All right, here goes just in time for Valentine's Day!  A romantic story between 
Tracy and Miklos, there's also plenty of Nick, Vachon and Lacroix in here, some 
Nat and quite a bit of Alma... It's ADULT for romantic and semi-graphic lovin's 
(squeaks by at an R+ most likely)
 
Disclaimer: Don't own Tracy, Miklos or anything really. Pity me. 
Archiving: Anita, Mel and the DP, others ask first please.
Thanks to my betas Ren and Lynne!
 
*Note: There is a state between human and vampire, sometimes called a Thrall.  
In FK it was explored a bit with the Countess's health club gals in the ep "To 
Die For." Basically thralls are humans, tied to a vampire, they have some 
characteristics of a vampire, some of a human.  The state is also temporary.
 
 
 
Enthralled (1/14)
By: Cousin Mary
02-02
 
 
            The muscles in his arms flexed and bulged as Miklos pushed an oiled 
rag in wide circles across the dark oak of the bar.  The Raven was quiet 
tonight, not many customers, vampire or mortal.  The lights were down and even 
the music seemed unusually mild.  He sighed, he hated nights like this, nights 
that left him with too much time on his hands, too much time alone with his 
thoughts.
 
            At the sound of feminine laughter Miklos paused in his work, looking 
up he caught sight of her.  Tracy Vetter.  Even though he'd known she was there, 
known the moment she'd walked in the club, his breath still caught when he saw 
her. The halo of her pale hair caught the lights of the dance floor, playing 
with it like a million translucent prisms. Clad in black slacks and a dark rose 
blouse, her legs were crossed and a short black blazer lay across her lap, it 
was the first time he'd ever seen her so at ease inside the Raven.  
 
            And why shouldn't she be at ease? There probably wasn't a more 
guarded mortal in the entire city.  She was partnered with Knight, and therefore 
under not only his, but also his master's protection.  Then there was her 
connection to the Spaniard, and through him Screed and Ursula.  He'd even heard 
rumor a carouche named Jody also waited in the wing lest someone 'unsuitable' 
approached the golden minx.  Not to mention the fact that she came from a family 
of police, practically a legacy that dogged her every step.  Even without her 
ties to the Community it would be foolish for anyone to pursue her...
 
            So he only watched her, sipping a club soda, listening while some 
mortal attempted to chat her up.  She was incredibly beautiful, radiant even.  
Like the North Star she burned bright, but was unbearably distant.  He held his 
breath as she cocked her head to one side, unintentionally giving him an 
unobstructed view of the column of her white throat.  He felt his fangs itch 
even as his body reacted in other, much more telling, ways.  Never had he been 
so affected by a woman.  She was asking the mortal a question, and the young pup 
fell over himself as he answered.  He was not worthy to talk to her, couldn't 
she see that?  She leaned forward and whispered something.
 
            Miklos heard it before he felt it, the tinkling sound as a shot 
glass shattered in his clenched fist.  He looked down at the blood dripping and 
wiped it into the bar before throwing the shards into the bucket by the sink.  
He focused on the dark drops, wondering almost idly if it would help business, 
the almost undetectable scent that now clung to the oak.  He tried not to look 
at her again, to be stronger than his desire, but his resolve lasted only 
seconds.  He did so well most nights... but then most nights she was not so 
close.  Almost against his will, his dark eyes lifted again to the table across 
the club.
 
            He had wanted her from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her almost 
two years before.  She had not been so guarded then, only her family ties had 
stayed his interest.  Janette had cautioned him against following the young 
uniformed woman as she circulated around the perimeter of the grand reopening of 
the Windark Center for the Performing Arts.  There had been a ball held after 
the Mayor's speech, a ball he and Janette would go on to attend.  He could still 
remember how honored he'd been to escort his employer, and how quickly he'd been 
distracted by the slim form and sky blue eyes of the girl he would later learn 
was named Tracy.  
 
            Tracy: such an unassuming name.  Not flowery, nor even very 
feminine, but somehow it fit her.  Miklos finished with the bar and began 
checking the tables.  He walked past the area where the couple sat, forcing 
himself not to watch her when she was sure to notice.  He gathered glasses, 
grabbed a forgotten jacket to throw in the lost and found and headed back to the 
bar.  Crossing the floor he caught the scent of her.  Apricots and callalilies, 
a glorious combination.  Summer flowed in her veins, just as the heaven shone in 
her eyes.  
 
            He had followed her progress as she'd advanced in her chosen 
profession. It hadn't been hard, as the daughter of a commissioner and a 
socialite Tracy's name appeared in the papers quite frequently, but as a 
courtesy to Janette he'd never pursued it any further. And then, after Janette's 
departure, there had been Knight...  Miklos sighed, he'd had to remain content 
with what the news media offered him, and it had become a hobby, as much as 
anything else, to follow her career.  He smirked, who would have guessed a 
vampire could become a fan of a mortal cop?  
 
            And the press, oh they loved her too; they seemed to delight in 
glorifying the heroics of the youngest Vetter.  A brief flash of vampiric memory 
brought one article in particular to mind, a very long and detailed account of 
the case that had ultimately brought about Tracy's promotion to detective, 
written by... Fullton, or Fuller.  Miklos frowned, well, even an immortal's 
memory could not be expected to retain such trivial information. 
 
            She laughed again, and this time Miklos shut his eyes tight and just 
relished the sound.  Wait, there was something wrong.  He frowned, once again 
gazing at the dark clad form of the girl he knew so well yet had never met.  She 
uncrossed her legs and fiddled nervously with the small silver ring on her 
pinky, she looked up and her eyes met his.  She frowned and shook her head 
slightly, as if warning him not to interfere.  
 
            Miklos stared, she knew he was watching her!  He dropped his gaze 
and turned his back on the couple, facing the bottles.  There was a mirror 
behind the shelves, to help better display the imported brandies and flavored 
whiskeys, but he used it now to look on, unobserved.  He felt dirty, spying on 
her like this, but not enough so to stop.  
 
            She laughed and flirted with the mortal, teasing, drawing out their 
conversation.  And maybe it was only in his mind that her actions seemed forced, 
as if she would give anything to just leave.  Miklos ran a hand through his hair 
in a frustrated gesture.  If she didn't want to be there, talking to that 
mortal, she would just leave!  He knew her well enough to know that Tracy Vetter 
was not one to suffer for the sake of being polite to a stranger.  But then, why 
were her smiles not quite reaching her eyes?  
 
            Suddenly the mortal stood, and Tracy with him.  Miklos tensed, 
forcing himself not to spin around and watch their departure.  Through the 
mirror he looked on, watching as the object of many of his deepest desires 
leaned forward and brushed her lips against another man's cheek before lacing 
her fingers in his and letting him lead her to the club's side door. Just as she 
stepped out into the alley, her eyes met his again, right through the mirror.  
Another warning, 'don't follow.'
 
 
            Miklos swallowed and turned slowly, just in time to hear the door 
click softly shut.  Such a small sound, he shouldn't have been able to hear it, 
even with his heightened senses, over the din of thumping club music.  Yet he 
did.  It was a final sound.  A terrible sound.  Almost without realizing he was 
doing it, he walked around the bar and strode across the club.  It only took a 
moment to swing open the door and step out into the alley.  He looked around, 
where had they gone?
 
            "Dammit!  You're a cop!"  A deep male voice accused from the 
shadows.  "Who's he?  Back-up?"
 
            Miklos turned his head, catching the blue nickel shine off the 
barrel of a gun pointed right at his head.  His eyes widened and he started to 
lunge to the side, but even as he moved, he knew there wouldn't be enough time.
 
            "No!"  Tracy yelled, grabbing for the gun.
 
            The sound of a shot echoed through the dark alley.
 
            Miklos looked down, the bullet had missed him, but he still smelled 
blood...  His nostrils flared, and suddenly it was as if an ice cold hand were 
clutching his heart.  It was Tracy's blood.  He turned to where the two mortals 
wrestled for the gun.  They had tumbled to the concrete as they clawed and 
kicked at each other for control of the weapon.  He didn't know where Tracy had 
been shot, but her blood was everywhere.  His fangs lowered as he grabbed the 
man, ripping him away from her.  Within seconds his fangs were buried in his 
throat.
 
 
 
 
            Tracy sat up against the back wall of the club and watched as Miklos 
dropped the now chalk white body of Stephen 'the Nose' Jaminson to the ground. 
"Guess you're one after all," She mumbled wryly.
 
            Miklos rushed to kneel at her side, quickly looking her over as his 
yellow eyes flickered back to black.  "Where-?"
 
            "You couldn't stay in the club could you?"  Tracy glared at him, "I 
had everything under control!  I -am- a cop for Pete's sake!"
 
            "I-"  Miklos wanted to argue, tell her that he'd had to follow her, 
that she'd needed him, but then his eyes caught the sight of a second gun lying 
near the door.  Her gun.  She'd carried it under her folded coat.  His eyes 
swung back to hers, the truth hitting him.  "You were undercover."
 
            "You're quick."  She nodded, her teeth gritted. "Can you maybe, call 
an ambulance now?"
 
            "No, he's-" He started, then looked at her again, she was clutching 
her hand in the hem of her blood soaked blouse.  "Oh."
 
            "Yeah," Tracy blinked back tears, fighting to stay lucid despite the 
pain and blood loss, "And it really hurts, so unless you're planning on killing 
me too, you better call."  
 
            Miklos just stared for a moment, fascinated by the summer scent 
spilling into the night.  He drew her hand out, she didn't even fight him.  
Blood was pouring from the wound like a fountain.  The wound itself was 
incredibly bad, the lower half of her right hand was almost entirely gone, her 
pinky and ring fingers hung by tendon and shattered bone but would probably 
never be mobile again.  He pulled her small hand to his lips, tasting.  He could 
hear the police sirens long before Tracy could, but waited until she drew a 
sharp breath.
 
            "Thank God."  She whispered at the sound, her eyes closing tight, 
maybe as she gave a silent prayer of thanks.
            
            Miklos stood, looking down at her as she struggled to stay conscious 
long enough to call her fellow officers to her.  They'd be here any minute, if 
he left now they would take her to the hospital, bandage her up.  She could go 
on with her life, her hand crippled, but otherwise the same as always.  He 
looked up at the sky, a storm was brewing.  "Beauty-"
 
            "Don't even think about it."  She ground out, her voice soft, but 
also determined.  "I don't want to be a vampire."
 
            A small smile tilted his lips, "Are you so sure I was going to 
offer?"
 
            "My blood's all over your mouth and you haven't killed me yet," She 
pointed out, her eyes slightly unfocused, the dizziness of blood loss getting to 
her, she didn't even seem to notice when the rain started.  "You're either 
thinking about turning me..." She frowned, "Or I taste really bad."
 
            He laughed, then leaned down and swept her effortlessly into his 
arms.  She struggled a bit, but stopped fighting after a moment,  "No dear 
heart, there are yet more options than that."
 
            "I don't want to die."  She whispered, tears slipping from her eyes 
and dampening his shirt as she pressed her cheek against his chest.
 
            "And so you won't."  He promised, lifting them both into the air 
mere seconds before cops flooded the alley to find a lot of blood, but only one 
body.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and ace bandages to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (2/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            Tracy slowly stirred, the pounding in her head both painful and 
reassuring at the same time.  After all, it took a pulse to have a pounding 
headache.  The last thing she remembered was Miklos, the Raven's bartender 
taking her into his arms and jumping into the air.  She must have passed out 
shortly after that.  And now she was waking up in a strange place, alone.  Just 
to be sure, she checked her pulse.  Yep, she still had one.
 
            She lifted her head and looked around the room, and 'around' was 
right.  The walls curved and the room was perfectly round.  Grand floor length 
windows circled all around, the occasional wall space filled with gilt mirrors.  
She caught her reflection in one of the age-darkened mirrors, she was laying on 
a circular couch-like piece, upholstered in deep blue velvet.  There was a 
sweeping expanse of dark hardwood floors, polished to the point of reflecting 
the billowing draperies that floated in the breeze from the slightly open 
windows.  She looked up; a huge crystal chandelier flickered some twenty feet 
above, the ceiling itself painted alfresco to resemble a summer sky... clouds, 
birds, she even spotted a few bees and butterflies darting through the mock 
heavens.
 
            Looking down at herself she discovered a simple white night gown, 
silk unless she missed her guess.  She smoothed her hands down the gossamer 
fabric, "Definitely not what I started out the night in."  She mumbled, then 
froze.  She lifted her hand.  It was... well, it was slightly pink, and there 
was a thin scar that arched up from her palm away from her thumb and across to 
the back of her hand...  It looked almost like someone had drawn it on with a 
fine tipped pen.  "Oh God."
 
            She checked her pulse again, the accelerated thump, thump reassuring 
her that she was still alive and mortal.  She took a deep breath, willing 
herself to calm down enough to think.  She flexed her hand and wiggled her 
fingers, marveling, for the first time, at the beauty and grace with which they 
moved.  She'd seen her hand mangled, torn apart by the bullet of that Rossi 
revolver.  It shouldn't be all right, it had been half gone!  She flexed it 
again, making a fist and releasing it.  She felt around her right hand with her 
left, it seemed fine... How could it be fine?
 
            "Miklos," She whispered, closing her eyes as she realized he had 
done something.  She didn't know what, but whatever it had been... it had saved 
her hand.  She stood up, slowly opening her eyes and catching her reflection 
again in one of the mirrors. She looked strange.  She cocked her head, stepping 
closer to the mirror.  Her eyes were bright, her skin practically glowing. Her 
lips were swollen too; she touched them and drew away a slight film.  She tasted 
it then, something really bad.  It was like something had died in her mouth...  
She flinched, taking a moment to taste for copper.  Sure enough, it was there.  
He'd given her blood.  
 
            She checked her pulse once again, just to be absolutely positive it 
wasn't cutting in and out on her, like the reception on a bad TV.  No, she -was- 
still mortal.  So what happened when a mortal took a vampire's blood?  Suddenly 
she was struck by the almost overwhelming need to see him.  She had to talk to 
him.  She looked out the windows, the skies were lit an eerie pink with 
pre-dawn.  She turned circles, looking for a door.  There wasn't one.  For the 
first time since she'd woke, she started to feel real fear.   
 
            What before had seemed like a pleasant, if a bit surreal, dream, was 
suddenly starting to feel like a nightmare.  She walked to the windows, somehow, 
even before she got close enough to see, she knew she was too high to reach the 
ground.  Sure enough, a three-story drop greeted her burning eyes.  She spun 
around, her gown twisting around her legs as frustrated tears began to fall.  "A 
birdcage," She mumbled, looking around the beautiful room, "I'm in a freaking 
bird cage!"
 
            She walked around the room, checking all the windows to see if any 
had a ladder, or any way to reach the manicured lawns far below.  She couldn't 
even see another house in the distance, only trees.  Where the hell was she?!
 
            How the hell could he just leave her here?!  "Miklos."  She called, 
not really loud enough for anyone other than herself to hear.  She wasn't sure 
she wanted that damn vampire coming anyway.  She looked at the windows again, 
then around the room at all the wispy drapes.  Even if she knotted them all 
together she didn't think she could make it to the ground, plus the sheer fabric 
would probably tear under her weight.  A humorless smile tilted her lips, "What 
does Rapunzel do when she has a bob cut?"
 
            "Dammit Miklos!"  She threw herself on the couch, pounding uselessly 
with her near perfect fists.  She closed her eyes, her confusion laying over her 
like a damp blanket.  "I can't stay up here alone," she whispered.
 
            It was a flicker at first, like glimpse of someone walking by, just 
out of the line of vision.  Something... A thought maybe, a daydream?  
 
            There was a way out under the couch.
 
            Tracy sat up, startled by insight.  As a cop she'd had hunches 
before, and after all, how else would someone get out of a round window filled 
room?  But... this wasn't a guess, she -knew- there was a way out under the 
couch she was sitting on.  Knew it like she knew her name and the color of the 
sky.  
 
            "Worry about it later Vetter, just get out first."  She ordered 
herself, climbing to her slippered feet and shoving at the couch.  It slid away 
surprisingly easily, revealing a circular staircase that led to the darkened 
floors below.  She stood there a moment, staring down into the blackness as the 
sun dawned behind her.  She turned and looked over her shoulder, watching the 
sky streak itself with gold and red as it proclaimed the glorious return of the 
sun.  Tracy looked down again, there was no other way out... She took a deep 
breath and started down.
 
            The stairs were wrought iron, hard and cold through the thin soles 
of the white satin slippers she'd somehow acquired.  She shivered, somehow the 
thought of Miklos putting shoes on her feet while she was unconscious was even 
more disturbing than just stripping her out of her blood soaked clothes and 
putting a nightgown on her.  After all, nightgowns stretched, any old girlfriend 
might have left it with him.  But size 9 slippers?  Tracy frowned, her fingers 
skimming the handrails as she tried to make as little noise as possible.  
 
            After what seemed like a lifetime, she finally reached the next 
floor.  She knew this couldn't be the ground floor, she should keep going, but 
something made her stop.  Swallowing, she crept across yet more hardwood floors, 
her eyes adjusting to the dim light offered by the hole in the ceiling.  There 
were several doors, but something about the one straight ahead called to her.  
He was in there, somehow she just knew it.  Her skin tingled, her breathing grew 
shallow.  Why did she suddenly feel like she was hunting something?
 
            She turned the knob and slipped into his bedroom, a huge bed 
dominated the room, he lay right in the center.  There was a lamp near on the 
dresser, she lit it, not questioning how she knew it was there.  The light of 
the single bulb seemed bright, but she quickly blinked it away.  She crossed to 
his bed, watching him sleep.  She could kill him, if she really wanted to.  
Simply a matter of finding something wooden and driving it into his chest.  He 
was a vampire, he'd, well, done something to her.  Kidnapped her at least, and 
something else too, something she wasn't sure of.... yet.  
 
            Tracy reached out and laid her hand on his chest, the steady rise 
and fall of his breathing was comforting, the lack of a heartbeat was not.  She 
kicked off her slippers and crawled onto the massive bed next to him, sitting 
there on her knees, like a student in a CPR class.  5 chest compressions to 
every breath and you could maybe bring the dead back to life.  Not this one 
though.  
 
            She shook her head, annoyed that she was having such stupid poetic 
thoughts about this.  Here was a vampire, sure he hadn't killed her, and he was 
beautiful but... She flinched, she'd had to admit she thought he was beautiful 
hadn't she?  Well there was no denying it.  She looked down at him, his features 
were sculpted.  Strong jaw, chiseled cheek bones, perfectly straight nose.  His 
mouth, God, what a mouth.  His lips were... she reached out and traced them with 
her finger.  Suddenly she realized what she was doing and drew her hand away 
quickly, as if she'd just been burned.  She touched her fingertips together, 
they ached, almost as if she -had- been burned.  
 
            Tracy sighed, her eyes wandering from his face downward.  The dark 
coverlet was only pulled up to the center of his chest, leaving plenty for her 
eyes to devour.  'Pecs of steel,' She thought with an evil grin, again her hand 
reached out, almost of it's own accord.  His skin was smooth, his muscles hard 
beneath incredibly soft olive skin.  She flicked a nail over one dark nipple, it 
puckered in response.  Tracy looked up at his face, biting her lip, waiting to 
see if he'd wake up.
 
            She should get out of there while she had the chance.  She should 
find some clothes and leave while the sun was up and he couldn't follow her. She 
leaned down and brushed her lips against his, she really should leave.  Her arm 
slipped forward, stretching across to twine her fingers in his. Her free hand 
slipped down to pull the coverlet away, he slept in the nude.  Somehow she'd 
known he would.  She moved then, slipping her body to lay flat atop of him, she 
pressed a kiss to the soft spot under his chin. 
 
            "Tracy..."
 
            She smiled when he moaned her name in his sleep.  She slipped her 
other hand into his as well, then drew both up to pin them over his head.  Then 
she kissed him again, hard.
 
            His body woke up long before his mind, his tongue met hers and he 
ground his bare hips into her soft flesh.  For some reason Tracy wasn't afraid 
at all, she felt powerful and strangely justified.  She let one hand go long 
enough to yank her gown up a bit, just enough so their bare legs could tangle, 
then pinned him again.  "You are mine."  She whispered possessively.
 
            Suddenly his eyes flew open, bright gold orbs that focused on her 
yet didn't quite register what was going on.  Instinct was still in control, and 
right then, instinct was screaming to mate.  In the blink of an eye Tracy lost 
control of the situation, he'd flipped her on to her back and loomed over her.  
His head lowered to the crook of her neck, she could hear him drawing in her 
scent, then felt his cool, wet tongue flick out to taste the flesh just behind 
her jaw.  
 
He was able to keep both of her hands pinned above her head with just one of 
his, the other he used to rip away the thin gown.  He didn't even lift his head 
from her throat.  When his cold hand cupped her breast and his knees pushed 
their way to part her thighs, Tracy started to panic.  What seconds ago had 
tempted her so, now was scaring the hell out of her.  She screamed, her terror 
coming through loud and clear. "Miklos!"  
 
He froze.  Seconds ticked by as Tracy panted beneath him.  Slowly he raised his 
head and she watched as recognition dawned.  His eyes flicked between gold, 
black and red, finally settling to a jet black.  He hissed a breath between his 
teeth and looked down at her bare body, then at his own.  His eyes came up to 
meet hers again, "I am so sorry."
 
Tracy didn't move, she didn't even breathe, just stared.  He wasn't getting off 
of her, was he sorry for what he'd done... or what he was about to do?  Guilt 
descended in waves, she shouldn't have crawled into bed with him, she shouldn't 
have done anything.  But she'd wanted him so much.  "Miklos."  His name was a 
plea on her lips, though to do what she didn't know.
 
He moved, releasing her hands and flopping down on his back beside her.  She sat 
up, he'd closed his eyes and his expression was pained.  "Just go my heart, 
leave now."
 
Tracy didn't leave, she didn't know if she could.  Commonsense was telling her 
to take his advice, to get out of there.  At least leave the room and wait for 
things to cool down, but she didn't.  He'd saved her hand, he'd done 
something... there was a connection between them.  Something she knew he felt as 
strongly as she did.  He hadn't wanted to hurt her, he'd only wanted to help.  
To be with her.  She looked at him, he wanted her.  And she still wanted him, 
very much.  Ever so slowly Tracy moved.  His eyes slit open, and he just watched 
her, watched her touching him, exploring him.  
 
"Tracy," He choked back a moan, "You don't have to-"
 
"Shhh, I want to," She whispered. 
 
Warm and soft, Miklos watched Tracy's lips and hands move across his body.  
Never had he felt so much, every nerve was alive and on fire.  He could hardly 
believe she was here, this had to be yet another dream.  He could barely keep 
his hips from bucking beneath her, and finally he gave up trying.  Reaching 
down, he pulled her up and crushed her mouth to his, tasting salt on her lips.  
His hands skimmed down her sides and then he lifted her, before lowering her 
slowly.
 
"Oh God, this is-" She shook her head, unable to think of words that could 
describe the sensations crashing through her.
 
"I know," Miklos pulled her down for another kiss as he started to rock beneath 
her.  She met his every movement, and soon they were moving as one, in a dance 
older than time.  He pulled her up, raking his fangs down her collar bone in 
long, shallow gashes.  The pain, the passion, the sheer intensity radiating from 
him was more than enough to send Tracy over the edge.  As Miklos licked at the 
blood trickling down her breasts, she bit her lip and silently screamed.  
 
Her wounds quickly sealed and they lay quietly, each wrapped in the other's 
arms, preoccupied with their own thoughts.  
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and mochas to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (3/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            Miklos stared down at the golden head cradled on his chest and 
gently stroked the silken strands.  She sighed in her sleep, pressing closer.  
He noticed her hand was curled over his heart, he lifted it and brought it 
closer.  Only the faintest of scars remained, he pressed a kiss into her palm.
 
            "So what did you do?" A voice asked softly.
 
            He jumped slightly, looking down to find Tracy's bright blue eyes 
trained on him.  She pushed her hand from his and into his hair, running slim 
white fingers through black strands.  He closed his eyes and enjoyed the 
contact, that is, until she made a fist right behind his ear, pulling his hair 
painfully.
 
            "Tell me."  She ordered.
 
            He opened his eyes and looked at her, her jaw was set, she was 
determined to get an answer.  He thought about giving her a flippant reply, 
something like 'if you have to ask...' but he knew what she meant, she wanted to 
know why her hand was healed.  And more than that too he'd wager, after all, he 
doubted he was the only one picking up on feelings that weren't necessarily his 
own.  She was scared, he could see it, he could smell it, and now, he could also 
feel it.  "You are my thrall."  He said simply.
 
            A beat of silence, "Okay, I give up.  What's a thrall?"
 
            "A thrall is something very rare.  Even I don't know exactly what 
the state entails. "  He wrapped his arms around her, not mentioning the fact 
that she was trembling.  She was trying so very hard to appear brave, he didn't 
have the heart to tell her that she was failing miserably.  He glanced away and 
swallowed before looking back at her, "It has been a long time since anyone has 
made a thrall, they are, how would you say?  Illegal."
 
            "Against the Code?"  Tracy asked, frowning and staring at her hand.
 
            Miklos looked at her in surprise, "How much do you know?"
 
            "Obviously not enough," She answered shortly.
 
            He waited to see if she would say anything else, but when she only 
lay stiffly in his arms he continued.  "To make a thrall is to give a living 
mortal your blood, it binds them to you but does not bring them over."
 
            "Binds them?" Tracy sighed, flopping her head onto his chest, her 
chin poking him.  "That's why I could tell where you were?"
 
            Miklos nodded, "Among other things."  He paused for a moment, then 
bit his tongue.
 
            "Ow!" Tracy jumped up, sticking her pink tongue out and feeling it 
with her fingers.  When she felt nothing she drew it back into her mouth and 
glared at him, "So we can pick up on other things to?  Couldn't you just have 
-told- me instead of skewering yourself?"
 
            "Would you have believed me?"  He arched a brow.
 
            "Have you lied to me yet?"  She challenged back, her eyes telling 
him she was uncomfortably aware that she would -know- if he tried to deceive 
her.  He watched her climb off the bed and walk to his closet, she flung it open 
and chose his favorite shirt, donning it quickly.
            
            "And I won't," Miklos promised from the bed, watching her cross to 
his dresser and pull on a pair of boxer shorts.  
 
            "What else?"  Tracy asked, pulling on a pair of woolly socks, 
ignoring the white slippers she'd kicked off hours ago.  "Any more surprises in 
store for me?"
 
            "I honestly do not know, Beauty," Miklos told her, "'Thrall' is a 
word whispered in secret by reminiscing ancients, it does no good to question 
them."
 
            Tracy didn't seem happy with that, but she understood he was telling 
her all he knew, "Is this permanent?"
 
            Miklos hesitated, he didn't -want- his connection to her to end... 
ever, but he had to tell her the truth, "As tradition has it, no.  The bond 
would have to be reinforced every few days if I understand right."
 
            Tracy chewed her lip, pacing around the room like a caged tiger 
while she thought things through.
 
            Miklos watched her, fascinated.  "Second door on the left."  He said 
suddenly.
 
            Tracy frowned in confusion, then glared when she realized what he'd 
done.  He was telling her where the bathroom was, and he was doing it because he 
knew she needed to use it.  "Stay out of my head!" She grumbled, heading off 
down the hall.
 
            Miklos sighed, so much for the myth that thralls were by nature 
subservient to their masters.  Though he had to admit, he hadn't wanted her to 
change, and he was very glad she hadn't.   When he heard the shower flip on, he 
climbed to his feet and pulled on his robe.  He left his room, heading 
downstairs to the kitchen.  There, he picked up the phone and dialed the number 
for the Raven, then an extension, "Hallo?  Alma?"
 
            "Miklos?" Came the vampiress's groggy reply, "Do you have any idea 
what time it is?"
 
            "4 in the afternoon," Miklos answered tartly, quite unlike him 
really.  He frowned, realizing after a moment exactly where his tone was coming 
from. He took a breath and focused himself, trying to keep his mind on the 
problem at hand. "I need a favor."
 
            "Oh?" 
 
            "I need you to go to the 96th Police Precinct and convince them that 
one of their detectives called in sick for tonight."
 
            "What?!"  He heard her switch the phone to her other ear, probably 
so whoever was currently sharing her bed wouldn't overhear.  "Are you crazy?"
 
            "Not entirely." He smiled, "Detective Tracy Vetter, she works the 
night shift.  Tell them she called in with the flu."
 
            "Vetter?"  She drew a sharp breath, "That's Knight's partner!  No 
freaking way Miklos!  He'll stake us both!"
 
            "Alma," He tone was warning, "You owe me."
 
            "You're calling in that debt?"  She gasped, "For just a whammy?"
 
            "Yes."
 
            "But what about Knight?"
 
            "He won't be in until 6," He shrugged, "Make sure you're in and out 
of there before then."
 
            "I- All right Miklos, if that's what you want," She sounded unsure, 
but she wasn't going to argue.  "I take it you're calling in for yourself as 
well?"
 
            "I am."
 
            "Miklos, what's going on?"
 
            "Better you don't ask," His eyes drifted up when he heard the shower 
switch off, "I must go.  Tell no one."
 
            "Of course not," Alma yawned, but he could hear her getting dressed 
to run his errand, "Anyone asks it's: Miklos who?"
 
            "Yes."  And with that he hung up.  He waited, expecting her to come 
downstairs to find him, but after a quarter hour he lost patience and went to 
investigate.  When he saw the light under the door to his study he cursed under 
his breath, she'd just had to find that room hadn't she?
 
            Crossing the hall quickly he pulled open the door, sure enough, she 
was standing in front of his desk, the scrapbook open before her.  2 years worth 
of news clipping, police bulletins, candid snap shots... all neatly organized 
before her eyes.  "Tracy..." He started.
 
            "Hi Stalker-boy," She answered back, not even looking up.
 
            Miklos wiped a hand down his face, this was not the way he wanted 
her to find out.  He walked up behind her; she didn't bother turning.  He looked 
over her shoulder and cringed, a smiling teenage Tracy in cap and gown, 
underneath 'Westmont High's graduating class of '89.'  "I wasn't there, I- the 
library's newspaper archives... I got it later."
 
            "Hmm."  It was a non-committal sound.
 
            Miklos moved closer to her, pressing himself against her back.  To 
his surprise, she leaned back against him.  He reached around and placed his 
palm on her stomach, pulling her a bit closer.  "I have wanted you for a very 
long time Beauty."
 
            She flipped a page, seemingly unaware when he nuzzled her neck.  He 
wrapped both arms around her, cradling her to him as she scanned the familiar 
headlines.   "And here I thought 'Obsession' was just an over priced cologne 
from Calvin Kline."  She quipped, eyeing the TV Guide listing for her appearance 
on the Jerry Tate Show.  "You have that on tape, don't you?"
 
            "Mmm," He didn't answer, just pressed a kiss behind her ear.  Slowly 
his hand slipped from her stomach, under the hem of her shirt.  He paused a 
moment to see if she'd protest, but when she said nothing, he slipped his hand 
past the waistband of her borrowed boxers.  
 
            "Miklos..." She closed her eyes and tilted back her head, he kissed 
her throat as his fingers worked across her, teasing to the point where her legs 
refused to support her any longer.  
 
            He hadn't anticipated it, but whatever it was, the link now between 
them, made pleasuring her even more enjoyable.  Turning her, he lifted her and 
set her on the edge of the desk.  He quickly stripped off the boxers and fell to 
his knees, replacing fingers with his eager mouth.
            
            "Oh geez," Tracy gasped.
 
            Miklos looked up and met her eyes, he smiled, a smile filled with 
desire and mischief before he bowed his head to her again.  Tracy clung to the 
edge of the desk, as though afraid if she let go she'd shoot into space.
 
            She dragged her eyes away from his dark head and gazed across the 
room, another mirror.  She watched, strangely detached as the reflected couple 
made love.  She knew it was them but... it just didn't seem real.  She gasped as 
his fingers bit into her thighs as he forced her to open wider for him, which 
she gladly did.  Or maybe it was that it was -too- real.  Everything was so 
intense, she felt like the world was made of tinfoil and someone had just stuck 
it in the microwave on high.  "Miklos."  She panted, her climax coming fast and 
hard.
 
            Miklos redoubled his efforts, he could actually feel the waves of 
pleasure crashing over him as if they were his own.  Quickly he stood and threw 
off his robe, Tracy looked up and their eyes met.  Silent consent was given and 
he immediately slid inside her.  It was like coming home. Being in her arms, 
being inside of her was all at once the most peaceful, exciting and joyous thing 
he could possibly feel.  His mouth claimed hers in a brutal kiss, more to keep 
from shouting he loved her than anything else.  He didn't want to scare her 
anymore than he had already.  She was everything to him now. 
 
            As he came inside her, Tracy clung to him, shaken to the core by the 
intensity of their coupling.  She whimpered quietly as Miklos gathered her in 
his arms and carried her back to bed.  They settled down, clinging to each other 
in the darkness.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and gilt mirrors to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (4/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            Tracy sleepily watched the digital clock numbers roll over on the 
night stand, when it hit 6:00 she remembered and sat up with a start.  "Oh crap! 
 I have work tonight!"
 
            Miklos sighed, trying to pull her back down to his side, "Taken care 
of, my heart."
 
            "What exactly do you mean, 'taken care of' Mr. Miklos Fehr?"  Her 
eyes narrowed dangerously, ignoring how she'd known his last name despite the 
fact he'd never mentioned it.
 
            "I called in for you, you must have time to heal..." He slowly 
raised up on his elbows, "Your hand-"
 
            "My hand is fine and you know it!"  Tracy growled.  Suddenly her 
eyes widened, "Nick!  Oh Christ!  He knew I was undercover last night!  If they 
found Jaminson's body..." She jumped over a stunned Miklos and grabbed the 
phone, dialing quickly, she sat back as it rang.  
 
            Miklos looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, but Tracy ignored 
him, "Nick?"
 
            "Tracy!  Where have you been?  Reese said you called in?"
 
            "Yeah," Tracy shot Miklos a glare, "Something came up, I-" She 
trailed off, not knowing what to tell him.  "Listen, does anyone know I was with 
Jaminson last night?"
 
            "No, I covered for you," Nick told her, though he didn't sound very 
happy about it.  "You know he's dead?"
 
            "I had an idea," Tracy said slowly, flinching when she remembered 
-how- he'd died.  How could she explain away bite marks to her straight-laced 
partner?  
 
            "What happened last night?  Where were you?"  Nick demanded in a 
whisper, his hand covering the mouthpiece so the others in the bullpen wouldn't 
overhear.  "Why didn't you call?"
 
            "I - uh," Tracy glanced back at Miklos.  She was still in his shirt, 
but he was completely bare, he leaned forward and caught her eyes.  Suddenly she 
knew exactly what to tell her partner.  "I was following a hunch, tailing two 
guys hoping to overhear something for the case.  Warehouse downtown," Slowly 
images of a small dark hared boy hiding behind some barrels flickered through 
her mind, the boy was listening as two men in pinstriped suits discussed 
something in lowered voices. "I got trapped behind some crates, I couldn't leave 
without them seeing me, couldn't call without them hearing, I was trapped there 
most of the day... sorry Nick."
 
            "That's okay, I'm just glad you're all right," Nick assured her, "So 
did you hear anything?"
 
            "No, they moved out of earshot," Tracy broke eye contact with 
Miklos.  It was all just a bit too much for her, especially when she realized 
the child was Miklos, and that it was his memory he'd given her.  He reached out 
and cupped the side of her throat, leaning close he rested his forehead against 
hers.  "I- I didn't get anything for the case, Nick, I- I'm really sorry."  Her 
voice cracked with emotion, though it had nothing to do with the case or 
disappointing her partner.
 
            "No, hey, that's okay."  Nick told her, "Go ahead, get some sleep.  
If you were stuck there all day you must be a wreck."
 
            Tears started to leak from her eyes and she laughed helplessly, 
"Yeah, I am."
 
            "Yeah, well rest up, I'll see you tomorrow."
 
            "Sure, and thanks Nick," Tracy sighed and touched the receiver in a 
small caress, "For covering for me.  After the muck up on my last attempt at 
undercover work..."
 
            "No problem, you're a good cop," Nick assured her, "And hey, what 
are partners for, right?"
 
            "Thanks Nick, really, I mean it."
 
            "See you tomorrow."
 
            "Yeah, tomorrow," Tracy promised, breaking away from Miklos to hang 
up the phone.  She sat back and stared at him.   "Thanks, for that."
 
            Miklos didn't say anything, just leaned forward and captured her 
mouth.  It was a slow, soft kiss and she melted into his arms.  He drew her 
tight against him, kissing away her tears and quelling her fears with just the 
soft caress of his hands and lips.  She felt safe and cherished in his arms, 
like he'd do anything for her, all she had to do was ask.  It felt good.  'Too 
good to be true,' she thought.
 
            Reluctantly Tracy broke away, "I should go..."
 
            Miklos frowned, "But why?  Your partner doesn't expect you until 
tomorrow."
 
            "Yeah, but this," She made a half-hearted gesture indicating the 
room, and him, and whatever it was between them, "It's just too much right now, 
I need to get a little space here."
 
            "I understand my heart," He said after a moment, his dark brows 
drawn.  Clearly he wasn't pleased by her decision, but he wasn't going to force 
her to stay.  Tracy breathed a sigh of relief, she'd half expected him to do 
just that.  He got up and dressed silently.  He looked back at her and frowned.  
"You shouldn't be afraid of me."  
 
            "I know," Tracy fidgeted, looking away at the heavily draped 
windows, "And I'm not afraid... precisely."
 
            Miklos grunted, not believing her but not willing to press the 
issue.  "Most of your clothes were beyond repair, but your shoes, jacket and gun 
are downstairs."
 
            "My gun?"  Tracy perked up, she'd forgotten she'd dropped it in the 
alley.  Good thing Miklos had picked it up, otherwise she might have returned to 
work only to be charged with murder, "Uh, thanks."
 
            Miklos just nodded, as if it were a matter of course he would 
remember such things. 
 
            "So, uh," Tracy found herself trying to make conversation, suddenly 
uncomfortable in the silence. "Where are we anyway?"
 
            "My house."
 
            "Um, yeah, kinda got that," Tracy got up and joined him by the 
closet, grabbing a pair of sweat pants and pulling them on.  "It's really big 
too.  How do you afford this on a bartender's salary?"
 
            He looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable, "I wasn't always a 
bartender."  He said coolly.
 
            Tracy fell silent, but after a moment her discomfort turned to 
annoyance, "Look, I'm sorry if I'm not turning out to be your dream woman here, 
but you've got to understand why I'd be a little freaked out by all this!"  She 
took a step towards him.  He started to turn away, but she grabbed his arm and 
forced him to look at her, "Yeah so what, I'm scared.  What do you expect?  A 
man, a -vampire-, I don't know flies me to a hhuge freaking house in the middle 
of God only knows where, feeds me his blood, seduces me and then gets mad at me 
because I don't trust him?  Well, where the hell do you think you get off 
Miklos?!"
 
            He looked down at her, her chest heaving, her eyes bright with 
anger.  He smiled, anger was much better than fear.  "My house is near the West 
Dale Golf Course, about twenty minutes from down town, there's a mini-mall a 
block away.  We're hardly miles from no where."
 
            "Oh," Tracy shrugged, "From the loft it looked like... there's a lot 
of tall trees around here."
 
            "Yes, that's why I like the area," He gave her a lop-sided grin and 
pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss.  "Come, I'll drive you home."
 
            Tracy blinked, "Uh, yeah, okay."  She followed him down stairs, 
gathered up her things and followed him to the garage.  She paused to pull on 
her jacket, checking the pockets for her keys, cell and badge, while Miklos 
backed a silver roadster out of the garage.  It definitely was not the kind of 
car you'd leave parked in the Raven's lot.  "Whoa, James Bond lives."  She 
mumbled under her breath as she watched him walk around to open the passenger's 
side door for her.  She climbed in and waited for him to get behind the wheel, 
"So why do you work at the Raven?"  She asked, obviously he didn't need the 
money.
 
            "It's something to do.  Lots of contact with the community," He 
shrugged, checking his mirrors as he backed down the long driveway, "Though I 
may not stay there, I don't like this owner as much as the previous."
 
            "Janette du Charme?"  Tracy asked, opening the glove box, curious to 
see what a vampire would keep in one... maps.  When Miklos didn't answer 
immediately she looked up, he was staring at her with a stunned expression, "Oh, 
I ran a background check on the place once.  You know, after I found out about 
your kind."  She explained.
 
            'Hrmph," Miklos took off down the highway towards downtown, "I bet 
the Enforcers have a file on you now, of course, it's not like they probably 
didn't before."
 
            Tracy laughed, "Yeah, I bet my name pops up -all- the time. Me and 
Buffy, 24-7."
 
            "Who?"
 
            "Uh, never mind." Tracy blushed.  "Oh, I live on-"
 
            "Yes, I know."
 
            "Right, Stalker-boy, I forgot there for a sec," Tracy leaned back in 
the sport car's bucket seat, absently checking the sights on her gun, "Ya know, 
that doesn't exactly work in your favor."
 
            He arched a brow, "Would you rather I pretend I don't know?"
 
            "I suppose not," She sighed, looking out the window at the passing 
scenery.  "So we're going to keep this whole 'thrall' thing quiet, right?  Since 
it's against the Code and all?"
 
            Miklos stiffened and Tracy watched his jaw clench and unclench a few 
times, finally he answered in a surprisingly neutral voice, "Yes, that would 
probably be for the best."
 
            "And it wears off in awhile anyway," Tracy pointed out with mock 
cheerfulness while she watched carefully for his reaction.  This was really 
bothering him, but she wasn't quite sure why.
 
            "Yes," He nodded as he pulled up in front of her building, "Unless 
we renew it."
 
            "Which we won't," She pressed, gasping when he violently shifted 
into park and jerked his gaze to hers.
 
            "Which we won't," He repeated, throwing open his door with more 
force than necessary before going around to open hers.  Tracy climbed out 
somewhat timidly, subdued by how obviously close he was to losing his temper.  
She wondered what would happen if she pushed him, but decided it wasn't worth 
the risk to find out.  
 
            "Uh, thanks for driving me home," She stood next to him on the curb, 
watching him close the car door and straighten beside her.  
 
            "My pleasure."  He said formally.  They stood there for a few 
awkward seconds while Tracy debated whether to invite him up or not.  She 
decided not.
 
            "Good night, Miklos" She said, leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss 
on his cheek.
 
            He closed his eyes and just stood for a moment, his back ramrod 
straight.  His expression was almost pained, but when he opened his eyes he 
simply nodded, "Good night, Beauty."  He stood there and waited until she was 
safely inside her building before getting back in his car.
 
 
 
 
            From behind the darkened windows Tracy watched him drive away.  
"Some how," She whispered, drawing a heart in the fog her breath made on the 
glass, "I get the feeling this is far from over." 
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and cheese cake to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (5/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            Hours later Miklos growled in frustration as he worked to shape the 
near molten iron before him.   The fire threw its flickering heat across the 
room, adding to the surprising amount of heat generated by his own pounding 
muscles.  He pushed damp hair from his eyes with a gloved hand before again 
bringing hammer to metal.  He'd been at it for hours, anything to avoid being 
alone with his thoughts.  It had grown too quiet again, that's why he'd come out 
to his studio to work.
 
            He looked across the cavern-like room at the twisted lumps of 
wrought iron he'd created.  Decades ago the art world had hailed Miklos 
Fehransis as a 'genius.'  Now, Miklos just scoffed at the title, he knew better, 
his work was nothing but an escape.  He poured his emotions into the red-hot 
ore, cooled it with a blast of icy water and waited for it and his soul to 
harden against the world.   Decades ago it had worked.  And now, even years 
after he'd moved on, when he could no longer display his works for fear of being 
recognized, again he found himself trying to recapture some of the control he'd 
once known.  
 
            He grunted and threw a rod into the water. A cloud of steam rushed 
up across him, the vapor quickly condensed against his cold flesh and beads of 
moisture coursed down his half bare body. It wasn't working.  Nothing was 
working.  He looked at his latest, the half-finished iron lily showed plain as 
could be where his thoughts were.  Throwing off his gloves and leather apron, 
Miklos left the fire to burn itself out and stalked across the wooded back-lot 
towards his house.  
 
            He'd chosen the building and it's surrounding acres for their 
uniqueness, an oasis of whimsy amidst the chaos of the city.  But tonight the 
tower-like home failed to charm him.  He slipped into the house and threw on a 
shirt before heading to his favorite room, the loft. He'd left Tracy there, 
thinking she would sleep through the day.  The round, window filled chamber was 
drenched in sunlight from dawn to dusk and he'd thought it would keep him from 
her side while she rested. 
 
            He slid the couch aside and climbed into the room.  Closing his 
eyes, he sank to his knees and just breathed in her lingering scent.  He'd known 
the instant he'd fed her of himself that he needed to leave her, at least until 
whatever the sorcery involved in becoming a thrall took effect. Had he stayed he 
would have been too tempted to taste her again, to touch that clean, radiant 
soul as only a vampire could.  Miklos sighed, then rising up, he walked to a 
window and swung it wide, letting the cool night air sweep in.  Dawn was coming, 
a little more than an hour away.  And since he had reigned in his own desires 
his heart would be able to enjoy it.  
 
            "Ah, Tracy, ma kardia," Miklos stared out across the tree tops and 
into the city lights far in the distance.  If he concentrated he could feel her, 
her turbulent emotions churned like a storm in the back of his mind.  She was 
confused and scared by the intensity of the link between them.  Both angry and 
grateful for what he'd done.  She wanted to see him; she wanted to run from him. 
 
 
      Miklos drew a ragged breath, she was in no danger and he knew he should 
allow her the space she craved.  So, fighting the almost over powering urge to 
seek her out, Miklos retreated downstairs.  Opening the evening paper he scanned 
the headlines as he always did, looking for anything to do with Tracy Vetter.  
 
            'Hitman Found Dead in Night Club Alley,' Miklos's eyes widened and 
he quickly scanned the accompanying article.  Seemed the man Tracy had been 
pumping for information last night had been a well-known killer-for-hire. 'The 
police have no leads, though it is suspected to most likely be an act of revenge 
by the family or friend of one Jaminson's many victims.'  Miklos drew a sharp 
breath, there was no mention of the gash he'd left in the man's throat, and 
luckily last night's storm had washed away any evidence that either he or Tracy 
had also been in that alley.  
 
            Closing the paper, he set it aside and began to pace his largely 
unused kitchen.  Over the past two years there had been many times he had known 
Tracy was involved in some very dangerous dealings.  He'd grown almost 
accustomed to the lump of fear that gnawed at his stomach whenever the papers or 
news mentioned a new case.  He'd thought it would kill him when he learned, 
after the fact, that she'd been kidnapped by a serial killer, only to rescue 
herself and her partner, despite having been drugged and chained.  But she'd 
been fine, she had gone on and he'd gotten to where he almost accepted how often 
she was in danger.  
 
            Miklos pulled a bottle from the stainless steel refrigerator and 
drained it in one long swallow.  But now it was different.  Now that he'd tasted 
those honeyed lips, touched that silken skin, seen those sky blue eyes smiling 
at him... how could he now be excepted to just live with the chance he could 
lose her at any moment?  With a growl he tossed the bottle in the recycling and 
sent his fist crashing into the wall, cracking the stone.
 
            "Gee, hope I'm not interrupting anything self destructive."  Miklos 
turned to see Tracy lounging in the doorway, brow arched.
 
            "Tracy?"  He stared in disbelief. 
 
            "The one and only," She shrugged and sauntered into the kitchen, 
dropping a bag of groceries on the counter before walking to his side, "The door 
was open.  You really should remember to lock it.  Anyone could just wander in 
with an open invitation like that."
 
            He pulled her into his arms and without preamble kissed her soundly. 
 For a moment she melted, returning his kiss with a passion equal, if not 
greater, to his own, but then she stiffened and pulled away with a frown.  "What 
is it?"  He asked breathlessly.  He watched her walk to the sink and turn on the 
water, she rinsed her mouth, spitting several times.  It was then he realized 
she could taste the blood he'd just consumed, human blood, not even cut with 
wine.  "I- I'm sorry for that."
 
            "No, that's all right," Tracy sighed, resisting the urge to gargle, 
"It's not like I don't know what you are."
 
            They stared at each other for a moment before she looked away.  "You 
came back."  He said finally.
 
            "Yeah," She shrugged again, "I was at home... ran out of things to 
clean," She smiled a bit self-consciously.  "I clean when I don't know what else 
to do."
 
            "Yes, I know," He said softly.
 
            Tracy gave him a sharp look, but then sighed and looked at her feet, 
"So then I thought I'd come here..." She looked back up, peeking at him through 
her bangs, "Do you mind?"
 
            Miklos wanted to laugh, as if he'd ever mind her company?  "You are 
always welcome here, Beauty."
 
            Tracy gazed at him, her expression unreadable, but after a moment 
she nodded.  She looked around uncomfortably, now that she was here she didn't 
know what to say, or even where to look.  Miklos ran a hand through his hair, 
not sure himself.  
 
            "I was reading," He said suddenly, startling her.  He pointed at the 
paper still lying on the table, "About your case?"
 
            "Yeah, Jaminson," She grimaced, "I thought he might have some info 
on the Ashdown murder. Guess we'll never know."
 
            Ashdown?  Miklos scanned back, he seemed to remember the local news 
mentioning something about...  Yes, Larry Ashdown, prominent Toronto business 
man found shot to death in his home.  He hadn't realized it was Tracy's case, 
otherwise he would have paid more attention.  Suddenly something occurred to 
him, "You let yourself be alone with a known killer?!"
 
Tracy arched a brow, not missing the irony.  "Jaminson only killed for money," 
She explained, "He wasn't going to do anything to a woman he'd just met in a 
bar."
 
"But he did try," Miklos argued.
 
"Yeah, but that's only because-" She broke off and looked away.
 
"Because I followed," He finished quietly.
 
"It's not your fault," She protested, though it didn't quite ring true.  Again 
an awkward silence descended.
 
"You brought food," Miklos commented, giving them something else to focus on.
 
"Yeah, I was hungry," Tracy crossed to the counter and started pulling things 
out of the brown paper bag, "I figured you wouldn't have much."
 
Miklos nodded, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle.  He 
smiled when he saw she'd brought an assortment of items, and much more than she 
could eat in one sitting.  Perhaps her visit was not to be a one time event?  
 
"Hey, give me a little room here?" Tracy wiggled her elbows and flexed her hands 
before starting the preparations for a truly grand peanut butter and jelly 
sandwich.  He watched in amusement while Tracy began with near military 
precision, narrowing her eyes and concentrating to get just the right amount of 
peanut butter on the fresh baked potato bread.
 
Miklos glanced down at himself, he was still damp and filthy from being in his 
steam and smoke filled studio for so long. "You eat, I'll be back in a few 
minutes."
 
"Right," She didn't even look up from the all-important strawberry jam.
 
He chuckled as he headed upstairs, content just to have her near... even if she 
was paying him little to no attention.  As he stripped down and stepped beneath 
the hot spray of the shower, his mind drifted to how strange life was.  Once 
he'd never dared hope that he would be able to share time with the lovely Det. 
Vetter, yet now he was leaving her with free reign to his home.  He shrugged, 
unable to keep the smile from his lips.  
 
Humming happily as he washed the smell of smoke and iron from his hair, Miklos 
somehow missed the sound of the bathroom door opening, and it wasn't until Tracy 
stepped into the shower behind him that he sensed her at all.  He didn't give 
much time to pondering just how she'd managed to sneak up on him, for as soon as 
he took in the sight of her pale, perfect body moving towards him all thought 
was nearly impossible.
 
"Wash your back?"  She asked somewhat timidly, obviously taken aback by her own 
boldness.  But when she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but desire, her 
embarrassment quickly faded.  She slid into his slick, soapy arms and pressed 
herself flush against him.  "Miklos?"
 
"Beauty," He grinned, pressing a kiss against her forehead even as his hands 
slid up and down her slender form.  
 
"I think I might be falling for you," She whispered before claiming his mouth.
 
For a moment Miklos's world froze.  She was falling in love with him.  Tracy, 
his Tracy!  Surely this had to be a dream, and if it was, it was the sweetest.  
Pulling her hard against him, Miklos kissed her before pulling his head back to 
look at her.  He'd made love to countless women, but somehow with this one he 
suddenly felt inexperienced.  As if he didn't know what to do, or how to please 
her.  He wanted to worship her body with his, to bring to her the pleasure she'd 
brought to his heart.
 
"You're so beautiful."  She mumbled, her hand reaching up to gently caress the 
side of his face.  Her fingertips were like butterfly wings, her touch so 
hesitant he had to strain to feel it.
 
"Tracy," He stared at her, still in awe that she was here with him, that this 
was really happening. The water cascading down on them seemed to clean away the 
lingering doubts and baggage of the rest of the world. Gently, almost 
reverently, he touched her.  "You have no idea how much I love you."  He told 
her, leaning down to capture her lips again.  
 
The kiss was heaven.  Passion raged between them, their bodies pressed together 
and moving as one as their hands explored each other. Tracy hooked her leg 
around his waist and his whole body went still as she positioned him and slowly 
pressed herself closer, taking him inside her.
 
As his sex entered her, Tracy's tongue delved deeply into his mouth.  Miklos 
moaned, closing his eyes as he was thoroughly and completely seduced by her.  He 
held her close as she began moving against him, rocking her hips slowly and 
rhythmically as the tide of passion carried them away.  Throbbing, he began 
thrusting, reveling in the sensations it was brought them both. He whispered her 
name and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
 
He felt her flinch as his fangs scraped across her throat, she didn't want him 
to bite, so he fought the urge.  The instinct was strong, and for a moment it 
was all he could do not to give in and drink from her, but as she trembled in 
his arms, their tempo increasing to a furious pace, he suddenly felt the urge 
pass.  It shocked him, but soon the fire of their passion burned away even that 
thought.  
 
She whimpered as her climax came, her clenching muscles milking his seed 
immediately.  Miklos held her close, leaning heavily back against the tiled wall 
as the cooling water rained down on them.  A moment passed in silence, finally 
Tracy looked up at him and pressed a kiss against where jaw met throat.  "Thank 
you."
 
  Miklos chuckled softly, turning off the water and carrying her to the bedroom, 
"My pleasure Beauty, my pleasure."
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and shower caps to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (6/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            When Tracy awoke, her head pillowed on something hard, smooth and 
oddly cool.  She reached her hand up and touched it, skin.  Miklos.  She opened 
her eyes and slowly sat up, looking down at him in the dim light of his bedroom.
 
She wasn't really sure why she'd come back.  And God knows finding her way back 
hadn't exactly been a picnic.  But she'd gotten home and there hadn't been 
anything to do.  She hadn't brought home any casework, so she did her grocery 
shopping, spent a few hours cleaning everything she owned...  twice, but nothing 
could take her mind off Miklos. And eventually, after a lot of pacing and trying 
to talk herself out of it, she'd given up, climbed in her car and headed back.
 
Tracy shook her head, her thoughts returning to the present.  She reached down 
and ran her fingertips over his beautiful face, she could just barely feel the 
beginnings of his beard.  She traced a finger over the curve of his lips before 
gently sweeping some hair from his forehead.  She watched his dark eyes flutter 
open and sighed as he reached up and cupped the side of her face.  "My heart."  
He mumbled, not quite fully awake.
 
Tracy smiled slightly, he was incredible like this, half sleeping, half waking. 
Totally unguarded. She ran her fingers through his midnight hair and watched him 
smile up at her, slowly sitting up.  "Good morning."
 
"Morning," He whispered before gently brushing her lips with his.  At first the 
pressure was light, but as he awoke he quickly grew more bold.  His hand slipped 
from the side of her face to her jaw, where he used his thumb to draw open her 
mouth.  That done, he quickly slid in his tongue to explore.  
 
Tracy drew back and blushed.  "Okay... um, wow." They smiled at each other for a 
moment, but then Tracy sighed and looked away, "I should go."
 
He came fully awake at that, his pleased grin sliding off his face, "Go?  But 
why?  You just got here." 
 
"Well," She glanced at the clock, "Just got here 5 hours ago..."
 
"The sun is up."
 
She raised an eye brow, "That's not a big problem for some of us." He looked at 
her for a moment, probably weighing the merits of bringing her across right 
then. "And I really should- I've got things- And besides, I think we both need 
some space..."
 
He growled and stalked out of bed.  Walking to the shadowed corner, he violently 
yanked back the heavy velvet drapery, letting the sun stream in. 
 
Tracy blinked at the sudden brightness, looking down she saw that she was bathed 
in the deep gold of mid-morning light.  Suddenly she became self-conscious and 
started to cross her arms over her bare breasts.
 
"Don't."  Came a voice from the shadows.
 
Tracy dropped her arms and forced her eyes to adjust.  She sat amidst the 
crumpled bed cloths and looked at the man standing just out of the light's 
reach.  Miklos was looking at her with the strangest expression on his face.  
"Why'd you do that?"  She asked quietly.
 
            "To see for myself what you look like, like this."  He answered, his 
voice sounding vaguely awed.  Tracy stared at him, he loved her, she could see 
it in his eyes so easily.  
 
Tracy fidgeted under the intensity of his eyes.  She could feel it inside her 
too, his total unconditional love.  She could throw a fit, she could yell and 
scream and be horrible and he'd still love her.  She could ask anything of him 
and he'd most likely do it.  Like a burning ember in the pit of her stomach she 
felt it.  Hot and uncomfortable, though, she couldn't help but think she'd miss 
it if it were to suddenly stop.  But at the same time, she felt vaguely wrong in 
wanting it to continue.  "Miklos..."
 
            He didn't answer, just looked at her as if she'd just saved his 
puppy from a burning building.  Like she was an angel, hero and super model all 
at once.  Tracy flinched, she wasn't worthy of this kind of devotion. She took a 
deep breath, this was going to be hard.  She had to tell him that this wasn't 
going to happen again.  At least not until she figured everything out first.  
"Okay, here's the deal... I have to work the next three nights, what say we get 
together on Thursday?"  Her brows furrowed, "Or do you have to work?"
 
            "Stay here," He said.  It wasn't an order, he was almost begging, 
"During the days."
 
            Part of her wanted to agree, but she knew it would probably be 
better if they had some time apart.  She could actually feel his need inside 
her, like this flame, feeding off itself.  He didn't realize it, but he needed 
some space.  Any way, she was pretty sure he did, she certainly needed some.  
"Thursday."
 
            He stood there, his lips drawn in a thin line.  
 
            Suddenly something crossed her mind, not a thought, well, not -her- 
thought.  "I am -not- being childish!"
 
            He shrugged, his eyes darkening.  She'd never thought there was more 
than one shade of black, but Miklos's eyes were proving her wrong.  "Stay.  Go.  
It is up to you."
 
            "You're being impossible."  She grumbled, rising up from the bed and 
donning her clothes.  She put on her own jeans but claimed another one of his 
silk shirts, this one a dark blue.  "I'll see you later."
 
            "As you say," It was as close to sarcasm as she'd ever heard from 
him.  
 
She turned and glared at him,  "Do you even want to see me later or should we 
just forget that too?"
 
            He growled and strode to her side.  Pulling her into his arms 
roughly, he kissed her with more passion than she'd known was possible.  Miklos 
was like a work of art, all fury and passion held together with poetry and 
insight.  She gasped at the intensity, her hands curling around his back and 
holding him close.  Slowly she felt the smooth skin on his back begin to change. 
 It grew dry and brittle, like thin tissue paper, the kind you wrap crystal in 
before shipping.  Oh God, he was standing in the sun!  She moved her hand to 
push him away and felt his skin rip, cool blood dripping down his skin.  
"Miklos!"  She pushed him away and in less than a second he was in the bathroom 
closing the door behind him.
 
            She walked over and rested her head against the door, "That was 
incredibly stupid, you know that?"
 
            "As if the sun could hurt more than you?"  He spat.  Tracy drew a 
sharp breath and took a step back, but after a moment she heard him sigh, "I am 
sorry, Beauty.  I- I should not have acted so."
 
            "Hey, no need to apologize. After all, I'm not the barbecued one."  
She crossed the room and closed the drapes, "You can come out now."
 
            "Not until you leave."
 
            "Now who's being childish?"  She snorted.
 
            "No, it is not that."
 
            She frowned, then it dawned on her.  "I can go down to the kitchen 
and get you a bottle, if you want?"
 
            "That's all right my love," He sounded embarrassed. "So, uh... 
Thursday?"
 
            "Yeah, Thursday."  She sighed, brushing her hand down the still 
closed door, "And Miklos..."
 
            "Yes?"  He asked after she was silent too long.
 
            "I do care about you."  She whispered, "I mean it."
 
            "I know."  He leaned his forehead against the cool door, "Go, take 
your 'space.'"
 
            "Right," She nodded smartly and headed out, casting one last look at 
the door as she left.  "I will miss you."
 
            "Promises, promises," He laughed, though she thought she could hear 
a little pain in the sound, though whether from her leaving, his wounds or a 
combination of both, she didn't know. 
 
 
 
 
            She slipped out of the house and drove home.  It was only noon but 
so much had happened already that day that she found herself yawning as she 
walked up the stairs to her apartment.  She fumbled with her keys and actually 
dropped them, "Oh yeah, I'm awake," She yawned, leaning down to fetch them.  
Suddenly her door jerked opened and Tracy looked up in surprise to find someone 
towering over her.  "Vachon?"
 
            "Where were you?" The vampire asked with annoyance.  "I came by 
right before dawn to see you."
 
            "It's noon."  She pointed out, scooping up her keys and brushing 
past him into her apartment.
 
            "I got stuck." He shrugged.
 
            "Well make yourself at home." She griped as he flopped down into her 
sofa.  She stared at him a full minute before rolling her eyes and heading to 
her small kitchen to set up the coffeepot. 
 
            "So where were you?"  He asked again, flipping on her TV and putting 
his booted feet up on her coffee table.  "Visiting your mom?"
 
            Tracy watched him from behind the counter. She'd never realized how 
inconsiderate Vachon could be.  He was such a slacker too, what the hell did he 
do anyway?  Miklos had a job, Vachon just, what?  Tuned his guitar for eight 
hours a day?  She banged around her cupboards, noisily finding a mug and 
spooning in a scoop of sugar.  "It's none of your business where I was."
 
            Vachon turned around to look at her and raised an eyebrow.  "Suppose 
not," Suddenly his eyes narrowed.  "Who's shirt is that?"
 
            "Mom's."  She quipped.  He glared at her, she glared back.  Vachon 
really was such a jerk!  She didn't know what she'd ever seen in him.  First off 
he was totally irresponsible, second he was a scoundrel, going after anything in 
a skirt, thirdly... wait a second.  'Going after anything in a skirt?'  She'd 
never seen Vachon so much as look at another woman in all the time she'd known 
him!  Where the hell was this coming-  Miklos.  God it was happening again.  She 
looked at Vachon and shook her head slowly, Miklos didn't like Vachon.  Somehow 
she was picking up on that, and he wasn't even here.  She turned and unplugged 
the coffee pot with a quick jerk of her hand, "I gotta go Vachon, sorry for 
being rude... I- I'm not myself today."
 
            "Trace?"  He blinked, his annoyance giving way to pure confusion, 
"What's going on?  What happened?  Did some guy-?"
 
            "Don't." She held up a hand, "Just don't ask.  Okay?"
 
            "All right," He stood and took a step towards her, "I guess it isn't 
any of my business who you spend your days with... but, you know, I thought we 
were friends."
 
            "We are." Tracy nodded, biting back the snide comment that in no way 
reflected her feelings.  "It's just that," She ran a hand through her hair in a 
frustrated gesture, "I don't know.  Kind of complicated."
 
            "Yeah?"
 
            Tracy looked at him, torn between telling him everything and kicking 
him out.  "I met this guy, and he's great, really great."  She bit her lip, 
deciding to leave out that he just happened to be another vampire.  Another 
vampire who hated his guts.  "It's just that... Do you believe in fate?"
 
            "No."  His answered simply, his face unreadable. 
 
Thinking about it, Tracy decided that even if he did, chances were he wasn't 
going to tell her.  She sighed, "Everything is so intense, Vachon." She leaned 
against the wall and sank down to rest her head against her knees.  She felt him 
come stand over her and smiled humorlessly to herself, she could sense vampires 
now.  That was sure to come in handy.  "He's just so...."
 
"Intense?" He sat beside her and, with a hand on her chin, made her look up.  
"So you love this guy?"
 
"I- I don't know." She looked up at the ceiling, "I hardly know him really."
 
            "Sometimes it happens like that," He smiled slightly, "You look at 
someone and you just know it's over, your heart is theirs."
 
            "Maybe." Her eyes locked with his, "That ever happen to you?"
 
            "Only once," He whispered, leaning forward and brushing his lips 
against hers.
 
            Tracy froze, she didn't respond... but she didn't push him away 
either.  They'd kissed before and she'd always enjoyed it, but now... now it 
felt strange.  Slowly Vachon slid his tongue past her lips and suddenly she 
started to gag.  Pulling away she coughed several times and started wiping her 
mouth before she could stop herself.  "Oh God!" She turned wide eyes back to 
Vachon, "I am -so- sorry!  I don't know what happened!"
 
            He looked at her, his face blank, and blinked.  "It's okay Trace.  I 
shouldn't have kissed you anyway."
 
            "Yes," She nodded, "I mean, it's okay that you did.  It's just that 
this guy-"
 
            "Is really intense," He interrupted with a sad smile, "It's okay 
Trace.  Something just weren't meant to be, right?"
 
            Tracy stared at him as he climbed to his feet and went back to the 
couch, absently flipping through channels.  After a moment she grabbed her purse 
and scrambled out the door.  No way could she spend the rest of the day locked 
in her apartment with him.
 
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and coffee cups to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
 
Enthralled (7/14)
By: Cousin Mary
 
 
            After Tracy left, Miklos fed well before settling down to sleep the 
rest of the daylight hours away.  As he rested, he could sense Tracy's 
disjointed emotions, she was upset about something, but he couldn't tell what.  
In his sleep he frowned, but there was nothing he could do.  At sunset he awoke 
and had to force himself not to call and check on her, he knew she'd mistake his 
concern for more, as she put it, 'stalker action.'
 
            He dressed and flew into town, landing almost soundlessly on the 
Raven's roof.  He let himself in through the trap door and descended the side 
staircase.  He was the first one here, he noted, taking in the dark club that 
wouldn't be open to the public for several more hours.  Even those who made the 
Raven their permanent home, Lacroix, Alma and Urs, were conspicuously absent.   
Miklos frowned, walking around to switch on the house lights.  There was 
something disturbing about an empty Raven.  While Janette had still held the 
deed, the club had always been full of their kind, laughing, drinking, loving... 
but now that her sire, Lacroix, had taken over... it was as if the soul of the 
community had been ripped out.  
 
            He sighed as the too bright overhead lights came on, then looked 
around for some clue why there was no one around.  Urs and Alma's absence was 
easy enough to explain.  Both were probably sharing the beds of some all too 
eager men of Toronto.  Urs with most likely with Vachon and Alma, well, with 
whoever had struck her fancy the night before.  Lacroix was more difficult to 
write off.  The ancient almost never spent a night away from the club.  
Unless... he was with his son, Nicholas.  Miklos's frown deepened.  It was only 
a matter of time before Tracy saw her partner with the ancient and put two and 
two together.  Then Nick's carefully constructed house of cards would come 
crashing down, Miklos only hoped he could protect her from the fall out once it 
happened.
 
            Walking back across the club towards the bar, he saw that the door 
to Lacroix's office stood slightly ajar.  Curiosity consumed him, exaggerated no 
doubt, by his new connection with the ever inquisitive Tracy Vetter.  Giving in 
to the almost overwhelming urge, he crept to the darkened office and quietly 
slipped inside.  He flipped on the light and looked around.  It had changed 
little since Janette had occupied the small space.  The same wine brocade 
covered the French colonial furniture, the walls remained papered with embossed 
wine and ivory design she had loved so much.  There was a difference though, 
almost intangible, but the room seemed... colder, and in a way that had nothing 
to do with the thermostat.  
 
            Miklos glanced around, deciding almost at once that it had been a 
bad idea to intrude on Lacroix's private lair.  Then, just as his hand brushed 
the doorknob, he saw them.  News clippings, strewn across the high gloss desk.  
He drew a sharp breath and left the doorway, approaching the desk and sinking 
into the ox blood chair.  The clippings were about the Ashdown murder, Tracy's 
case.  Miklos blinked back the sudden rage that brushed his mind.  The thought 
of that old demon Lacroix having anything to do with his Tracy...
 
            His dark eyes wandered from the small stack of clippings to a 
circled article from yesterday's papers, the same one he'd read last night 
himself, 'Hitman Found Dead in Night Club Alley.'  Miklos flinched, no doubt 
Lacroix was more than a little interested in what had happened outside his club 
that night.  He forced himself to stand, carefully avoiding touching anything 
that would call attention to the fact that someone had been in here... something 
else he'd apparently picked up from Tracy, when snooping it was important not to 
leave any evidence. Remembering to switch off the light, Miklos left the office 
just as he'd found it.
 
             "Hey Los Mikie!"  Alma came trouncing into the club through the 
back door, her ample cleavage bouncing above the tight black and red bustier she 
sported with all the class of a truck stop waitress.  Alma had been brought 
across in the mid-eighties and had never quite grown out of her Madonna-wanna-be 
phase.  
 
            "Alma," He said in way of greeting, hiding his grimace as the 
bottled blonde proceeded to put her favorite Bon Jovi CD in the Raven's sound 
system, soon 'Dead or Alive' was pounding out at a volume that would have made 
even the Jersey Boys themselves run screaming into traffic.  It was a nightly 
ritual with her, but Miklos had learned long ago to hold his tongue... lest she 
break out her Soft Cell collection.
 
            "I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride, I'm wanted, dead or alive," 
Alma sang along as she gyrated rather obscenely across the dance floor.  She 
bumped provocatively against the bartender, but gave up when it became obvious 
he wasn't going to join in.  She sighed, "You're no fun, Miklos."
 
            "Ah, but you have only to find the right song, then you'll see me 
get down with my bad self," The Greek paused, then added, "Or get jiggy with it, 
as the case may be."
 
            Alma stared at him for a full minute, her blue mascaraed eyes wide, 
"All right.  Who are you and -what- have you done with the real Miklos?"
 
            A hint of a blush stained the usually stoic vampire's cheeks, 
"Nothing.  Never mind."
 
            "No.  No, never mind."  Alma followed him as he headed into the 
stock room, "You never make jokes Miklos, I want to know what's up." 
 
            "Nothing is up."  Miklos shrugged, grabbing a stack of coasters and 
napkins before heading back to the bar.
 
            "Something must be..." She trailed off, then her face split in a 
huge grin. "Why, Miklos!  You're in love!"
 
            "What?!"  The bartender stopped dead in his tracks and spun around 
to face the buoyant blonde.
 
            "That's it isn't it?  Love of a good woman has changed you." She 
laughed lightly, then forced herself to stop when it turned into the snorting 
she couldn't help, "I think I have to shake this woman's hand.  Imagine, giving 
Miklos Fehr a sense of humor!"
 
            Miklos returned to stocking the bar's paper goods.  "I don't know 
what you're talking about."
 
            "Oh, I bet you don't."  Alma gave a sly smile, "One roll in the hay 
with Ms. Tracy Vetter and-" Her words were cut off when Miklos locked his hand 
over her pink painted mouth.
 
            "Shh," He ordered, casting a look to Lacroix's still empty office.  
"You want to get us both staked?"
 
            "Gee, somebody's touchy.  We both know he isn't here."  She glared 
when he finally removed his hand.  She sat down at the bar and watched him 
return to work through narrowed eyes.
 
            Miklos enjoyed the silent treatment for the all too brief moments 
she was able to keep it up.  
 
"You know, you're right."  She sighed, "But someone's bound to find out, Miklos. 
 Then you're toast."
 
"No one will find out," He promised.
 
"Yeah, and I'm Miss Tropicana three years running."  Alma cracked, but then her 
glare faded to a look of concern.  "Miklos, could you have picked a worse woman 
to fall for?"
 
"Well, Miss Tropicana comes to mind..."
 
"Two jokes in one night?!"  Alma grinned, "Wow, this chick is really getting to 
you, huh?"
 
Miklos shook his head, "If you only knew."
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            Across town Tracy swung open the door to the ME's building and gave 
a quick wave at the departing Grace.  "My partner in there?"
 
            "Not yet, I'm surprised you beat him here."  The assistant shrugged, 
"Anyway, gotta run these over to the 27th, Nat should just be finishing up on 
Jaminson. See ya."
 
            "Kay, thanks."  Tracy nodded and headed down the hall to Nat's lab.  
"Hey Nat."  She greeted as she let herself in.
 
            "Oh, hi Trace," The coroner looked up and gave her a somewhat forced 
smile.
 
            Tracy frowned, looking down at the body she took in the obvious bite 
mark Miklos had left on the hitman's body.  "Uh, Nat..."  She trailed off, not 
sure what to say.
 
            "Animal attack," Nat said suddenly, "Must be, right?"
 
            Tracy started to nod but, as she looked at the auburn hared woman 
before her, she stopped.  Nat looked nervous, and abruptly Tracy became aware of 
other things too. Natalie Lambert was lying to her.  As a cop Tracy knew that 
there were tell tale clues when someone tried to hide something. Ordinarily 
Tracy wouldn't have been able to tell if the pupils of Nat's naturally dark eyes 
were dilating.  She shouldn't have been able to pick up on the fact that she was 
sweating.  And, without the proper equipment, no one could tell if a person's 
heart rate suddenly increased... But Tracy could.  
 
            "Uh, something wrong detective?"  Nat asked after Tracy was silent 
for too long.
 
            "I, I need some water."  She explained, crossing to the cooler and 
filling one of the small paper cups.  She needed to think.  Obviously her thrall 
thing was making itself known through heightened senses.  Was this what it was 
like for Miklos all the time?  She wondered as she tried to block out the loud 
humming of the fluorescent lights and the almost over powering smell of 
disinfectant and death that filled the lab.  She drained her cup and tossed it 
in the wastebasket.  She couldn't worry about that now, she had to figure out 
what Nat was trying to hide.
 
"So, you didn't see what did this?" Nat swallowed audibly, a sound that seemed, 
to Tracy, to echo through the room.
 
"Actually," Tracy took a step closer to the coroner, "I don't see how there 
could have been any sort of wild animal in downtown Toronto."
 
Nat's eyes widened.  Tracy could actually smell her fear now, it wasn't a 
pleasant smell.  "Well..." Nat's voice cracked, "What else could it be?"
 
She knows. Nat knew exactly what did this, and she's trying to cover it up, 
Tracy realized with stunning clarity.  How long had she known about vampires?  
Who had she told?  Who else in the department knew?  Did Nick know?  Tracy's 
mind whirled with questions.  She looked at Nat one last time, then headed for 
the door, "I'll find out."  She called out over her shoulder, "If you see Nick 
tell him I have to talk to him."
 
            Tracy headed back to the precinct and opened up the Ashdown case.  
She had to force herself to dig through every piece of information they had on 
the deceased financier, despite of the fact that all she wanted to do was grill 
her partner.
 
            Larry Ashdown had been in his mid-fifties.  A patron of the Royal 
Ontario Museum, he had donated several note worthy pieces to the museum. No 
known enemies, the preliminary report gave no reason why he might have been 
gunned down in his uptown home. No children, he was survived by his widow, 
Genevieve.  She'd been out of town at the time of the murder and was not a 
suspect.
 
            "Well, somebody certainly didn't like him," Tracy mumbled as she 
looked over the crime scene photos.  A shot to the head and another through the 
chest.  Classic hit.  She looked up at the clock, wanting to share her theory 
with her partner, "Come on, where are you?"
 
Nick never showed.  He called in to the desk around one, citing a 'family 
emergency.'
 
            "Since when does Nick have family?"  Tracy asked, but the sergeant 
just gave her a blank look.  He was new and didn't know that Nick's file clearly 
said he had no one.  Tracy cursed under her breath and decided to just book off 
for the night.  She wasn't getting anywhere anyway.  
 
Not wanting to go home yet, Tracy swung by Bickford Park and, hoping no one 
would bother looking, changed into shorts, a tee shirt and her running shoes in 
the back seat of her Taurus.  She often came to the well-lit park to run after 
her shift.  Even in the wee hours of the morning there were enough of her fellow 
joggers to ease even her over active imagination.  
 
She ran a few lazy laps around the track, nodding at the few other fanatics she 
recognized.   She then started up her favorite path, the one that circled around 
the Children's Garden and duck pond.  She'd gone a good half mile, when she 
started to get the feeling she was being watched.  She sped up slightly, wanting 
to get back to the well lit parking lot.  It wasn't that far, she told herself, 
beginning to calm down.  
 
Then, from the shadows, someone stepped onto the path.
 
Tracy stopped, her heart thundering in her chest.  Her breath was coming in 
short, shallow huffs and she started to turn, ready to take off in the opposite 
direction.
 
"Beauty, wait."
 
She bolted, she'd gone several yards before her brain recognized the fact that 
she knew his voice.  She stopped and turned, shocked to find him only inches 
from her.  "Miklos."  She gasped, still not sure if she was scared or not.
 
Suddenly his mouth was on hers.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and coffee cups to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (8/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            Miklos had spent his entire shift watching the clock.  Knowing that 
Lacroix was looking into something so close to Tracy filled him with dread.  He 
had to know she was okay.  His shift had ended at 2, just as hers should have.  
He'd gone to her apartment, but after a half-hour it had become apparent that 
she wasn't coming straight home.  He'd next gone to her precinct, but the man 
behind the desk had told him she'd booked off hours ago.  Not knowing where she 
was had nearly sent him into a panic, but using their link he'd been able to 
track her to the park.  
 
            Mere words were unable to express the relief he felt seeing that she 
was all right.  Without thinking he'd stepped in her path... and nearly scared 
her to death.  He regretted the act immediately, and called out to her.  She'd 
ran, but stopped when she'd recognized him.  And now she was in his arms once 
again.  Miklos deepened the kiss, caressing her tongue with his as she melted 
into his embrace.  He lifted her and carried her from the path.  
 
            "How'd you find me?"  Tracy asked as he broke their kiss to lay her 
on the dewy grass under one of many trees circling the pond.  
 
            "I'll always be able to find you," He promised, leaning down to 
capture her lips again. Though she returned his kiss, Tracy lay stiff beneath 
him, as if unsure she wanted to continue or not. Due to a small hill if anyone 
happened down the path it was unlikely that they'd be seen, but still... he knew 
Tracy wasn't one for public exhibition.  "Don't worry, my heart, no one will 
come."
 
            Reaching out she touched his face, her slender fingers tracing down 
his cheek, to his chest, to his belt buckle, then... lower.  
 
            Miklos groaned, brushing back her sweat dampened hair so he could 
kiss her throat.  He began to lose himself in the sensations.  The smell and 
taste of her, the feel of her hands on his body as she pulled off his shirt and 
traced up and down his sides.  He pulled her tee shirt and jogging bra over her 
head, bending down to kiss first one nipple, then the other.  He smiled, she was 
blushing, even the flesh of her breasts was tinged pink.  His eyes came up to 
meet hers, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"
 
            "Flattery will get you..." She broke off and giggled nervously, "I 
don't think I'm up for witty banter right now." She admitted, "Make love to me, 
Miklos."
 
            His breath caught at her words, "I love you."  He whispered, before 
kissing her gently.  She whimpered beneath him, her hands busying themselves 
unbuckling his belt and sliding his trouser down past narrow, muscular hips.  He 
wore no under clothes, and when her warm hand found him he nearly came in her 
palm.  With a groan he rolled off her, "Not yet."  
 
            Tracy frowned in confusion, "Don't- don't you want me?"  She asked, 
her voice tinged with fear.
 
            "Too much," Miklos laughed, dropping a quick kiss on her mouth 
before adding, "That's the problem."
 
            Comprehension dawned and Tracy went bright red, "Uh, it's okay, I 
mean, I won't mind if-"
 
            "Shh, no," Miklos leaned back and slid into a slow, sensual kiss.  
He was able to slide off the rest of her clothes, as his hands worked over her 
body.  As his tongue traced around the edge of her lips, he slid one hand 
between her thighs.  She whimpered and wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting 
her body to press against his and Miklos slid his free hand around her back to 
hold her to him, the other continued its gentle ministrations.  He felt her 
begin to quiver against his hand, the she moaned into his mouth and bucked 
against him, climaxing immediately.   
 
            "Miklos," She pulled away and gasped, "You.  I want you inside me.  
Please."
 
            "Beauty," He groaned, moving quickly to comply, "You don't know what 
you do to me."
 
            When he entered her, her muscles were still contracting and 
throbbing around him.  The sensation was overwhelming and he began thrusting at 
once.  For her part, Tracy had barely crested when Miklos took her to even 
greater heights.  She felt the pleasure building within her and by the time he 
spilled himself with her, she'd closed her eyes tight as tears began streaking 
down her cheeks.  A silent scream shook her body as he collapsed against her 
trembling form.  He hastily rolled off her and pulled her into his arms, kissing 
away her tears.
 
            "Did I hurt you?"  He asked fearfully, "I didn't-"
 
            "No."  Tracy shook her head before laying her damp cheek against his 
cool chest.  
 
            "Please, don't cry Tracy," He begged in hushed tones.
 
            "I'm not."
 
            He froze, "You're not?"
 
            "No."  
 
            A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.  Through their link he knew she 
wasn't hurt, but she was obviously crying.  "All right, as long as you're not 
crying."
 
            She pulled back and sat up, not meeting his dark eyes.  She splayed 
her hands across his chest, for a moment she just stared at the contrast of 
shades.  Finally she looked up at him, her sky blue eyes still glistening with 
tears.  "I don't know why I'm crying."  She told him in a whisper, "It just... 
happened."
 
            His hand came up and cupped her cheek, "Ma kardia."
 
            "What's that mean?"  She asked softly.
 
            "It means 'my heart,'" His hand slipped down her throat and across 
her collar bone before settling on the swell of her breast, feeling the steady 
beat beneath his finger tips.  "You carry my heart with yours.  You are my 
everything, my heart, my life, my love." 
 
            Tracy gasped, staring at him with wide eyes.  "I-" Suddenly there 
was a slight hissing sound as the park's automatic sprinklers started up.  
"Ack!"
 
            The pair quickly jumped up and tugged on their rapidly dampening 
clothes.  Miklos looked up at the sky, there wasn't much time before dawn.  
"Beauty-"
 
            The detective looked up from where she was tugging on her shorts, 
then glanced towards the East, "Yeah, go, I'll talk to you later."
 
            He wanted to argue, to stay, but unless he wanted to spend the day 
buried in the Children's Garden he had to go.  He crossed quickly to her side 
and pulled her into his arms for one last, devastating kiss.  "Kalimera, good 
day, my love."
 
            A moment later Tracy was alone... and being soaked by the park's 
sprinklers.  She looked up into the sky, pink in the predawn, but she couldn't 
spot him.  "Well, bye."  She mumbled, before she finished tugging on her clothes 
and sprinted through the freezing spray in the general direction of her car.
 
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
 
            "I don't see why you two can't be on the same page for once.  
Christ, do I need to get out the dictionary and show you definition of 
'partners'?"  
 
            Tracy cringed as she snuck into the bullpen the next night, twenty 
minutes late.  Despite the supposedly soundproof glass, Reese's baritone was 
booming through loud and clear, and he boy was he letting some poor soul have 
it!
 
            "I don't want to hear it!  As soon as Vetter shows you two, and I do 
mean -both- of you, together, will go check out Ashdown's offices, do I make 
myself clear?"
 
            "Crap," Tracy cursed, suddenly realizing it was her partner getting 
chewed out, on both their counts.  Maybe she should just hightail it out while 
she had the chance?  Run some files over to-  But before she could finish her 
escape plan, Nick and Reese came out of the Captain's office. 
 
            "Vetter," Reese nodded at her, "Don't take your coat off, I want you 
two to head down to Ashdown's offices."
 
            Tracy nodded, as if she hadn't already heard that.  She looked at 
Nick and frowned, there was something odd about her partner tonight.  Nick 
looked back at her and raised a questioning eyebrow, but before she could ask, 
Reese shooed them out of the building.
 
            As they got in the Caddy and started driving downtown, Tracy 
couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about Nick.  What 
is it?  His hair?  Had he switched colognes?  This time Nick didn't seem to 
notice her stare, but just leaned over and switched on the radio, cutting short 
her musings.
 
            "Tonight, my dear listeners, we talk of obsession..." The 
Nightcrawler breathed into the mike.  "First let us take the case of a writer, 
driven by some shadowy muse, toiling away until the candle burns itself out and 
the pink hand of dawn stains the sky.  This, society teaches us, is a good 
thing: artistic, desired, even noble...  Yet, under the same heading we find the 
madman who claims to have spotted little green men in the night sky.  He 
persists to collect all that he can on what he claims is 'the truth' and will 
not give up his delusion, no matter how -convincing- the contrary evidence.  In 
both instances, nothing will sway these men from their tasks, free them from the 
clutch of their preoccupation... well, perhaps death, but that's a topic for 
another night." The DJ trailed off with a chuckle.  "Obsession.  Good?"  His 
voice dropped, low, mocking, "Bad?  Shall we discuss?"
 
            Tracy cast her partner one last look, then turned her gaze away to 
the window.  She watched her dulled and transparent reflection pass over dark 
cityscape, and as the Nightcrawler droned on about obsession, her thoughts 
turned to Miklos.  He was obsessed with her, that much was obvious.  He was 
fascinated by everything she said, everything she did or thought... there was 
something wrong about that, wasn't there?  Every book she'd ever read where a 
man was so enraptured with a women usually ended up with an ax in the back of 
her head, so either obsessions were bad things... or she had to switch her 
reading material to something other than Poe and King.
 
            "Tracy?" Nick touched her shoulder, making her jump, "We're here."
 
            "What?" Tracy looked up at the office building that loomed ahead, 
"Oh, right.  Sorry, little out of it tonight."
 
            "I noticed," Nick grinned at her. "Not enough Buckstars?"
 
            "Something like that," Tracy exited the Caddy and followed her 
partner into the ultra sleek and modern Ashdown Offices.
 
            "Fehransis," Nick said as they made their way across the darkened 
lobby.
 
            Tracy froze, she knew that name... Miklos.  She grabbed Nick's arm 
and stopped him before he could step into the elevator, "What did you say?"
 
            "The sculptures," Nick pointed, frowning at her, "Over there.  The 
irons?  They're by Fehransis."
 
            Tracy looked where he pointed, catching sight of shadowy masses on 
pedestals, "How can you tell from here?"  It had to be 20 yards easy, plus it 
was dark. Nick flinched, and, thinking she'd hurt him, Tracy released her 
viselike grip on his bicep, "Sorry."
 
            "No problem," Nick straightened his jacket and entered the glass 
elevator, pressing the button for the executive offices on the top floor, 
"What's with you tonight? This is more than caffeine withdrawal."
 
            "Nothing," Tracy said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.  
Images were crashing through her head, crystal clear pictures of Miklos being 
the toast of the art world more than 50 years ago.  Memories that weren't hers.  
She sucked in a breath and turned to her partner, "So who are we meeting with?"
 
            Nick blinked at the less-than-subtle change of subject, but wasn't 
willing to get into an argument about it, instead he followed her lead and 
returned to the case at hand, "Ashdown Inc.'s vice presidents, Bill Newman and 
Charles Fox.   Reese wants us to go over specifics with them again, get a feel 
for their relationship with their boss."
 
            Tracy nodded, trying to keep her thoughts on the case, and not on 
the sculptures downstairs or the way her partner was... standing?  She bit her 
lip, something really was odd about Nick tonight, she just couldn't put her 
finger on what.
            
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and coffee cups to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (9/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            Back at the Raven, Miklos looked up from the bar to find Lacroix 
beckoning him into his office.  His blood ran cold as the ancient simply caught 
his eye and stepped across the threshold, confident that Miklos would jump to 
obey.  In the past Miklos would have given the matter no thought, but now it was 
somehow different.  Instead of meekly obeying, he found himself leaving the bar 
and approaching the office filled with a great deal of annoyance, chafing under 
the elder's rule.  Then he remembered.  Tracy. The hairs on the back of his neck 
rose, a knot of fear forming in his stomach.  
 
            As he entered his office, Miklos was relieved to note the clippings 
he'd seen earlier were absent, so perhaps this wouldn't be a confrontation after 
all.  Unless, he wanted him to get comfortable before he struck...
 
            "Ah, Miklos," The elder greeted him coolly.  "Sit."
 
            The Greek bit his tongue to keep it still, sinking to the hard, 
small chair that faced Lacroix's enormous mahogany desk. "Is there something I 
can do for you?"  He asked willing his voice to stay even, then at Lacroix's 
raised brow, added, "Sir."
 
            The elder smiled slightly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and 
leaned back in his chair.  "How long have you been working here, Miklos?  Twenty 
years now?"
 
            Miklos nodded cautiously.  He had no idea what was going through the 
ancient's mind, though, he admitted that was not unusual.  This could be 
something as simple as a way to stop the waitresses from splitting their tips, 
to some complicated maneuver to influence Detective Knight's mortal dealings, 
there was no way to know.  He just prayed to whatever deity would listen that it 
wasn't about Tracy Vetter. Miklos's jaw clenched, "Since Janette first opened 
the doors."
 
            "And I understand, in all that time you served my daughter well..."
 
            "I tried." The bartender told him, shifting nervously in his seat.
 
            "Miklos, let me be blunt," Lacroix steepled his fingers, "There are 
those in our Community that are not as... loyal as you.  They make mistakes, let 
our secrets slip, dally with mortals-"
 
            "This is about your son then?"  Miklos blurted out, not realizing 
until a second later that not only had he just interrupted the elder vampire, 
he'd also managed to insult him.  Miklos forced himself to stay seated as he 
watched Lacroix go completely still.  He swallowed.
 
            "No..." Lacroix flattened his palms on the desk before him, looking 
down at them.  His voice was very quiet as he continued.  "This is not about 
Nicholas."
 
            Miklos debated apologizing.  His instincts were screaming at him to 
do just that, throw himself on Lacroix's mercy, but something held him back.  He 
held his ground, though his heart had jumped to his throat.  He waited for the 
ancient to continue.  Finally, Lacroix looked up at him, meeting his eyes.  It 
took every ounce of Miklos's will to keep his expression blank, to show no fear. 
 
            
            "There is a woman at the bar tonight," Lacroix told him after a 
moment.  "A mortal, late thirties, brunette. Keep her... entertained."
 
            Miklos sat there, watching as Lacroix began sifting through the 
papers on his desk, after a few uncomfortable moments he realized he'd been 
dismissed.  Nodding sharply, he rose and headed back for the bar. Miklos froze, 
his hand on the latch, as Lacroix's voice floated back to him. 
 
            "You will -not- speak of my son like that again.&"  It was a chilled 
hiss, one that a mortal would never have heard.  
 
             "Sir."  He answered, not looking back as he slipped quickly from 
the room.  As he stepped back into the club, he took several large gulps of 
oxygen, trying to calm himself, nearly choking on the smoke thickened air.
 
 
            "What'd he want?"  Came a whispered question from his left, he 
turned to see a black lace encased Alma leaning against the wall.  She'd 
obviously been trying to listen in on their conversation, but from her question 
he knew she hadn't heard much, if anything.
 
            "For me to keep a mortal at the bar busy."  Miklos told her, never 
one to keep secrets, well, he hadn't been before meeting a certain blue-eyed 
angel...
 
            "That's all?"  Alma moved closer, her crispy, ‘Aquanetted’ hair 
crunching against his shoulder as she pressed against him to whisper, "Then why 
are you wiggin' so bad?"
 
            Miklos took a step back, causing the vampiress to stumble slightly, 
"I am not 'wiggin.'"
 
            "Yeah, right you aren't."  Alma sniffed, looking towards the bar, 
"So which mortal?  And do you need help?"
 
            Miklos cast a look towards the bar, there were few women at the bar 
tonight, and only one that fit Lacroix's description.  Dark and sultry, the 
brunette lounged against the bar as if she were a part of it. Her short, fitted 
black Channel suit encased the voluptuous body of a fifties screen goddess, 
long, dark hair was pinned up in a shiny twist, giving a stunning view of a 
swanlike neck.  "Her."
 
            Alma followed his gaze and let out a low whistle.  "Keep -her- 
busy?"  Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she took in sight of the femme fatal 
at the bar, "Now there's a shitty job for ya."
 
            "Hrmph," Miklos grunted, leaving Alma and slipping behind the bar.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Alma slide up to the Spaniard, Vachon, 
who'd been eyeing the brunette from across the bar, quickly distracting him.  
Miklos's jaw clenched, there was another one he owed Alma.  He turned his 
attention to the mortal, "What can I get for you?" 
 
            The woman looked him up and down, "Anything you give me would be 
just fine, I'm sure."  
 
She was French, Miklos noted from her accent.  She was also on the prowl, if it 
hadn't been for the mortal heartbeat thundering in his ears, he would have 
thought she was one of them.  "White wine?"  He offered evenly.
 
"Anything." She leaned forward, she wore no blouse under the fitted suit jacket, 
the low décolleté showing nearly all her assets.  
 
He quickly pouring the house white, placing the glass before her. He stilled, 
watching as red painted lips split to reveal neatly capped white teeth in 
something close to a smile. In his mind, Miklos couldn't help but contrast this 
woman with another.  While the woman before him was in no doubt highly skilled 
in the art of seduction, it was another woman that had captured his interest, 
one who never failed to ignite his desire.  Passionate and forthright, it was a 
golden minx that had claimed his mind, body and soul, and as he watched with a 
detached eye as the mortal ran her tongue over painted lips, Miklos found he had 
no interest in her.  Actually, he was rather repulsed, wanting nothing more than 
to walk away from her rather obvious overtures, it was only Lacroix's request 
that kept him rooted in place.  "So, what brings you to the Raven this night?"
 
"Was looking for someone, but I don't see him, probably was never here at all.  
So, oh, I don't know."  She gave an elegant shrug, her eyes meeting his with a 
look that gave no question of her intent, "Perhaps destiny?"
 
Miklos bit back a sigh.  It was going to be a long night.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            Tracy lagged slightly behind her partner as they walked down the 
impressive gray marble hall that led to main offices.  On their left were huge 
floor to ceiling windows, they were tinted, so the afternoon sun wouldn't blind 
the employees she imagined, but now, it just made the shadowy city look even 
darker.  And to their right... Tracy had to stop herself from looking, force 
herself to follow Nick and not stop and gaze with wonder at the sculptures that 
lined the hall.  More irons, Fehransis.  A small plaque proudly stated that 
Ashdown Inc. had the largest private collection of his work in the world...  
Obviously Larry Ashdown had been a fan.  A fan of Miklos.
 
            Tracy bit the inside of her cheek.  In college she'd taken a survey 
of modern art, part of her core requirements.  She'd studied Miklos Fehransis, 
though she'd picked Picasso to do her final paper on...  She drew a long breath, 
trying to steady herself.  
 
Nick stopped at a pair of doors and looked back at her with a frown.  "Are you 
all right?  You seem a bit...  I can do this alone, you can go wait in the-"
 
"No, I'm fine.  It's just- uh," Tracy paused, trying to come up with something 
that would end her partner's questioning, "Uh, woman problems.  Ya know, 
cramps."  She put a hand over her middle and wrinkled her nose in a pained 
expression.  Sure enough, that stopped Nick cold.
 
"Oh."  Nick went a bit paler than usual, "We'll, uh, try to finish this quick 
then."  
 
Tracy hid her smile as she watched Nick quickly yanked open the wide double 
doors that led to the inner offices and step inside.  One thing was for sure, if 
she ever became a vampire, she was -really- going to miss that excuse!  As they 
entered the offices they found the VPs waiting for them.  "Sorry to keep you 
gentleman so long after business hours," Tracy started.
 
"Oh, no problem!"  Bill Newman smiled, shaking both the detectives hands warmly. 
 A portly man in his late fifties, Bill had a wide mouth, a round face and wispy 
blonde hair.  He instantly reminded Tracy of a politician or a used car 
salesman, someone who traded a lot on their charisma.  "Charlie and I always 
work this late, and besides, we want Larry's killer caught."
 
            Charles Fox nodded silently from behind his fellow vice president.  
While Bill was a large man, round and hearty, Charlie was smaller, wiry and 
rather fragile looking.  Close cropped graying mousy brown hair topped a small 
face with huge blue eyes, the over all effect was enough to make him look 
permanently surprised.  
 
            "Well, we won't take too much of your time," Nick promised, leading 
the group to a small sitting area and waiting for them all to get comfortable.  
He started asking the preliminary questions while Tracy jotted down a few notes.
 
            Bill did the majority of the talking.  Charlie only commenting when 
asked a direct question, and even then, his answers were as short as possible.  
Bill, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice quite a bit.
 
            "Ah, I'm going to miss Larry."  Bill sighed, "He was quite the 
character, you know.  Real zest for life.  I mean, leader of the art world and 
still drank warm domestic beer straight from the can.  One thing I'll say for 
Larry, he was a character."
 
            "And you've been working for Mr. Ashdown for how long?"  Nick asked.
 
            "Larry, Charlie and I were all fraternity brothers." Bill explained, 
"When Larry inherited his father's business right after graduation, he hired us 
both on.  Saved us from trying to get real jobs."  He winked Tracy's way.
 
            She smiled politely, "And now that he's gone?  Who'll control 
Ashdown Inc.?"
 
            "That slut of a wife of his."  
 
            Both Nick and Tracy started at the bitter comment from Charlie.  
Bill forced a laugh, "We never really got along with Larry's wife...  Bit of the 
whole Yoko Ono thing really."  He shot a warning look at the other man, but 
Charlie's mouth was set in a grim line.  Bill continued, "Charlie and I will 
each control 20 percent of the company, Genevieve will get the rest."
 
            Nick raised a brow, "How long have they been married?"
 
            "Three years," Bill answered matter-of-factly.
 
            Nick and Tracy exchanged a glance at the uncharacteristically short 
response.  
 
            "Do you know if Mr. Ashdown had any enemies?"  Tracy asked after a 
moment.
 
            "No, everyone loved Larry.  He was a character."  He repeated with a 
sigh.
 
            A loud sniff emanated from Charlie, who produced a large white 
handkerchief and blew his nose with a loud honk.  "Sorry."  He mumbled.
 
            "We really wish we could help you detectives," Bill told them, he 
was beginning to look a little misty eyed himself, "But Larry was salt of the 
Earth, haven't a clue who'd want to, who'd-" He started to stammer and cleared 
his throat.  "As far as we know, Larry didn't have any enemies.  And though we 
didn't get along with her, I believe, in her own way, Genevieve loved him and 
wouldn't-" Charlie snorted, but at a sharp look from his friend, looked away.  
"Genevieve can't have had anything to do with it either."
 
            "Was Mrs. Ashdown cheating on her husband?"  Nick asked, and at 
Bill's frown, added, "This is just procedure, Mr. Newman."
 
            "There were," Bill hesitated, "rumors."
 
            "She'll go after anything with a dick," Charlie piped up, his thin 
face growing red, "Last one was a jockey, before that there was a news anchor, 
hockey player, CEO of our main competitor..."
 
            "Charlie!"  Bill barked at him, he turned an apologetic look at the 
detectives, "We don't really know.  Genevieve can be... a bit of a flirt, but 
Larry loved her."
 
            "Thank you for your time, gentleman."  Nick said as he climbed to 
his feet, shaking both men's hands.  "That's all for now, we'll be in touch if 
we have any more questions.  You'll both let us know if you plan on leaving 
town?"
 
            The businessmen looked a little nervous at that but agreed.  As Nick 
and Tracy rode down the glass elevator, Nick turned to her and asked, "Do you 
think they have anything to do with it?"
 
            "How'd you know they were by Fehransis?"  Tracy asked with a frown, 
staring down as the sculptures in the darkened lobby came into view, still no 
more clear to her than they'd been before.  "You never answered me before."
 
            "What does it matter?" Nick stilled, "Tracy, the case?  Remember?"
 
            "Yeah," Tracy nodded distractedly, "They seem sincere, they don't 
like the wife but, adultery doesn't equal murder.  We should check her out next 
though."
 
            "Uh, well, yeah, thank you for that brush up on basic procedure 
Detective Vetter."  Nick cocked a brow at her, "Tracy, really, what's going on 
with you?  You seem... different."
 
            Tracy frowned, looking at her partner as the elevator touched the 
ground floor.  "You know, I've been thinking the same thing about you.  
Something's different."
 
            They stared at each other for a moment, then with a -ding- the 
elevator doors opened and they set off across the lobby.  They climbed into the 
Caddy, an uncomfortable silence descending between them.  
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and coffee cups to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (10/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            Miklos paused to remove the mortal woman's hand from his rear, 
again.  "Don't."  He said shortly.
 
            "I just love a man in leather."  She purred, "Black leather pants, 
black silk shirt, and let me guess," She put her knees on the stool and looked 
over the bar, nearly pressing her chest into his face in the process.  She 
laughed, "I knew it!  Black boots complete the look."  
 
            "I like black," Miklos said, turning to serve another customer while 
mumbling under his breath, "Fits my mood..." He sent Alma and Vachon a warning 
look when they overheard and started to chuckle.
 
            "Do you have a girlfriend?"  The mortal inquired, when he came back 
to refill the wine glass she was waving. 
 
            "Yes," Miklos nodded, refilling the goblet. 
 
            "Aw," Her lower lip came out in a pout.  "Is it serious?"
 
            "Very." He answered, wishing he could just walk away from this 
woman.  He glanced up, only to find Lacroix in the doorway of his office, 
watching him.  Miklos squared his shoulders, he had to make conversation.  "And 
you?  A boyfriend?"
 
            "Not at the moment," A shadow passed over her face, and for a split 
second Miklos could see the real woman behind the mask and artifice.  A woman 
with profound sadness and loneliness within her.  Despite himself, Miklos found 
himself feeling for the mortal before him, "Do you want to talk about it?"  He 
asked, real concern tingeing his voice.
 
            "Not really," She sighed, looking down for a moment, when her eyes 
came back up, the mask was back in place.  "So, what's your name, pretty one?"
 
            "Miklos," He answered, biting back a sigh at hearing the seductive 
tone back in her voice.  
 
            "I'm Genevieve Ashdown," She held out her hand, back up, obviously 
expecting him to kiss it.  He reluctantly did so.  
 
            "Enchante."  He said automatically, then froze.  Ashdown?  Tracy's 
case.
 
            "What is it?"  Genevieve asked, pulling her hand away as a look 
crossed his face.
 
            "You're Larry Ashdown's widow?"
 
            Genevieve's face darkened.  "You knew my husband?"
 
            "No," Miklos shook his head, "The papers..." She looked like she was 
going to leave, he grabbed her wrist, "Wait, I apologize. I did not mean to 
upset you."
 
            She looked at him, her eyes unreadable but her mouth drawn in an 
angry line, but after a moment, her frame relaxed and she smiled as she slipped 
back on her stool.  "That's all right, you can make it up to me."
 
            Out of the corner of his eye, Miklos watched Lacroix reenter his 
office, closing the door behind him.  He relaxed a bit, meeting Genevieve's 
eyes.  "Another drink?"
 
            "That's a start."
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            As Nick drove them back to the precinct, Tracy's mind was awhirl.  
-Something- was really nagging her, something to do with Nick.  What could it 
be?
 
            Nick shifted uneasy under her scrutiny, then leaned forward and 
turned on the radio.  "Maybe some music, eh?"  
 
            "Does this thing even pick up music?"  Tracy asked, "I thought it 
was one of those 'All Nightcrawler, all the time' kinda deals."
 
            Nick shot her a good natured glare, "See, there's this knob..."
 
            Tracy's eyes widened, "Ooo, a knob!  And what does it do?"
 
            He fiddled with the dial for a moment, finally settling on something 
that sounded reasonably like classical music, but was so staticy they couldn't 
be sure.  "Hmm, maybe it does only get CERK."  Nick snorted.
 
            Tracy giggled, attacking the dial, intent on finding anything that 
came in clearly.  She settled on another Talk Radio station, sure it was in 
Spanish, but beggars couldn't be choosers.  "See?  No Nightcrawler is good 
Nightcrawler."  She grinned.
 
            "Do you speak Spanish?"  Nick asked, glad they were at least talking 
now.  
 
            "Nope, took German and a bit of French in high school," Tracy 
admitted, then furrowed her brow and looked at the radio as if in fear, "He's 
not talking about 'The never ending bleakness of life' is he?"
 
            Nick paused for a minute and listened to the Spanish DJ for a 
moment.  "Don't think so, think its gossip about Marc Anthony."
 
            "Ooo. He's a hottie." Tracy perked up, she cast a look Nick's way, 
"The Nightcrawler should do a monolog about him.  Him and Ricki Martin."
 
            "Maybe you should write and suggest that," Nick burst out laughing.  
"Don't sign your name though."
 
            "He'd mock me on air," Tracy grinned, then added, "Or just kill 
me... probably kill me.  Though... Ricki Martin -is- almost worth-"
 
            Nick held up a hand, laughing so hard he had to pull the Caddy to 
the side of the road.  "Stop, stop."
 
            Tracy smiled at her partner.  It was moments like this she could 
almost forget how strained things usually were between them.  She didn't know 
why Nick and her were usually so at odds.
 
            "Hey," Nick started, wiping the tears from his eyes.  "Nat said you 
wanted to talk to me about something?"
 
            Nat.  Nat who knew about vampires and who had lied to her...  Tracy 
had to find out if Nick knew too, the only problem was, she had no idea how or 
what to ask. "Uh, Nick-"
 
            "Yes?"  Nick frowned slightly, noticing Tracy's abrupt mood change.
 
            "You and Nat are... close, right?"
 
            "Yeah-" He frowned again, "Look, if this is about Nat and I dating- 
I just don't think-"
 
            "No!  I mean, no, it's not that.  It's something else."  Tracy bit 
her lip.  How could she ask if he knew about vampires?  If he didn't, he'd think 
she was insane!  "Uh, uh-"
 
            "Tracy, whatever it is, go ahead and ask," He smiled gently, "There 
isn't much I haven't heard before."
 
            "'Cept maybe this," Tracy mumbled under her breath, then louder she 
said, "Look, never mind, it's not important."
 
            "Obviously it is, otherwise you wouldn't have brought it up."  Nick 
pressed, then paused and looked at her for a moment, "Is this about why you've 
been so distracted tonight?"
 
            "Yes!"  Tracy latched onto that like a life preserver.  "I mean, 
kinda.  See, I met this guy and well..."
 
            "This guy," Nick frowned, "Your snitch?"
 
            "What?"  Tracy started, "How'd you-?"
 
            "The tape, from the Jerry Show."  Nick reminded her.
 
            "Oh right," Tracy took a breath, "No, not him.  We aren't- But this 
guy I met, he's kind of like him... only totally different."
 
            "The same but different huh?"  Nick arched a brow, putting the Caddy 
into gear and continuing on to the precinct.  "You're not making much sense."
 
            "Yeah, I guess not."  Tracy frowned and turned to stare out the 
window, again lost in her own thoughts.  
 
            Beside her, Nick's frown deepened to a scowl.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            About an hour later, Miklos looked up from the bar just in time to 
see Nicholas Knight stride angrily in.  But instead of heading to the General's 
office, which he'd come to expect whenever he saw Knight so angry, he strode to 
the other end of the bar where he grabbed the Spaniard by the neck and hauled 
him into a back room.
 
            Miklos's eyes widened.  Normally he would leave them alone, it was 
none of his business after all, but instead he found himself turning to the now 
more than tipsy Genevieve and excusing himself.  The widow raised her glass in 
salute and the bartender followed the men to the back.
 
            He found them in one of the supply rooms and slipped in behind them, 
but did not make his presence known.
 
            "What do you know about this 'guy' Tracy met?"  The former Crusader 
demanded.  "You're supposed to be watching her!"
 
            "I don't know anything, Knight, I swear!"  Vachon swallowed loudly 
after the older vampire had released him.  He knelt on the ground, looking up as 
Knight fumed above him.  "Anyway, I figured you'd be happy at all this."  He 
added, rubbing his throat.
 
            "Happy!"  Knight stared at him, "Happy she's met another one of us?! 
 That she's -dating- him?!"
 
            "Whoa, wait a second here."  Vachon climbed to his feet.  "Another 
vampire?  Are you sure?  Tracy didn't say-"
 
            "She said he was just like you, only completely different," Nick 
sneered, "What would you make of that?"
 
            "No," Vachon ran a hand through his unruly hair, "Maybe she meant he 
had a motorcycle or-," He stopped and looked at the older man, "Knight, I have 
no idea who it is.  All she told me was that she met a guy and it was 'intense.' 
 I swear that's all I know."
 
            Nick shoved Vachon into the wall behind him, and growled, "Find 
out."
 
            "Yeah. I'll find out," Vachon tried to nod, but with Nick's hand 
again at his throat it was difficult, "She seemed pretty shaken by this guy, 
maybe she'll want to talk."
 
            With one last growl, Nick stormed out, missing Miklos as the Greek 
vampire slipped back into shadows to avoid detection.  Miklos stayed there, 
until Vachon too had left the club.  And he stood there a few moments longer, 
digesting this new wrinkle.  This was getting more and more serious by the 
minute.
 
            When he stepped out of the storeroom, Miklos found himself rubbing 
his temples.  He was getting a headache, or maybe Tracy was, he couldn't tell 
anymore.
 
            "Los Mickie," Alma bounced up to him, "We got a problem."
 
            "Another one?"
 
            "Yeah," Alma pointed at the door, "Remember that mortal you were 
supposed to watch for Lacroix?"
 
            "Oh hell."  Miklos started for the door, then asked over his 
shoulder, "How long?"
 
            "About five minutes," Alma hesitated, then added, "She got in a cab 
though, she could be anywhere by now."
 
            Miklos felt like punching a wall, or ripping someone's throat out.  
No, all he -really- wanted was to see Tracy again, but he couldn't.  Not for two 
more nights, not 'til Thursday, because she needed "space."  With a growl of his 
own, he stalked behind the bar and poured himself a drink, downing it in one 
swallow.  Alma and a few of the regulars stared at him, he never drank on the 
job.  Of course, normally he didn't need to.  He had another.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and shots to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (11/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
            
 
            After Nick failed to return from his 'bathroom break, the detective 
decided to just go work on the case by herself.  Sure Reese was going to pop a 
major blood vessel if they separated again, but it'd become quite obvious in her 
last half hour of waiting that Nick had already snuck off without her.
 
            Lacking any new leads to follow, Tracy decided to head back to the 
crime scene to see if they'd missed anything.  She pulled up in front of the 
Ashdown's gated home and let herself in with the spare key the housekeeper had 
given them.  Mrs. Ashdown was back in town, but she'd told the police she'd be 
staying at a suite in the Delta Chelsea until everything had been cleaned up.
 
            Ducking under the crime scene tape, Tracy entered the dark den and 
flipped on the light switch.  The tape outline of the body still lay undisturbed 
behind the desk and everything else in the room seemed to be in order as well.  
She methodically circled the room, looking for anything out of place, anything 
the killer might have left, or at least moved.  She'd done this before, but 
there was always a slim chance she'd missed something.
 
            Forensics had determined the killer had forced the lock on the 
dining room's French doors, made his way to the lighted den and found the victim 
there.  No one else had been at home, the housekeeper had already left for the 
night, and the wife had been visiting her mother in Palm Springs.
            
            "Hmm, so what happened?"  Tracy sighed.  She absently glanced at the 
books that lined one wall, surprised at what she saw.  Ponce de Leon and the 
Fountain of Youth.  The Epic of Gilgamesh.  The Apocrypha.  The Egyptian Book of 
the Dead.  Freemasonry.  Cryogenics.  All books about cheating death...
 
Tracy shot her bangs skyward with a frustrated breath.  This was getting her no 
where.  She left the den and absently made her way to the foyer.  There, 
prominently displayed in the center of the room was another iron.  Fixed on a 
pedestal, the free form sculpture dominated the huge room.  Tracy found herself 
circling the piece, hesitantly reaching out to touch to cold metal.  It was one 
of Miklos's, she knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.  There was a power to it, 
a heat. 
 
            "Almost alive, isn't it?"
 
            Tracy spun around, reaching for her gun.  She relaxed when she saw 
who it was.  "Oh, Mrs. Ashdown, I thought you were still staying at the hotel."
 
            "I was..." The woman trailed off.  She'd obviously been drinking, 
the empty martini glass in her hand attested to that, and she had to concentrate 
as she came down the stairs.  She was dressed for bed in a dark blue Chinese 
silk robe with a blood red dragon emblazoned across it.  
 
            Tracy moved aside as Genevieve came to stand beside the sculpture. 
"It's a Fehransis, right?"
 
            "Amazing, isn't it?"  Genevieve nodded and began stroking the piece 
in a way that made Tracy almost uncomfortable.  "Such power in his work."
 
            "Um, yeah," Tracy had to fight to keep from blushing.  "Mrs. 
Ashdown, I thought you said you'd be staying at a hotel for a few days?"
 
            Genevieve gave her a cross look, but then her eyes became slightly 
unfocused and she sighed.  "I meant to, but it was so...  I thought if I just 
stayed out of the den, then I could almost imagine Larry wasn't gone."
 
            Tracy moved to comfort the other woman, but Genevieve shrugged her 
off.  
 
"Stupid man, stupid, stupid man."  She mumbled.  She tried to take another sip 
of her drink, but finding the glass empty, simply dropped it.  Tracy heard it 
shatter and moved the widow, with her bare feet, away from the broken glass. 
 
            "Why was he stupid, Mrs. Ashdown?"  She asked gently, leading her to 
a nearby bench.  
 
            "He always had to have everything the best."  Genevieve sniffed, 
"This house, his precious sculptures... me.”
 
            "But why was he stupid?"  Tracy pressed.
 
            "Because he -had- everything, don't you see?"  Genevieve pulled back 
and gestured around the grand house, "Everything a man could want, he already 
had."
 
            "But he wasn't happy with that?"  Tracy guessed, wondering where 
this could possibly be going.
 
            "No, he was," The widow said quietly, chewing on her red painted 
lip, "He just wanted it…forever."
 
            "Forever?"  The detective frowned.
 
            "No," Genevieve shook her head, growing quiet. She looked as if she 
couldn’t make up her mind about something, but Tracy waited, and after a few 
moments the woman looked up, "Larry wasn't crazy.  I know he wasn't."
 
            "Of course not," She tried to sooth her, "But Mrs. Ashdown, please, 
what's this all about?"
 
            Genevieve stood and led Tracy to a room off the foyer, yet another 
sitting room or lounge.  Unlike the others though, Genevieve had to unlock this 
one with a key she drew out from her robe pocket. Tracy wondered at this, she 
had to assume forensics had already examined the room and found nothing, since 
no locked rooms were listed in the report...  Her eyes narrowed, something 
wasn’t quite right here.  "Mrs. Ashdown, why are we in here?" 
 
            Genevieve seemed worried, almost preoccupied.  She stood in the 
center of the room and slowly turned, as if trying to remember something.  
"Larry kept it in here."  She mumbled.
 
            Tracy waited, wondering if grief and alcohol were making the woman 
imagine things.  The room seemed normal enough, elegant and full of the finer 
things in life, but in no way suspicious.  There was red brocade sofa and 
several matching chairs circling a low mahogany coffee table.  Several wooden 
chairs also sat against the walls and there was a glass-fronted cabinet against 
the wall displaying a collection of glass figurines.  
 
            "Ah, this was the one," Genevieve said suddenly, startling Tracy as 
she lunged and tipped one of the chairs forward.  Underneath, Tracy could see 
where the fabric had been carefully cut...  "He hid it in here."
 
            The detective took a step forward, and while Genevieve held the 
heavy chair, Tracy slid her hand into the slit and pulled out a thin leather 
bound book.  "What is this?"
 
            Once she stood, she looked at the floor, the out the window, 
anywhere but at Tracy.  Finally she blurted out, "He wanted to be immortal."
 
            "What?"
 
            "I know!  I know!  It sounds crazy, but if there was a way-" She 
broke off, pushing her hand through her perfectly moussed locks before 
continuing, "Larry was really on to something!" 
 
            Tracy looked down at the book.  Mostly there were names and address 
listed.  Monasteries and abbeys in the front, then on to houses, hastily 
scrawled phone numbers...  Looked like most had been crossed out already.  "He 
was tracking someone down?"  She guessed, looking up for confirmation.
 
            "I- I don't know for sure," She bit her lip, "He didn't tell me 
much, only that he was getting close."
 
            "Did he tell you –how- he planned to become an immortal?"  Tracy 
asked cautiously.  There was only one way she knew how someone could live 
forever, and if Larry Ashdown had been trying to hunt down a vampire, he may 
have gotten much more than he bargained for.
 
            "No," She sighed artfully after a moment, "But he said he'd finally 
found someone who'd do it... and for a real steal too, that's what he said."
 
            “And,” Tracy looked down at the book again, “You think this might 
have led to his death?”
 
            “It –has- to be it.”  Genevieve looked stricken.  “There’s nothing 
else he did that was dangerous.”
 
            “Dangerous?”  Tracy repeated with a raised brow.
 
            “I mean,” The widow frowned, “He wasn’t the kind of man who dallied 
with anything strange.  He stuck to the straight and narrow.  So if there was 
anything that happened…”
 
            "I see.”  Tracy nodded, “And why didn't you mention any of this to 
the police before, Mrs. Ashdown?" 
 
            "Because I could be wrong.  Larry wasn't crazy," She repeated, 
wiping at her eyes angrily, "But if it got out that he thought- that he wanted-"
 
            "That's okay," Tracy told her, "I understand, but this is important. 
 Did he say who it was he was going to see about this?"
 
            "I- I- no.  He never told me much of anything," She broke down, but 
Tracy wondered at the calculated sound of it.  Of course, maybe that's how 
society woman were taught to cry.  “He –was- crazy!”
 
            "Shh, it’s okay,” Tracy said as she suddenly found the widow 
clinging to her and sobbing her eyes out, "I'm sure he wasn’t.  Men with high 
stress positions need something like this, a hobby, some men golf twenty hours a 
week, your husband just did this."
 
            "You, you think?" Genevieve agreed, her lips tilting up in a watery 
smile, “Larry was very successful, you know."
 
            Tracy gently pried Genevieve off her and led her from the room and 
back to the staircase.  “Get some sleep, I’ll see if this turns up anything.”
 
            The widow frowned, her eyes drifting from Tracy to the book on her 
hands.  She looked as if she wanted it back, but then shook her head and smiled. 
 “I’m sure it won’t.  Silly thing.”
 
            “But just in case.” Tracy forced a smile.  
 
            There was a beat of silence, then Mrs. Ashdown started up the 
stairs, “Ciao, detective.”
 
            “Ciao,” Tracy repeated, turning and striding out of the house.  That 
had been decidedly odd.  She looked down at the book, here she just might have 
the answers, and to questions she'd never have thought to ask.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            Miklos headed home.  The alcohol hadn't dulled anything, or if it 
had, it was only his ability to cool off that'd gone.  He wanted to see Tracy, 
but since she wanted "space" he couldn't really do that, now could he?  He 
sneered, besides that now there was the Spaniard to contend with.  The 
Conquistador had told Knight he'd go question Tracy about the new man in her 
life.
 
            Growling, Miklos took to the air.  Maybe once he was home, the urge 
to rip out Vachon's throat would lessen.  When had Tracy talked to that low 
cretin anyway?  The questions gnawed at him.  What did she feel for him?  He 
knew she cared for the Spaniard... did she love him?
 
            When he landed he headed straight for his studio, but found no 
comfort in his work.  He stalked around the space, stoking the fire but starting 
nothing.  There was no point in wasting any iron on this mood.  Nothing good 
ever sprung from jealously, and Miklos knew that was what this was.  This 
feeling, masquerading as rage, as fury.
 
            He started back across the yard to the house when he heard the 
phone.  He had no idea how long it'd been ringing, but as he made no rush to 
cross the lawn it thrilled four more time.  Whoever was calling was certainly 
persistent.
 
            "Hallo?"
 
            "Heya Stalker Boy."  He could hear the grin in her voice.  He felt 
the tension drain from his tight shoulders, and suddenly his night didn't seem 
as dark. 
 
            "Tracy," He smiled back, "You called me."
 
            "Yeah, and it wasn't easy either," Back in her apartment Tracy 
flopped down into her over stuffed arm chair, "You aren't listed, had to go 
through the precinct."
 
            "So tonight it is you who stalks?"  He chuckled, leaning against his 
kitchen counter.
 
            "Looks that way," She gave a wide smile, before turning her 
attention to the book in her lap. "Hey, I'm working on that case.  The Ashdown 
one?"
 
            "Yes?"  Miklos frowned.
 
            "Ever hear of a Billy Kessing?"  It was a long shot, Tracy thought, 
but the last name listed should be the contact, right?
 
            "Where did you hear that name?"  Miklos breathed sharply.  Then, 
through the phone he heard a knock.
 
            "Hold on, someone's at the door.  Be right back."  Miklos heard a 
beep and then all was silent.  She'd put him on hold.  
 
            As he waited he took a bottle from his refrigerator.  Kessing?  What 
did he have to do with Tracy's case?  A relatively young vampire, Kessing had 
been found staked, already dead and half decayed in the Raven's basement not a 
week ago.  He hadn't been in town long, and it'd been assumed he'd gotten into a 
fight and lost.  
 
            Miklos absently opened the bottle and poured himself a glass.  No 
mortal could have crept into the basement without discovery.  It had to have 
been another vampire who'd ended Kessing's life.  So if this were a purely 
internal matter, what could it have to do with Larry Ashdown?  Miklos 
straightened as he heard the phone connection beep to life.
 
            "Hey, something came up.  I'll have to call you back."  And without 
waiting for an answer, the phone went dead.  
 
He stared at the receiver for a moment before returning it to its cradle.  Again 
his mood blackened.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Comments and caller id to anteros@juno.com
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (12/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
            
            "Hey there," Vachon smiled endearingly as Tracy opened the door.  
"Can I come in?"
 
            Tracy was a bit shocked that her friendly neighborhood snitch was 
actually using her front door for once and just stared for a moment, but then 
she remembered herself and stepped aside.  "Vachon."  Her eyes widened, "Wait a 
sec." She walked away and grabbed the phone, quickly telling Miklos she'd have 
to call him back.  After she'd hung up, she turned back to her visitor, "This is 
a surprise."
 
            "Yeah," Vachon ran a hand through his hair, "Was in the neighborhood 
and, well, you know."
 
            "Yeah," Tracy didn't sound convinced, then her eyes widened, "Oh!  
Since you're here maybe you can help me with this case!"
 
            "That's not really what-" Vachon was cut off as Tracy tugged him 
down onto the couch next to her, she held up a book and waved it at him.
 
            "Ever here of a guy named Billy Kessing?"  Tracy waited, but when 
Vachon's dark eyes just blinked at her she sighed, "Not in the talking mood 
tonight huh?"
 
            Vachon seemed to give himself a mental shake, "Kessing's not the 
sort you want to be hanging out with Trace..."
 
            "So he's a vampire?"
 
            "I didn't say that."
 
            Tracy gave him a measuring look, "Well, can you tell me if Kessing 
needed any money?"
 
            "Kess always needs money," Vachon frowned, reaching for the book.  
"What's this about anyway?"
 
            "Just a case," Tracy shrugged, letting him take it.  Without the 
back story the list of out of date addresses wouldn't do him much good.
 
            Vachon flipped through the book before frowning and putting it down 
on her coffee table.  Whatever was going on with her case and their kind Knight 
could deal with it.  Tonight he had other things to do.  "Being your snitch, as 
much fun as it is," He smiled at her before continuing, "Isn't why I came over 
tonight."
 
            "You want to watch cable?"  Tracy asked flippantly, some of Miklos's 
resentment was surfacing again and her head was filled with what possible 
ulterior motives Vachon might have.
 
            "No..." He said slowly, then frowned as he noticed her shoulders 
stiffening.  "Tracy are you... scared?"
 
            "No," Tracy said a bit too quickly, what she was feeling was more 
annoyance and she was getting anxious to call Miklos back too.  She really 
shouldn't have hung up on him.  "I'm just busy with this case.  Can this wait?"
 
            "Uh," Vachon hesitated, but then the memory of Knight's hand around 
his throat urged him on, "Not really.  I was thinking, about that guy you met?"
 
            "Yeah?  What about him?"  Tracy tried to keep her face neutral, but 
she could feel her heart start to race.  She watched Vachon's eyes widen, he 
could hear it.
 
            "Where'd you meet him?  What's he do for a living?  He, uh, treating 
you good?"
 
            "He treats me good," Tracy answered the only one of his questions 
she could.  Her mind was going a mile a minute, this was the last thing she 
wanted was to talk about with Vachon!  How the hell was she going to get out of 
this?  "He's-" She paused, then just said what she felt, "He's the most 
passionate, sincere person I've ever met.  Anything he feels, he feels 
completely and wholly, and he -loves- me.  He loves me with every breath he 
takes, every thought he has there's me in the background.  And his eyes, when 
they looks at me, I feel-"
 
            "That's good," Vachon squeaked out an octave higher than usual.  He 
cleared his throat, "I mean, I'm happy for you.  Really."
 
            Tracy sat there while Vachon just stared at her.  Finally she asked, 
"What is it exactly you're looking for here Vachon?"
 
            "His name."  He said bluntly.
 
            "Why would you want that?"  She eyed him suspiciously.  Her own 
feelings seemed to be quickly falling in line with Miklos's.
 
            "It's just-"  Vachon stood up with a jerk, "Dammit Tracy!  Is he a 
vampire?!"
 
            Tracy gasped.  She sat there shocked, her mind going blank.  She 
couldn't answer that, could she? She looked up at Vachon, wishing he hadn't 
asked her that.
 
            "He is, isn't he?"  Vachon sat down heavily, slumping back into the 
cushions.  "You're in love with a vampire."
 
            "Vachon-"  He looked beaten.  Tracy reached out and touched his arm, 
she almost expected him to pull away, but he didn't.  She leaned against him in 
a sort of half hug.  "He's not going to hurt me."
 
            "Who is it?"  He asked sullenly.
 
            "Promise you're not going to do anything?"  Tracy asked, "No macho 
beatings planned?"
 
            "Depends."  He almost sounded like a little boy pouting now.  After 
a moment he looked up into Tracy's eyes and she was struck with how naked and 
vulnerable he looked.  "I just want to know he's good to you."
 
            Tracy looked at him closely, then made her decision, "Miklos, Miklos 
Fehr."
 
            Vachon stared at her, then nodded before slumping back into the 
couch,  "He's a good man."  He said simply.
 
            She waited.  It was sort of anti-climatic, apparently Miklos passed 
the test.  Tracy almost cringed then, there was something sort of small about 
Miklos not liking Vachon, when the slacker would admit grudging approval for 
him.  "So... you're okay with this?"
 
            He didn't seem to hear her at first, but finally he sighed.  "I wish 
it wasn't him.  I wish it was me, or, if not me some nice mortal guy.  The kind 
of guy that would get you a house with a white picket fence and two point three 
kids-"
 
            "I always feel sorry for that point three," Tracy grinned and again 
snuggled against Vachon.  
 
             "And a cat," Vachon continued, a slight smile tugging at his mouth, 
"I always thought you deserved a fat tabby, a red one.  And a minivan."
 
            "Ugh, no minivan."  Tracy made a face.
 
            "Okay, a station wagon then. The kind with the wood on the sides."
 
            "I don't think they make those anymore."
 
            "No?  Well, they should."  He wrapped an arm around her, "And a 
really green yard, where the kids could play soccer."
 
            "Uh huh."
 
            "And lawn gnomes." He threw his feet up on her coffee table,  "I've 
always thought you really needed some lawn gnomes."
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
 
            After Vachon had left and the sun had risen, Tracy tried to get some 
much needed sleep.  It didn't work.  She'd close her eyes but nothing happened.  
Making peace with Vachon had made her feel as if all was right with the world, 
but once he'd left and she'd crawled into her bed, the gloom had descended.  She 
felt cold, and very much alone.
 
She tried to think about her case, but her thoughts kept drifting back to 
Miklos.  She could feel it.  Or couldn't feel it, actually.  Their bond was 
fading.  She could barely feel it now.  Some tiny part of her still aware of the 
effects of the thrall... but if she had never know... the feeling would be so 
easy to disregard.  It was almost nothing.  Like a spider web, twisting and 
stretching in a strong wind, if you looked close and knew it was there, you 
might be able to see it, but otherwise...
 
            She groaned and rolled over onto her stomach, clutching her body 
pillow and wishing it was him.  She wanted to go to him, needed to.  But he was 
probably already asleep, and if not...  Well, she should stay away.  They needed 
space.  And the way she was feeling right now...
 
            She drew a breath and held it.  She didn't want it to end.  She 
wanted to be with him, like they were, forever.  But reason held her back.  What 
if what she was feeling wasn't -real-?  This crazy infatuation.  She'd thought 
about it before, the doubt had always been there from the very beginning.  She 
almost couldn't bear to think it, but... what if what she was feeling was all a 
lie?  
 
            Could it be that the intense feelings she had for Miklos, the 
feelings that burned through her heart and soul, that she felt more deeply than 
anything she'd ever experienced... might not be hers?  It was a terrifying idea, 
chilling her through.   She wrapped the blankets tightly about herself.  She had 
to face this, had to know.  
 
            Miklos loved her, she knew that as sure as anything.  But, was she 
in love with him?  She felt strong emotions whenever she thought of him, 
emotions that she could only call love.  But... that 'but' kept haunting her.  
Three letters that kept her from being happy, from just giving in to the giddy 
euphoria that swelled through her whenever Miklos's face swam through her mind.  
But: what if what she was feeling was because of the thrall?  There, she'd said 
it.
 
            What if it was the thrall?
 
            It was true that she could barely feel their bond now.  And if 
Miklos had it right, then any effects should be wearing off soon.  She sighed, 
she wanted so much to let it be that.  To just allow that if the thrall was 
gone, then surely what she was feeling was all her.  She loved him.
 
            But.
 
            But what if she didn't?  What if her mind, her heart, had somehow 
been conditioned?  Whammied or tricked or somehow otherwise fooled into this 
whole thing?  Maybe she'd never been in love, but her mind didn't know how to 
stop the feelings Miklos's influence had begun.  
 
            Was it possible?  She didn't know who to ask.  Didn't know how to 
test herself.  Maybe she should just stop seeing him and see if it went away?  
But, no.  Just the thought of not seeing him again made her ache.  She needed 
him.  He was like a drug.  Tracy grimaced.  Was that it then?  Was she addicted?
 
            Well, so what if she was?  He made her so happy, and he truly loved 
her.  Maybe that was enough.
 
            But.
 
            But could she lie to herself?  Could she face the chance that 
someday she might wake up and look over at him, and feel nothing?  If her 
feelings weren't real... Was that fair to either of them?
            
            Again, she groaned.  She fought back the traitorous tears that 
burned the backs of her eyelids.  What was she going to do?  Her thoughts 
warred, she needed to see him, but she also knew she shouldn't.
 
            "Miklos."  She whispered his name.
 
            Her dreams that night were filled with disturbingly familiar iron 
statues and a shadow with pleading dark eyes.
 
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
Comments to anteros@juno.com
 
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (13/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            The thin tendrils of awareness that still linked them burned him.  
Miklos tore through the study, digging through countless photos and scraps of 
news.  He knelt in the center of the rug, everything he'd collected over the 
years lay piled around him.  He couldn't sleep, he couldn't concentrate.  He 
needed to be doing something, but he didn't know why he was doing this though.
 
            There were pictures from the academy, news clippings from patrol, 
even videos with shots from the evening news.  He sat back on his heels and 
looked around.  So many years of work, and for what?  Why did he have this all?  
A scowl darkened his brow, all of this hadn't meant anything.  Hadn't given him 
more than the tiniest glimpse of who Tracy was.
 
            "Tracy," He breathed, "Ma kardia."
 
            He didn't know if he could do this. He had to get rid of these 
-things-.  They weren't Tracy, and if anything they were keeping him from her.  
Miklos lifted a picture, it was one of his favorites.  Tracy standing under a 
setting sun, track shoes tied and tossed over her shoulder, eyes glowing, cheeks 
pink with exertion.  He hadn't been able to determine exactly what year this 
was, he knew after college because of the short hair...  
 
            He groaned and tossed it aside.  She could leave him, he knew it.  
Their link was fading and with it, he feared, her feelings for him.  He looked 
around, would his "collection" give him any comfort then?
 
            What had once made him feel close to her, felt far from that now.  
Seeing it through her eyes made his stomach turn.  An invasion of privacy, the 
obsession of a sick man.  When she'd found it, she'd been shocked, but hadn't 
said much.  Had it been their link that had held her tongue?  Miklos thought, 
that if she were to see it now, fresh through just her own eyes, it would be a 
different reaction.
 
            He glared down at the piles, and only after a few minutes of 
incessant ringing, was made to answer the phone.  "Hallo?  Tracy?"
 
            "Uh, no," Alma's surprised voice came over the receiver, "And if 
you're answering the phone like that, I can only assume all's not well with all 
the Whos in Whoville."
 
            Miklos rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Everything is fine. Why are 
you calling?"  He glanced at the mantel clock, "I don’t open tonight, I won't be 
in 'til eight."
 
            "Yeah, I know," He listened as she hunched over the phone and began 
to whisper, "But I thought I'd better warn your undead ass."
 
            "Warn me?"  The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise, 
"Lacroix?  Is he-?"
 
            "No, no!  Don't even go there," Alma hushed him, "It's worse.  It's 
Knight."
 
            "What's he doing there?"
 
            "What do you think?!"  Alma whispered fiercely, "He found out about 
the whammy at the precinct!  He's probably gonna stake us both!"
 
            "Did he say that?"  Miklos frowned, "That doesn't seem right.  How 
could he know?"
 
            "Right, right," Alma took a deep breath and sounded a bit calmer 
when she continued, "But he -is- asking about you. Came in, talked to Vachon, 
and now the two of them are just standing by the bar and waiting for you."
 
            "The Spaniard," Miklos rubbed the back of his neck.
 
      "So this isn't about the whammy?"  Alma asked.
 
            "No."
 
            "But you are in trouble?"
 
            A humorless laugh bubbled up, "Yes Alma, I'm most likely in 
trouble."
 
            There was a pause, then in a small voice she asked, "Is there 
anything I can do?"
 
            Miklos smiled, "No, my friend, there is nothing."
 
            "You coming in?"  Alma asked, "'Cause I wouldn't think any less of 
you if you left the country."
 
            He laughed, "No, I'll come.  How do they say?  It is my bed and I 
must lie in it. I'll be in by eight."
 
            "Okay.  But Miklos?"
 
            "Yes?"
 
            "Be careful."  Alma whispered, "She's not worth a stake."
 
            "No, she's worth a thousand."  He breathed.
 
            "It only takes one."  She reminded him and he listened as the line 
disconnected.  
 
            He looked down at the mess around him and began shoveling it all 
into the large crates he'd brought up from the basement.  He should probably 
just burn them, but he couldn't part with anything yet.  In the end, it might be 
all he had.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            Tracy awoke groggy and disoriented.  Her shoulders ached with how 
tightly she'd clutched her pillow all night and her mood was as black as her 
morning coffee.
 
            She stumbled into the kitchen and started her Mr. Java.  As she 
waited for her morning wake up juice, she flipped through Larry Ashdown's 
strange little address book.  She wondered how many in here were actually 
vampires, and how many had been very confused when a strange man had called up 
asking for immortality.  She chuckled, thinking about some nice old grandmother 
in Moosejaw getting -that- phone call.
 
            "Huh," She ran her finger over Billy Kessing's name.  Had he taken 
that phone call?  From what Vachon had said, she assumed he was a vampire and 
that he had.  So where was he?  Had he been the one to shoot Ashdown?  But if he 
were a vampire, why -shoot- anybody?
 
            "Okay Vetter," Tracy mumbled as she poured herself a freshly brewed 
cup, "Start with what you know."
 
            "One: Ashdown wanted immortality, and was willing to pay for the 
privilege.  Ow!"  She burned her tongue, then added some milk to her coffee.
 
            “Two: his widow was acting weird,” Tracy frowned, “Course if I came 
home to a dead husband and a dinner of liquor, who knows how I’d act.”
 
            "Okay then, three: Billy Kessing needed money and was a vampire."  
Tracy took another sip, "Ah.  Poor vampire, rich man.  Sounds like a match made 
in heaven.  So what went wrong?"
 
            Tracy flipped through the book again, this time looking at the 
crossed out names.  "Uh oh."  She peered through the scratches, "The Raven."
 
            "Dammit Ashdown," She shook her head, "Thought that was a dead end 
huh?"
 
            "So," She stood and began pacing her small kitchen, "Ashdown calls 
the Raven, probably gets Herr Nightcrawler.  Ugh, if he offered Lacroix 
money..."
 
            "Lacroix tells him he knows nothing of vamps, of course.  But once 
off the phone..." Tracy found herself nodding at her own thoughts.  "Nightboy 
can't just let it go, danger to the Community, so he, well, he can't kill him 
himself, who knows how many people know about Ashdown wanting the vampire thing? 
 So he needs to get a nonfanged killer for the job.  Enter Jaminson! Ha!"
 
            Tracy gulped down the rest of her coffee in celebration and poured 
herself another cup.  "So what happened to Kessing?"  She frowned, "He's 
probably dead too."
 
            She glanced at the clock, she'd better get ready for work.  She 
wished she could share what she'd discovered with Nick, but what could she say?  
Hey partner, I found our killer!  Looks like he's an undead radio DJ, you know, 
the one you listen to!  "Yeah, that’ll happen.”
 
            She turned off the pot and jumped into the shower.  There wasn't a 
way to wrap up this case, all she could do was satisfy her own curiosity.  At 
least -she'd- know what had happened.  She sighed, she certainly didn't like her 
ever growing 'unsolved' file.  "I should really just join the Xfiles and get it 
over with."  She cracked as she turned on the water.  "Then me and Mulder can 
argue bite marks away into the night."
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            Miklos took his time getting to work, in fact, he didn't think he 
could fly any slower if he tried.  There was only one thing both the Spaniard 
and the Crusader could want to talk to him about: Tracy.  He sighed, what could 
he tell them?  Nothing that wouldn't get him staked.
 
            He landed to the sight of Knight's atrocious boat of a car, parked 
neatly next to it was the Spaniard's motorcycle.  They'd arrived together, "How, 
special."  Miklos growled, vestiges of Tracy's sarcasm still clinging to him.  
He knew he'd better hold his tongue though, elders rarely appreciated such 
things.
 
            He didn't bother to go around back, just waltzed right in through 
the front doors.  Knight and the Spaniard spotted him immediately and Miklos 
could feel his annoyance again start to rise.  He didn't need this.  What was 
between him and Tracy was just that, between them.  He did not appreciate these 
two, who in his eyes barely knew her, taking it upon themselves to interfere.  
That, and he'd never cared for either anyway.
 
            Ignoring his earlier advice to himself about not disrespecting them, 
Miklos walked straight passed them and disappeared into the back room.  He 
reappeared a moment later, sans jacket, and slipped behind the bar.  He poured 
them each a drink, then abandoned them to them before they could speak.  He next 
took care of everyone else's orders around the club.
 
            He could feel their eyes on him, and knew when they were whispering 
to each other.  All night Alma had been giving him warning looks, but he ignored 
them.  Some how he knew deep down his apparent death wish had more to do with 
the probability of losing Tracy as their link faded, and less to with either of 
her 'protectors,' but at least with Knight and the Spaniard he could do 
-something-.
 
            He didn't know how long they'd allow him to ignore them, but so far 
they had not moved from the bar.  He'd expected to be dragged into the back for 
at least a beating, so why were they just... waiting?  He finally looked up at 
them and made eye contact, Knight motioned him over.  
 
            Miklos sighed, and so it began.  Just as he started to them, the 
doors swung open and he felt an all too familiar ache rush over him.  Tracy.  
His eyes swung around and he took in the picture she made at the top of the 
stairs.  Dressed in khakis and a beige and green sweater she looked ridiculously 
out of place in the gothic/punk clad crowd, but she shone in the dim light like 
gold.  His breath caught as she met his eyes and smiled, she still felt him 
enough to find him in an instant.
 
            He saw she was carrying a small, leather bound book and realized 
after a moment that she was here to finish their conversation from the night 
before.  She wanted to know about Billy Kessing, for her case.  That reminded 
him of her partner, sitting not twenty feet away.  He looked at him and felt 
Tracy's eyes follow.
 
            He heard her gasp.  And felt the shock wash over him as if it were 
his own.  He knew then, as she saw her partner next to the Spaniard, in this 
place, that she finally saw him for what he was.  She saw the vampire.  
 
            He expected her to run, it's what he would have done.  But what 
happened next proved that no matter how well he thought he knew her, she could 
still surprise him.  She stalked down the stairs, and for a moment he thought 
she would confront Knight, possibly hit him, but then she simply stopped at his 
side.  Miklos looked down at her, his eyes searching.
 
            Her eyes flashed with confusion, some anger.  Then she took a deep 
breath and leaned her head against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and 
gathered her close.  He didn't dare look at Knight, just stared down at his 
golden girl.  "It's all right ma kardia, let it out."
 
            "I'm not crying."
 
            And she wasn't, her voice was free of tears as she relaxed against 
him.  "What- what are you thinking?"
 
            She was silent a moment, then finally asked, "Is Billy Kessing 
dead?"
 
            Mikos's eyebrows shot up, "Um, yes.  Found dead in the cellar last 
week... he was a-"
 
            "Yeah, figured that already," Tracy cut him off, already knowing 
Kessing had been a vampire.  "Know anything else?  About Ashdown, I mean?"
 
            He had no idea what she was thinking, and pulled her away to look 
down at her.  He searched her face, she looked intently back at him, but had 
apparently decided to stick to her case and deal with the rest later.  "No."
 
            "Okay."  She took a step back, glanced at her partner then back at 
him, "I'll see you later then."
 
            He frowned and watched as she started to leave, "Wait!"
 
            She looked back at him, her shoulders slumped, she looked tired, but 
waited for him to speak.
 
            He didn't know what to say.  His mind whirled, but he couldn't think 
of anything that would make her feel better, anything that would explain.  
Finally he blurted out, "The widow, Mrs. Ashdown was here last night.  I don't 
know if that's important, but..."
 
            Tracy looked surprised and some of the light came back into her eyes 
as she considered that. Miklos thanked God for that light and was glad he'd told 
her, regardless of what it might bring him from Lacroix.  
 
“That’s what didn’t fit.”  She smiled then, it was a small smile, but Miklos 
relished it.   "I'll see you later," She repeated, then leaned in and pressed a 
quick kiss against his mouth, "Thank you.”
 
            "I love you," He answered back, watching her eyes widen again.  She 
nodded and smiled, then left.
 
            Miklos watched her go, he could feel Knight and the Spaniard's gazes 
heavy on his back.  He ignored them.
 
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
Comments to anteros@juno.com
 
 
 
*Disclaimers in part 1
 
 
Enthralled (14/14)
By: Cousin Mary 
 
 
            Nick was a vampire. Tracy rolled that around in her mind for awhile. 
 It made so much sense, she didn't know why she hadn't seen it before.  And Nat 
knew, that was why she'd been so weird about everything before.  Tracy chewed on 
her lip as she drove around town.  
 
            The one thing she couldn't figure was the picture of Nick and his 
old partner, Schanke, that he kept on his desk.  They were out in the sunlight!  
She sighed, she'd have to ask him about that later.  There was probably an 
explanation, maybe it was a fake picture.  She sighed, why had he lied to her?  
Well, she knew now, whatever that was worth.
 
            She headed out of downtown and decided to pay Mrs. Ashdown another 
visit.  Apparently the widow knew more than she'd let on.  Why had she been at 
the Raven?  At their last meeting, the way she’d been acting had stuck Tracy as 
strange.  She’d been hiding something, but what?  Her lying had been the one 
piece that hadn’t fit anywhere.  But now she knew, Mrs. Ashdown had been 
involved in her husband’s search.  But- If she had known, why hadn't Lacroix had 
her killed as well?
 
            "Because she was in Palm Springs!"  Tracy slapped the steering wheel 
with her palm.  Genevieve might not have believed it entirely, but she believed 
enough that she went looking for the same thing.  Had she been at the Raven 
trying to find Kessing herself?  It was the only explanation.  
 
            Tracy pulled her Taurus into the driveway and again let herself in.  
She heard a noise upstairs and quickly pulled her gun.  Was there another 
hitman?  She considered going back out to call for back up, but decided there 
wasn't time.  She mounted the stairs and silently as possible made her way up.
 
            The bedroom door stood ajar and as she approached Tracy could see 
the figure of a man, bent over Mrs. Ashdown's apparently limp body.  "Oh God," 
She whispered, and jumped back when the man looked up.
 
            It was Lacroix.  
 
            Tracy hadn't a clue what to do.  She looked at him, he looked back.  
Tracy then glanced at Mrs. Ashdown, she quirked a brow.  "Winner?"
 
            Genevieve's body was dropped with a thump to the floor.  Lacroix 
wiped his mouth and shook his head.  His voice was amused when he answered, 
"No."
 
            Tracy shrugged and thought about reholstering her gun, as it wasn't 
going to do her much good, but it at least felt comforting, so she hung onto it. 
 "You killed Kessing, had Jaminson kill Ashdown and then-" She gestured to 
Genevieve, "yourself."
 
            "And you killed Jaminson."  He stated, not asked, so she said 
nothing.  Tracy knew the report hadn't mentioned puncture holes, Lacroix must 
have known she’d been at the Raven that night and somehow gone from there.  She 
didn’t correct him though.  Lacroix stepped over the body, apparently he'd given 
up on digression, and came out into the hall to stand beside her, "Imagine, 
thinking they could -buy- our gift?"
 
            Tracy fiddled with gun, not pointing it at him, but ready to just in 
case.  "Very tacky."  She agreed, then flinched as he brushed the hair away from 
her neck and continued to loom over her.
 
            "What will you do?"  He asked, his voice curious.
 
            Tracy shrugged, "What can I?  Write it up as unsolved.  Throw it in 
my Xfile."
 
            He quirked a brow again, "I did not mean about the Ashdowns, they 
are very much forgotten already."
 
            "You mean..." Tracy trailed off.
 
            "You and the young Spaniard?"  His eyes danced, he was very much 
amused by her continued pretense of normality.  He could smell her fear, but she 
continued to act nonchalant.
 
            Tracy finally reholstered her gun, "Ah, nothing much to say there."
 
            He raised his hand again, brushing her throat with the pad of his 
thumb.  "This begs to differ."
 
            "There's a mark?!"  Tracy's hand flew up.  "I looked for-"
 
            He made a tsking sound, "Not to an untrained eye, but you have been 
tasted, haven't you?"
 
            Tracy was uncomfortable under his peering eyes, even more so than 
she had been moments earlier, and she hadn't thought it could get worse than 
that.  "Uh, not Vachon."  She said finally.
 
            Lacroix's eyes widened.  "Indeed?"  Then comprehension dawned and he 
laughed, "Of course!  The newly developed insolence, the all around arrogance!  
He gained that from you!"
 
            Tracy frowned, "Hey."
 
            He laughed again, then took her arm and led her down the stairs as 
if they were attending a gala function, "No matter my dear, on you it is 
charming."
 
            She hadn't a clue what to say to that, but allowed him to lead her 
to her car.  She next watched, perplexed, as he took to the skies.  He hadn't 
tried to whammy her, hadn't apparently even considered killing her.  If anything 
he evidently -liked- her.  Tracy shook her head and got back into her car.  
She'd have to leave it to someone else to find the body, at least for tonight.  
After all, nothing she did at this point would change anything.
 
            She started driving around the city again.  She still had a lot of 
thinking to do.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            Miklos managed to stave off confrontation for about another twenty 
minutes, by then Knight had grown impatient and literally grabbed him when he 
next walked by.  Miklos perched uncomfortably on the stool next to the Spaniard 
and looked over him at Knight.  "Yes?"
 
            Knight glared at him.  "You and Tracy."
 
            "What about us?"  Miklos tried to keep his feelings resentment out 
of his voice, but as Knight's eyes flashed he knew he hadn't entirely succeeded.
 
            "What do you think you are doing with her?"  He demanded in a growl.
 
            Miklos looked at him carefully, trying to gauge how much he knew.  
If he'd known about the thrall, he most likely would be even angrier than he 
was.  But what should he tell him?  Finally, he answered with the simple truth, 
"I love her."  He thought he heard a small groan escape the Spaniard and for the 
first time felt something close to sympathy for him.  The Spaniard knew what it 
was to lose her, he only prayed he'd never feel that himself.
 
            "What are you going to do?"  Knight's eyes were blue slits.
 
            Miklos sighed, "Whatever she chooses."  He closed his eyes, "So most 
likely, nothing."
 
            "You think she'll stay mortal?"  Vachon asked, his surprise evident.
 
            "Why wouldn't she?"  Knight cut it, "She's too smart to want this."
 
            Vachon frowned at that, "She's not that innocent, Knight."
 
            "She-"
 
            "No," Miklos interrupted in a quiet voice, just above a whisper, "I 
mean, I think she'll leave me."  And with that, he rose from his seat and went 
back about his business.  Again he felt their eyes on him, this time filled with 
pity, again he ignored them.
 
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
            The next night was Thursday, and Tracy was rather at a loss as she 
drove to Miklos's house.  She'd told him they could see each other again on 
Thursday, but so much had happened.  This wasn't a causal visit anymore, she 
knew that.  What she didn't know was what it would be.  A reconciliation?  Did 
they need one?  Would they instead break up?  She couldn't even feel the link 
any more?  Would that be it then?
 
            She turned onto the long drive and parked.  She sat there, staring 
up at the strange, tower like house.  The sun was still up, so he was in there.  
She knew he had to be, but she didn't -know- it anymore.  She missed the 
certainty being tied to him had given her.  Though she had to admit, knowing her 
thoughts were her own, was much better.
 
            Tracy climbed out of her car and headed for the front door.  She 
didn't knock, as she reached it, the heavily carved oak swung open.  She stepped 
in and found Miklos just out of the setting sun's reach.  He was looking at her 
with such fear it broke her heart.
 
            "Oh, Miklos," She breathed, moving into his arms.  He held her 
stiffly for a moment before relaxing, then his arms tightened and it was as if 
he planned on never letter her ago again. 
 
            "Ma kardia, kalimera, please say this is happening," He buried his 
face in her hair, "This can not be another dream."
 
            "Shh, it's real."  She took his face between her hands, "I'm here."  
She paused and smiled tenderly, "It's Thursday."
 
            He stared a moment, then started to laugh, "It's Thursday!"  They 
both kept laughing as he lifted her into his arms and spun around the room.  
They were both breathless by the time he collapsed with her onto the couch.  
            
            She bent her head and captured his lips.  It was sweet at first, 
Miklos barely responded, just reveled in the attention she was paying him.  
Tracy's heart ached at how beautiful he was making this.  She kissed him gently, 
almost timidly to begin with, then grew bolder as the fire grew.
 
            As Tracy pulled his lower lip into her mouth, she wrapped her arms 
around his neck and pulled him close.  Miklos at last responded by letting his 
hands slide over her slim form, he rested them on her hips, holding her to him.
 
            Tracy slipped her tongue past his lips, losing herself in the 
sensations completely.  One of Miklos's hands slipped up to cup her breast, 
kneading the flesh tenderly through her shirt. She moaned into his mouth and 
rolled her hips.
 
            Suddenly Miklos broke the kiss, and lifted Tracy from him.  He sat 
her beside him on the couch and actually moved away.  "I can't."
 
            "What?  Why?"  Tracy's eyes were wide with fear.
 
            Miklos looked at her, "No, no, my heart.  It isn't because-" He 
paused, then leaned forward and kissed her ever so tenderly, "I mean I can't do 
this if- if-"
 
            "If what?"  Tracy's eyes narrowed, "Unless I become a thrall again?  
Or- or a vampire?"
 
            "No!"  Miklos looked horrified, "I wouldn't ask, ever."  He slipped 
off the couch and onto his knees.  He moved so that he was right in front of her 
and then laid his head in her lap.  Tracy stared down, she couldn't help but 
stroke his dark hair as she waited for him to continue.  He was almost trembling 
and his voice was thick with emotion when he finally continued.  "I can't kiss 
you, can't pretend everything is all right if- if this is going to end."
 
            "Why do you think this is going to end?"  She asked quietly.
 
            He looked up at her with his black as night eyes, "My heart, it is 
yours, it always has been.  If you leave, you'll take it with you."
 
            "Again," Tracy smiled sadly and cupped his face, "Why are you so 
sure I'm going some where?"
 
            He blinked back the emotions that were burning to pour out, he 
looked down at her lap, "The thrall, it's over.  You needn't-"
 
            "Shh," Tracy hushed him, then slipped off the couch and knelt beside 
him.   "Geez, and I thought -I- was over thinking this."  She smiled, then took 
his hands in hers, "I've thought about it, agonized over it really, and you know 
what I've come to discover?"
 
            He looked at her, his brows furrowed, his look guarded.
 
            "That it doesn't matter."  She announced in triumph.
 
            "Wh-what?"
 
            "It doesn't matter how this all started," Tracy lifted his hand to 
her heart, "What I feel is -real-, so what if it started as an illusion or dream 
or whatever.  Lots of people start with something, a romantic setting, alcohol, 
hell, even general first date misconceptions like thinking your date is a fan of 
'the Who' can lead to the same kind of thing."
 
            The Who?"  Miklos looked confused, "What do they have to do with 
anything?"
 
            "Everything!" Tracy grinned, "Don't you see?  Lots of people start 
with an infatuation that isn't really built on anything.  But that either fades 
away, or it changes, the truth settles in for the long haul and sometimes, just 
sometimes, something real starts to grow."
 
            "So you're saying-?"
 
            "I'm saying, Mr. Miklos Fehr," Tracy's eyes softened, "That we're 
over and done with infatuation.  Ready to try something more?"
 
            Miklos stared at her for a moment, her words sinking in.  Slowly a 
smile spread across his face and the feelings inside him began to swell.  He'd 
thought it hadn't been possible to love Tracy anymore than he had, but once 
again she surprised him.  "Ma kardia."  
 
            "My heart," Tracy whispered back.
 
>>>>>>>>>>
All comments and such to anteros@juno.com
 
And for more of my stuff, visit: http://www.geocities.com/cousin_mary1228