The cop looked at him, then smiled, recognizing him. "Detective Knight? I didn't know you'd been drafted by downtown--" "I haven't," Nick answered. "Undercover." "Bad break." The cop frowned. "Turns out the guy funding this thing's been kiting bad paper all over town. We got the word from licenses to shut him down and fraud wanted him picked up. Is this gonna blow your operation?" Nick looked back over his shoulder toward the boat, remembering that Ivy had sent him a few messages about tinkering with LaCroix's finances. "No," he said distantly, "Schanke's helping me get my people out of here." "Better hurry," warned the cop. "They're shutting down everything." "Thanks." Nick tapped the cop on the shoulder, then moved back toward the set, away from the boat. LaCroix and his people had disappeared, although he'd spotted many members of the cast and crew talking with police. On impulse, he headed toward the costume van. True to form, Natalie was still there, surrounded by fans from all affiliations. One of the mail bags had torn and they were stuffing paper into pockets, shirts, and knotting up costumes from the van to use as sacks. "Go, go," said Nick, catching Elizabeth on the shoulder, as she was knotting a pair of costume pantlegs to keep the mail from falling out. He pushed her in the direction of the boat. Nan was next, accompanied by two very sad felines. Finally, he reached Natalie. "Have you seen Janette?" he asked. She had a sheaf of mail in her mouth. Nick pulled the letters from her as she mumbled an answer. "Hm mrff-rmm-- that way," was her reply. Grabbing the letters back from him, she stuffed then into a morning coat which had been tied into a bag. "Good--I think she's got a boat there. Probably took her people with her." He climbed onto the trailer step and called inside, "Let's go people. If it's not in your hand, leave it. That goes for you, too," he added to Natalie, who was still pushing mail into a bag. Jumping from the trailer step, he waited as the last of the frantic mail-grabbers darted outside. "Yours or mine?" he asked Natalie, pointing at the holdouts, one of whom was Valerie, tottering along on those lethal shoes. "Does it matter?" she responded. "" "Right." Nick took another look around, then headed toward the boat, keeping an eye out for lost souls needing rescue. ---- Like a flock of birds, Janette and the Ravenettes headed for the speedboat. Betsy still had hold of Goblin and Beth was clinging to Hazel's cage for dear life. "What about tall, blond, and fangy?" asked Susan, turning as she ran. "Let him fly," snarled Janette. She pushed Susan forward, but then she paused, seeing movement among the sets. There was a flash of dark hair, a face she recognized. She slowed, then stopped. "Monica?" she asked. Seeing that Janette had stopped, Susan ran back to her and grabbed her arm. "Come on!" "Monica--" said Janette pointing. But there was no one there. "Now!" cried Susan. The vampiress easily shook off the mortal's hold on her arm, and took one last look--only to see nothing but shadows. She ran after the others through the sets and trailers, down to the rear dock where their boat waited. Mary was standing by the boat, wearing black of course. "Hey, what's the--?" "Cast off," called Janette, as they approached. "Put out the plank. Oh, here, I'll do it--" The boarding plank would have been too heavy for any of them. Janette leaped into the boat, grabbed it, then dropped it into place. She counted as the Ravenettes scrambled onto the boat, then grabbed Goblin from Betsy and thrust the cat into Susan's hands. "Betsy--drive!" "Yes, ma'am!" cried Betsy. She ran to the pilot's seat and strapped herself in, as the other Ravenettes found their seats quickly. The engine roared to life and the boat jerked, going from nothing to mach ten in thirty seconds. "Where to?" asked Betsy happily. Janette leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Land." "Okay. Uh . . . how do we get there?" Goblin's despairing meow was added to the chorus of groans. ----- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 16:40:00 EDT From: 'Most Holy Subject: Fly? What do you mean, fly? {During the confusion on the island} Fly? What do you mean, fly? As soon as the mayhem began, Chewie, true to form, headed in the wrong direction. Thinking that water was the last place she wanted to be, she headed for the relative safety of the pretty flashing lights. With all the yelling going on by the people, someone was bound to be missed. In the meantime, 'Most Holy had joined the rest of the followers and was helping with the salvaging of the mail in the prop trailer. He grabbed Dawn as she headed past him with another white sack, "Have you seen Chewie? She bolted as soon as the commotion started." With a muffled, "Try the popcorn stand!" Dawn scurried off in the direction of the boats. "Stupid cat! First I better check the dock in case someone picked her up and then I'll head for the caramel corn vendor." 'Most Holy was not too pleased. As he headed off in the direction of the boats, he saw three cats bolting out from under a trailer. They appeared to be heading away from the docks and towards the police choppers which were setting down on the nearby beach. "Great, just great. I get distracted and she gets delusions of grandeur! But who are the other two? I'd recognize Sidney and Goblin is black, maybe other As 'Most Holy came up to the choppers, he saw Nick talking to one of the police officers. Seeing the cop was distracted he headed for the nearest chopper, which much to his surprise, contained three cats. "No time to explain, but this is Merlin and Gandalf. They need a lift back to shore, somehow they got separated from their mom." Chewie set the bagel down which she had managed to hold on to throughout the confusion, "So, if there are no other questions, can you get us out of here?" "Sure, I got one of those helicopter simulators for Christmas, remember!" With that, 'Most Holy set the joystick (he thought that's what they were still called) into position and the now confiscated police chopper rose into the night air. Gandalf & Merlin sat in the back of the cabin, thinking, "Mom is never going to believe this!" 'Most Holy & Chewie-- FOSsils ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 11:12:39 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Away all boats! The Flight of the Phoenix It was chaos--quiet, grim--but chaos all the same. The police in the choppers didn't seem to be playing games, and Nick was on the edge of panic. LaCroix had disappeared, taking his own route to safety, leaving Janette and the group of mortals to escape without his help. "Grab the mail and run for the boat! Hurry up! Do it NOW!" And, surprisingly, the mortals obeyed. The mounds of mail seemed to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West as people grabbed armloads of it and headed for the boat. Some ran, some stumbled, but they were all moving the right direction. Schanke was in the boat, helping people on board, which wasn't easy, given that no one had a free hand to spare. They didn't want to lose any of the mail. It had to be important, since that's what started the war in the first place. Nick looked around for stragglers, and noticed only one--Valerie, staggering along in those ridiculous high heels. He scooped her up in his arms and almost flew to the dock. Looking back, he saw the police taking over the set. He set Valerie on her feet on the dock, and snapped, "Get rid of those shoes--you don't want to poke holes in the bottom of the boat." "Yes, sir." Valerie kicked the shoes, one at a time, as hard and as high as she could. She didn't mean for one of them to come down on Schanke's head, which it did. He yelled, looked up, cursing the sky, and then got back to work. Margaret was on the boat, hiding in the darkest corner she could find, still holding LaCroix's box. He'd given her orders to guard it with her life, and she intended to do just that. Even if she did get seasick on boats--any boats, no matter how calm the water. LaCroix would *not* be pleased if she threw up on his property. Scottie was keeping an eye on Margaret and her precious box. And saw--well, it was really hard to miss--Margaret turning green. It wouldn't be long till she'd be making a beeline for the side of the boat. Nick yelled, "Are the animals on board?" Schanke looked at him in confusion. "Animals? What animals?" "Schank, I don't have time to explain. A rabbit? Cats?" "Oh, *those* animals! Yeah, they're on board. Come on, Nick, get a move on, we're ready to go!" The boat jerked to a start, and Schanke was thrown to the deck as it started to move. On top of Sidney, who yowled like a banshee and scratched him. "Jeez, cat, I'm trying to save your life here--show a little appreciation!" When he disentangled himself from the cat, he looked for Nick, who was still standing on the dock, looking for stragglers. "Knight! Come on! The boat's leaving!" "Okay, okay, just a minute!" Schanke looked at the rapidly increasing body of water between the boat and the dock. "KNIGHT! What're ya gonna do, fly? Get your butt on board!" Nick gauged the distance to the boat, made a mighty leap, and landed smack in the middle of the ravening hordes. --------------------------------- Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 16:57:38 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARSII: Reluctant Sailors (revised) Reluctant Sailors ----------------- Cousin Tok (unmasked at the end) crawled toward the boat's side. Margaret was nearby -- Tok could see her out of the corner of her eye. "At least I'm not the only one who hates boats," Tok muttered to herself. A helicopter approached the boat and moved in to hover low. Tok looked up in time to see that the man who'd asked if they were being invaded was the pilot. The Siamese cat that had been with him was perched in the window. There were two other cats next to her ... what the hell? What were Gandalf and Merlin doing on a helicopter? Leaving, apparently. The aircraft hovered as low as it could without the turbulence swamping the boat, and the door opened. Tok's two cats disappeared from the window and dove out the door, one at a time. People scrambled out of the way as Tok watched in open-mouthed horror. Cats being cats, they landed on all fours with no apparent harm. They ran over to Tok with a 'where the heck were you?' chorus of meows. As the chopper lifted away, Tok could have sworn the Siamese was waving goodbye. Gandalf and Merlin were huddled somewhere nearby. Gandalf was cursing in fluent feline as he got splashed. Merlin screeched when someone tromped on his tail. Scottie mumbled a quick "Sorry" in his direction. The boat leapt away from the dock with a sharp jerk. Tok slapped one hand over her mouth and grabbed at Nan to keep from falling over. A moment later, the boat rocked violently, as Nick joined the crowd. Nan looked at Tok, still annoyed with her friend for switching sides again. "Serves you right, you know, Tok. But hey, green's really your color." Tok glared at her for a moment, then raced Margaret and a couple of the others for the side of the boat. When she was able to speak again, she said to Nan, "Don't get mad with me. All's fair in love and war. At least I didn't do anything with earwigs." Nan paled visibly at the mention of earwigs. "OK, OK. How about a truce?" "Works for me. Let's just go home, fast -- the fellas would never understand this. As soon as we collect our stuff and turn in my rental car, let's hit the road. I've had enough of this. I'll even lend you my 'Phantom of the Opera' tapes to play on the trip." As Nan and Tok were making travel plans, Merlin nudged Gandalf. "Hey big brother. Mom still doesn't know we've been e-mailing, does she? Or that we're FOSsiLs?" "Well, I'm certainly not going to tell her. If we're careful, we can spy on the Cousins in the future," Gandalf explained. "Good idea." "Of course -- all my ideas are good." * * * * * * * * * * +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus (Cousin Tok) tokaara@aol.com | | Gandalf & Merlin (FOSsiLs) | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Wed, 20 Jul 1994 01:38:08 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2:On the good ship S.S. Identity crisis, part 2 On the good ship S.S. Identity crisis, part 2 Selma looked out the side of the boat that was taking them away from the island. She was grateful for the warm coat that she had been provided by the staff. Natalie seemed to be by herself for the moment. Selma smiled at Hilary, who was raptly watching her from the middle of the boat. Hilary smiled back. Selma sat down next to Natalie. Natalie slowly turned around from some sort of contemplation to look at her. "Hello," she said quietly. "Hello yourself," Natalie replied. "You're one of Nick's people, aren't you?" "Well, I *was*," Selma said, smiling sheepishly. "Then I got nabbed by Jennise and spent most of a week at LaCroix's apartment. I assume that means I'm a Cousin." "Are you sure?" Natalie said, gently but firmly. "Did you tell him that you were joining him?" "No, in fact I'm sure now that he won't want me to be one," Selma replied. "That's good. So you're back to being one of Nick's followers now?" "Actually, I was thinking of joining your group." Natalie smiled warmly in response. "You're welcome." "Thank you." Selma said. "I'll catch you later." She went back to her seat, joining Hilary and her seatmate, a blond vampire. "Well?" Hilary asked. "Well, I'm now officially a NatPacker," Selma said, grinning. She reached out to hug Hilary. "Now I have to get home, and take care of some plans." ------------- * + * . * Selma McCrory selmamc@aol.com . . * * . ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Wed, 20 Jul 1994 09:44:59 -0400 From: Elizabeth A Scroggs Subject: FKWAR2: The Lurker Goes Home ---------------- The speedboat skidded completely out of the water and onto the shore. Miraculously, it didn't flip over or explode. But it was far from any docks or even the city, it seemed. Betsy jumped out and turned excitedly to her passengers. "Wow! That was great! Can we do it again?" But then she noticed that the other Ravenettes, even Goblin if it was possible, had turned a peculiar shade of green. Janette was glaring at her, so Betsy said timidly, "Uh, look guys, dry land. I'm not exactly sure where..." "NO matter!" Janette interrupted. "We can walk back from here, I'm sure. I can get *someone else* to get the boat and bring it in when we get to the Raven." Then she looked again at her other Ravenettes. "On second thought, why don't we find a telephone and call a cab to take us back. A nice slow cab. My dears, you have had enough excitement for this war. I'll get you back to your hotel and you can go home." Beth and Susan looked at her gratefully, and Goblin meowed her agreement. They were slowly returning to their original shade. Betsy tried to speak again, to apologize, but Janette held up her hand to stop her. "No no, Betsy. It's all right. The war is over, the boat ride is over, and I know where to find you all when I need you again. You've all done well. I hope you know how I appreciate your loyalty." The Ravenettes just smiled. The whole war was worth hearing Janette tell them that she needed them. ---------- Dear Windy, The war is over, and I'm on my way back to Baltimore. We didn't win, but we didn't lose either. Next time, I'm sure we will come out on top. I got to drive a boat! It was so great! It reminded me of all those summers when I was a little girl in the Chesapeake Bay in my Grandparents' houseboat. Only faster. I also had a beautiful silk dress that Janette gave me, but it got ruined by cat hair and the water. Janette told us on the way back to the hotel that she would not have people associated with her going out in public the way we looked, so she bought us new dresses. I met lots of nice people this past few days. Hopefully we can meet them on better terms when we go to Boston in February. I'll talk to you soon. Betsy, faithful Ravenette ----------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Wed, 20 Jul 1994 02:25:16 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Final Curtains July 18, 1994, sometime after midnight I looked around the boat. Most of the people I'd seen around Nick's loft were there and some of the Die-Hards as well (Dawn and Kathy at least). Kathy was sitting next to Natalie in the end of the crowded boat and sneezing from time to time. Bruce and I stood near the railing about midships. "Kathy must be allergic to cats too," I said. "Yeah, but worse than me. Outside I'm fine." Then he looked at me. "When did _you_ meet LaCroix?" I looked out across the water. "At the film set. And I really don't feel like talking about it right now," I saw in a low tone. The very mention of the vampire added to the queasiness I already was feeling from the boat ride. "He didn't threaten you, did he?" I looked at him. "No," I hissed. "And I'd rather talk about it in private, okay?" Not on this boat where other people--I glanced over at Nick, who was standing near Natalie--might hear. Bruce looked like he wanted to pursue the subject, but then he sighed and put his arm around me. He squeezed my shoulders. "Okay," he said. I leaned against him for a moment, then turned around. I looked around at the people sprawled and sitting and standing around and realized--the War was over. We had the mail, although some of it had scattered on the deck. Some people were trying to gather it together. Schanke picked up a piece of mail. "Geeze, what is this stuff, Nick?" Nick snatched the piece of mail out of his hand before he could read it. "Possible evidence," he replied. "Oh. Hey, if you need help with anything--" "Thanks, Schanke. I can handle it." Then he smiled and clapped his partner on the shoulder. "But thanks for commandeering the boat." "Sure, buddy." He took Nick's arm and pulled him over to my side of the boat--away from Natalie. He stood beside me at the rail and I heard him say in a low tone as they looked out over the water, "Uh, Nick, you _are_ gonna tell me what kind of case involves all these--uh..._women_, aren't you?" Nick shrugged and said, "Later. If I can." Schanke turned and, looking around the boat, said in the same low tone, "Geez, why don't _I_ ever get these kinds of assignments?" "I don't know. Maybe because you're married?" Nick smiled and clapped his partner on the forearm. Nick glanced briefly at me, then made his way back over to where Natalie was sitting. The boat reached shore and everyone disembarked. There was some confusion as to who was going where and with whom, but eventually the mail was loaded into various cars for the trip back to--again!--Nick's loft. I imagined Nick was probably heartily sick of mortals invading his haven by now, but he looked like he realized it was necessary. Bruce and I wound up seated in the back of the Cadillac with Dawn. Kathy and Sharon Scott were in the front. Schanke offered to come help or call in to the station for Nick. Nick placed his hands on Schanke's shoulders and said, "Don't concern yourself about this case, Schank. I've got it under control. Just go home." Schanke's face took on a somewhat blank expression under Nick's gaze and I realized he must be hypnotizing him. Poor Schanke! "Okay. Sure," said Schanke. Then he wandered away. "Was that wise?" asked Natalie, near him. Nick looked at her. "It's better than having to explain," he said. Then he got in the car. Once at Nick's, everyone helped haul in mail and Dawn announced, "We Die-Hards will be happy to help sort--we're neutral parties!" She smiled. "Looks like we're _all_ going to have to sort to me," said Natalie. She and Sharon Scott started to set aside areas for the separate factions. Then everyone grabbed a bag or a stack of mail and started sorting. We tripped over each other to get individual sorted stacks to the right areas, but generally things were going well. I noticed as I was sorting mail though that Nick seemed very solemn. He spent a lot of time either pacing in front of or staring out the windows. I got up from the floor and walked to the kitchen for a drink. I had just poured some pop when I felt someone's hand at my elbow and Nick's voice said quietly, "I need to talk to you." I looked at him. He nodded his head toward the door to the garage and tugged gently on my arm. I looked at Bruce. He had his back to us and was busy sorting a stack of mail. Natalie was watching, though, and I saw her frown slightly. Nick was pulling/ pushing me toward the door and I wondered, heart thudding, what he could possibly want to talk to me about. He opened the door and pushed me ahead of him through it. I stumbled slightly on the first step, but his grip on my arm kept me from falling. He switched on the light and urged me forward, pulling the door shut behind him. At the bottom of the stairs he released me and hit a lightswitch by the workbench. I tried not to remember the last time I'd seen him here--eyes gold and fangs bared...and so attractive. Nick walked away a few steps, then turned and said, "You met LaCroix--at the filming?" I licked my lips and swallowed, but could only nod. "I thought I noticed him approaching you once, but... Did he--threaten you in any way?" I shook my head and managed to say, "No." Damn, I needed to get some control here! "What did he want?" His direct query startled me into some coherence. I took a breath and said, "To talk." "About what?" "About--the radio station." "The radio station?" He frowned in apparent confusion. Then he said, "Wait a minute. You don't mean _you_ caused him those problems there." He smiled slightly. "My...my husband. But I convinced him to do it and--I helped." Nick smiled a little wider and I smiled a little too. Then he sobered and said, "How did he know it was you?" "Cameras." Nick studied me. Then he said, "Was that all he talked with you about?" My thoughts went to the memory of LaCroix's fingers moving over my blouse and his words, "I could fulfill your...secret desires." I could feel the heat rise in my body and I looked at the floor. "Did he--make you an...offer of some sort?" I looked at him. "What kind of offer?" "I'd--rather not discuss that," I said. 'Particularly not with _you_,' I thought, looking away. Nick stepped closer to me and I looked at him. "Look, I know we barely know each other," he said. "But I can speak from experience. Whatever...offer, whatever...temptation LaCroix dangled in front of you--" He looked away. "Well..." His eyes came back to mine. "Just bear in mind what happened to Lisa McDavid and John Dencoff." His gaze was very intent for a moment. Then he walked away from me again. "You'll be going back home soon?" He wasn't looking at me. "Yes," I said. Now that the War was over, I was sure Bruce would want to leave. And, I realized, so did I. "Good. LaCroix usually keeps his--amusements--close to home. But if he should ever bother you and you want my help--" He approached me again, fished in his pocket, and handed me a business card, his fingers brushing mine briefly. It had his office and home phone numbers on it. "Do you have children?" I looked up at him and frowned. "A daughter." "Treasure life. Don't become a casualty of war." He reached past me and hit the light switch. Then he gestured to the stairs. When I opened the door to the kitchen, Natalie glanced up and then handed Bruce another stack of mail to sort. Nick walked past me and over to a window--to stare out it again. Natalie watched him for a few moments, a concerned look on her face. I slipped Nick's card in my pants pocket. Then I picked up the glass of pop I'd poured and took a drink. I looked at Bruce. I knew I'd have to tell him about LaCroix. But--maybe there were some things from that encounter better left unsaid. It would be dawn soon. The mail was almost all sorted, and presumably it would go to individual faction mail drops in the future. Maybe then there would never be another war. I looked again at Nick. At least...not one involving mortals. Bruce and I probably took the next evening flight out. He had a second week of vacation coming and we spent it with Amanda. It's been strange, it's been aggravating, it's been fun. Let's do it again sometime. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Subject: War Wrap 1 of 2 FKWAR II -- Wrap Up Part one of two. [Written for the FTP site by: Susan Garrett]-------------------------------- [part1/2]-------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Monday, July 18, Mid-afternoon The Raven was dark and silent, its usual condition during the day. Janette sat at a booth at the back of the bar, rolling the stem of a blood-filled glass between her palms. Occasionally, she'd take a drink. More often than not she'd pick up the pen, stare down at a piece of blank stationary for a long time, then drop the pen and return to the glass. She heard footsteps and a mortal heartbeat, but didn't look up. "Well, Goblin's on her way. Was it really necessary to send her in a limo? All that way?" "She deserved it. You fill the courtesy bar as per my instructions?" Janette picked up a cigarette from her case on the table. "Yep. Salmon and cream. Plus I packed all the cat toys from your office. I figured--" "You 'figured' correctly." Lighting the cigarette, she concentrated on the paper as it flamed, brilliant red against the darkness. "Betsy and Mary?" "Left two hours ago. Saw them off myself. And Beth and Hazel are just packing up at the hotel--Beth wanted to backtrack a few of the sights we hit with the kids the other night. Stuff looks a lot different in the day." Janette looked up, her eyes cold. "Does it? I hadn't noticed." Susan looked away quickly. Spotting the long white flower box open on the table, she moved to pick it up. "You want me to take care of the flowers from Nick." "No. Leave them. And they're from LaCroix." She allowed herself a smile as Susan released the box, dropping it as if it were on fire. Idly she reached inside and pulled out a flower, running her nail along the length of the petal. "It's a peace offering, of sorts." Susan swallowed. "What he said last night--he's not going to, uh . . .?" Janette raised an eyebrow, but when Susan wasn't more forthcoming, she shook her head lightly. "No. I'm too useful to him. It's just a reminder--I tried to get his attention and now I've got it, for good or ill. Wonderful." She touched the flower to the side of her face and looked out across the darkened club. "I've been informed that Nicola isn't speaking to me. Nor should I expect him to set foot in the club for business or pleasure. Unfortunately, his coroner friend--" "Foren--" She stopped cold at Janette's glare. "His friend talking to me. At some length. So . . . LaCroix's had his revenge." Susan bit her lip and looked down at the floor. "Do you want me to talk to Nick?" "You?" Susan looked up at her chuckle. "After you've all but killed him in your fiction? And you've even done that, I think, no?" The Ravenette shrugged and offered a slight smile. "So, maybe I'm not the best peace emissary. But if you want--?" "No." Janette shook her head. "No, he'll come back to me. He always does. And I have other ways to bide my time." She sighed, then saw Susan standing there. "Will you sit! You're making me nervous." Susan scuttled into the booth, well away from the flowers, Janette noticed. They were silent for a few moments, then Susan asked, "Was it worth it?" The question gave her pause. She'd asked it herself a hundred times since this had started and had come to a different conclusion each time. "Is it ever?" She took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. "In some ways, yes. In others--" "Well, at least you have your mail." "Yes. And speaking of stealing mail--" Susan met Janette's eyes with a steady gaze. "I knew it was a trump card. But I figured the way things were going for you, you'd need it." "It was a foolish thing to do. Fortuitous, perhaps, but still foolish. My followers should be foolish. As foolish as threatening--was that an original manuscript?" "The one I hid the letters in?" Susan nodded slowly. "Typed. No copies." "No copies." Janette tapped off her cigarette ash. "Would you have burned it?" There was no immediate answer. When she looked up, Susan's expression was carefully blank. "What do you think?" It was better not to answer, easier in the long run. Janette picked up the glass and took a long swallow. "I think . . . you'd best stay with your computers. Your spelling is atrocious, you know. And as for your upcoming work--?" Susan held up a hand. "Please! I've got the new season jitters already, I haven't gotten through the most recent story because of this damn war, and there's two more, the sequel to 'False Heart' that should be written before September." "Then you'd better get home and get started." Susan placed her hands on the table, as if preparing to rise, then met Janette's eyes. For a moment she hesitated, then she started to sit down again. "Maybe I'll just have a drink for the road." "Go ," Janette repeated. She forced a smile and gestured at the club. "I've got more than enough to keep me occupied. And a clientele to court, after last week's disasters." Susan rose to her feet and took a few steps away, before Janette called, "You know . . . ?" There were no words to finish the thought, nothing that wouldn't sound trite and hackneyed in English. And Susan, colonial mortal that she was, had a lack of facility for languages equaled only by her inability to spell in the one she'd mastered. But Susan smiled, nonetheless. "Yeah, boss. I know." The frown rose to her lips at the term, but she waved it and the mortal from her thoughts. The closing door echoed in the empty club, but she paid it no attention. She was alone. With her flowers, and her cigarettes, and with that crisp and oh-so-very blank piece of stationary. It was the last, unfinished piece of business and the hardest of the many odious tasks this war had required of her. She began the note as she had done countless times, the pen scratching out upon the paper in an elegant script-- --My dearest Monica,-- After a pause, she took a drink from her glass. After another pause, she crumpled up the paper with a snarl and tossed it to the floor, beneath the booth, where it joined the dozen other discarded attempts. --- SusanG2522@aol.com [War Wrap pt 1 [part 1/2] ]------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Wed, 20 Jul 1994 11:45:54 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Margaretmares Margaretmares The mail had been sorted and trundled away to the addressees, and almost everyone had left the loft, which was amazingly quiet after the chaos of the last two weeks. I was trying to make myself useful by picking up discarded pizza boxes and soft drink cans from the tabletops, and floor, and staircase, and kitchen counter, and everywhere else you could imagine. Not a neat group of people. But then Nick wasn't very tidy, either. There were corks scattered everywhere, and empty wine bottles scattered around the room. I wasn't very clean myself. I was still wearing the froggie ballet t-shirt, which by now was stretched and stained and covered with cat hair. I needed a shower. Badly. As I gathered up the last bottle I could see, there was a small clink, and Nick, who had been asleep on the sofa, an arm over his eyes, roused. "What are you doing?" "Just tidying up." "Leave it. The maid service will take care of it." "Well, I, umm, I thought you might, umm, recycle the bottles, so I was rounding them all up, just in case." He sat up on the edge of the sofa and rubbed his face with both hands. His face was haggard, his eyes bloodshot, and his shoulders drooped. "Leave them, I said." "Yes, sir." I dropped the bottles as per his orders. Which was *not* one of my better ideas, since one of them dropped on my foot. I sat down abruptly on the floor, and rubbed the offending appendage. "Ow, that hurts. And that's my clutch foot. Just what I needed--I've got to drive God knows how many miles back to China Spring with a sore foot." At least I was flying back to TO on Thursday, for the Trek, instead of driving. "Well, at least now I have a matching pair." "Of what?" "Damaged feet. I broke the right one falling off my own porch a couple of years ago, and now I think I've broken the other one. That's the kind of luck I seem to be having lately. I'd go take a shower, but I'd probably break both arms on the way." I looked up at a noise from Nick, to see him trying to hold back the laughter. He didn't manage it. And despite the pain in my foot, I joined in. It was good to see him laugh, after the constant grimness of the last few weeks. When he stopped laughing, he said, "My shower is at your disposal. Have at it." "Thanks, I think I will." And I started carefully up the stairs. I turned back at the top to show him that I'd made it without falling, but he was prone on the sofa again. I didn't want to disturb him. As I was getting dressed after the shower, it suddenly struck me that I had a bit of unfinished business to take care of. Cousin Margaret. She wasn't going to get away with this. Even if I had to hold her pets hostage. She *would* pay. I made a call to LaCroix's apartment. "Hello?" The voice was tiny and quavering. "I can't believe you did this to me, Margy. I thought you were my friend. We were going to share a room at Toronto Trek. How could you?" "Ummmm ... Scottie, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. But Uncle made me do it. He knows how bonkers you are about Nick, and he wanted to see you squirm. I couldn't help it." "And how did he know how I feel about Nick? Answer me that. Hmmmm? How did he know?" Silence on the other end of the phone. "YOU TOLD HIM, DIDN'T YOU?" Whimpers from the other end of the phone. "You told him. He wanted the dirt on us, to use in his crazy games, and you told him. And just what else did you tell him? If you told him about ... you know, what you and Karin and Jennise and I talked about ... Margy, I'll do something bad to you." "NO. No, I didn't tell him that. I promise. I'd never ..." "You'd just better not have. So what else does he know about me?" "Scottie, I swear--just vital statistics--44, gray hair, divorced, a cataloger, lives with 2 dogs and a cat named Nickie ... " "You couldn't resist telling him that, hmmm?" "Well ... he asked." "And you answered every one of his questions. What's he doing, making a file on each of us?" "I don't know. You don't ask Uncle for his reasons. You just obey orders." "Yeah, well, I've got a few orders I'd like you to obey, myself. When's he cutting you loose?" "Soon, I hope. I've got to back to Tucson and pack, so I can come *back* to Toronto Thursday." "Well, before you catch that plane, you've got some cleanup to do. I know you're the one who tampered with Nick's mail. So get yourself over here tres vite and start repairing the damage." "What???" "You will *personally* cut my signature off every one of those letters. You will destroy the signature. And then you will give the letters to Nick. But *not* before you've taken my name off them. Do you understand." "But that'll take ... forever." "It'll take forever and a night if you don't hurry up and get started. And I don't care how long it takes. You *will* do it. I'm not about to let Nick see any of those things. He'd think I'm a simpering fool. And the hearts and smilies--Margaret, did you *have* to add hearts and smilies?" "I thought it was a nice touch." "You thought wrong. Now get busy." And I smiled as I left the loft, thinking of the thousands of letters, and a pair of very, very dull scissors ... ----------------------- Scottie scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 19 Jul 1994 23:04:38 -0700 From: Jennise Hall Subject: FKWAR2: Jennise's wrap up. (whew!) Monday Night : 11:30 pm INT. GRUNGY HALLWAY - NIGHT Jennise picks her way through junk, discarded mops, furniture, etc. As she moves forward strains of haunting violin music becomes louder. INT. LACROIX'S HIDEOUT - NIGHT Jennise stops in the doorway and listens a moment longer. The room is fairly large and decorated in a Dark Shadows motif. She squares her shoulders and marches into the room. LaCroix stops playing and sets the violin gingerly into it's case. JENNISE I checked four places before I came here! LACROIX How fortunate I chose one of the locations you were aware of. Jennise notices Karin on the sofa. JENNISE Oh, I see Karin rated an invitation. Seconds later Jennise finds herself against the far wall and two feet off the ground. LaCroix's hand firmly around her neck. LACROIX Let's try to keep this conversation civil. JENNISE (squeaks) No. LACROIX (loosens his grip a bit) What did you say? JENNISE I said no. Last night was a disaster. You destroyed a landmark. A tourist attraction! LaCroix laughs, lets go and returns to his chair, nay, throne across the room. LACROIX Is that what this tantrum is about? JENNISE (makes sure her throat is still there) The taping was a disaster! KARIN Jennise, what are you so upset for? It wasn't even one of the real scripts. Janette's reaction was priceless. How could she possibly believe ANYONE would hire Alma as an actress. Karin does a face plant in a sofa cushion giggling helplessly. Jennise turns to LaCroix. JENNISE We've still got eps to get in the can. We can't do it without equipment or a crew. No one in this town is gonna deal with someone accused of kiting checks. LACROIX We never finished our discussion about why you staged that little fiasco. JENNISE Oh. Didn't we? Karin I thought you told him. Karin looks up innocently. KARIN The subject never came up. LACROIX Your little stunt made them aware of my plans. They will want to know where scripts and tapes are. You've ruined my surprise. Jennise begins to sidle along the wall, inching toward the door. JENNISE Well, Pops... LACROIX (with each step he stalks her) Do. Not. Call. Me. Pops! Terror flashes in her eyes a moment. Then a light bulb goes on. JENNISE LaCroix. See. I didn't. Surprise? Surprise is old hat! I came up with something better. He stops stalking her. He grins. This should be good. JENNISE Right. Um. See now they've seen a really crappy version of what you COULD do. And now they all know. They Know. They know that you have the connections. He resumes stalking. JENNISE (talks faster) The power. You can get any version of Forever Knight on the air you want. They know this. See. So they're gonna make themselves absolutely NUTS. Totally bonkers. Between now and September trying to find the tapes. He stops again. A smile creeps over his face. JENNISE (a flash of hope) It's like you getting in the last jab in the war. And it just goes... He turns his back on her. She clamps her mouth shut and watches him. LACROIX All is safe? JENNISE I took care of hiding it myself. Karin fills three large wine glasses. KARIN Then it's safe, Uncle. Her mind is as unique as Cousin Margaret's. It would take centuries to learn to think like they do. September's not enough time. LaCroix lifts his glass in a toast. Jennise relaxes a bit. LACROIX Then you will complete them as soon as my accounts clear. Jennise and Karin clink their glasses in a toast and mouth "YES" KARIN I just figured out Janette's plans in episode twenty. FADE OUT ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- ------[Wednesday, July 20th]-------------------- ------------------------------------------------ Date: Wed, 20 Jul 1994 03:10:27 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: California looks good right now... Selma, Hilary, and the blond vampire sit looking out at the stars from the porch. "I'm sure Mom won't mind you staying for a few days," Selma says, turning to Hilary. "No," Hilary replies. "And I don't mind a little vacation." Selma laughs softly. "Vacation? I hope this is more of a vacation than Toronto." "It is," Hilary says. "I look forward to seeing a lot of Sacramento." "Sac's not a bad place to visit," Selma says, agreeing. Then she shifts, and reaches out to the blond vampire. "And speaking of visit, I have a little visiting to do of my own." The blond vampire nods, a slight smile on his face, and takes off, holding Selma. Hilary watches them go. * * * Selma and the blond vampire land easily an hour later. Selma knocks on the door. The door opens, and Jennise blinks as she registers the two of them on the doorstep. She snarls at the blond vampire before addressing Selma. "What are you doing here?" she asks. "Oh, I came to pay you a visit. And bring you some news," Selma says, a sly look on her face. "What?" "Well," Selma says, shrugging. "I had a good talk with Natalie on the way back, and she thought it would be a good idea if someone kept an eye on you. And since you're the one who stuck me in that horrible costume when you knew I couldn't act, I thought I might repay the favor." "_You're_ going to keep an eye on me?" Jennise asks incredulously. "Sure," Selma replies. "I've always wanted to learn more about scriptwriting." "Okay, but only if you leave _him_ behind." Selma shakes her head. "Can't. He's my ride. Besides, he's a nice fellow, once you get to know him." Jennise sighs in exasperation. "All right, since I don't have any choice." Selma smiles. "Great. I'll see you later then?" Jennise nods. Selma looks at the blond vampire, who picks her up, and carries her away, grinning. She thought she hears Jennise screaming at the wind. -------------- Selma McCrory selmamc@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- Subject: War Wrap 1 of 2 FKWAR II -- Wrap Up Part one of two. Monday, July 18, Mid-afternoon The Raven was dark and silent, its usual condition during the day. Janette sat at a booth at the back of the bar, rolling the stem of a blood-filled glass between her palms. Occasionally, she'd take a drink. More often than not she'd pick up the pen, stare down at a piece of blank stationary for a long time, then drop the pen and return to the glass. She heard footsteps and a mortal heartbeat, but didn't look up. "Well, Goblin's on her way. Was it really necessary to send her in a limo? All that way?" "She deserved it. You fill the courtesy bar as per my instructions?" Janette picked up a cigarette from her case on the table. "Yep. Salmon and cream. Plus I packed all the cat toys from your office. I figured--" "You 'figured' correctly." Lighting the cigarette, she concentrated on the paper as it flamed, brilliant red against the darkness. "Betsy and Mary?" "Left two hours ago. Saw them off myself. And Beth and Hazel are just packing up at the hotel--Beth wanted to backtrack a few of the sights we hit with the kids the other night. Stuff looks a lot different in the day." Janette looked up, her eyes cold. "Does it? I hadn't noticed." Susan looked away quickly. Spotting the long white flower box open on the table, she moved to pick it up. "You want me to take care of the flowers from Nick." "No. Leave them. And they're from LaCroix." She allowed herself a smile as Susan released the box, dropping it as if it were on fire. Idly she reached inside and pulled out a flower, running her nail along the length of the petal. "It's a peace offering, of sorts." Susan swallowed. "What he said last night--he's not going to, uh . . .?" Janette raised an eyebrow, but when Susan wasn't more forthcoming, she shook her head lightly. "No. I'm too useful to him. It's just a reminder--I tried to get his attention and now I've got it, for good or ill. Wonderful." She touched the flower to the side of her face and looked out across the darkened club. "I've been informed that Nicola isn't speaking to me. Nor should I expect him to set foot in the club for business or pleasure. Unfortunately, his coroner friend--" "Foren--" She stopped cold at Janette's glare. "His friend talking to me. At some length. So . . . LaCroix's had his revenge." Susan bit her lip and looked down at the floor. "Do you want me to talk to Nick?" "You?" Susan looked up at her chuckle. "After you've all but killed him in your fiction? And you've even done that, I think, no?" The Ravenette shrugged and offered a slight smile. "So, maybe I'm not the best peace emissary. But if you want--?" "No." Janette shook her head. "No, he'll come back to me. He always does. And I have other ways to bide my time." She sighed, then saw Susan standing there. "Will you sit! You're making me nervous." Susan scuttled into the booth, well away from the flowers, Janette noticed. They were silent for a few moments, then Susan asked, "Was it worth it?" The question gave her pause. She'd asked it herself a hundred times since this had started and had come to a different conclusion each time. "Is it ever?" She took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. "In some ways, yes. In others--" "Well, at least you have your mail." "Yes. And speaking of stealing mail--" Susan met Janette's eyes with a steady gaze. "I knew it was a trump card. But I figured the way things were going for you, you'd need it." "It was a foolish thing to do. Fortuitous, perhaps, but still foolish. My followers should be foolish. As foolish as threatening--was that an original manuscript?" "The one I hid the letters in?" Susan nodded slowly. "Typed. No copies." "No copies." Janette tapped off her cigarette ash. "Would you have burned it?" There was no immediate answer. When she looked up, Susan's expression was carefully blank. "What do you think?" It was better not to answer, easier in the long run. Janette picked up the glass and took a long swallow. "I think . . . you'd best stay with your computers. Your spelling is atrocious, you know. And as for your upcoming work--?" Susan held up a hand. "Please! I've got the new season jitters already, I haven't gotten through the most recent story because of this damn war, and there's two more, the sequel to 'False Heart' that should be written before September." "Then you'd better get home and get started." Susan placed her hands on the table, as if preparing to rise, then met Janette's eyes. For a moment she hesitated, then she started to sit down again. "Maybe I'll just have a drink for the road." "Go ," Janette repeated. She forced a smile and gestured at the club. "I've got more than enough to keep me occupied. And a clientele to court, after last week's disasters." Susan rose to her feet and took a few steps away, before Janette called, "You know . . . ?" There were no words to finish the thought, nothing that wouldn't sound trite and hackneyed in English. And Susan, colonial mortal that she was, had a lack of facility for languages equaled only by her inability to spell in the one she'd mastered. But Susan smiled, nonetheless. "Yeah, boss. I know." The frown rose to her lips at the term, but she waved it and the mortal from her thoughts. The closing door echoed in the empty club, but she paid it no attention. She was alone. With her flowers, and her cigarettes, and with that crisp and oh-so-very blank piece of stationary. It was the last, unfinished piece of business and the hardest of the many odious tasks this war had required of her. She began the note as she had done countless times, the pen scratching out upon the paper in an elegant script-- --My dearest Monica,-- After a pause, she took a drink from her glass. After another pause, she crumpled up the paper with a snarl and tossed it to the floor, beneath the booth, where it joined the dozen other discarded attempts. *** Monday - Early Evening Natalie paused at the elevator to Nick's loft, surprised at how empty the place looked with all of his recent visitors having packed and gone their separate ways. "It's pretty quiet, isn't it?" Nick noted. She looked up--he was walking down the stairs from the second floor, fastening the collar button of his shirt. "Never really noticed how quiet it around here." "Until you had unexpected house guests?" Natalie grinned, then wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Still some food left. I have to give those FoDs credit--those people have some supply lines. You know, you should really try eating some of--oooo!" She reached in and pulled out a small container and inspected it. "Trout almondine! Can I have this for Sidney?" Nick chuckled. "Is he that spoiled?" "Worse," declared Natalie. She put the container on the counter, then dived into the fridge again to inspect the other leftovers. "He turned his nose up at his cat food. And he was really put out when I disconnected my computer before I left for work this morning--I think I'd better nip this e-mail cat-dating thing in the bud. But I think it's going to take a couple of days of easing him off the good stuff before we're back to dinner from a can." "I warned you." Nick walked over to his coffee table, on which rested a number of laptop computer and computer parts. He sat down on the couch and leaned forward, picking up a laptop screen and examining it. Natalie cleared her throat. "I, uh, talked to Janette, today." He concentrated on the computer piece in his hand. The connector was broken--it wouldn't take much to fix, if he tried. Why bother, when he could buy a new one . . . ? Natalie leaned on the back of the couch, looking over his shoulder. "You have to talk to her." "I don't to do anything." He picked up a third piece and tried to figure out how it fit with the other two. "I can't believe you're even speaking to her, after she kidnapped Sidney. held onto our mail." He looked back at her when Natalie cleared her throat again, then quickly turned his attention to the computer parts. "All right--I did the same thing to LaCroix. But that was different, I was trying to keep someone from making the same mistake I made. Janette was deliberately interfering with trying to keep me from going back across." "I've looked through those letters," said Natalie quickly. "Some suggestions, but nothing really concrete--" "It doesn't matter." Nick tossed the parts of the computer back on the coffee table and shook his head. "There's no excuse for what she did." Natalie put her hand on his shoulder. "In her position, I probably would've done the same thing." "No. You wouldn't." Nick squeezed her hand and gave her a smile, then rose to his feet. "You're not Janette." But his smile turned to a frown as he glanced down at the laptop pieces again. "Selma said something about copies of the database sent to you as 'Medical Supplies'?" "Found 'em," declared Natalie cheerfully. "Grace put them aside when they arrived--we usually do shipments together and with me running in and out, we just assumed it was regular inventory. But hang onto them until you've got something up and working again." Grimacing, Natalie walked around the couch and leaned over the coffee table and the broken laptop computers. "Tell me, doctor, is there any hope?" "A little time and effort and it'll be good as new," said Nick. He picked up what was left of a track ball and shook his head. "Might be worth the challenge--see if I can fix something broken this badly." "That applies to a lot of things," noted Natalie. "Including . . . relationships?" "All right, all right," he relented, knowing she'd badger him unmercifully until he did. Nick met her gaze, then smiled slightly. "Maybe a week. A couple of days, at least?" Natalie seemed to consider, walking past him. "Yeah, I guess so. She deserves that much for the crack about my friends not being able to dance." "That's one of the reasons I wanted to get this up and running," said Nick, gesturing toward the laptops on his coffee table. "I need to get back on line. And I wanted to ask you . . . how do you deal with them?" "Deal with them?" echoed Natalie, turning. She shook her head, puzzled. "I don't--" "Your fans. The 'Nat-Pack.'" Even pronouncing the name made him smile. "How do you deal with them?" "You just . . . treat them like people. They keep tabs on you, you keep tabs on them. We're friends, that's all." She laughed as he made a facethen she headed toward the elevator. "What?" "You make it sound so simple." "It once you get used to it." Natalie moved toward the door, but Nick pointed at the kitchen counter, warning, "Don't forget Sidney's treat." "And mine," scolded Natalie lightly. She scurried over to the counter and picked up a stack of containers. "Almost makes you consider joining the FoDs." Nick laughed. "That'll be the day." He held the door open as she headed for it. "So, help me out. Scottie's one of mine. And Selma--" "Nope, Selma's mine." She grinned when Nick looked startled. "She jumped ship. Literally." "How'd that happen?" asked Nick, assuming a wounded expression. "Why is it better to be a Nat-Packer than a Knightie?" "Dunno." Natalie juggled the containers as the elevator doors closed. "Maybe because can still answer my e-mail--?" *** Subject: War Wrap Part 2 of 2 FKWAR II -- Wrap Up -- Part two of two *** Monday Evening Nick was still wiping Natalie's spilled chicken divan from his jacket as he walked into the station. He paused for a moment and looked around, happy just to be back in normal surroundings. Nothing like some off-beat murders to get you back into your stride. Spotting his partner at his desk, he walked over and tapped him on the back. "Schanke?" Schanke whirled, then put on an exaggerated surprised expression. "Is this my partner, back from undercover?" Then he sobered and asked, "You back on real time, or are you just dropping by to make certain we poor working slobs still have our noses to the grindstone?" Nick held his hands in the air. "Done. Thanks for the help last night, by the way," he said, seating himself on the edge of his desk, as Schanke moved around him, stacking paperwork. "I couldn't have gotten all those people to safety without your help." "You know the rules--just because you're off-duty doesn't mean you leave the badge behind." He paused and looked at Nick. "Mail fraud--can you believe people stealing other people's mail? I mean, like mail's one of the last sacred, private things we've got left, and--" "Yeah," said Nick quickly. He touched his knuckles to his lips guiltily. "I know." "Now that bad check thing I can understand. Show business types!" He shrugged. "Gotta love 'em." His eyes narrowed and he pointed at a spot on Nick's jacket. "Is that . . . chicken divan?" "Yeah, yeah, sure." Nick looked around, suddenly noticing the stacks of paperwork piled on his desk. "What's all this? We rearranging the filing system again or something." "Or something." Grinning, Schanke reached into his pocket and withdrew two plane tickets. "These are mine--one week, all expenses paid to a garlic festival in Los Angeles. We're making a family vacation out of it." "Garlic festival?" asked Nick weakly, leaning away from the tickets. "And these--" Schanke tapped one of the piles of folders. "Are yours. Most of the paperwork from the last two weeks, while I've been doing solo legwork trying to solve new cases. Captain said I should leave the paperwork for you, being as you'd be rested up from your 'vacation.'" "Oh, no." Nick looked at the piles of files that surrounded him and rose to his feet. "Schanke--he didn't. You can't--you can't just leave me here with this?" "Watch me." Schanke tapped him lightly on the cheek and walked out of the squad room. "If you finish by the time I get back, maybe I'll bring you back a little present from the festival." Nick was ready to run after him, when he heard Stonetree call from his office, "Nick?" Quickly, he dashed over to Stonetree, hoping against hope a body had been found, some new case was out there waiting for him. "Yeah, Captain?" "You wanna get through that stuff as soon as you can?" asked Stonetree, gesturing toward the piles of files on his desk. "You're blocking my view of the water cooler. Like to keep an eye out over there. Simmons keeps leaving his gun on top. It's dangerous." "Yeah, Captain. Sure." Nick walked toward his desk, a lump rising in his throat at the sight of all of those forms to be filled out in triplicate, case files to be organized, evidence to be catalogued and tagged. He was considering making a break for it, despite knowing that Stonetree was watching him, when he realized that it reminded him of something, something recent . . . . The mail. All that mail he'd left waiting in his loft. And look how had turned out. Sighing heavily, Nick sat down behind his desk and reached for a folder. Before opening it, he turned and looked behind him. Stonetree was right . . . the files were blocking his view of the water cooler. And Simmons had left his gun on top of the water bottle again. Everything was back to normal. *** Wednesday, Late Evening LaCroix sat in a chair pulled up to the window of his hotel suite, gazing out on the city below. He'd crossed the continent twice since his last dramatic exit from this city and the long arm of the local law. How astounding that the most telling blow of this conflict had been financial. It was a warning he wouldn't soon forget--his other accounts and reserves had kept him afloat for the past few days, but he'd know in future to leave a better balance. "Tell me again, who was it who nearly succeeded in bankrupting me?" Sandye looked up from the ledger on which she was working. "Ivy, wasn't it?" Dennis was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through the rest of LaCroix's mail. "A Knightie." "Really?" LaCroix touched his finger to his cheek thoughtfully. "It seems the caliber of Nicholas' followers is improving. A bit underhanded for that lot. Mark her as a possible convert." Monica looked over at Margaret, who nodded dutifully and checked off an entry on the clipboard. Monica typed the information into the laptop. "Anyone else?" "The Die-Hards, of course. Nice name, that." Smiling as if at some private joke, LaCroix rose to his feet and walked down the center of the room, bypassing the couches and desk at which Sandye was seated. She was adjusting his triple set of financial accounts. "And several of that mortal woman's group--that Tanaquil for one. Spies have their uses." "What about the Ravenettes?" asked Dennis. LaCroix stopped, then reached out to place a hand on Monica's shoulder. "They belong to Janette. Which means they belong to me. There's a difference between choosing and being chosen. I thought Janette had learned that distinction long ago. I was wrong." Releasing Monica, he turned and walked back the length of the room. "Not a bad little war for us." "You lost some money on that film set," said Sandye, pointing at a ledger. "Although I could go into lawyer mode--we could sue the Toronto P.D. for harassment, excessive force--" LaCroix dismissed the idea with a wave. "Later, if it would serve some purpose, embarrass Nicholas, perhaps." "You lost Cousin John," said Dennis. "Yes. By mischance. But Lisa and I have discussed her little . . . error. It won't happen again." He smiled slightly. "It would have been interesting to see how Nicholas fared with the fledgling. What happened to John was enough to make him turn on Janette--which I wouldn't have thought possible." He clapped his hands together. "Enough. Now, tell me what I've ." The cousins looked at one another. "Well," said Dennis slowly, "there's me." "Yes. Very nice explosion on the lighthouse by the way," complimented LaCroix. "Although next time use a bit more plastique. And--?" "You're filming again," said Sandye. "Got a call in from Jennise--she said the next episode will probably come in under budget as well. Something about hypnotizing someone--we had a bad connection." "Good, good." LaCroix rubbed his hands together. "And--?" "We got back your mail," said Cousin Margaret cheerfully (or as much cheer as she could muster, considering she had blisters on the inside of her thumb from those darn scissors). "Yes. And--?" "You've got me," said Monica. LaCroix leaned down to face her. "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Absolutely certain?" "Yes." "Beyond a shadow of a doubt?" "Yes." He grinned and touched her nose with the tip of his finger. "Then you'll be the perfect one to send to Janette, the time we engage in hostilities. If necessary," he added quickly, when Monica's eyes went wide. "She'd never suspect you of being a double agent--her pride wouldn't allow the thought to cross her mind." "What about Alma?" asked Cousin Margaret. "She doesn't have one," said LaCroix. "A thought?" asked Dennis. "A mind. Or a thought to keep in it." "There that cassette tape," reminded Sandye. "That should be taken care of." "Then do it." LaCroix looked out the window again. "I've got a taping session to attend. You'll keep in contact." It was a command, not a question. The cousins nodded. "Good. Tell Laurie I won't need her as a chauffeur tonight--it's so pleasant I think I'll fly." He headed for the door. "What about--?" He stopped and turned, then Sandye continued. "What about the next time?" "What about it?" "Will there be one? Another war?" He walked toward them, looking from cousin to cousin, then shook his head as if disappointed. "You don't see it, do you? With people turning from one affiliation to another, they've no idea where they stand. Anyone could be a spy. Well," he smiled at them as they looked at one another suspiciously, " anyone. Sow enough discord and mistrust and we can pick them off at will. It's only human nature." "Or vampire nature," muttered Sandye. LaCroix shot her a look, then dismissed the comment. "At some time in the future, in some way, there be another war." He allowed that to sink in, then, smiling, heading for the door. "And the next time . . . we'll be ready for them." The echo of his words hung in the air ominously in the hotel suite, the ensuing silence broken only by the shuffling of paper, the turn of a ledger book, the scratching of a pen, or the tapping on computer keys as the cousins turned back to their assigned duties with renewed fervor. There were plots to be made, plans to be hatched, schemes to be concocted. They'd made their decisions--they'd put their trust in LaCroix. And heaven help the list. *** That's all Folks. SusanG2522@aol.com