BACK TO FRASER'S FRACTURED FICTION

Sunday Night With the Brotherhood

by A. Fraser and L.M. Wallace
Part 2

© Copyright 1998 A. Fraser and L.M. Wallace. All rights reserved.

"Hello again, Jake," Josh grinned at him, cutting another big piece out of 
the now sadly depleted cake.

"Where did you learn how to cook like this?" Jake asked, already salivating 
at the thought of tasting the cake.

"Oh, here and there.  When you've racketed around the world like I have, you 
learn to cook."

"Too bad your husband can't taste this," Jake grinned.  It was as good as it 
looked.

"My biggest disappointment in life," Josh sighed dramatically, shooting 
Gideon a look that suggested that he was anything but disappointed.

"What's it like, living with a vampire?"

"It was quite an adjustment at first, but I've never been that much of a 
daytime person, anyway.  If you are in love, I think you can adjust to pretty 
much anything with the person you love."

"I think you'd have to have a really exceptional kind of love," Jake said, 
thinking of Grace.

"I think so, too."

"And what is it you think, love?" Niamh smiled at Josh, appearing beside him 
and Jake without a sound.

Jake jumped, nearly dropping his newly acquired cake.  Damn, she was quiet 
when she moved!

"That's just what we were talking about," Josh's eyes twinkled.

"Hmm?"

"Love.  Loving a vampire," Josh explained.

"Ahh," Niamh smiled.  "There's a lot of that going around these days," she 
joked.  "But hey, how's my favorite patient?"  she hugged Josh warmly, saying 
this into his ear so that Jake would not hear.  A few years back, Joshua had 
been informed that he had received tainted blood during an emergency 
appendectomy in Britain and discovered that he was, indeed, HIV positive.  He 
had opted for the "alternative medicine" route, putting his health in the 
hands of Niamh, a traditional Healer, and Michael, a Druid with healing 
powers.

"You tell me," Josh joked, returning the hug with equal warmth.  "I feel very 
well these days, Pandora.  Whatever magic you and Michael--"

"Hush.  It's not magic and you know it," Niamh corrected him gently. "Unless 
you call a positive attitude and strong will to live magic?"

"Piece of cake," Josh quipped, winking at her.  "But more to the point--" he 
paused when Niamh laughed, looking at her curiously.  When she shook her head 
he continued.  "How is my favorite healer doing?" he looked meaningfully at 
her belly.  "Still expecting to go on Midsummer's Eve?"

"Absolutely," Niamh declared.  "This bairn has specific instructions to 
arrive on our anniversary.  Otherwise I'm going to be stuck without a gift 
for Nevyan," she laughed and Josh joined in.

"You can *do* that?" asked Jake incredulously, missing the joke.

"Do what, love?" Niamh asked, perplexed.

"You know, control the birth like that?  Is this part of, well, what you 
are?" he asked, mind reeling with the possibilities.  Such an enigma she was.  
Just when he thought he had a handle on her nature, she said or did something 
to throw him right off course.

Niamh smiled at him fondly.  "Of course not, Jake.  But I have a 
feeling...call it 'woman's intuition,' if you like, and the knowledge of a 
healer, of course."

"Oh," Jake said, feeling mildly disappointed.

"But she does have the uncanny ability to know when someone *is* pregnant, 
even before the person knows herself!" Josh grinned.  "Let me tell you about 
the time Jewel--oh, you would know her as Sofi, sorry--was visiting 
Oakwoods..."  While Joshua regaled Jake with this story, the other man in 
black approached Niamh.

"You look radiant, my dear," Alexander Goldanias informed her in his deep 
voice, touched with the hint of an Eastern European accent, lifting her hand 
to gently brush it with his lips.

"You missed your calling, I think, Alex.  You could have been a diplomat," 
Niamh teased him, brushing an errant strand of long hair from her eyes.

"You disparage yourself, Pandora.  Pregnancy truly becomes you," he said 
graciously, grey gaze slipping quite boldly over her form.  "I am quite 
jealous, you know."  He settled his eyes on hers, and beneath the ever-
present seductive glint, Niamh perceived the ghost of a shadow and knew he 
was remembering his own lost family.  She reached up and gently touched his 
cheek.

"Ah, Alex," she smiled.  "Throats, remember?"

The Byronically handsome count laughed.  "You keep promising..."

"Have you met Jake, yet?" Niamh asked, noting from the corner of her eye that 
Josh had finished his tale and was moving away.

"Jake," she said, turning towards him and nudging Alex forward with a hand on 
his elbow, "I'd like you to meet Alex, Janine's...cousin.  Alex, this is 
Jake, from Toronto."

Jake noted Niamh's slight hesitation, wondering briefly at the reason for it, 
before turning his full attention to the man before him.  "Pleasure to meet 
you," he said, holding out his hand.

"Indeed," said Alex with a slight bow of his upper body as he returned the 
handshake.  "You have met my cousin, Janine?"

"Yes," Jake replied, squirming a little.  The man clearly had an aristocratic 
bearing and manner, but the strength underlying his handshake and the 
steeliness of his eyes implied something almost bestial, dangerous.  This was 
the stuff of which vampire legends were made, Jake realized.  "We run into 
each other once in a while," he finished cautiously.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Niamh said under her breath, smothering a laugh. Alex 
looked at her curiously, his sensitive hearing picking up her comment, while 
Jake remained blissfully unaware that she had even spoken.

"A Janine memory," Niamh explained to the Count, smiling.  "Do you know I 
plan to go visit her after the baby is--Ohh!" she exclaimed suddenly, hands 
flying to her belly.

"Pandora?" Alex asked with concern, reaching for her elbow.

"Mo croidhe?" came Nicholas's voice, suddenly appearing beside her.

Damn , Jake thought.  What does this guy have, radar?   The bard hadn't been 
anywhere near them. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had 
actually seen him out on the deck.

"I'm okay, Nevyan...Alex," Niamh took a deep breath and straightened her 
back.

"Are you sure?" Nicholas didn't sound convinced.  "Jake, would you get Mary, 
please?  Niamh, you should sit down, please, love." He put his arm around her 
shoulders and urged her forward to a deck chair.

"Uh, sure," Jake mumbled, hoping he could remember who Mary was. Not that 
there were very many women here, come to think of it.

"I am quite sure," Niamh said, a touch impatiently.  "Please don't hover, 
Nevyan."

Nicholas's jaw clenched and he appeared to want to say something but 
swallowed hard instead as if he were digesting the words that he were about 
to speak.

"Oh, Nevyan, I didn't mean--" Niamh started, instantly contrite at her cross 
tone.  "I am all right.  Trust me, my heart," she stroked his cheek.  "But 
you are right, perhaps I did try to do too much today."

"I didn't say--" Nicholas started to protest, but broke off, smiling. "You 
will sit down?"

"Yes," Niamh sighed..  "But only if you promise to get out your guitar and 
sing for me...and our guests," she added.

"It will be my pleasure, m'lady," the bard bowed with a flourish over one 
outstretched leg.

"Thank you, love," she murmured, allowing him to help her settle into a deck 
chair, when Mary appeared at her side, trailed by a flustered looking Jake.

"Pandora? Is it the baby?" she queried, kneeling beside the healer.

"Ahh, there is my midwife," Niamh said, smiling fondly at the older woman.  
"I'm fine, Mary.  The baby just shifted unexpectedly."

"You're not..." Mary frowned.

"No, I'm not," Niamh assured her.  "Most definitely not."

Nicholas, reassured that his wife was truly all right, slipped away inside to 
retrieve his guitar.  He headed for the den at the back of the house where he 
kept his instruments and was tuning up when Michael wandered in.

"And how is the expectant father?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Nicholas looked up from the strings with a ready smile, but when he saw the 
serious expression on  his friend's face he dropped the pretense.

"Ah, Tadg," he said, running a hand through his tousled locks.  He was 
bemused to note that it was trembling slightly and he quickly busied it by 
resuming his tuning.

Michael waited quietly for him to finish, watching him intently.  Finally the 
bard set the guitar aside, leaning it carefully against a chair.

"Nervous...scared to death...terrified," he looked up at Michael helplessly, 
all the conflicting emotions he had been trying to repress over the last 
months boiling up and reflecting in his eyes and in the lines on his face.

Michael nodded as he entered the room and perched on the arm of Nicholas's 
chair.  He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed gently.  "I 
would be more worried if you were not feeling any of those things," he said.

Nicholas looked up at him sharply.  "You?" he asked cryptically.

Michael nodded again. "Oh, outside I was the model of calm, I know.  But 
inside...I was a basket case, Nevyan.  Just the fact that she even got 
pregnant, you know. Something didn't seem quite right.  And I worried so 
much..."

Nicholas nodded.  "We had pretty much given up on the idea, I think, or at 
least, I had.  And then suddenly...She's so happy about this, Tadg.  As am I, 
but...gods, Tadg.  If anything were to happen to her...or the babe---" he 
broke off, staring down at his hands which he was wringing restlessly in his 
lap.  "I'm sick of hearing the platitudes, you know?  About how healthy she 
is, how strong...there's still a risk, right?  There's always risk..."

"I know, Nevyan, and I won't try to reassure you falsely.  What I will say is 
this, however.  In two weeks you will hold in your arms something that will 
change everything, and all the emotions you are feeling right now will seem 
but foam on the waves.  I have a strong sense of rightness about this, 
Nevyan, as does Niamh.  I sense great joy in this household, beyond anything 
you have experienced thus far, beyond anything you can even anticipate.  Do 
you trust me in this?"

Nicholas looked up at Michael, seeing not only the friend with whom he had 
been closer than a brother for a great many years, but his Archdruid, a man 
of infinitesimal gentleness, wisdom and unquestionable power.  If Michael 
said that they would know joy, he believed him.

"Yes," Nicholas said simply, taking Michael's hand in his to convey his 
gratitude, his head bowed in reverence.

"Very well," Michael said, patting Nicholas's shoulder and standing. "Now, 
you'd best get out there with your music, man.  The natives are getting 
restless."

Jake, helpless as most males in the face of a crisis with a pregnant female, 
fluttered his hands uncertainly after leading Mary over to her. But she 
seemed to have more than enough help, and he didn't know what to do, anyway, 
so he decided to find someone else to talk to.  So far everyone had been open 
enough, though they weren't giving away any deep secrets.  He hadn't expected 
them to.  He was a stranger, and associated with Adrian Talbot--whose name 
seemed to be anathema to this bunch.

One of these days, Jake was going to find out why.

Deciding he needed something else to drink, Jake headed for the coffee urn.  
He found himself beside the blond-haired boy in red Spandex.

"What's with the Spiderman joke, anyway?" Jake asked.

Francis laughed.  "It was Ray's idea," he said, cheerfully assigning the 
blame.  "He got into this conversation on the Telegraph about the 'Hood being 
superheroes or something, and next thing, he and Beeg seester were trying to 
place all the members in underwear and capes.  So he thought it would be 
really funny if I came in a Spiderman costume.  He and Alex rigged up the Men 
in Black bit between them."

"He doesn't look like he's got that kind of sense of humor," Jake remarked, 
catching another glimpse of the black-clad magic worker.  Who was flirting 
with Maggie.  Oh, well, so much for that perception.

"It's not easy to judge Ray," Francis nodded.

"Is Niamh really your big sister?" Jake wondered.

Another laugh from the young vampire.  "Lord, no, it's an inside joke going 
way back," he said.

"You bunch seem to have a lot of inside jokes," Jake declared.

"That happens with close friends."

"You're a vampire, right?"

"Right."  Spiderman wasn't supposed to have fangs, but Francis showed them, 
anyway. "Thee?"  The fangs disappeared.  "Shit, I hate it when I lisp through 
those things."  He studied Jake, his expression unusually serious.  "And 
you're going to be one, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Cheer up, there are worse things than undeath."  Francis grinned, the 
seriousness gone.  "I get to still ride my bike, cruise chicks, party hardy, 
all the important stuff."

Jake shuddered.  He'd left the frosh stage behind him several years ago, and 
didn't want to be at Francis' age forever, thanks.  "What kind of bike do you 
have?" he asked, trying to find common ground.

"Harley," came the reply.  "Piece of crap.  You want a really cool bike, you 
should see Ray's.  He's got a vintage Norton he cleaned up and fixed. He 
won't sell it to me, though."

"That's cause he loves that bike, and he knows what you'd do to it," came a 
jocular reply.  Mitch had ambled over to join them, having disposed of his 
cake and lost the Fairlawn twins.  "You having a good time, Jake?"

"Time of my life," said Jake sincerely.  "I'm going to hate going back to 
Toronto."

"That's a nice compliment," said their host, causing Jake to jump.

Neither Mitch nor Francis showed any surprise, obviously they were used to 
the owners of Meadowsweet Ridge sneaking up on people.

"Look, Francis, he has a guitar!" Mitch said in a mock tone of wonder.

"La, sir, I may faint," Francis put a dramatic hand across his brow.  The 
melodrama was made even more patently absurd by the Spiderman costume.

"Sing us a song, Nicholas?" begged Galen.  The twins had managed to 
materialize.  Jake was beginning to think that the entire Brotherhood had 
magical abilities to just whisk in and out of nothingness.

Jake found himself standing alone, clutching another bottle of Guinness in 
his hand. Funny, he could have sworn he was going to get a cup of coffee.  
But he shrugged and took a drink of the now lukewarm beer.  He realized that 
he was beginning to feel as warm and fuzzy--or should that be fizzy?--as the 
ale and decided it was a very pleasant feeling, indeed. It was the place, he 
thought, taking a deep breath of the warm night air, which was clean and 
fresh and subtly scented with the sea, pungent evergreen and whatever those 
little blue flowers were that grew in abundance around the deck.  It was also 
the people--not just Niamh and Nicholas, although he had felt instantly at 
home at Meadowsweet Ridge as soon as he had set foot here--but the members of 
the Brotherhood themselves.  They were secretive, and he knew they had good 
reason to be, but they were also friendly and warm.  Not once had he truly 
felt ill at ease or unwelcome.

But it was also the beer, he acknowledged. It was warm to the taste and 
inside of him, and he realized that every third word that seemed to come into 
his head was "warm." Sheesh.

He looked around the deck, noting that most everyone seemed to have their 
attention focused on Nicholas, who had been playing steadily for some time 
now.  The twins were sitting at his feet, mesmerized.

Seeing that Niamh was sitting by herself, he made his way over to her and 
settled into the empty deck chair beside her.  She seemed to dislike being 
fawned over, so he decided not to ask her how she was feeling.  Plus, she 
looked just fine.  Very fine, in fact.  He shook his head, quickly derailing 
that train of thought.

"He really is good," Jake observed instead, carefully putting his beer down 
by his foot.

Niamh smiled lazily at him, the picture of serenity.  "Nicholas?  Yes.  He's 
had lots of practice," she chuckled.

"An understatement, I'm sure..." Jake narrowed his eyes as he looked at her.  
"Is he really a bard?  I mean, classically trained and all?"

"Aye.  A true original," she responded, her smoky blue-green eyes twinkling.  
"And I can honestly say 'I knew him when...', " she teased.

"So you have known each other for a very long time," Jake commented. That 
explained a lot, he thought.  An awful lot.

"In a manner of speaking," she said, cocking her head slightly.  "Although it 
was only over four years ago that we were reunited after, well, after 
centuries."

"That must have been some reunion!" Jake exclaimed.

"Eventually..." Niamh paused.  "At first, I didn't know who he was.  But 
the...feeling was the same.  When I was with him.  At least, I knew that once 
I regained my memory again."

"I didn't realize that...about your memory, I mean.  How did that happen? Was 
it because of the change?  How did you get it back?" the questions tumbled 
out of his mouth and Niamh laughed, reaching over to pat his hand.

"So many questions you have!  It is a long story, Jake.  Perhaps before you 
leave I will have a chance to tell it to you."

"I'd like that," Jake nodded eagerly.  "But tell me, did he remember you?"

"Oh yes," Niamh smiled, eyes taking on a faraway cast as she looked over at 
the man in question.

"Wow," Jake said simply.

"'Wow' is right," she laughed.  "But tell me, are you having a good time 
tonight?"

"Most definitely!" Jake said enthusiastically, causing Niamh to laugh with 
delight.  "Your friends are very cool..." He looked around thoughtfully at 
the assembled partyers.  Nicholas had launched into a lively tune and Jake 
smiled at the sight of  "Spiderman" and red-haired Maggie dancing a jig on 
the grass.  "How lucky you all are to have each other, to have such a strong 
sense of community.  I wish--" he broke off, eyes seeking the ocean, which 
sparkled distantly under a waning full moon.

Niamh said nothing, merely watched him expectantly.

"I wish--well, I hope I can find something like this when it's my turn," he 
winced at the inadvertent pun.

"Jake," Niamh said, taking his hand in hers, her expression solemn.  "I want 
you to know that you are always welcome here. These people are my family and, 
in truth, I've come to feel that you are like family as well. Whatever I can 
do for you, you need but name it."

Jake looked down at her hand in his, feeling the slight sting of tears in his 
eyes. Damn that beer, he thought, but knew he couldn't blame this reaction on 
the alcohol.  For so long he had felt caught "betwixt and between," in some 
kind of limbo-like game where he no longer knew the rules, and where the 
rules kept changing, anyway.  His experiences with Adrian and his "coterie" 
had been tumultuous, at best.  He hadn't realized that there could be such 
stability amongst the--what did they call themselves? -- "children of the 
night."  He suddenly felt tremendously sad for Adrian, for the arrogant ways 
that had kept him from knowing such acceptance.  Jake knew that these ways 
had developed for self-protection, but with a sudden clarity of insight he 
understood that those same ways had effectively isolated him.  It was no 
wonder that Adrian was having such a hard time dealing with all the changes 
he had been through lately. He was glad to know that Niamh was also a friend 
to him.  And perhaps, in time, Adrian might also know such generosity of 
spirit as the Brotherhood could offer.

"What is it between Adrian and the Brotherhood, anyway?" Jake blurted out, 
raising his head to look at Niamh.

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