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.

 

>>>>>>>>>>

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