** This chapter is affectionately Disclaimers can be found in part 1.
Kyer can be contacted thru: [email protected]
Please note that I am writing this with absolutely no idea what the next
chapter will contain, so please feel free to offer suggestions (thanks,
again, Monica! <g>). ((FEED(back) Me!... FEED(back) Me!))
**Kyer does not own or purchase stock on: Chex Mix, theatre sound systems,
or catered slumber parties.**
Part 6: You Ought To Be In Pictures
++Previously in Part 5++ (Spike let loose his Beast on a plant nursery;
Nick, meanwhile is 'stuck' with LaCroix...)
Eyes fixed to the movie screen, the ancient vampire absently patted Nick on
the head the way a father might pat a loved 5-year old whose just been
caught with his hand in the cookie jar. (Or, in this case, an errant
800-year old boy with his hands caught by a sticky floor.)
(Get him, you overgrown vegetable! Get him!)
LaCroix hastily directed his attention away from the movie. (By all rights
he *should* be enjoying his favorite monster movie up in his exclusive,
enclosed box with the THX He needed a plausible explanation to throw his son off the track!
(.....)
Shouldn't take much.
(LaCroix searched their Link. Nicholas was worried for someone. Hmmm...
Not long ago he remembered quite different feelings coming from his son.
Aha! It had to be..)
"Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas. Here, for the past three nights I have been
minding my own business, --(which includes everyone else's-- the old
busybody!--kyer) --when, what should happen? Why, all sorts of odd emotions
coming through our link! What *kind* of emotions, you ask?"
"Lacroix--" Nick began tiredly--- he just didn't have time for this. He had
to find Spike before his child got into trouble! (Like him. <sigh>)
The pat turned into an impatient fist pulling on the golden curls.
"Ow! OK! OK!,"
Nick resigned himself to playing his sire's game while he slowly worked to
free himself from the floor. It could be worse, he consoled himself.
LaCroix could demand that he attend another of those Raven-catered slumber
parties of his with the requisite round of Vampire Monopoly. LaCroix
*really* became unbearable when he played *that* game-- throwing a sulk if
he didn't win everything Nick had within the first two hours. And Heaven
help the vamp who fell on the CERK square before his sire did. Poor Miklos
was *still* wearing a supportive brace. Come to think of it, whatever *did*
become of Alma after she unwisely chose the little microphone game piece the
Ancient had held unspoken dibs on? (And what ever had possesed LC to hire
Screed for the snacks? Chex Mix! Blech!)
Gads-- how he hated slumber parties! (... unless'n they were private ones
with Janette...)
<Sigh...> But back to current reality.
"Uh, what kind of emotions...<heavy sigh, very quiet grumble>... 'father'?"
"Why, gushy, warm & fussy, nurturing, and loving-type emotions, my son."
The silky voice switched to a threating growl. "Emotions that would be
pardonable *if* they were directed towards a certain, handsome vampire of
ancient Roman extraction.
--*Are* they?"
"Not in this lifetime," Nick unthinkingly mumbled aloud, irritated that he
had managed to free one knee from some nearly petrified butterscotch only
to place it smack-dab into some other, undescernible gunk.
"I see. Then these emotions are directed to another. The esteemable Dr.
Lambert, perhaps?"
"What? Oh. Dr. Lambert is not here, LaCroix! I'm alone." Ahh! Another
limb fre---oops. Darn butterscotch!
"In a run-down movie house?"
"Yes." He got his second knee unstuck again, this time moving it in the
opposite direction from last. Success!
"Watching?"
"Day Of The Triffids" Nick answered confidently, glad he had paid attention
to the 'Now Showing' sign. His right hand came free as he smiled.
"Which is about?"
The confidence melted like Nat's dark chocolate on a vampire's white silk
shirt.
"Um... forestry?" he bluffed. After all, what was the likelihood that
LaCroix had seen this particular show?
LaCroix allowed a smirk to show on his face. He had him now! It was all
absurdly clear! "Nicholas, when will you learn that you cannot lie to me.
I know *exactly* what is happening here." (And *there!* Stupid mortals!
Oooo... here come more Triffid lunchmeat! Hehe!)
Nick gulped, "You do?"
"Of course. Despite your little show at the Azure, you are deeply in love
with the Doctor. This kind of trivial celluloid trash being her preferred
form of entertainment--- (Yesss! Triffids: 6; Mortals: 0!)--- you brought
her to see the movie. The fact that *you* have no idea what the movie is
about shows that you were either flashbacking or too busy concentrating on
the lovely mortal to pay attention to the movie's plot. But flashbacking
would mean you came here yourself--- whereas you were just looking for
someone.
So, Nicholas, what bit of romantic ineptitude did you perform that sent Dr.
Lambert scurrying under the seats? And considering this place," the
fastidious elder vamp wrinkled his nose in distaste, "it must have been a
truly foul act indeed."
Nick felt his eyes start to glow golden. "I did no such thing!" he protested
in indignation. "Did you hear her heartbeat? I'm telling you, LaCroix, I
came in here alone!"
"She has probably escaped into the powder room by now. Or taken a taxi
home."
"No-- you're wrong!"
The Ancient felt his own anger rise. Wrong?!! *He* was *never* 'wrong'!
Well... maybe that *one* time, but...!
"Perhaps I should go get the details from the good Doctor?"
Nick was truly angry now. Eyes crimson, he yanked himself upright,<OW!--
forgot about that last stuck hand> and grabbed at his pater. Snarling,
LaCroix grabbed him right back. They were just about to exchange blows when
Nick's vampiric hearing caught the sound of a familiar angry rustling coming
from the balcony rail above them.
"Spike?"
Their link throbbed with something that sounded like... ' Bonzai!!' (?) He
looked upwards.
Good Grief!
"NO! DON'T!!"
Too late!
LaCroix, curious to see what had so caught his son's attention, twisted
around just in time to see the potted cactus teeter on the edge. Now how
did *that* thing get there? He didn't keep plants about.
Suddenly, the crazed kamikaze cactus leapt off the balcony heading straight
for him, an outstretched mass of bristling spikes. What the--?!!
"AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!! <THUNK!> OW!"
NICHOLAS!! The last was shouted (out of necessity) through their 800-year
old link .
Nick watched in horror at the image of Spike wrapping himself around
LaCroix's head 'Alien' style. He was just considering which one he should
help when Spike's clay pot made abrupt contact with the ancient's
equally-hard noggin. For precious seconds the old vampire wobbled like a
Roman pillar with a bad base. Then he toppled over.
Extracting himself from the taller vampire, Spike moved aside, looking
inordinately pleased with himself having suffered only a small chip on his
container and the loss of a few dozen thorns.
LaCroix, however...
Concerned, Nick knelt down besides his fallen sire.
LaCroix was out like a light.
Which was probably just as well as he now looked a little like that
horror-film character with all the nails stuck in his cranium.
Ah, hell.
"Spike, ... we are soooo dead."
<rustle?>
"No. I mean 'dead' as in a bag of fertilizer."
Part 7: We're Both In Trouble Deep..
++Previously in Part 6++ ("Spike, ... we are soooo dead." <rustle?> "No.
I mean 'dead' as in a bag of fertilizer.")
Spike had disappeared for the few minutes in which it took Nick to pick up
LaCroix's undead weight and carry him outside to the waiting Caddy. (He
sure was glad he had chosen a car with an amble enough trunk space to stuff
one 6-foot-plus sized vampire Roman General-- his sire was getting kinda
hefty. Must be all that cholesterol and fat in modern man's blood the news
magazine shows were harping on. Too, if LaCroix was to wake up before Nick
could deposit him back at CERK, Nick would rather have the few seconds
warning of the sound of rending steel in which to make a run for it. (Much
as he loved his car--- better a ton of scrap metal than 100-some lbs. of
scrapped ex-Crusader. At least the Caddy didn't have to worry about facing
an uncompromising 'Guide' in the Great Junk Yard of Car Purgatory
afterwards.) <(?!) hmmm...--kyer>
Closing the trunk lid, Nick, hopped into the driver's seat, belted in Spike,
and started driving toward his master's radio station. He glanced into the
rear view mirror and automatically put on the brakes. Hard. The dull thump
of a 2,000-year old vampire's unconscious body crashing against the inward
side of the trunk was quite audible. Nick squeezed his eyes shut wincing in
anticipation of his coming demise. Maybe he should just call Felix right
now about setting his will in motion...
"Spike? Why is there a strange fern sitting on the backseat?"
<rustle, rustle, smugness, rustle>
"You what?! Geez, Spike!-- you can't just carry a gir-- a female off like
some sort of prehistoric cave plant!"
<rustle, rustle, Fallen Idol Flashback#*@, rustle!>
"*That* was different. Today's Condemned Bimbos have feminist clubs---
organized activism. We could get sued. Do you want the Women's Auxiliary
Royal Botanical Society on my case?"
<rrruuuussstttlle...>
"That's my boy. Trust me, you're too young for her anyway. And besides, in
my experiance, falling for flashy females only leads to trouble."
After a slight delay to return the staghorn to its rightful place, they were
once speeding on their way to the radio station.
Which was being picketed by a small group of surly-looking women who all
looked uncannily alike with their long hair and Arizona-style duster coats.
Several were brandishing Crusader-type swords and Johanna de Arc mock-up
crosses in the direction of the building, while what looked like a midget in
a concealing cloak played reed flute backup to their chants of: "EQUAL
RIGHTS FOR UNDEAD KNIGHTS!"
(Nick couldn't place names to faces, but the sight of them--- especially the
black-coated one-- sent odd chills through his already cold body. No way
did he want to break thru *that* mess!)
Wonderful. It just wasn't his night.
Now, he'd *have* to take LaCroix to his place.
[Sorry about that, everyone. Couldn't resist! <g>-- kyer]
The journey to the Loft had been thankfully uneventful. After getting his
sire situated on the couch, (and ordering the still sulking Spike to stay
put by the window), Nick picked up the phone to dial an old vampire friend:
Felix Twist, financial wizard and botany buff.
"Hi, Felix. I have a favor to ask. I've got a new fledgling and I was
wondering if you'd like to be the godpa--" He was cut off by the rather
harried-sounding voice of his friend.
"I'm kinda busy right now, deBrabant. You have *no idea* what an evening
its been. First my night guard over at Exotic Plants Garden Nursery calls
in saying he's had enough of weird greenery that's not actually on celluloid
and is going to quit-- oh, and by the way, half of one greenhouse is full of
wilting plants, and my best Platycerium bifurcatum specimen has been
kidnapped by a cactus! Can you imagine? I thought I told that mortal I
hired to front the place to screen out drunkards and such. Oh-- but *then*
I get a call from that very mortal saying that his nerdy nephew needs a job.
Can you say 'nepotism scam'? Wait! There's more! *That's* followed by yet
another call from the guard to tell me that my Platycerium has
rematerialized--- and get this!--- it looks lovesick. Yeh, right. I'm
considering firing the whole bunch before *I* go bananas.
But what can I do for you? And what's this about a fledgling?"
"Um..." Nick glanced at Spike who suddenly was intensely interested in
cleaning his thorns. "Sorry to hear that, Felix. You know... maybe I'll
just call you at another time.. " he hung up the phone, gave an 'I-can't
believe-this' moan, and started to dial again. Newborns! What a pain in
the neck they could be. (But at other times <grumble>-- a caddy full of
trouble...!)
"Hello, Miklos? Get me Janette.
Hi, Janette--- listen, you know how you like to take in strays and orphans?
Well, I've got a fledgling here who is soon to be the latter. Could you-- "
"Oh, Nickola! I'm afraid I can't talk right now--- the most awfullest thing
has happened! Some bunch of madwomen broke into CERK and made off with
LaCroix's box of Vampire Monopoly and Forever in Jeopardy games! If I don't
get them back by tonight, he will be in a furious mood the rest of the
week!"
"Oh..." Nick glanced at their comatose sire, "I think that's a foregone
conclusion."
"What do you mean by that? Nichola.... you didn't have anything to do with
this.. did you?"
"No. Not *that* anyway." He filled her in on recent events.
"A cactus! You tried to kill our sire with a cactus! Is this some new
angle on the flaming stake?"
"No! ... it was a sort of..um.. accident."
"Oh, Nichola! And with Enforcers in town too!"
"Enforcers! What Enforcers?!"
"That's why I cannot help you, Nichola. LaCroix will be looking for those
games tonight. He's invited Grunt and Masher from the Training Academy over
for a slumber party at the Raven."
Nick slowly hung up the phone. Grunt and Masher. Two of the most stupid
Enforcers on the Force. Also the most brutish. And when they didn't find
their host at the Raven...
they would come looking for his son.
Sick with apprehension, Nick looked sideways at LaCroix's pincushioned head,
(resting awkwardly on an old pillow to protect the black leather upholstery
of his couch), and reached for an imbedded thorn. Maybe if he? No.
No.... there weren't enough blonde bimbos in all of Canada let alone
Toronto. His DeBrabant funds? Not enough millions for a bribe to *this*.
He shifted his position to thoughtfully ponder the unconscious mug from a
different angle while tugging out yet another thorn.
<sigh..> Oh, yeah. He was definitely Near Death. Destined to shake hands
with ol' Arabian LaCroix of Purgatory's Sight-Seeing Tours *real* soon.
++Previously in Part 7++ (Nick learns that he may be getting a visit from
the Enforcers while playing host to LaCroix)
Supposing...
Nope. This time even Aristotle would not be able to put off his sire's
rage. The thorn joined a growing pile on the loft floor.
He pulled the last needle out and watched the pale skin heal itself from the
small puncture wound. An eyelid fluttered.
"Well.. it was nice knowing you, Spike." Nick grimaced, preparing himself
for the inevitibility of their demise.
LaCroix awoke with an odd expression on his face.
"Nicholas.. ?"
"Master?" Maybe-- just maybe-- if he kowtowed a little their deaths would
be less painful.
"I had the strangest dream. Some bad piece of cinema leapt out and attacked
me..."
"Really?" Nick chirped in innocent amazement as he surreptitiously began
shoving the cactus needles under the couch. "Fancy that."
"Actually, I didn't fancy it at all. Rather unpleasant."
"Oh. Well, it's over now. Only a dream. Hehe.." Nick tried to sound
nonchalant, not believing his good luck. Maybe he would live to see his
next birthday after all!
"Mmm... Oddly enough, my attacker looked rather like that scraggly plant
over there that you insist on keeping..."
Nick felt his heart beat as LaCroix got up and walked over to where Spike
was sitting by the window.
"Yes... very odd." Didn't this thing use to have much smaller thorns?
These miniature sabers looked nearly as long as those in his nightmare.
"Well, you know how dreams are..," Nick began nervously twiddling his thumbs
as his sire reached out to slowly draw a finger over the chipped section of
the clay pot. "Hehe... I remember how that Freud fellow was always carrying
on--" C'mon, luck! Don't do something stupid now!
LaCroix ignored him as he thoughtfully ran a hand over his chin--- and
pulled out a tiny thorn that Nick had somehow missed. He stared at it for
all of a millisecond before he swiveled to face his prot'eg'e, eyes aglow.
<sigh> Of course, good luck did tend to cut-and-run whenever his sire showed
up. Not that Nick could blame it...
"My, my.." Nick hiccuped. "How did *that* get there?" He matched the steps
his master took--only in reverse-- as the Ancient began stalking him with
the unfortunate splinter held out like a miniature stake.
"Say... did I ever tell you about what happened over the last couple of
nights?" the blonde knight giggled with just a touch of hysteria. "Most
*amazing* thing..."
"Who?" The red-eyed demon growled in a deadly, no-nonsense tone.
"Who?"
"*Who.*" LaCroix repeated. "Who tossed that plant of yours at me, Nicholas.
I want the name of your accomplice--- NOW!"
My... accomplice? Good grief! LaCroix couldn't sense that Spike was a
vampire! He thought someone had *pushed* his childe unto him! Here was a
chance to at least save Spike's life at least.
A sudden thunderous noise followed by a choking cloud of brick dust saved
him from having to think of a reply. Coughing, Nick peered thru the
reddish particules and saw that his other unwanted guests: Grunt and
Masher-- the two most brain-challenged Enforcers in that exclusive club--
had arrived. In typical fashion, both had eschewed the usual entrances to
the Loft and opted for going through a wall instead.
(Masher did most of the talking for the overly fanged duo.)
"Grrrrr... rrr... arrrrr"
LaCroix nodded to them, an acknowledgment of their superior strength if not
their brain functions. "And greetings to you as well, my friends. May I ask
what you are doing here?"
"Rarrrrr...gaa...arrr...rrr."
"I see. So you decided to leave the hospitality of my daughter and come
looking for me?"
"Rrrrrrr...aarr....graag."
"A simple family misunderstanding between myself and my son. I am dealing
with it."
Meanwhile, Grunt had noticed the cactus and wandered over to peer at it,
eyes shining with admiration of the larger, sharp thorns in the plant's
arsenal.
"Grrrr?"
"ruustle"
"Arrgrra...rr.ar?"
"Rustle, ruustle, rrusstle"
"Hehehe... grrowwllrr?"
"ruuustle!"
"HEHEHE!"
Annoyed at the interrupting cacophony of growls, chuckling and strange
rustling sounds coming from behind him, LaCroix rounded on the hefty
Enforcer, "Do you mind?"
Masher had a quick grunt exchange with his partner before exploding into his
own snarling laughter.
"Garrrlll...rarrr?" Masher asked him after getting control of himself.
LaCroix was miffed. How dare they laugh at him?! The whole... wait a
minute...
"How do *you two* know about what happened at the theatre?" He had not
sensed anyone else at the movie show other than himself, Nicholas, that
ticket taker fellow and the mortal teenagers-- so how did these two morons
find out? And for that matter, who, then, had pushed that arboreal
porcupine upon him?
"Grra...rr..arrr."
"The *cactus* told you?!
(Nick mentally berated himself for failing to have instilled in his childe
the importance of not talking to strangers.)
"Rrr"
"I don't care how cute of a little whippresnapper it is! You're both
insane!"
"GGGRRRRRR!"
"Perhaps.. *insane* was a touch strong." LaCroix hastily amended. The
things he put up with to stay on the Enforcing Community's good side. And
alas, these two mental delinquents *were* the only reliable source for Star
Wars sequal updates. "Mentally disfunctional then."
Masher and Grunt looked mollified at his *apology*.
"Grrr..arrrrgg....rraar."
"Don't be riduculous. I'm sure Nicholas is not interested in cross-breeding
his cactus to your philodandreum." (sigh... totally fruit loopy the pair of
them. Oh, for some decent mental stimuli!) He consoled himself with the
thought that at least his son, though not brilliant, was of a higher mental
capacity than Grunt and Masher.
"Besides," Nick piped up from next to him, "Spike already has a
girlfriend... oops."
If there had not been witnesses, the master vampire would have groaned at
the unfairness of his Unlife. Instead, LaCroix gave his prot'eg'e a
withering look. "Don't think that feigning insanity is going to get *you*
off my hook, mon fils." He turned back to the Enforcers. "Might I suggest
that you both go back to the Raven and wait for me there? Ask Miklos to
show you his bloodwine bottle cap collection. I'll join you as soon as I
clear up this *private* family matter."
Masher's eyes glowed with eagerness at the mention of the bottle caps-- he
was an avid collector himself-- nodded his agreement and went to collect his
partner, who was tickling one of thorns on the cactus' 'head' while making
cooing growls. LaCroix stared dumfounded at the sight of the
giggle-trembling plant even as the Enforcers left yet another hole in the
warehouse wall.
"Nicholas..."
"Um.. I can explain?"
"*Do* so."
Part 9: It's *His* Party So I'll Skip Out If I Want To!
++Previously in Part 8++ (God--- what *did* happen in part 8? Oh.. yeah.
The Enforcers showed up at the Loft and LaCroix got his first hint that
something was up with that cactus.)
[Meanwhile, at the Raven:]
Brianna and Miklos stood close by as Janette came strode into the Raven
looking flustered and a bit out of sorts. Not since that Emily Weiss
escapade had they seen her suffer from such a 'bad hair' night.
"Any luck with finding the games?" Brianna asked with some trepidation. Her
employer snarled in annoyance. "Nooo... no, cherie, I did not. Both
Vampire Monopoly and Forever in Jeopardy have completely diappeared from
stock and my supplier can't get ahold of any more. Seems some stupid,
mortal agency shut down production due to some idiotic copyright
infringement or some such silly nonsense!" She grabbed one of the bloodwine
bottles from behind the bar and proceeded to chug-a-lug it. Both of the
younger vampires took a descrete step back. A Janette who did not drink
from a dainty glass was a steamed Janette indeed.
Filling a bit more calm now that she had finished fantasizing on draining a
horde of government bureuacrats, the *normally* exquisite lady ran her gaze
over the main room of her establishment. Because of her sire's insistance
on throwing yet another slumber party, she had had to close a lot earlier
than normal so that Miklos and Brianna would have time enough to clean up
and prepare the snacks and refreshments. Of course, she would'nt have had
to close down *quite* so early if she had been able to get more volunteer
help for the preparations, but noooo! LaCroix just *had* to invite
*Enforcers* to his little shindigg. It was bad enough her employees and
patrons were already afraid of the Ancient-- but to add two Enforcers to the
mix! Everyone had run off like scared mortals before she could bring her
full persuasive powers to bear. Even Nicholas had made up some excuse about
a new fledgling. Yeah, right. Like a fledgling of Nicola's would survive
past a week anyway. At least she was not *totally* alone: Brianna who had
the misfortune of being elswhere when word had first gone out, and Miklos
who had been hobbled by that supportive brace--- he hadn't been able to
break her grip on that! But the rest! Bunch of cowards! Here she'd given
those gratitude-challenged strays a place to stay--- and they'd all run off
like rats from a sinking ship!
Which, unfortunately, reminded her....
"Miklos, where is that cache of carouche bones that-- darkness help me-- I
was forced to hire?"
"Ya kawled, lady mistressy?"
Janette nearly went into flight as the bald-headed vampire appeared at her
elbow.
"Screed! Don't ever sneak up on me again or you'll be missing more than just
a coifure!"
"Coy fur? Is tha un o' them hoity toity taily-lost type ratsies that 'ol
Screedy's hear'd tale o' ? Oh... I dah no! All tha' fansy pansty fur ju'
gets'ta stuck inny fella's fangs, Screedy be thinkin'."
"Not a *guinea pig* you idiot. A... oh, why bother! Did you find any
entertainment for the party?" What *ever* had possessed her to hire Screed!
Oh, yes--- utter desperation. Although now she wondered if it was really
possible to be *that* desperate. She felt a slight tingling in the air, the
warning effect of very powerful someones rapidly drawing nearer and not
giving a dang who knew it. It was time to act decisively.
"Well, whatever you found will have to do--- Myyyy! Would you look at the
time. And I forgot to pick up my new dresses. If I rush I *might* just
have time to make it to the seamstress's shop and make it back before
sunrise ((or not)) so do moi a favor, Miklos, Brianna, and greet our guests
for me?--Thanks! Ah Riviera! ((if I can make the next red-eye flight!))
Outta my way, Rat Breath!"
"Doesn't she mean: 'Au revoire'?" Brianna asked Miklos.
"Somehow.. I don't think so."
If Janette had left her get-a-way just five seconds later, there would have
been a mid-air collision, but as it was there were only the two extremely
nervous vampires and one rodent-smelling carouche to witness Grunt and
Masher's entrance thru the previously solid side of the Raven's front wall.
It was a perfect match to its (now boarded-up) twin on the other side of the
building that they had made when they first arrived.
"Maybe if we bricked up the doorway..." Miklos muttered to himself as he
straightened his supportive brace and went to greet the vampiric policemen.
"Welcome back, gentlemen."
"Grrr arrrR rrar."
(( yeah--- whatever.)) "Of couse. Brianna, get our esteemable guests the
good bottle while I.. uh... go check the backstock." <whoosh!>
"But you already-- " ((MIKLOS!)) Damn! More like 'check the backdoor'!
That was going to be *my* excuse! Brianna trained her biggest, brightest,
dumbest blonde smile on Grunt, then Masher. "Say... why don't I go back to
my old place and slip into something more comfortable? The carouche can
handle everything for a little don't you think?"
"Grrreehehe."
"Back quick as a jiff."
"Garrr?"
"I'll get you a picture of one when I return."
Screed sidled up to her as she picked up her purse from behind the counter.
"Aint yer auld ruem back e' Swicherland er sich?"
"You know, I believe it is. Ta!" And she was gone.
"Weeel, ain't tha a roight ket'le o' da bloodwormys. Leave ol' Screedy ta
hol' ta papery partee bags, they 'ave." he complained to the Enforcers.
"But t'aint na use b'moanin and b'bitcherin, s'pose." He went over to a
large grocery sack and began rifling through it until he found the items he
was looking for. Took him all night at the 'All-Nite Swap & Swindle' Swap
Meet to find these beauties for the party. But what was that? Especially
when the 'perty ladee' had asked so kindly--- and given him a couple of
toonies to boot. And keep the change! Yep, it had been a good night for
the old Screedy, so's he wasn't very put out by the unexpected twisting of
events.
"Sews, which'r of thes'm 'ere partee-type nogg'n toppers ya wanten ta try?
Mightee or Micky Mousey?"
Part 10: He's The Tall, Old Vamp from Ancient Pompeii!
++Previously in Part 9++ (LaCroix sent the Enforcers back to the Raven
while waiting for Nicholas to explain about Spike.)
Talking fast, Nick explained everything from Part 1 on while LaCroix's
facial expressions went from sceptical to unbelieving, to outraged, and,
finally... grudging acceptance that his son at least *believed* in what was
coming out of his mouth. Not that LaCroix had changed his mind-- oh, no.
He *still* planned to kill someone. Only now the target was a stupid plant
instead of his stupid son and some unknown mortal. This *thing* was coming
between Nicholas' affection and its truest destination--- him! Therefore,
this *thing* must die.
Sensing this, (it was rather obvious-- the red eyes and the stake in hand
being dead give-a-ways), Nick placed himself between his son and his sire.
"You can't kill him, LaCroix." he declared.
"And why ever not?" The Ancient wanted to know.
"Because... um.. because even when they fall on your head, knock you
unconscious, and fill you full of prickilies-- they're still family?"
LaCroix gave him a humorless laugh, "Oh, come now, Nicholas!" he chided
while caressing the stake with one hand. Nick continued on: "And even
though your an abusive, cold-hearted monster, Lacroix--- you are a *family
man*! You can't destroy your own *grandson*! Damn it, Lacroix! You're
Spike's *grandda-- !" A warning growl cut him off. "Nicholas-- If you so
much as mindlink the word I think you're about to say in reference to myself
and a *cactus*!"
"Taste and read his blood if-- you.. don't... believe... um... " Nick's
words awkwardly stumbled to a halt as he realized what his sire must be
making of *that*! (Oh... Heck.)
The General pointed a finger at his son in triumphant derision. "Soo... You
thought you could con me into impaling my mouth on that photosynethesizing
pincushion of yours just so I can get my fangs glued shut on its sticky sap?
Really, mon fils! You'll have to do better than that!"
The assertation of the cactus' heritage was ridiculous, of course, LaCroix
decided. However this little green monster had come into being, it had
definitely *not* been made by *his* prot'eg'e. It must be something of
Screed's or some other such form of *lower* vampire. **Waay lower.** He
would allow Nicholas to become mortal again before he accepted a lowly
*plant* into his 'family' image!
Yet.. perhaps... his tactical mind considered all the possible ways he
might use his son's obviously deep attachment to the disgusting thing
before him. Possibilities.. possibilites...
LaCroix let the stake drop. "Very well, Nicholas. For your sake I will
spare its life--" he allowed a wolfish smile to cover his face, "--*IF*
you'll agree to spend the day with me at my slumber party. Otherwise
'Spike', here, will be joining the good Raleigh in Vampire Pet Limbo," he
snarled in finish as the cactus 'rustled' aggressively at him.
Nick paled at the mention of his beloved dog's horrible demise and... a
slumber party? Again? Ack! He was still picking the Chex Mix crumbs out
of his jammies from the last one!
"Um... gee, LaCroix, I'd.. um.. love to, but.." LaCroix bent to retrieve
the stake, a sight that sent the detective's brain cell communication's
board into hypredrive. "But, LaCroix," he reasoned, "you can't have a
slumber party without *games*--- and Janette said someone took all of
yours."
"True."
Nick breathed a sigh of relief. "Guess I'll just have to take a raincheck,
huh?"
"Not necessarily."
"But... a slumber party without games is like.." Nick gestured wildly about
as he sought an adequate comparison in which to dissuade his sire's mind
from this newest torture, "--is like french fries without ketchup! Nat's
protein drinks without a garbage disposal! Schanke's music without
earplugs! It shouldn't be attempted, LaCroix!"
"Also, true. But I'm sure, mon fils, that you won't mind supplying my party
with some of *your* fare? I must admit to some curiousity as to what sort
of 'group entertainment' you keep lying around for when those idiot mortals
come over. Yes-- you, mon ami, will supply the games." Another sharkish
smile.
Shoulders sagging, Nick could offer back a more sickly version in return.
```````````` Just an hour before dawn ``````````
After failing miserably to get Natalie to agree to plantsit Spike for the
day, [I'm afraid her verbatim response to Nick's request is unprintable
here], Nick had no choice but to pack up Spike along with his overday
suitcase containing his black pajamas, robe, sonic fangbrush and dental
floss. He chose a mummy-style slumber bag for himself (a cozy, black silk
number with little embroided cows of various breeds, bearing the caption:
31 Flavors.) The sight of it earned him a patricianish raised eyebrow from
his sire, but Nick just shrugged at his look. LaCroix might force him to
attend this fiasco--- but he was going to at least sleep comfortably without
fear of the likes of Screed and his tendancy to bite in his sleep-- last
time when he had awakened it had been to the feel of Screed's fangs at his
neck while hearing that nearly unintelligible voice croon: "E' Bessie's
jist s'a big ratsie... " It hadn't helped when the little rat exterminator
had tried to explain that Nick smelled of cow to him and since a cow was an
animal and he was a carouche..
Shuddering at the memory, he grabbed up a pet bed for Spike, raided his
closets for the required games, and loaded it all into the Caddy. Any hopes
that the ride to the vampire bar would at least be peaceful were dashed
when LaCroix declared he was going along just to be sure Nick didn't decide
to take an unscheduled detour to Siberia.
Why wasn't he surpised to discover that his father was a worse back-seat
driver than all of his mortal companions put together? After the 20th time
(in only a kilometer of driving) of hearing the the silken-voiced radio host
give warning to 'watch out for <fill in the blank>!' Nick sarcastically
asked him if he wanted to drive. Big mistake. Big, Big, Big,Big BIG
mistake! Next thing he knew he was being shoved to one side of the car, he
and Spike holding onto each other for dear undeath and by the laws that
govern g-forces as Leadfoot LaCroix seemed determined to get them to the
Raven in
record-breaking time--- (minus a generous amount of tire rubber, a section
of rear fender, several swaths of teal paint... ) --- and not necessarily by
the quickest route! Nick found himself flashbacking to the time Schanke had
driven his car sans a working brake line. At least then he'd been in the
trunk and had been unable to directly witness the trashing of his beloved
car. The memory was certaintly more merciful than watching the crazed Roman
careen from one side of the street to the other before he finally got the
hang of things like steering wheel, brakes, and adequate gas pedal pressure.
Not that he really seemed to care about the latter. But the worst was when
he accepted a 'drag race' challenge from a pair of surly Hell's
Angels-types
sharing a Harley. Nick had to admit though, the girl cyclist was kinda cute
with her short, blonde hair and black leather jacket with the name "Tracy"
emblazoned next to an embroided pink teddy bear. At least she *was* cute
until she made a most unlady like gesture when the Caddy nearly blew her
off her vehicle. LaCroix laughed in delight as he pulled what was left of
the car up to the Raven.
"Myyy... no wonder you like to drive, Nicholas!
This 'motoring' has all the thrills of the hunt! I must consider getting
myself registered as well. Merlin should be able to see to that."
The valid driver's-licensed car owner was *not* so amused.
"LaCroix... the purpose of driving ISN'T to see how many mortals and public
works you can 'pick off' before you run out of gas!" Nick chastised as he
pried Spike's thorns loose from the upholstery and his jacket. His poor
childe was still in shock from seeing most of Toronto go by in a blur. "And
did you *have* to do that last little stunt with those motorcyclists?
"They started it," LaCroix growled. "Calling *me* an 'old fogey'!---What
*is*
a 'fogey' by the way?---So I used vampiric powers to give this metallic
monster a *little* extra speed during the home stretch. Would you have
rathered I pushed it from *outside* the car?"
"I'd preferred you hadn't nearly run down that traffic officer. You scared
him half to death!" (the only consolation there, the detective thought to
himself , was that the Caddy had been moving so fast Officer Hendrikson
wouldn't have been able to recognize it.)
"Nonsense." LaCroix pooh-poohed. "The increased blood circulation and
adrenaline will do him
good."
He spotted the new hole in the wall of his daughter's establishment. "Looks
like everyone else is here. Come along, Nicholas."
Onto Part Three!
Part 8: Of Pride and Cactus Juice