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part 1 Shadow Plays, part 2 Upstairs, LaCroix closed the door to his suite and locked it. "So, my dear, which is it to be? A willing slave or a struggle for dominance?" Aidan sighed and stretched again, muscles still protesting the hours of packing and toting boxes. "Shall we start with the second and see if you can incline me to the first?" Soft laughter was her only answer as a single strong hand caught both of hers over her head and the other arm pulled her firmly back against LaCroix. "Having that much trouble with your two new acquaintances?" The tone held only mild curiosity, but the hands around her tightened to a point just short of pain. Aidan abruptly relaxed into the grip, knowing that would ease the ache as muscles loosened and slid along the bone. "Yes, actually." Muscles rippled along her back, tensing involuntarily and being forcibly relaxed as she tried to control the urge to fight him. Despite her intent, she found herself contesting his hold on her wrists, twisting and torquing against his grip. Vampiric strength countered each move easily, holding her up when Aidan tried to use her weight to escape, mastering her attempts to get leverage all too smoothly. He tightened his grip enough to draw a shuddering breath from her and bit at her shoulder to add that extra note of pain, careful not to draw blood yet. "Ah. From my discussions with some of the other swordsmen, may I suggest?" After a second she gasped out, "Suggest." "Submit. They were incapable of it and by the dawn will be gone to the depths of your intricate mind. You are more than capable of assimilating such small personalities, if both sides are distracted." Her heart rate sped up and her breath came in quick pants. LaCroix smiled to himself when he heard, not letting it shade his voice. "Both of us know where your more normal preferences lie; you may still trust me to release you in the dawn. Agree." Her body shuddered against him, but she forced out the words. "Are you sure that isn't more what you want than what I need?" "Oh, assuredly it's what I want. That does not mean it is not what you need. I would be as happy to fight you, Phaedra, it's been far too long since I had someone worth the struggle who would give me a good bout. However, you have been a slave before; those memories and reflexes are yours alone, not theirs. I think it would ground you back into yourself, and I can ensure that it gives both of us pleasure. Tomorrow, if you like, we can indeed have that... competition." Aidan held still in his grasp, then answered quietly, "I'll need to take care of an errand at dawn or just after. Will that be acceptable?" "From you, my dear, the word 'need' is just that. By all means. Do you yield?" His question was purely rhetorical as she drew a long, shuddering breath and relaxed against him. "Yes. For this night, I yield. What shall I call you, sir?" As LaCroix released her waist, she slid to her knees, back to him, arms still held over her head by his hand. The vampire smiled at the sight. Too long since I've been served by a well-trained slave. That it should be this one again.... And the best of it is that I must keep her off-balance, riding the edge of pain and pleasure, at her need and mine. Outwardly he replied, "Master, or sir, or consul will be appropriate. Use Latin, slave." LaCroix released her hands and ordered, "Strip." The hours until dawn would be entirely too short. * * * * LaCroix pulled Aidan more firmly against his chest as the last of the orgasm shuddered through her. Propped on his side, he leaned in to drink her tears as delicately as he had drunk her blood earlier. The bruises his hands had left when he held her down were almost gone, already faded to yellow-green. Quietly he ordered, "Stay. Do not move. You may breathe, but keep your eyes closed." "Yes, master." Her voice remained steady, he noticed. Much better. If she could withstand both pleasure and pain to control her tone, she had recovered from the fight completely. Rising, he crossed the room, poured a glass of water for her and brought it back. "Sit up, eyes closed." He wrapped his fingers around the glass and ran his hand down her arm and around her back to support her against her continued shuddering. "Drink." Without a word of question or protest, she lifted the glass in shaky hands and drank. LaCroix considered how quickly she had drained the glass and the demands he had made of her and took it from her. "Stay. The same orders." He refilled the glass and put it back in her hands. When she had finished the second glass, more slowly this time, he began to clean her face and throat with a cool, damp cloth. "Better?" "Yes, sir, thank you." Eyes still closed, she leaned in against him, tired and at peace. Her arms still ached slightly where bones were finishing their healing but the lingering ripples of pleasure more than offset that. Taking her cue from LaCroix's body language, she curled against him and let her mind drift, alert to any shift of his muscles which might require a response from her. It was incredibly relaxing not to worry about anything except pleasing Lucius. No worries about the Game, about friends living or dying, or about witch hunts. The minds contesting with her own for dominance had fought both her and LaCroix, but they had faded away hours ago, ages ago, under the discipline he imposed. The women had understood taking pleasure from another's pain, but they knew nothing of how to ride torment until it became rapture. As ever, LaCroix had allowed nothing except complete submission to his will, enforced by precise, calculated agony. He knew her too well, had in fact trained most of the responses into her himself centuries ago. Even now he remembered exactly how to hurt her with such exquisite care that it left ecstasy in the wake of torture. Aidan had not tried to fight it, only to ride the sensations up and over into pleasure. Rather than learn how to abandon control, the personalities inside her mind had finally given way and frayed away to half-known memories, barely sensed skills. What had finally undone them was not her acceptance of pleasure from pain, but her leashing it until she received permission to come. Rather than be willing slaves they had gone their way to whatever afterlife awaited them. Cool slender fingers stroked across her shoulders and arms, ran the damp cloth between her breasts. A puff of breath blew cool air across the nape of her neck, soothing her at the same time that she shivered from the contrast in temperatures. She thought she felt a kiss on her forehead but brought her attention back to him when he spoke. "It's dawn, Aidan. I release you as promised." LaCroix watched the shift in her body language--muscles gathering and posture straightening a bit although she did not draw away from him. For another minute or so, she rested against him in a comfortable silence. When she did open her eyes, they were their normal clear grey and unstressed. She stretched up and back over his shoulder, arching like a cat, then twisted around and kissed him gently on the lips. "Thank you, Lucius. You were right, that was precisely what I needed. Shall we get a shower before I go run my errands?" LaCroix smiled at her. "Certainly. Have you a place to sleep for the day?" "I need to check out of my motel for... various reasons you might be better off if you could disclaim to your son." She stepped off the bed and splashed cold water over her face at the sink, then glanced in the mirror. Paler than usual, circles under the eyes, but nothing too bad. The marks have faded and the wrists and ribs are healing nicely. And I don't look haunted, either. Good. Who'd have thought those two would be so rough to shake? Am I getting senile? Do we do that? I'll worry about it another day. Sufficient to the day are the evils thereof, as the Christians would say. I need breakfast, sleep, and then a good long run. All else can wait. "My son knows better than to ask. Do you wish to sleep here? I have sufficient control not to drain you when I wake." "Not today, thank you. Better I simply change motels. I'll be getting up again by two to finish stripping that house and you'll not want an alarm going off then. Tomorrow, though? And in the meantime, a shower, and I will see you again this evening?" Aidan looked around for her clothes and found then neatly piled on a chair where she had removed them earlier. LaCroix stood up and walked over to her. "Yes, you will. What exactly is the point of this meeting?" "There are things Nick and his partner need to know. That Nick is involved means it concerns you, and Javier is in love with her, and will also need to hear this." Aidan wrapped an arm around his waist. "Shall we get a shower? I had rather tell all of you at once." "Very well. For you I will wait." Raising her wrist to his lips, LaCroix kissed the last of the fading bruises. "I had forgotten how exceptional your endurance for pain is. You're recovered, I hope?" Aidan smiled fondly at him as she adjusted the water temperature for the shower. "I'm fine, Lucius, only the worst is still healing, and the bones are almost done. No one has pushed my limits so hard in ages. I had forgotten what cruel pleasure that kind of pain can be. Thank you, for everything." "You're most welcome." They left it at that by unspoken accord. * * * * Aidan sat back in the booth as the first vampires began to straggle in, sipping cautiously at her soft drink. Discussions like this never got easier down through the centuries, but she had never believed in hiding options from adults. Thus the secluded booth in the back of the Raven and the non-alcoholic drink. She bided her time and honed the edge on her knife, part of her mind on the upcoming talk, part on the papers she had packed out of Stengel's house. The valuables had been the easy part, already completed; his papers and disks worried her. T'would be a shame to miss any of it, but I'll be burning the place, definitely. At least if I don't get something, no one else will either. Gods, the man should have been a research librarian! He found things I would have never thought to look for and tied them together all too well. Thank the Lady he was too arrogant to take a partner! Vachon walked in and, after a minute, spotted her. His eyes widened slightly when he noticed the knife, but all he said when he sat down was, "But I liked all the black leather." Aidan burst out laughing. "Ah, Gods, Javier, if you ever come to Seacouver, let me know! I know people who would love your sense of humor. However, I didn't want to upset Tracy any more than will already be necessary, and I thought normal clothes would reassure her a bit more." Faded blue jeans, black tank top, and hiking boots did look a good bit more normal, and a maroon sweater lay folded on the table. Vachon took in the four tiny braids running down from her temples to behind her shoulders and asked, "How long is your hair? You had it up yesterday." When she stood up, smiling, her hair swung down just past her waist, a long sable mass confined by the braids wrapped around it. "Not long enough to suit my teacher, who remembers when it hit my knees. I may yet let it get that long again, who knows. That's terribly conspicuous these days, though. Have you eaten?" "Not yet. I'll get some later. Why is Trace going to be upset? And who's the knife for?" She studied his serious face. "The knife is for me. I'm not going to attack her, my word on it. But I'm going to have to turn her life upside down and that's always upsetting. Does she know about you?" "Yeah, she does, and LaCroix. She doesn't know about Nick." Vachon slouched back against the seat. "You planning on telling her?" Aidan waved to Nick as he came in the door. "You'll see. I plan on telling all of you several things." "I heard about last night. LaCroix didn't drain you too badly, did he?" Vachon spoke quickly, wanting to ask before the two police types could get there. "No, I've been tapped for more once or twice. He and I did what was needful." Aidan shrugged. "I had to shed blood in his territory; he had to force a public display of my respect. Not unusual, not a problem." Tracy asked curiously, "What isn't a problem?" Aidan grinned at her. "Oh, a discussion I had with LaCroix last night before you arrived. As I said, nothing unusual. Thank you for coming. May I call you Tracy? " Tracy smiled back. "Detective Vetter is a bit long, yeah. Call me Tracy or Trace. Hi, Vachon." She slid onto the seat across from Aidan, ending up next to Vachon. "Thank you." Aidan stood up and hugged Nick, then sat back down in the booth as Nick pulled up a chair. "Hello, Nick. Did you see LaCroix as you came in?" Nick nodded. "He's on his way." Already concerned, he said very softly, "Is this a good idea?" "Nick. It's necessary. I'm sorry, this will cause you some trouble I expect, but it must be done. There is no choice." As LaCroix moved next to her, Aidan nodded to him. "Thank you all for your patience. This conversation usually takes place in a much smaller group, say one on one, but there are some unique complications to this." "What conversation? Complications? Are you sure you want me here?" Tracy made one last try at giving them some privacy. "The conversation with you, Tracy. Best I go straight to the proof and give you the explanation afterwards." Aidan had left the knife and whetstones on the table. She picked up the long slender stiletto and casually polished it clean on a paper napkin. "Lucien? Guard me during this?" They looked at each other, the human immortal and the vampire, and he nodded slowly. "Yes." Aidan glanced at Nick. "Don't let her scream too loudly, all right?" Placing the knife point under one rib, the immortal drove the blade into her heart with one sharp thrust. Aidan didn't try to fight the death that rolled over her. Slumped against LaCroix, she slid away into blackness without a sound beyond the initial hiss of pain and expelled air. Tracy stared, eyes huge, then tried to stand up. "Oh, my God, we need to call an ambulance!" Nick shook his head and gently put a hand on his partner's shoulder. "Tracy...." LaCroix pulled the blade out and cleaned it off on the same napkin. Then quite matter of factly he said, "There will be no ambulance. There is no need." Vachon looked at the motionless body, then shook his head. "You know what's going on, LaCroix?" "Yes, I begin to think I do." "Is she going to start throwing lightning?" Vachon asked. "Lightning? Vachon, she's dead!" Tracy reached across the table to check for a pulse; there was nothing to be found. "God, why did she do this?" LaCroix replied sarcastically, "For your benefit, actually. Time you learned a few more facts of life, young officer. There are many types of immortality--this is one of them." Tracy glared at him, too angry to be frightened. "Yes, I'll remember this for the rest of my life, but that's not a form of immortality I'd have thought she'd go in for!" The vampires heard Aidan's heart start back up, pounding irregularly for a few beats, then settling down to a quick, steady pulse. A few seconds later she drew a sharp gasping breath, groaned, and opened her eyes. "Gods, I hate that." The immortal coughed once, a harsh sound as the last of the blood was reabsorbed out of her lungs. Tracy was still staring in disbelief. "That is your proof, Tracy, and now I give you the story you would otherwise have ignored as madness, despite knowing about vampires. My name is Edana ni Emer. I was found near one of the circles of standing stones, in a portion of what is now Ireland, on February the 1st, 627 BC. I died the first time in 605 BC. I am immortal. "And so will you be." Aidan stopped and waited to gauge the mettle of this newest player of the Game. Tracy swallowed once, hard. Reverting to her professional armor, she leaned forward. Aidan held still as the younger woman examined her shirt for blood, looked at the still healing gash in her chest. "You were dead. Your heart had stopped." "Yes." When it was obvious Aidan was going to wait, Tracy snapped, "What happened? How? What do you mean you're immortal?" "Good questions. We don't know how or why it works, but we are immortal. Only if our heads are separated from our bodies do we die the final death. Other than that, if we die, we come back. Well, sooner or later--variables involve such questions as trauma to the body, trauma to the mind, and relative power of the immortal involved." Aidan smiled and stopped again, sipping her drink. This time Tracy recognized the finality of the tone and asked her next questions. "Do you mean if someone shot you or poisoned you, stabbed you or whatever, you'd still get back up?" A smile. "Yes. I have died by all such means, more than once." Vachon flinched inwardly at the casual attitude. God, she sounded so matter of fact. She'd have discussed the weather in that same tone. Urs said she bared her throat to LaCroix and never smelled of fear, never fought while he ripped at her. I hate pain. "But if you're decapitated, you're gone?" "Yes." The smile hovered, amused and pleased both. The three vampires watched as Tracy explored this with the same stubbornness she applied to her police work. They could tell by Aidan's focus on the young policewoman that only Tracy's questions would be answered. Tracy continued, "Okay. Power in immortals. Go back to that. What counts?" That got a wide smile. "The older you are, the stronger. The stronger you started, the stronger you stay. And the more heads you take, the more power you accumulate." "What do you mean, the more heads you take?" Tracy went on ruthlessly. "Once you become an immortal, like it or not, you are in the Game. There are three rules: The first is one on one combat. That one is often broken, but where we can we hunt down those who abuse it. The combat is to take the other person's head. When you take a head, you release the person's quickening. A quickening is the whole of your power, your knowledge, your personality. Its release creates a display much like an electrical storm. The impact on the immortal who won is... sizable." Aidan paused for a few seconds, trying to find a way to explain it. "Try to imagine the most intense, gut-wrenching pain you've ever felt hitting at the same time that every inch of your body hovers on the edge of an orgasm, while your mind shifts the way it does the first time you start thinking in a second language and all of a sudden you understand the idioms they use...." Aidan saw the expression on Tracy's face and smiled. "That combination almost describes it. Almost. The whole experience is as indescribable as a Sufi's ecstatic union with their God, but very different--or so my Sufi friend told me once." "That's a quickening I think you called it?" At Aidan's nod, Tracy said, "And this adds to your power?" "Yes. If you're not unlucky." Tracy stopped for a second, hearing something very unpleasant in the undertones and phrasing. From the corner of her eye she saw that LaCroix looked mildly surprised by the answer, which was shock from anyone else. "What counts as unlucky?" "When a young immortal manages to take an older one or one with a strong enough--and different enough--personality, you can go insane. Sometimes, you change so radically you might as well have lost. It's usually called a dark quickening, because it's usually an immortal who's taken one too many evil personalities. However, there was once a light quickening, when one of our more deadly generals killed an immortal saint... and retreated onto holy ground for the rest of his life." Aidan kept her voice completely neutral but her hand tightened into a white-knuckled fist at the effort. "Can it be reversed?" Tracy looked shaken now. "Sometimes. With luck. Not often." Aidan shrugged. "It depends on who decides to help and your own strength of mind. A bad quickening can drop you straight into a second fight where your own mind and body are the battleground, your only weapons self-knowledge and will." "Oh." Tracy sat silent for a moment, forcing down shivers as she had done more than once in the more intense police academy lectures. When she had her composure back, she went on. "You said three rules. One on one combat is the first, right? What's the second?" "We never fight on holy ground. No matter what religion, no matter whether you like it or not, you never do it. I had to respect a Satanic church once." "Why not?" Tracy had something of the old respect for religion, but it was mixed with the modern trend toward scientism and a refusal to believe what couldn't be seen. This sounded more like myth and courtesy than anything else. "It happened once, that I know of. Herculaneum, 79 AD. Vesuvius went up." Aidan held her voice to the same level tone. "If you start a fight on holy ground, you will have no doubts. Energy will begin to flare, and the swords will chime and sing as if the very molecules are unwinding like a crystal keening its own death wail. Stop then and run, or be destroyed." LaCroix started. "Vesuvius went up because of an immortal battle?" Aidan turned and looked at him, caution in the set of her shoulders and tilt of her head. "Yes, so I'm told. I wasn't there myself. Why?" She resolutely moved toward him at the hiss that drew. "Lucius. If you're going to take something out on anyone, it will be me. What is the problem?" "I became a vampire because Vesuvius went up. My maker thought it the only way to save me." His eyes glowed in a silvery rage, fangs out. The immortal woman twisted, coming up onto her knees on the booth seat facing him. "And you have had two thousand years and a glorious son from it, too. Calm yourself, old friend, easy." LaCroix yanked himself back under control and asked, "The immortals who fought?" "Dead, the both of them, destroyed by the eruption presumably." Aidan studied him carefully, then nodded once and settled back into her seat. She gave Tracy an expectant look, cocking one eyebrow at the young woman to continue. "Umm.... Yeah. Okay. Rule one, one on one. Rule two, no fighting on any kind of holy ground. What's rule three?" For an endless age Aidan stared at her, grey eyes locking on blue, then she nodded once approvingly. "You will make a fine player in the Game. Most would have flinched by now. But you're not in shock. Good. The last rule is the most important to learn and remember. There can be only one." Tracy waited for the rest, bewildered. "Only one what? One rule?" Aidan shook her head, the expression on her face gentle, compassionate, but detached. "No. One immortal. Or so the rules say. I've been trying to work out a way around that for two millennia now." "You mean this Game goes on until...." Tracy trailed off, face going white as some of the implications sunk in. "Only one. " "There can be only one immortal left, and that one will have the Prize: All the knowledge, powers, skills, and strengths of all the immortals who have ever lived. Or so we think. No one's ever won it, obviously, so we're not sure. But if we're right.... "If it goes to someone good, there will be an era of light and love to equal the legends of Camelot. Should it descend to evil, the gates of Hell will look inviting. Some of us don't expect to take the Prize--but we try our damnedest to keep evil from taking it." Aidan's smile grew as feral as LaCroix could have managed. "Our damnedest can be... formidable." Nick flinched as he began to understand certain things in Sulwen's behavior. "No wonder you argued so fiercely that one night that good must win." And no wonder you will do what you must to survive. I remember, you argued as fiercely for adherence to duty as LaCroix ever did. He's old line Roman, I understood it from him. From a college student that surprised me. It doesn't now. "Yes. I understand what can come if it doesn't. But the wrong good could be as disastrous as evil. Too rigid, or too lazy... well." Aidan sighed. "Manipulating the Game is an art, not a science. But it has to be done." Vachon stared at her. "Manipulating? What about winning?" "Do you want me to kill Trace? Just because she will be another immortal and competition?" Vachon hissed at her and the waiter hastily retreated at the expressions on the vampiric faces. "I thought not. I don't want the Prize, Javier. I don't want to win. To win the Prize, my friends, my line-kin, the only family I have, will all have to go down before I do. I would literally rather be dead. But I'm too strong a piece in the Game--too old, with too much power, and I command my own magics. I cannot lie down until we come to the end of this convolution." Tracy reached impulsively for Aidan's hand. "You've been living with this for so long! How do you do it? How can you stand it?" Aidan clasped her hand strongly, then smiled and let go, settling back again. "Simple to say, harder to do. You live. You enjoy what you have, while you have it, and you learn first endurance, and then joy, in events. Live long enough and you'll even learn to take pleasure from pain if there is nothing else." She traded a long level gaze with LaCroix who nodded once. "I've told you the worst of it, because you needed to know--but there are glorious sides to this, too. "I saw London built. I heard Will Shakespeare act in his own plays that he had written and directed. I was there when Daniel Boone went out on his first long hunt, and I had been in those far wild lands first. I've been to every continent except Antarctica, and that's only because I don't love cold so well as that. But I hear the wind songs there are rare and fine... I may yet go. I've built and lost fortunes, had time for love and war, revenge and joy. I've taken husbands and wives both, helped them raise their children. In my time, I've been lover, teacher, warrior, thief, assassin, weaponsmith, witch, farmer, horsebreeder. "This is the kind of time you have, if you keep your head. You are already a warrior, already strong. You'll get stronger, even before you become an immortal, because you're not a fool and because these two," and she indicated Nick and Vachon with her chin, "will push you to it. But you have the will, the strength of body and mind, to do what you must and stay yourself. We are not vampires. We have our own advantages, our own disadvantages." Aidan drained her soft drink and fell silent, apparently startled by her own eloquence. "I don't want to hear the advantages yet. Not yet. You say people come for your head. Vachon mentioned lightning. Is that what happened last night?" Tracy leaned forward, intent on the answer. "Yes. Two immortals came after me and lost. I took their heads and their quickenings." "Two on one and you still won?" Aidan shrugged, amused and irritated all at once. "Yes. Not the first time, not the last. I was taught by two of the best of us and they put a great deal of time into me. Besides, the women last night were fools. It never occurred to them that if they disregarded rules, so would I. I struck before they had their blades all the way out." "What are line-kin?" Vachon leaned forward when Tracy asked that, interested in this answer after Aidan's casual mention of line-brothers the night before. "That's another disadvantage. We... cannot have children, not even as the vampires do. We are sterile. That's why I say we aren't really a race. Where we come from, none of us know. Always, we seem to be foundlings. But who knows? Maybe we're simply a genetic mutation of some type and human instinct drives them to send us away. "Regardless, the only family we have is our line-kin. The students of my teacher are my brothers and sisters; his teacher's students are his sibs. We don't usually take it further than that, although in some lines it's like a huge sprawling clan of cousins and friends. Some of the older ones may be called 'uncle', or in rare cases of devotion, 'mother' or 'father', but it's usually 'brother' or 'sister' or 'cousin.' We reckon it much the way the martial artists do, naming ourselves the line of the oldest known teacher. "And I mean a teacher, not someone you studied with briefly. Someone who changed you profoundly, not someone who taught you a few tricks or maneuvers. Usually, you only count one person as your teacher, but I'm something of an oddity there. I'm out of the line of Ramirez and another line I don't name." "Why don't you name it?" Tracy caught amusement and what she would swear was love in Aidan's eyes before she carefully shielded her eyes. "Because it's too dangerous, to me and to him. So far as I know I'm the oldest student left alive in either of my lines. Ramirez is dead; no one will seek me for leverage against him to gain a quickening older and stronger than mine. But my other teacher is much older than I am, and still in the Game. I will not be bait or pawn against him." Tracy nodded in perfect understanding. LaCroix inclined his head to Aidan. "A formidable loyalty, Aidan, but no surprise from you. You have ever given in entirety." That drew a smile from Aidan, but she gave Tracy her attention again. "Have you other questions?" Tracy snapped, "Yes. Why? Why are you telling me this? Why are you telling any of us this? And how do you know I'm going to be an immortal?" Aidan raised an eyebrow, respectful of and bemused by this spitting young kitten. "So. We come to that at last. Those are all much the same question, 'tho you have but little reason to know it. Immortals can sense each other at a distance. The stronger you are, the wider the field you put out and the farther out you can sense others. Usually if you can feel them, they can feel you." Tracy interrupted, "What do you mean 'feel'? What is it, a headache? Some kind of high-pitched noise?" Soft laughter spilled out from Aidan. "It varies from person to person. I'm told I have a unique signature, so I may be the wrong one to ask. Some feel it as a headache, some have a ringing in the ears. One young man, Kit, sneezes; swears he's allergic to this whole thing. For me, it sounds like ringing chimes or bells, and all my senses seem to become stronger, more discerning. Most of us have an automatic adrenaline trigger when we feel it. We go immediately into fight or flight mode. "As to why I told you? Only the strongest, most sensitive, or oldest--which are not always the same thing, by the bye--can feel a pre-immortal at a distance, but almost all of us can feel one when we touch. However. When you become an immortal, any immortal in range will know about you. Most will come looking for your head. It's late in the Game, and the white hats seem to be fewer every decade." Aidan let her head fall forward as she bent to get her glass; she hid some of her grief, but not all of it. "So how do I become an immortal, then? And why are you telling these three?" "To the first question, you die without losing your head. When you get up, you will be an immortal. You will never age a day past that point, but any other immortal will know you for what you are. You will stand up wearing the equivalent of a sign saying, 'Eat at Joe's.' Mind, a vampire won't be able to tell unless he tastes your blood and even then he may not know what he's tasted. "And I told Nick because he will almost certainly need to cover for you on the day you die. You are not in the safest of professions. One day he will have to help you guard your secret. Only fair; he needs your help with his." Nick sighed and put his head in his hands, knowing where this was going. To his surprise, Aidan quietly put the revelation in his hands. "Nick. Tell her. You don't really want me to, Tracy will never forgive you." Tracy meanwhile looked back and forth, saying, "What secret? We've been partners for months." Nick rolled his eyes, aware that Aidan had decided to bring his vampirism into the open. "Do you ever keep secrets? Because one of these years, I'm going to get revenge for this." "This is my secret, Kolya." She tilted her head to one side. "Speak or I do." Nick nodded quietly. "I never thought it would come to this. Are you sure she'll be one of you, Sulwen? Could you be wrong?" "No. It's unmistakable. I've already begun looking for a sword to suit her." "Is there any way to stay out of the Game?" Vachon asked that one, worried already. Tracy had killed once in the line of duty and had nightmares for weeks. Killing because she had to might destroy her. Aidan looked over at him. "No. There isn't. We can get away some times, hide for a while, or go onto holy ground in retreat... but Tracy isn't the kind to take up orders and live in seclusion. Are you?" She turned to Tracy. "No, I'm not. Nick, what secret? Tell me." Tracy set her jaw in an all too familiar way; her stubborn streak had surfaced in full force at last. Her partner sighed, seeing trouble and no path around it. "Trace. I don't have.... Oh, the hell with it. I'm not going to keep hiding from you. I'm a vampire, too." Tracy's eyes widened, then her lips tightened and her face flushed with anger. "No wonder you've never asked me inconvenient questions about Javier. You could have told me! Did you think I wouldn't keep your secret? What did you take me for?" "Trace, it wasn't that, it's just...." He never finished it as Tracy took out some of her temper over the night's shocks on him. "What was it? I couldn't be trusted, or I wasn't strong enough to take it? The Commissioner's daughter would go running to Daddy? Why didn't you tell me, Nick? Everyone else seems to have known, even this immortal!" Aidan sat out the temper placidly, even when a waving arm came very close to her nose in passing. "Damn it, Trace, I never told Schanke either! And what was I going to say? I didn't even want you as a partner at first, I was still in shock over Schanke and the Captain dying. Then I found out that the Commissioner's daughter was actually a damn good cop with too many people waiting for her to fail, and I didn't want to put my secret on your shoulders. You were already carrying too damn much! And after that it was never time, Tracy, for one reason or another. And the longer I waited, the worse I knew you were going to take it!" LaCroix smiled to see his son explode for once, rendered defensive by a woman not even in her fourth decade when Nick was in his eighth century. "Damn right I'm taking it badly! We're partners, Nick Knight! Is that even your name? And if I'd known why you kept vanishing, I'd have had more attention to spare for coming up with excuses for you, instead of wondering myself and being mad!" Tracy turned from Nick and looked to her other side, at Vachon. "And you! You didn't tell me either! Are you going to tell me you didn't know?" Vachon hastily put out both hands to ward off this line of discussion. "Whoa, whoa, Tracy, yeah, I knew what Knight was, but he's twice my age! Age is strength with us, too. I wasn't going to piss Knight off, not when he's that much stronger than I am. And with the Master of the City being his maker, and both of them legendary for their tempers--" Vachon caught her hands, and finished softly, "I told you as much as I could, honest." Tracy glared at LaCroix. "What's so funny?" He shrugged, eloquent in his sardonic disdain. "You, not even immortal yet, cowing two vampires before you. Perhaps I have misjudged you after all. Few would even have asked me the question." Tracy looked over at Aidan. "Any other unpleasant surprises?" "Not for you, I don't think." Aidan pulled out three pieces of paper and handed them out: one each to Vachon, Nick, and Tracy. "Keep these. When you become immortal, get to holy ground immediately and wait for me. These numbers will find me, one way or another, if I'm still in the Game. If I'm dead, call one of the MacLeods, or the Valicourts. You do speak French don't you?" Tracy nodded. "I work for the Canadian government. It's a job requirement." "Good. Nick, Javier, I'm aware you will have trouble getting her to holy ground. At the least, get her close and guard her until she wakes. Now then, gentlemen, we get to the nasty part so far as you two are concerned. This is not optional. Make no mistake on that." Aidan stopped and waited until they looked up from the papers, needing their full attention. Finally she reached over and put a hand over Nick's copy, knowing he would try to read and talk otherwise. "Look at me. I need to be sure you're listening. This could be your death." That finally got the shocked attention of the youngest three at the table. "Vachon. Nick. The Game is only for immortals. You may not fight for her. Ever. If the odds are higher than one on one, you may hold them off, kill them if need be in a way they will come back from--but the moment Tracy is finished and standing again from the quickening, you must step back and let the second fight begin. And the third or fourth, if necessary. This is not an option. This is how it must be." Vachon looked up from under his lashes, wide-eyed rebellious innocence on his face. "Which is why LaCroix stopped me last night? So what happens it if we do interfere? If we decide that it should be two on two, or three on three?" Aidan studied him, grey eyes pinning Vachon in his seat, cold and quiet and deadly as her knife. "Then I hunt you down myself, Javier, if Lucien doesn't beat me to it. Odds are he will." Nick and Tracy both started. LaCroix sat up from where he had been slouched against the bench seat, fingers steepled. "She is correct. This is their Game. The Enforcers will kill you, Vachon, or I will. Vampires do not interfere in the Game, and immortals do not hunt vampires. If one side breaks the agreement, the other can. Both sides keep the secret of the other, but we do not fight each other's wars." Aidan waited to be sure he had finished, then took it back up. "You may train her, you may help hide her, but you may not fight for her or take heads for her." She sighed and commented, "I can tell you both plan to push the line on this, so I will tell you how far it can be pressed. Do not take it further than this. I was quite serious. I would be one of the ones hunting you. "If an immortal takes mortal hostages to force Tracy into challenge or make her give up her sword, you may rescue the mortal. If the immortal brings mortal henchmen with, say, guns, you can kill them. The combats are only between immortals, not vampires, not mortals. But note well: you may not fight for her. If she dies because of unfair odds, you may collect the attackers and bring them to one of the older immortals. We will fight them one at a time and take their heads. You may not. Essentially you can even the odds but you may not actively fight. "Do not even think of making Tracy a vampire. Again, both sides will hunt all parties involved." Glancing at LaCroix, she asked, "Did I miss anything essential?" "No, that sums it up quite well, I think." LaCroix pinned the two younger vampires against their seats with his will. "You will obey what she has said or I will take your throats. I will not have a war between the vampires and the immortals. They are centuries-old hunters who can move in daylight and are generally skilled in both finding and killing evasive targets. It would destroy both sides, if only through a truly unwelcome publicity." Tracy had listened to this, slowly beginning to be unnerved by all this as LaCroix took it seriously. Finally starting to shake, she asked, "If I die of old age, do I come back as an immortal?" Aidan reached across the table and caught her hands, chaffing them to lend some warmth. "Shh, shh, kitling, it will be all right. I don't know, I've never seen it happen. I suspect not. But in your job it's not likely." "Do I have to decide immediately?" Vachon wrapped an arm around her, holding her against him, and said, "Decide what, Tracy?" "When to die. She implied that it can be my choice." Tracy watched the other woman to see if she was right and was rewarded by a nod. "Yes. It can. Some lines simply keep an eye on pre-immortals until they die. Some of us think that if you're an adult, you're entitled to know what's coming and decide when to step into the Game. At the very least, I recommend you start working out more and begin to study sword work. Not fencing, nothing so formal. You need to study the down and dirty styles; I'd recommend a light saber, or possibly...." Aidan began to study Tracy's hands, extending them out, pressing between the bones to check the muscle tone. "You can shoot with either hand, can't you?" "Yes. Why?" Tracy began to take some comfort from the calm assurance across the table. "Good. It will make you more unpredictable. I suggest shortsword, either hand and eventually both. Most immortals can't fight an opponent using two weapons. Until you master both at once, focus on left hand. Southpaws are almost as bad to fight." "Okay." Tracy drew a deep breath. "God, you said I needed to be here for this. You weren't kidding. All right, I'll look for a sword and find someone to teach me. If I die, I need to call you and you'll help. Anything else?" Aidan smiled sympathetically. "I know, it's rough. But better that you have a chance to adjust before it happens. Much easier on the nerves, I assure you. If you do decide to step into the Game rather than be thrown, will you try to give me a little advance notice?" "You mean if I decide to die and get it over with?" Tracy managed a very faint smile. "Yes. Sorry, I thought you might have had as much death as you could cope with for the moment." "I'm holding up. Come on, I do this for a living--sort of. Yeah, I'll let you know, but if you've told me all this, what do you still have to train me in?" Tracy settled in against Vachon. Well, at least I don't have to keep my relationship with Javier secret anymore. That got a smile. "Oh, little things: investments, changing identities, relocating both how and when, who your friends are, how best to run from a fight and when to do it...." Aidan shrugged. "Sword play these two can start you on." LaCroix glanced up and said, "I will provide the swords. Be here at this same time tomorrow to begin." That stopped everyone cold, until Aidan laughed, a long gleeful sound. She said, "Thank you, Lucius, I didn't want to ask! Oh, that's perfect!" LaCroix smiled and nodded to her. "For you, my dear, and for the amusement of tweaking the Game, it will be a pleasure." "Tracy, you couldn't ask for better. Lucius could run me ragged with shortsword at human speeds and strengths. And you need to get used to being outmatched from the start." Aidan studied her, suddenly predatory and deadly. "There are things you can and will do when you know you're outmatched that will let you win a match. As the saying goes, 'Professionals are predictable, but there are a lot of amateurs in the world.' We're going to make you a permanent amateur who understands professionals." "Do you always think in terms of winning?" Tracy sounded genuinely curious rather than accusatory. "Goddess, no. I plan to survive, first; then I plan to win. I've run from fights in my day, more than once. And you're taking all this much better than I did. I kicked and screamed and argued for six years." Her mouth twitched in a rueful moue. "I was a very stubborn child, Tracy. Don't think I was always this calm about it. Trust me, I made my teacher's life hell on earth for a while." The picture of a grubby and stubborn Aidan in braids and skinned knees, flashed across Tracy's mind and she started laughing. "Oh, God, I can just see it! When did you find out?" "He told me when I was sixteen, killed himself the way I did tonight to get my attention, and then we... discussed it for six years or so." Vachon laughed out loud. "'Discussed', huh? I bet! How many times have you held this talk?" "Too many to count. Actually, not really. I've had... at least twenty students that I can remember immediately. I'd have to stop and think about it to be sure, it's been over twenty-six centuries after all, and I didn't always train the ones I talked to. Sometimes I just got handed the job by one of my line-brothers because they thought a female pre-immortal would take it better from another female. I do know that at least half of my students are still in the Game, so I'm certainly not the worst teacher you could have. "Now then, Tracy, I promised you dinner tonight. Do you want to eat here, or shall we go somewhere else? Bar food is not the greatest," and Aidan grinned at LaCroix, "because it isn't exactly a priority for them." "Right now, I don't care if I'm going on duty in..." Tracy checked her watch and frowned, ".. two hours. I want a beer. One beer will wear off by the time I report in, no problem. C'mon, I know this great pizza joint. And since Nick doesn't appreciate good 'za, he can buy the beer." Aidan laughed, a clear ringing sound. "Done. Let's get you fed, and then I have some things to finish tonight, so that I can go home tomorrow. I'm sure I missed some things somewhere, but that's why you'll come stay with me or another immortal I trust when you're ready to be trained." "Another immortal? How many do you know?" Vachon asked indignantly. "I thought you were going to train Trace." "I know easily one hundred, and I would trust probably half a dozen offhand to train her. At the moment I'm planning on doing it myself, but I never train more than one student at a time; it isn't fair to them. So if I acquire another in the meantime, I'll pass you on to someone else, Tracy. But I'll escort you to whomever it is, should it come to that, and stick around long enough to make sure you can get along. Probably the Valicourts over in France or Connor MacLeod in New York. Duncan MacLeod is still working with his latest student, off and on, and probably will be for another couple years." Tracy shook her head. "France? I always meant to travel, just haven't gotten around to it. But I'll trust you. Nick trusts you, so I will." Nick smiled at his partner. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?" "It means I'm still mad at you, but we're still partners. Yes, Nick, you're forgiven. But quit trying to protect me, will you?!" Tracy snapped it at him but both of them were smiling, understanding that the partnership was intact still. "I'll do the best I can, Trace, but don't expect miracles overnight." Aidan laughed and said, "Come on, you two, I'm hungry." Vachon grinned and handed her the sweater. "Yeah, well, you also have blood on your shirt. You might want to put this on." She pulled it over her head and in a quick series of motions she pulled the t-shirt off without ever removing the sweater. LaCroix reached over and lifted her hair out from under the sweater, arranging it to fall smoothly down her back. "Thank you, Lucien." As the younger three got up to go, she waited for LaCroix to let her out of the booth. Absently she tucked the knife into its sheath at the back of her neck, picked up her jacket from the corner of the booth, and quietly said in Latin, "I'll see you in the morning, Lucius." Grey eyes met in perfect understanding. Aidan shrugged into her jacket over the sleeveless sweater as she got to her feet. "Well, come on, Tracy, I don't know where this place is." Tracy gave her a hesitant smile and asked, "Do you always have a knife on you?" Aidan widened her eyes, then used her eyebrows and an imaginary cigar to do a Groucho Marx imitation. "For one night, only, little lady, my celebrated impersonation of a flasher as equipped by Ginzu." She spread her coat wide enough for the saber and main gauche to be visible, one on each side in sheathes sewn down the side seams. Tracy's eyes widened and Nick shook his head in amazement. "What do you do if the police pull you over?" Vachon grinned at her sheer gall. "Why, I make very sure they have no reason to search me." She looked at Tracy and told her, "Before you have to ask, I always have a sword. Always. There are ways to make sure of it and we'll teach you those. Before I'm done, you'll take a sword to go jogging or get a shower. You'll feel less exposed naked than you will without at least eighteen inches of sharpened steel in immediate arm's reach." Tracy shook her head. "Tell me as we go, I'll ride with you. Nick, how's Gino's Pizza Cafe sound?" Nick nodded. "I'll meet you there, then. Come on, Vachon, I'll give you a ride." * * * * "Why, LaCroix? Why are you willing to train Tracy?" Nick paced restlessly in the Raven. It was six, close to dawn, but he would leave as soon as he got an answer. Already he had found one advantage to Tracy knowing his secret; she was waiting outside to take him home, in the trunk of the Cadillac if need be. LaCroix looked up from where he sat sharpening a gladius, the universal equipment of a Roman soldier that he had learned to wield decisively so many centuries ago. How to answer this? "She reminds me of your sister, Janette. I respect such courage, such spirit, Nicholas. Besides, the idea of sending a woman of two decades into battle with tricks two millennia old amuses me." Nick snarled in frustration, aware that LaCroix had only given him part of the answer. However he knew his master well enough by now to know that what he had heard was all he'd be told. Finally he bit out, "All right, LaCroix. Tracy will be here at 7:30 for her first lesson. Remember she isn't immortal yet; she still has to heal at human rates for a while." "I will remember, Nicholas. Sleep well, my son." He bent back to honing a nick out of one edge of the short sword and made a mental note to replace the sheath soon. "LaCroix--thank you for helping. I worry about her." Nick forced the words out and saw cool grey eyes look up and meet his gaze. "That is the other reason. Sleep well." Startled, Nick realized that he really had heard it. LaCroix waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "The sun will be up soon. Go." The younger vampire left, still surprised and wondering what other things LaCroix had done over the years simply to make him happy. Definitely something to think about. * * * * She hunkered on her heels in the woods and watched the flames reflected off the window panes. Wearing black leather and settled into shadow as she was, Aidan knew no one would see her for a little while yet. Soon she would be content that the entire place was going to go up. Always best to wait and be sure, despite the care she had used in setting the gasoline to wick flames straight through the airways in the house. Aidan had opened windows and doors throughout the place to ensure air flow, wedging them where necessary. So Stengel's information becomes ash, as his personality has. Good riddance. I wish I hadn't had to burn books, though. There are times I think that's a sin, but I couldn't pack all of them in time. Ah, flame is showing in three of the upstairs windows. Time to go, then. And with any luck, the fact that gasoline was used in the fire combined with his disappearance without a trace may make the local police think this is a gang hit. I can hope, can't I? He may have been stupid enough to be involved with organized crime, come to think of it. Is there such a thing as disorganized crime? Hmm, I must be tired. Silently, she moved through the oncoming dawn toward her parked car. As she went, Aidan straightened branches, dropped dirt behind her, swept leaves over partial foot-prints, and in general tried very hard to make it difficult to track her path. When she got to her car, which was packed to the windows with boxes, the immortal stripped off the leather halter and pulled on an oversized tie-dyed t-shirt. Moving quickly, she unlaced her boots and pulled them off as well as the leather pants, stuffing all of it into a paper sack which went behind the front seat. She pulled on jeans ripped out at the knees and high-top tennis shoes, then quickly unbraided her hair and pulled it up in a high ponytail. The whole process took four minutes; she started the car and left without ever leaving a track from the tennis shoes. As she drove off, Aidan pulled on sunglasses, and looked like nothing so much as a college student moving home at last from a summer term. Hit the motel, load these last boxes and the computer into the U-Haul, then spend the day with Lucius to thank him for the help last night. After that, though, definitely time to head back to Seacouver. Have to drop off the rental car first. Maybe Nick will help while Tracy is getting her first lesson? Might be a good idea to have him somewhere else that first time. Those two do make a good team. Gods, another bout with Lucius. It's a good thing immortals recover quickly, but it is nice bedding someone who knows my reactions inside out like that. Amazing--from famine to feast. I still miss Dani, but she wouldn't begrudge me Methos' love, I don't think. She certainly wouldn't begrudge me the sheer physical release Lucius provides. Well, this time tomorrow I'll be well on my way home. Sweet Lady, it's already home. Gods, I'm glad. Hmm, it's almost six here, that means it's three on the coast. Joe may still be up at the bar. I think I'll call and let him know I'm headed back. If no one answers, well, no harm done at least. I wouldn't call him at home at this hour. "Joe's. Whoever this is, do you know what time it is?" Joe's familiar rasp filled the line after interminable rings and Aidan smiled to hear it. "It's the Wicked Witch of the East, and it's almost six here. What is it there, coming on three? Did I interrupt you at your practice?" "Aidan! Damn, it's good to hear from you. When are you headed back?" "Tomorrow afternoon, well, this evening really. I'll tell you about it all when I get in, but I'm afraid I'm driving so this will take a few days. I'll call again tonight." She glanced back in her rearview window as the flashing lights of the fire engines went roaring past. Too late, gentlemen. Far too late. "You're driving? I will want to hear this. Call me when you can, or leave the story with Mac. Oh, I got a final bid today from a security company that'll do what you want. Installation should start this weekend, if you're gonna be home." "I will be. Thank you, Joe, very much. Get back to practicing, I'm going to go get some sleep. Tell Duncan I'll want a rubdown when I get in; I plan to do this in three days again. I want to get home." "Everything okay?" Joe sounded concerned even over a cellular phone connection. "Everything will be fine, Joe, I'm just a bit tired. It's been a busy trip. There were some complications. I'll call you tonight and discuss this over a land line, when it costs less. Take care of yourself." "You, too, Aidan. Talk to you later tonight." Joe hung up, wondering how to do a discreet query of the Watcher network. A busy trip? Wonder if anyone lost their head in Toronto lately? Have to check into that. Oh, well, time enough to get the full story out of her when she hits town again. It's a good thing I understand about immortal problems. That woman has missed more work! Still laughing at the idea of an immortal punching a time-clock, Joe went back to practicing his guitar riffs.
~ ~ ~ finis 2/1998 ~ ~ ~
Comments, Commentary, and Miscellanea: 1. Clementiae Deiae - Merciful Gods. Salve - literally, be strong. Common salutation in Latin. 2. Lucien LaCroix translates to 'light the cross'. Lucien Delacroix would be 'light of the cross'. Either is a gloriously sarcastic name for a vampire. 3. In order as mentioned: Aidan means 'blaze' or 'torch'; Phaedra means 'sun'; Sulwen means 'sunchild'. 4. The Myrmidons was the classic Greek play about Achilles and Patrocles, a pair of sworn brothers and heroes. If you don't know who Achilles and Patrocles are, trust me, go hit a library. It's a great story, full of gore, revenge, treachery and sex, which takes place during the Trojan War. Also, I strongly recommend the works of Mary Renault for this time period and culture, in particular (for this scene at least) The Mask of Apollo. 5. Any opinions on line-kin, effects of a quickening, and relations between immortals and vampires--or anything else the characters discuss which doesn't quite fit canon for either series--are my theories. Feedback is appreciated. 6. Last and not least--magic. If you don't believe in some form of it, why do you read these kind of stories? However, while Aidan's opinions are not necessarily my own, the Damn Druid seems to think she's pretty much on the ball.
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