Meetings with the Vampires PG-13

[librarian_7]

Meetings with the Vampires

To celebrate the anniversary of our first meetings with a certain pair of vampires, I wanted to do something a little different. So I thought I’d go back and pull a few excerpts from my fic of first meetings with our beloved vamps. Different points of view, different times and places…hope you enjoy a little stroll in the dark with our vamps!

Lucky

Danni meets Josef

In “100% Freshie,” new girl in L.A. is on her first visit to a freshie club, with no idea what she’s gotten into… Here, she is sitting at a booth with two new friends, and a man, Will Spence, whom she has yet to learn is a vampire.

At one point there was a bit of a commotion, as another young man came by, a beautiful woman on each arm, and another trailing behind. He was tall and well-built, with shrewd brown eyes that seemed far older than his boyish face. Back home, Danni would have thought him cute, but a little too polished for her tastes. Here, her first thought was, “This man is dangerous.”

He paused in front of their booth. “Will Spence,” he said, “what an unexpected pleasure.”

Will inclined his head, and returned lazily, “Josef Kostan. It’s been too long.”

Josef smiled in a way that somehow reminded Danni of a striking water moccasin. “You’ve been treading on shaky ground lately, Will. You need to be more careful.”

Will smiled, and Danni thought she saw the edge of a razor in it. “We live in California, Josef. Everything here is on shaky ground.”

“Strike-slip subduction is not a valid business model, my friend,” Josef returned. “But, fielder’s choice.” He gestured to show that the subject, whatever it had been, was closed, and turned his attention to the women at the table, his smile becoming different, somehow, but still dangerous. She thought he was looking at them all as though they were, well, food. “Emma, Hunter, charming as always. I didn’t see you at my last pool party.” Then he looked directly at Danni. “And I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Danni was quickly coming to the realization that this brown-eyed man was as overwhelming in his way as Will was. She managed a wide-eyed nod. “Hi,” she started, “my name is—“

Will put a hand over hers, cutting her off, and his gaze at the other man was less friendly than it had been. “Her name is Danger, Josef. And that’s all you need to know right now.”

Josef ignored Will, and made a small bow in her direction. “Danger, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Perhaps later we can—dance.” He seemed to put a wealth of meaning into the suggestion, and Danni’s eyes widened. That may have been why she noticed him inhaling, much as Will had earlier, as though trying to catch her scent. It seemed, somehow, predatory.

Danni meets Mick

Later in “100% Freshie,” Danni, now a slightly desperate club freshie, has been treated badly and abandoned in an out of the way spot, when a tall, dark stranger appears…

Danni put a hand up to her woozy, aching head, fingertips to her temple, and pulled it down to rub across her face. It was very dark, and she was a little unclear where exactly she was. She pulled up her knees, dropping her head forward to cradle on them. Too much blood loss. Too much. Her other hand came up involuntarily to her throat, and her fingers caught in the roughness of the ragged twin punctures in her neck. She felt the damaged skin, the dampness of continued sluggish bleeding, and cursed, wincing. At the sudden movement she realized her arm hurt as well, and pushing at the sleeve of her jacket, she found the fabric sodden with blood from fresh wounds in her wrist. She had to be in a back hallway at Valis; she just wished she could remember how she got there.

“Bastard,” she said softly to herself. “Well, kiddo, you wanted to get bit in the worst way, and I guess that’s what you got.” In the darkness and the faintness that had come over her, she hadn’t noticed the vampire who had silently appeared, and stood gazing down at her with strangely kind eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently. His soft baritone was pitched in a way that somehow seemed to inspire trust and invite confidences.

Danni peered up. The man—the vamp—was tall, slender, and from what she could tell, dressed in black, a long dark coat brushing his jeans at the knees. It was too dark to tell much else.
“I think I’m okay.”

He extended a pale hand. “At least let me help you up. You look like you’ve been through the wringer."

“Thanks,” Danni said. She reached up to grasp the stranger’s hand, but at the touch of his chill skin, the events of the whole fabulous evening came flooding back, and she jerked her hand away as though from a burning cold. The memories weren’t so easy to pull away from.

Sally meets Josef

In “Dust,” seventeen-year-old Sally Watkins, traveling by stagecoach to join her husband in the mining towns of 1873 Colorado, has an unconventional introduction to the man sitting next to her.

The stage bumped across another rut, and Sally fell sideways, jostling her neighbor. She’d thought he was asleep, the way he had his hat pulled down, and his lower face covered by his collar and a scarf against the dust, but he instantly had a gloved hand out to steady her.
She turned her head to look at him in the face for the first time, and found herself caught by a pair of amused, warm eyes the deep brown color of aged whiskey. Suddenly shy, she nodded once at the stranger, remembering almost too late that she should under no circumstances speak to him.

Almost as though reading her mind, he spoke first. “It’s a bit unconventional, I know, but perhaps you’ll permit me to introduce myself? Under the circumstances.”

Sally bit her lip, looking at the two men seated across from her, sprawled dozing in the afternoon heat. On the far side of the gentleman next to her, another woman stared haughtily out the window, her stylish hat, a pretty confection of feathers and lace, perched on a mass of elaborately arranged golden hair. Sally had gotten the impression that the man next to her was traveling with the woman, and that was intimidating, too. Sally reckoned that the woman’s dress, with all its fancy tucks and frills, probably cost more than everything Sally had ever owned, put together. She’d been amazed when Jim sent the money for her to take the stage west. He must be doing well, she thought. Maybe someday she’d have a dress like that. But the man was waiting, expecting some response, and it would’ve seemed rude to ignore him. She smiled a little, and nodded.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, she noticed, when he smiled at her. “Constantine,” he said, “Josef Constantine, at your service.”

Slade meets Josef

Later in the first chapter of “Dust,” Josef makes the acquaintance of a man, Slade Weston, who will become more than he first appears. The stagecoach has stopped for the night at an isolated inn, and the passengers are enjoying (if that’s the word!) a meal.

The only incident of the meal occurred when the stage guard stumbled in carrying a half-empty bottle, roaring for food.

“Stew’s on the fire,” the stationmaster grunted, and reached out to cuff the silent Mexican woman tending the pot. “Get Weston a bowl, Juanita.” She dodged his hand, her expression never changing, and pulled another earthenware bowl from the stack, to ladle it full of the concoction.

“Don’t she ever cook anything but that damn chili stew?” the guard slurred.

“You like it well enough when you’re sober, Slade,” the driver replied from his seat by the fire. He took a long draw on his pipe. “And if you don’t lay off the booze, you won’t be fit to crawl on the box tomorrow.”

“Go to hell, you sorry son of a—“

“Excuse me.” Mr. Constantine rose, his tall form immediately dominating the room. “I’ll ask you to watch your language in front of the ladies.”

Weston sneered, his dark blue eyes lighting up at the prospect of a fight. “Ladies? All I see here are a farm girl and your fancy woman. I don’t calculate either of them are what you’d call ladies.”

Sally heard Iris gasp in indignation. Josef went very still, and she got the oddest feeling that a chill wind of power was flowing from him. She braced herself for the roar of anger that was sure to follow. Yet when he spoke his voice was quiet. “And I believe your calculations are in error, Mr. Weston.” He paused to draw in a deep breath, and Sally saw his nostrils flare, almost as though he were drinking in Weston’s scent, reading it. Then he narrowed his eyes. “I’m prepared to make certain allowances for your apparent state of intoxication—but you will apologize to Mrs. Watkins and Miss Beaumont for your offensive remarks.”

Weston didn’t answer at once, and the standoff continued, the two men staring each other down in the dull light of the oil lamp. They were much the same height, and if Josef Constantine had the advantage of broader shoulders and a more solid build beneath the fine suit he wore, Slade Weston had a darker, more deadly air about him. He had the look of a man who’d made his living with his gun and his wits for a good portion of his thirty-odd years. Still, as they locked eyes, Contantine was visibly more relaxed than Weston, and the scruffy guard seemed to grow more tense as the long seconds ticked by. Somehow, Sally wasn’t surprised when Weston broke away first, with a muttered curse.

“All right, all right, it ain’t worth fighting over,” he said grudgingly. “Not with the likes of some tinhorn dude, anyway.” Then he seemed to recall that he was supposed to be drunk, and raised his bottle to his mouth for a swig, although Sally noted he actually drank very little. “My apologies to all the ladies present.” And he flung out of the room, colliding heavily with the doorframe as he went.

Josef turned to the stationmaster and the driver. “I trust your Mr. Weston is more courageous as a guard than he is off duty,” he remarked.

Lucky meets Josef

I couldn’t fail to include here the first meeting between Freshie Lucky, and the vampire who comes to play such an important role in her life. From “Touch:”

Josef slid his hand into his pocket, unconsciously seeking the note Turbo had handed to him a few minutes earlier when she returned from, as she termed it, the “little freshies’ room.” Molly didn’t often try to direct his attention to a new girl; she’d long told him he was perfectly capable of hunting up his own dinner. So when she did, he paid attention, and she’d never yet steered him wrong. He didn’t need to look at the note again to remember its contents.

There’s one here tonight you ought to meet, you old pirate. Tall, red-headed, slender. Midnight blue dress. Calls herself ‘Seven.’ Can’t say why, but she’s right for you, Josef. Do yourself a favor, and find her before someone else does.

He’d been scanning the groups of girls wandering the club since then, without spotting her. Now, however, he thought he saw a long shining fall of hair, the red of it clear to his vampire senses, and began to maneuver closer through the press, tracking her as she moved. He liked what he saw, but Molly wouldn’t have recommended a girl based on looks alone. Pretty ones, even pretty red-heads, were not that uncommon. He moved nearer. In this crowd, picking out her scent from the rest was impossible. If he’d known her, maybe, but there were too many strangers to sort out. He listened for voices in the cacophony, and found himself nearer the knot of girls, listening.

“Well, of course, Valmont is an evil seducer, but he redeems himself in the end…it’s that Marquise de Merteuil—I’m probably not pronouncing that right—who is sort of a moral vampire. She sucks the virtue out of everyone around her. And she started with Valmont,” the red-head was saying. The girls around her laughed nervously.

“You’re not saying vampires are evil, are you?” one asked, glancing around. “You shouldn’t say that here!” She caught sight of the tall man, his intense brown eyes focused on their group, and started, then giggled.

Curious, Josef shook his head, cautioning silence, closed the gap, reaching out to run a hand up the back of the red-head’s bare arm. She felt the cool touch of his skin against hers, and turned, gray eyes widening.

He had to be vampire, she thought, surveying the tall, well-dressed man. His hand was too cold to be human. Too handsome to be human, too assured to be his apparent age. And there was something in his eyes, the warm whiskey brown of his eyes…her stomach turned a sudden flip, and she wasn’t sure if it were fear or attraction. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, waiting to see if he would speak.

“Dangerous Liaisons?” the vampire said, running his eyes down the length of her, enjoying the view. “I hear it’s a good movie.”

She followed his gaze, brushing, covertly, she hoped, at her dress, wondering if the blood spots showed. “I—I haven’t seen the movie. The book is good.”

“Really?” Intriguing indeed, he thought. “Perhaps you’d care to join me? We could discuss…Dangerous Liaisons.” He smiled, and a hint of fang glinted in the flashing lights of the club.

The girl who called herself Seven nodded, catching her breath. She found it unlikely that she’d be able to say no to this one. Ever.

Molly meets Josef

Late one evening, in ‘The Franklin Hotel Bar….1950,” a young woman waits for a blind date, under the watchful eye of a handsome young bartender.

The hand on the bar was the first thing she saw. Slender, pale fingers, on a large, capable-looking hand. An edge of white linen showing out of his suit jacket. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, or noticed it in the mirror behind the bar. Startled, she looked up to see brown eyes the color of fine whiskey smiling down at her. “Pardon me, Miss, but…is your name Molly Long?”

It only took an instant for her to register his broad shoulders, his impeccably tailored dark suit. Fancy had told her he was handsome, but she hadn’t expected him to be so devastating. There were plenty of stunningly beautiful men in Los Angeles, after all, and she was used to that. Just look at the bartender, for example, with his olive skin and smoldering hazel eyes…probably an actor himself, or a musician. But this man had an air of confidence about him she’d rarely encountered.

He appeared to be only a few years older than Molly, but she could see that weight of age and distance in his eyes she saw in so many men. A girl learned not to ask about that. Whether it had been gained in the blue waters and green jungles of the Pacific, or the broken fields and ruined cities of Europe, it wasn’t a topic open for casual conversation. A man would tell you about it, if he wanted to, or else it would come out in his nightmares.

“Mr. Fitzgerald? I’d about given up on you.” She’d meant to be disapproving, what with him keeping her waiting, but her mouth curved involuntarily into a smile in response to his.

He tilted his head to one side, a boyish, attractive gesture, taking in the dark red of her dress, and the matching hue painted on her mouth and fingernails. He rather liked what he saw. “That would have been my loss, indeed. I’m glad you waited.” He tapped on the polished surface of the bar, to summon the bartender. “I’ll have a Macallen, neat. And another…” glancing at her glass, “…champagne cocktail for the lady.”

“You a guest?” the bartender asked, frowning. So, he thought, she was another one out for the rich guys. He should have known.

“2418. I believe you’d know it as the Owner’s Suite. And we’ll be over at a booth.” A twenty appeared on the bar, and promptly disappeared. “Keep them coming.”

The bartender nodded curtly. He shot a look at Molly, oddly guarded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Mr. Fitzgerald smiled broadly at him. “Do that.”


Mick meets Josef

Written for our two-hour challenge, “An Unexpected Gift” provides a possible scenario for the first meeting of two men who will become fast friends…

Coraline rapped on the door, calling out in that deceptively sweet voice of hers. “Mick? You home?”

“It’s open.”

He watched the knob twist, the dual shadows on the pebbled translucent glass of the door. When it swung open, the man standing next to Coraline stepped back to let her enter. Mick thought there was something old-fashioned, stuffy, in the courtesy he paid her. Who was this guy?
Coraline was wearing a dark red designer suit, stiletto heels and a scrap of fabric and net that Mick supposed was meant to be a hat. She looked…expensive. So no change there. He put his glass aside and stood up.

“Sorry I didn’t get the place tidied up. Thought I had more time.”

The stranger sniffed a little, looking distinctly unimpressed as he doffed the dark fedora he wore. He was tall, almost as tall as Mick, and broader through the shoulders. Auburn hair and guarded brown eyes. Coraline’s found herself a new boy, Mick thought. He inhaled, and caught an odd scent. He hadn’t learned much, this past year, of all that Coraline had wanted to teach him about being a vampire, but he had learned the difference between the smell of a new-turned vamp, and one of Coraline’s age. And unless he missed his guess, this guy was even older than she was. Great.

Coraline cocked her head to one side, flirtatious as always. “We came to see you, Mick, not your…place.”

Mick was just tired. Tired of her games, tired of this life she’d drawn him into against his will. “Coraline, you’re here for a reason. What is it?”

She gave him the sex kitten pout again. “Can’t I just want to see my husband?”

“I thought death had already parted us.” Mick looked at the stranger again. He seemed fussily dressed, his tie too precisely tied, his cuffs shot too carefully, the crease in his trousers dagger sharp. Mick had seen sloppier mannequins in department store windows, and his own stained khakis and wilted Hawaiian shirt suddenly crawled on him. How could this guy make him feel like a slob without even saying a word?

When the stranger spoke, it was like another slap in the face. “Coraline, my sweet,” he said, ignoring Mick, “it seems clear we’re unwelcome. Perhaps we should leave your little fledgling to his own devices.”

Pompous jerk, Mick thought.

The other vampire looked at him shrewdly, as though sensing his thoughts. He shook his head. “Not to criticize, Coraline, but…some men just weren’t cut out to be vampires.” He smirked at Mick. “Exhibit A, stage right, in a Hawaiian shirt.”

Coraline pouted. It was one of her more effective gambits, Mick recognized. “Now, Josef, you promised you’d give it a chance,” she said. She laid a soft, wheedling, hand on the stranger’s lapel, and Mick felt a dark rush of jealousy.

Josef sighed and held out his hand to Mick. “Josef Kostan.” He smiled again, and this time it was obvious he was attempting to be straightforward. “Coraline thought that maybe—you could use a friend.”

Maria meets Josef

In “Fire,” Josef’s attention is caught by a woman onstage in Restoration London, during the performance of a play. At the end of the play, he makes his way backstage, in hopes of meeting the actress.

The spectators’ area might have been growing empty by then, but backstage, lightly controlled chaos seemed to hold sway. Actors and flunkies swarmed, and bits and pieces of costumes and scenery crowded every available corner and surface. Friends of the company shared food and wine, and the buzz of chatter filled the air, along with the heady smells of makeup and sweat. Lamps flickered, giving the area an air of unreality far greater than what had been offered on view to the audience earlier.

Mrs. Shaw, to give her the courtesy title accorded to actresses in that day, lounged disheveled in front of her dressing table, a cotton wrapper loosely draping her figure as she removed the makeup from her face. As Josef entered, she was laughing at some sally from one of the company, sipping from a glass of wine. She looked up to see the newcomer, and favored him with a smile.

Josef bowed slightly to her, not the deep bow he would give a social equal, but polite enough. “My compliments to the company,” he said.

One of the older men present, the company manager, Josef assumed, returned the bow, if not the smile. “Thank you, sir. And you are?”

Josef pulled several gold coins out of a hidden pocket, and gestured for one of the young serving boys to approach. “I am the one who is sending out for a cask of wine to show my admiration for your work.”

The atmosphere immediately became more cordial. “Well met, indeed, sir. A patron of the arts is always welcome here,” the manager said.

“Indeed,” Josef returned, “I had thought that might be the case.”

Mrs. Shaw laughed again, and Josef realized some of her merriment was drawn from the red liquid she imbibed, as well a the natural exhilaration of performance. “So formal, sir,” she said. “Do you have a name, dear patron?”

Josef strode over to stand before her, bowing over her as she extended a hand to him, with a regal gesture he suspected she had perfected for some queenly role. “Lord Josef Alexander, my dear,” he said, “and I trust this will be the beginning of a—friendship.”

Her eyes flicked down to the cool hand that had taken possession of hers, noting the value of his rings, and the flawlessness of his lace. When she looked up to the warm brown eyes that regarded her so intently, her smile was bright and welcoming, and held no hint of mercenary design. “I am certain, my lord, that your trust is never misplaced.”

Marcin meets Mick

And lastly, this one is a bit different, since it’s first person POV from Mick. From Wrong Turn:

Marcin Borkowski pounded on my door one evening in the early spring of 1985. Days were lengthening, and I hadn’t been out of my freezer for very long. I’d had about enough time to throw on some pants and catch a quick snack out of the fridge—even then, I was making do with morgue blood for daily feedings. Sure, I fed fresh when I could get it, but for an evening eye-opener, bottled was fine. Can’t say the microwave did much for the flavor, though. And hey, my friend Josef might have had enough scratch to keep hot running freshies living in, but back then, I was struggling. Living and working out of a combo office/apartment in a third floor walkup whose greatest charm was the fact that the neighbors never stayed long enough to notice that the guy in 3B didn’t seem to get any older.

I lived—and looked—like what I was, a seedy private eye scraping a living off divorce cases and lost dogs, and letting my rich friend pick up the tab for dinner whenever I could. I thought I could see my way through to better nights, though. I was getting a reputation for doing whatever it took to get the job done…and that’s a good thing for a p.i. to have, even if it made the cops suspicious of me.

Anyway, when the knock came I stashed my dirty glassware in a cabinet and headed for the door. I know, not too professional, answering the office door without a shirt, but whoever it was sounded like the matter was urgent. The knock sounded like machine gun fire on the glass. And I didn’t really have the spare cash to replace the door, if he punched through the window. The kid barely waited for me to open up before he bolted inside and rushed over to lower the blinds I’d only just raised.

“They’re after me, Mr. St. John,” he said in a thick accent I couldn’t place and could barely understand. “You have to help me.”

I held out my hands, palms up, to him. “Calm down,” I said. “They’re not going to get you here.” Whoever “they” are, I added to myself, wondering if I’d be calling the guys in the white coats to give my new friend a little R&R at the county’s expense. If he wasn’t crazy, he certainly looked the part. Guess that was my detective sense kicking in, but you get so that description of a subject falls naturally, as though the file were there in your head waiting to be written. Young, not out of his twenties, dark hair unfashionably short, thin to the point of emaciation, pale blue eyes wild. Dressed in ragged jeans, and a stained USC sweatshirt over a t-shirt that, from the fraying around the collar, had seen better days as well. Leather work boots that might have started life as a decent brand, but like the rest of his wardrobe, worn almost past use. Looked like he’d led a rough life, but there was also something about him that said he could take care of himself, under normal circumstances. So whatever was going on, was way outside normal. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it?”

He ignored the “sit down” part, pacing like he wanted to be a moving target. I could tell through the fear stink in his scent that he was exhausted, but he kept circling. I didn’t get much from what he said—half the words were in another language, and while Josef kept telling me to start picking up a few, this didn’t sound like the French or Spanish I’d been planning to start with. I did gather his name, and that he was in danger…

“I heard you’d understand. I heard you—“ he was searching for the English words, and in his agitation it wasn’t coming easy, “—you had knowledge.”

I frowned at that. “Knowledge of what?”

That stopped him in his tracks, though his eyes kept moving. “The vampires,” he said. “Kostan—“

Then there was a crack as the glass of the window shattered, and Marcin clapped a hand to the side of his head, and went down like a ton of bricks, the smell of his blood flooding the office.

In Closing

I hope you’ve enjoyed a few “first meetings” with me, and join in my wishes that we all see many more meetings in our Moonlight fic. Happy second anniversary, Moonlight! May our vampires truly live forever!

[moonlight_vixen]

I loved this trip down memory lane!

[tucutecats]

Me too, Loved this little trip and I;m going to seach out the stories and read them again.

[jenstc2003]

What a WONDERFUL idea, Lucky! And a great way to remember some great stories as well. *Hugs*

[allegrita]

Lucky, I think this is the cleverest idea! You have written so many interesting meetings in your stories. I revisited some old friends, and even better, discovered a couple that I obviously need to read, because they've piqued my interest in a major way!

Thank you for the amazing number of excellent stories you've given us over the past couple of years. I'm looking forward to many more years of wonderful fics from your fertile pen.

[francis]

Very clever anthology, Lucky! Makes me want to revisit some stories that I already read.
I especially love the one from "Dust", the first Lucky/Josef meeting and the meeting of Josef and Mick.

[cassysj]

I love this stroll down memory lane. I particularly enjoyed Lucky meets Josef, Molly meets Josef and Mick meets Josef. So many wonderful stories.

[librarian_7]

Thanks, all...I just got to thinking that I've written so many scenes of characters meeting Mick, and Josef, that it might be fun to pull a bunch together.

Lucky

[mitzie]

I love this little walk through some of the freshie meetings from your stories!!!! Excellent idea!!!!


mitzie

[Catmoon]

This was a really unique idea! And it's a great way to introduce prospective readers to your stories and characters.

[MoonShadow]

Lucky,

What a wonderful walk through such special memories and with such wonderful company.
Moonlight made it feel as if it had
always been,
right, complete, and proper.

Thank you for sharing your work with us, you have a true gift.

[jen]

Lucky

So very rich, so very telling about the personalities in each case--small details speaking volumes of the people they are.

Wonderful!

[eris]

How'd I miss this?

Great compilation, Lucky.

[tucutecats]

Thanks for the walk down memoey lane, I re-read your stories all the time.especially Lucky stories. thank you once again for sharing your talent with us.liz

[librarian_7]

Ahh, thanks for the comments. I have to admit, it's interesting to me, reading back over this group of scenes. Sometimes I look at the stack of stuff in my office, and just go "My goodness! How did I end up with all these stories???"

...then I wander off and write another story, to calm my nerves.

Lucky