On the Streets of Old New York (In Between 10 and 11, PG13)

[Shadow]

Disclaimer: Moonlight is not mine and no copyright infringement is intended.

This story is posted in two parts. The second part is in the same thread.



IN BETWEEN
ten and eleven






On the Streets of Old New York





Mick put his hand to the window of the cab, and Beth smiled up at him and pressed her hand against his, on the other side of the glass. So near. So far. He managed a crooked half smile in return, and then the taxi pulled away. Mick set off walking in the opposite direction, moving slowly down a deep cavernous New York street. The heart of the city lay ahead of him, the bright nightlife he’d promised Beth, but he hadn’t the heart to go there alone. He took a left instead, seeking out darker, smaller streets, turning almost instinctively away from the light. Beth was going home to Josh, to try to repair her old relationship, and all Mick’s eager excitement had crashed and burned against that stark fact.

He walked silently, hands in his pockets, head down, unaware of anything around him. He wasn’t sure what had gone wrong. Something to do with Sarah. Josef’s love for the human girl had filled Mick with hope, but Sarah’s half-turned state had obviously unsettled Beth – even frightened her. The vampire world is so much stranger than she knows. It’s no wonder she’s clinging so hard to her normal life. What right did he have to stand in her way?

But Beth had felt so close to him on this trip. He remembered walking by her side through the crowds at the airport, checking tickets and gates like any normal couple, helping each other stow their overnight cases and settling down side by side for the flight. Commercial travel was usually a nightmare for Mick; airplanes were always too hot, too cramped, and far too full of mortals. But this trip had gone by in a heartbeat, with Beth at his side. Josef’s near miss had somehow brought them closer - when Mick had thought Josef was dead, Beth had been there for him, holding him, her very touch helping him survive the loss. Later, she’d been relaxed, happy, teasing him the way she used to, before Coraline re-entered their lives. My Beth was back, she was with me. Seeing Josef in love had been an inspiration, and Mick had been ready, tonight, to forget the vampire and tell Beth just exactly how he felt about her. And now she’s gone.

He imagined what the night would have been like if she’d stayed with him. He thought of listening to music with her in the packed basement room of a jazz club, of watching her eat dinner at some gorgeous open-air restaurant, of dancing a slow waltz in a shimmering ballroom. Or did they even have ballrooms any more? It had been discos for a while, but those were probably all gone too. Mick let the dream slip away, and looked up. He’d left the brighter neighborhoods far behind, and he was now in a dark and shabby area he didn’t recognize at all. He could hear a single engine rumbling nearby, and when he looked back he saw a van pull out of an alley and stop by the curb, idling, its headlights off. If he’d still been mortal, he would have been worried now. But vampires don’t need to worry much about dark alleys, he thought bitterly, turning to step into one. It wasn’t much of an advantage, compared to being able to live a normal life. Still, it could have been worse - he could have ended up like Sarah, caught between worlds forever.

A woman’s cry echoed in his mind, trapped and despairing. Sarah, he thought. Had she been afraid, when it happened? Had she known that something was going wrong? Was she at all aware, now, of what was going on around her? Another cry resounded in Mick’s ears, and he realized abruptly that he wasn’t imagining it. Where had it come from? He ran down the alley and emerged on the next street, following the sound to a corner bar with a pink neon cocktail glass in the dirty window. The place was nearly deserted. The only occupants were the bartender and two men at the counter with glasses in front of them, all apparently oblivious to the woman’s screams. Mick hesitated, suddenly feeling tired beyond belief. He only wanted to be alone tonight – why should he always have to solve everyone’s problems for them? Did anyone else think that way, when Chloe and Elaine were attacked? Mick entered the bar, glancing around, and crossed quickly to the little hallway where the restrooms were located. He shoved open the door marked Ladies. A woman stood backed against the toilet stall, her arms up to shield her face, and a drunken man stood over her, breathing hard, blood all over his fists. Mick’s eye was drawn to the blood, and he caught the scents of estrogen and cortisol. The blood on the man’s hands was the woman’s. Mick grabbed him and flung him across the room, slamming him against the sink and then to the floor, hearing the satisfying sound of a bone snapping in the man’s arm.

“You okay?” he asked the woman, and she looked up at him in shock. She was drunk too, her face purple with bruises, her nose bleeding and her lip cut. Mick reached out to her, worried, but she slapped his hand away, letting out another shriek.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, backing up a step. “Neither is he – not any more.”

She was staring, now, at the crumpled form of the man. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing he didn’t deserve, for beating you up.”

The woman pushed past him, falling to her knees beside the man. “He’s my husband!” she cried. “Oh my God, you’ve hurt him! Tony, talk to me - come on, baby.” The man groaned, and the woman glared up at Mick, pulling a phone out of her bag and punching in three quick numbers.

Great. Mick sighed and strode away, back through the bar, where the bartender and two customers still huddled in the same places they’d been. He wanted a drink badly – he wanted a lot of drinks – but he’d better cover some distance from here. Even in this neighborhood, it might not take long for the police to arrive, and the woman would probably accuse him of everything short of murder. What was wrong with her, anyway? She had to be crazy to stay with a man like that. Hah. Just like me and Coraline. No wonder Beth was so bewildered about why he’d stayed with Coraline all those years.

Mick faded into another alley, and came out an instant later on a new street. He wished he hadn’t thought of Beth, and wished again for a drink. He couldn’t help looking at his watch, and noting that their flight to L.A. would be leaving in five minutes. He’d been hoping that Beth would call once she got to the airport, to ask about his plans - to ask if maybe he’d be taking the flight back with her after all. Or at least to ask when he’d be returning to Los Angeles. But if she was going to call . . . well, she’d have done it by now. He checked his phone, just in case he’d somehow missed a call, but there was nothing. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and walked on, and something sharp and cold struck him, hard, in the back.

It was ice, it was fire . . .it’s silver. The shock and pain of it dropped him to his knees, and in sudden terror he dove behind a parked car. Hunters? In New York? Who the hell knows what I am, in this city? And what had he been hit with? The pain was agonizing, but it didn’t feel like a bullet had torn through his flesh. He reached back awkwardly to feel, and his hand struck something cold and metallic, embedded just below his left shoulder blade. With a gasp he pulled the thing out - a dart, soaked in blood and reeking of silver. He dropped it from numb fingers, remembering the van that had pulled up behind him before. Where was it now? Did it have anything to do with this? On his feet again, staying low, he swung around, looking everywhere, trying to catch a scent. He saw nothing but the empty street, and couldn’t smell anything at all. There weren’t any vehicles in sight, except for a scatter of parked cars, and he’d lost track of the van long ago. He didn’t know which way to run. But they know where I am. Anywhere’s better than here.

He broke from cover and took off at top speed, racing down the street in a blur of motion, dodging between parked cars and taking the first turn to the right. Headlights suddenly appeared, following him, and he leaped up the side of a building, fighting his way to the roof. He ran across the roof, hesitating when he came to the edge. His vision was already fading, his hearing becoming distorted. The lights below him were faint, drowned in gray fog, and the next rooftop seemed to waver in his sight. Five floors down he heard gasps and groans, a couple making love; two floors below them he smelled the smoke of a new-lit cigarette. His scarf slid from his neck and dropped into the void, disappearing into the fog.

Mick turned back, got a running start, and threw himself across the gap between the buildings. God only knew if anyone had seen him, if they knew which way he’d gone . . . he raced across the rooftop and jumped to the next one without pausing, fighting off the strange sounds and smells, struggling to see what was in front of him. One more rooftop passed under his feet, and he leaped for the next one, almost blindly. But he wasn’t going to make it this time - he could feel it from the moment he jumped.

He struck the wall two stories below the roof, grabbing desperately for a hold. For an instant he hung on to a window frame, but his hands couldn’t grip it, and he fell. Mick had never fallen like this before, ever. This was no controlled vampire jump to the ground, not even the suicide attempt of a new turn – he was falling like a human, like a stone. He flailed out wildly, trying to reach the wall again – no hope – spun in the air, and slammed into the ground. Shock and pain washed over him, and didn’t pass. He couldn’t move . . . couldn’t breathe . . . but he had to move, or they’d find him. He struggled to push himself to his feet, but fell back, dazed, to the pavement. I have to keep moving. I have to. He finally managed to get up, to start running again. But the fall had hurt him, and ice was spreading from his shoulder to the rest of his body, the cold and paralysis that he remembered all too well. He fought for speed but knew he was moving more slowly with every step. Still faster than a human. But were these human hunters? He had no vamp enemies here that he knew of, but vampires moved around . . . he couldn’t tell, his senses were worse than useless and it had never in his life been so hard to run. When he glanced back he saw headlights again, in the distance but moving closer.

God, where could he go? No strength left to climb a building, not enough time to hotwire a car. He pushed himself through another turn, into a narrower street, and behind him the headlights swung to follow and suddenly flared, bright as day. The street seemed to drop out from under him and he fell hard on his face, not even able to bring up his hands to break his fall. The pavement was cold beneath him, ice cold. The headlights turned to flames, flames that leaped wildly toward him, leaving him transfixed. Dark shapes moved in the fire, moving the way Coraline had moved. She survived the fire. How? Why didn’t I ever find out? Then the fire was upon him, and darkness fell.
















Dying by fire should burn like fire, not like ice. Could silver make him so cold that fire couldn’t touch him? Mick moved his head, ever so slightly, and felt the rough abrasion of pavement against his skin. He heard traffic from blocks away, horns honking – and then voices, nearby but very faint, almost hidden in the faraway snarl of engines and rumble of tires.

“Is it safe? Do you want the stake?”

“No need. Help me with him. Hurry up!”

Hands grasped him, hands from a dizzy swirl of dark forms clustered nearby, and he was thrown onto a dirty metal floor. A door slammed, an engine roared, and the floor lurched and began to move. Who were these people? Human or vampire? Even from this close he couldn’t tell. They were only dark shapes in his vision, with no scent to them at all.

The hands pulled at him again, dragging off his coat. “Good, there’s jewelry,” someone said. “I’ll take that – it’ll help.” The necklace, they were taking the cross . . . Mick didn’t expect to survive this, whatever was happening, but he still felt a mortal pain when the fleury cross was stripped away from him. He fought to move, to reach for it, and his hand shifted a fraction against the floor. But an instant later someone grabbed his hand, quickly sliding the ring off his finger, and there was no way to stop them. His last memory of Tyler, lost.

“He’s got a ring.” Another voice. “Take this too. Did you get pictures?”

“Not yet. I need the chains first.”

“Here’s the bag.”

“Just a minute.” There were hands at his throat again, a cold finger pressed to his carotid. Mick could feel his artery pulsing against the pressure, faint and slow.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s been hit with silver before.”

“How do you know?”

“Because one dart shouldn’t have done this much damage.”

“Oh.”

“And it doesn’t help that he fell off a goddamned building. Give me that.”

“You’re sure the chains will hold him when the dart wears off?”

“They’ll hold him. And it’s not gonna wear off any time soon. I won’t be gone all that long.”

Icy metal looped around Mick’s neck, around his wrists, burning cold that felt like death. The ice radiated back to his shoulder, where the dart had been, where the silver bullets had struck him so long ago. Bound with silver, no hope. Thank God Beth isn’t here. He was desperately thankful that she’d chosen to go back to Josh. She was well clear of this – she was safe on the flight to L.A.; they couldn’t reach her, couldn’t hurt her. I can deal with anything, as long as she’s safe. But what did they mean to do with him? If they’d wanted to kill him outright, he’d be dead already – they obviously knew how to deal with vampires. They seemed to want him alive, but what for? And how long would they keep him that way?

The dark shapes had receded, and he could barely hear the traffic any more, but he could feel the chains, burning like cold fire against his skin. He and Josef had kept Elaine in chains for weeks - silver chains like the ones that bound him now. How had she endured it? But it didn't hurt her like this, not anything like this. He was sensitized now, because of the silver bullets, and that dart couldn’t have helped. Silver had a cumulative effect on vampires; he’d been inspired to research it after he’d been shot. He might well die even if his captors didn’t kill him deliberately. Beth will never know what happened to me. He tried to tell himself that it would be better that way. With him gone, she could go back to her normal life with no second thoughts. After all, she’d already decided to put things right with Josh.

But he missed her . . . oh, he missed her so much. He was utterly relieved that she wasn’t here, but he still wished that he could see her. He remembered the way she’d smiled up at him, so wistfully, as she’d held her hand to his on the other side of the taxi’s window. He’d almost believed that she would change her mind, right then, and stay with him.

“Is he supposed to be this cold?” Mick couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.

“No. Damn. Here, let me see.”

Then the voices faded out.

“Beth?” It was his own faint whisper, falling into dark, empty silence.

She’s not here.

Good. She’s safe.

Dream images slipped into his mind, ghostly sights and sounds overlapping and interweaving. Coraline, his old apartment, his mother’s kitchen, Elaine, Josef’s blast-torn office, Beth. Beth. He tried to focus only on her face, and her voice, letting the others go.














The cab door opened and a marvelous mix of aromas rushed in, surrounding Mick: hot roasted chestnuts, saffron, ginger, the billowing steam that rose from grates in the pavement. Someone was playing a saxophone nearby, jazz notes spilling out into the night, and down the street he could see the distinctive red awning of the Village Vanguard. Quintessential New York. Mick jumped out of the cab, took another delighted breath, and turned back to hold out a hand for Beth. She smiled and took it, climbing out of the cab and looking around with interest.

“So where are we going?” she asked.

“We’ll catch a set at the Village Vanguard. And then martinis, and a steak for the lady. Unless you’d rather have something different?

Beth sniffed the air. “Like burgers, or Chinese?”

“Whatever you want.”

“The steak,” she said decisively. “And the drink.”

She sat close beside him in the little basement room of the jazz club, gazing around at the posters on the wall, shifting her chair closer to his as another couple was seated next to them at their table. Mick had forgotten how dark and shabby the place was, how crowded . . . he loved it for the music, and had never really paid attention to the setting. He glanced nervously at Beth, but she looked perfectly happy, exchanging greetings with their table-mates and then turning her attention to the stage. As the lights lowered and the music began, she slipped her hand into his and listened raptly, sharing the experience with him, and his heart lifted.

The rich jazz faded into the faint tinkling sound of a piano, the sound softened by a light breeze. Beth let go of his hand and picked up her martini glass, sipping from it with pleasure. Their rooftop table looked out over the city, giving them a spectacular view of the skyline, and the cool evening air felt perfect. Mick took a swallow from his glass and put it down, aware of Beth’s steady gaze on him.

“Can you taste that?” she asked, curious. “You never eat, but it looks like you’re enjoying the drink.”

“Oh, I can’t really taste it. But I can feel the alcohol. It’s not the same, but it still feels good to have a drink.”

“Can you still – oh, I don’t know – get drunk?”

“Not really.”

“You sound like you miss it.”

“I do. I used to be pretty good at it.”

Beth laughed, tightening her arms around him as they spun across the dance floor. Her hair swung loose on her shoulders; her long skirt swirled around her feet. The band was playing all Mick’s favorite tunes tonight – oldies, Beth had said with a smile – and the lights were low. “You’re pretty good at dancing, too,” she said. “Even though I keep trying to trip you up. High school prom was nothing like this.”

Mick remembered her high school prom, hip-hop music and rap beats echoing through the school gym. “Do you like dancing this way?”

“I love it,” she said, nestling closer under his arm as they walked. She slipped her arm around his waist, leaning against him, sharing her warmth with him. “I’ve always loved weather like this,” she went on. “Cold enough to really need a coat, but not freezing.”

“I like it too,” Mick said.

She looked up at him, her eyebrows arched. “Oh really? I thought you liked the weather in L.A.”

“Well, I – I do. I like it both places.”

“Ah. I see.” She stopped, turning to face him, smiling. The breeze caught her loose hair, blowing a strand of it across her face, and he reached out gently to push it back. She shivered, closing her eyes and leaning toward him, and he bent down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body melting against his as she ardently returned the kiss. Her mouth was warm and sweet, so soft against his . . . he couldn’t resist her, not tonight, not ever again. She pulled his scarf aside, slipping her hands into his hair, and he moved away from her mouth to kiss her eyelids, her cheek, her throat. She was trembling, her face flushed, her heart beating hard and fast in response to his touch. He pushed her coat off her shoulders, running his hands down her body to clasp her waist, and she caught his hands in hers with a breathless gasp.

“Maybe – maybe we should get a room,” she whispered. “It might be a little too cold without a coat, or without – other things.”

“It would be – warmer – in a room,” Mick said, his heart pounding. “If you’re sure -- ”

“I think he’s warmer,” a voice said, from somewhere in the shadows.

“Yeah. He should be all right. Pull that chain tighter, Thomas.”

“Right.”

“Okay, everything’s secure. I’ve got to go, or I’ll miss my flight.”

The buildings wavered, flickering, as the voices intruded. “Mick?” Beth said, worried. “What’s wrong?”

The buildings faded out, and he couldn’t see Beth. He’d fallen, somehow, and he was lying on cold cement, his coat gone. He was freezing. He felt Beth’s warm hands on his, and clung to them. “Hold on, Mick,” she said, her voice low. “Hold on to me. Don’t let go.”

“I can’t see you.”

“I’m here. I’m not leaving you.” Her voice drifted away, and he heard the saxophone instead, someone playing KoKo and Salt Peanuts and White Heat, and he listened to the music as the night passed, never letting go of Beth’s hands.

“Hey,” he said softly, feeling the sun rise. “Beth.”

She didn’t answer, and suddenly he couldn’t feel her hands any more. The saxophone had stopped playing, and he heard the first notes from an emo band instead. “Beth,” he said again. “Beth?”















The music blared, and he woke, flinching, to a room filled with white artificial light. The floor was cold cement, and his hands were chained in front of him. I was dreaming. And Beth isn’t here, thank God. Wherever I am. He was chained tightly, held down to bolts in the floor, the same way they’d restrained Elaine when they had to go in to tend her. Where had Josef learned the technique? Hadn’t he said, from a Cleaner? It had kept them safe from Elaine, even though she’d been stronger, at the time, than they were.

Mick tried to pull at the chains, to test their strength, and they shifted agonizingly against his wrists. He closed his eyes, trying not to lose consciousness again, shivering with the cold. Dashboard Confessional was still belting out Rooftops and Invitations, but the song was suddenly cut short as someone answered a phone.

“What’s going on?” It was a boy’s voice.

“I just got here. And she’s gone.” The voice at the other end was a woman’s, tinny from the connection, but deep and authoritative.

“What do you mean, gone?” The boy sounded bewildered.

“I mean gone! She’s disappeared out of the hospital. The place is like an ant hive – nobody knows what happened to her. The doctors say she was way too sick to leave on her own. Me, I don’t know what to think.”

A long silence. Then the boy said, “What do we do now?”

“You and Asha stay put, and keep St. John where he is. I’m going to look for DuVall. I have connections, so we may be able to salvage this yet.”

“That’s it?” This voice came from a woman in the room, high and shrill.

“That’s it. Listen to me, Thomas. You too, Asha. You are not to do anything to St. John. Your only job is to keep him secure. We still need him alive. Asha? Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Asha muttered, her voice sullen.

A dial tone buzzed for a moment, and then the room filled with silence. Mick tried to take in what he’d heard. Had they been talking about Coraline? DuVall, the woman had said - they must have been. But how could Coraline be gone from the hospital? When he’d left L.A., she had still been critical, and there was no way she could have gotten better and walked out.

Unless she changed back.

Could that have happened? If she’d died as a human, could she have turned back into a vampire? He simply didn’t have any idea; he didn’t know how she’d turned human in the first place.

Or - had she been abducted? The idea didn’t seem very far-fetched at the moment. What did these people want with her, and what did he have to do with it? Did they imagine they could use him to get something from her?

“He’s awake now,” Asha said, her voice very dark. “We should question him.”

“Marguerite said not to.”

“I don’t care what she said.” Mick heard the woman’s footsteps, pacing back and forth. “And I’ve got this. See?”

“Christ, Asha! That’s a Cleaner drug! How did you even get hold of it?”

“Marguerite’s safe isn’t as secure as she thinks it is.” The footsteps came closer, and Mick felt Asha hovering over him. “I’ve got to know,” she said fiercely. “I can’t wait. It isn’t fair! This wasn’t supposed to happen to me!” She dropped to her knees beside him, and Mick saw the glint of a syringe in her hand. Thomas was suddenly there – he was just a boy, small, maybe thirteen – and he shoved Asha away, sending her flying across the room. Damn, but that’s a strong kid. He’s got to be a vampire. Thomas looked down at Mick from under a fall of dark hair, and Mick was suddenly certain of it. No thirteen-year-old in the world had eyes like that. It was something, at least, to know that he hadn’t been taken down by two ordinary women and a boy. Three vampires was a different matter. And Mick knew just how powerful a vampire woman could be.

Asha was back, facing down the boy. She was a young woman, disconcertingly pretty, but her face was grim. “I need to know now,” she said flatly. “And this drug will make him answer my questions. Don’t try to stop me.”

“Asha. Why do you think Marguerite didn’t use it on him in the first place? They haven’t got the formula worked out yet – it isn’t safe. It could kill him, and then how would you get any answers? Wait for Marguerite, all right? Give her a chance to find DuVall.”

“Just how long am I supposed to wait?”

“I don’t know!” Thomas said, frustrated. “Longer, that’s all. Give her time, damn it! If I can do this at all, you can wait a little longer. How do you think I’m gonna explain this to Elaine?”

“Why explain anything? Don’t tell her.”

“She’ll find out. She’ll know I was involved.” Thomas glanced sideways at Mick. “When she sent me that email about DuVall, she was trying to help us. And now look what we’re doing. She really cares about this guy. She’s not ever gonna understand.”

“You knew that when you agreed to Marguerite’s plan. Why do you care what this Elaine thinks, anyway? You haven’t even seen her in years.”

“Years don’t matter. Neither do decades, or centuries. You’ll find out.”

“I’d better not,” Asha snapped, and made a sudden move. Thomas fell limp at Mick’s side, utterly still, a stake buried in his chest. That definitely settles it. They’re vampires. But what did they know about Elaine? What was going on? Thomas couldn’t tell him now, and Asha –

Asha shoved Thomas out of the way, then stepped deliberately over Mick, the syringe still ready in her hand.

“There,” she said. “Thomas doesn’t have any more to say about it.”

Mick watched Asha warily, his eye on the syringe. It could kill him, Thomas had said. Was she really going to inject him, without even asking her questions first?

“What do you want?” he whispered, his voice raw. He had to struggle to form the words. “Wait . . . you don’t have to do this . . .”

Asha ignored him. She knelt at his side, readying the syringe, and slowly ran her finger along his jugular vein, picking her spot. She would have to inject at an awkward angle, with the chain in the way, but he didn’t doubt that she could do it. He felt her finger move away, felt the sharp point of the needle rasp against his throat. The touch of it was terrifying . . . Mick tried to struggle against the chains, to jostle the syringe. But he didn’t have the strength; he couldn’t even move. He stared up at Asha – just like Elaine stared at me – and the needle pierced his throat.

Elaine, he thought. Forgive me.
















“Mick, sit down,” Josef said.

“No,” Mick said, and kept pacing the room, back and forth, beneath the painting. Josef’s artwork had always made him feel safe before, for some reason, but now he found it unsettling, disturbing. The doll-child’s hair, bursting into flames . . . how had that never bothered him before? Or the planes, damaged and crashing . . . the black sun . . .

Josef was at his side the next instant, forcibly pushing him down into a chair, then sitting beside him. Mick looked at the floor, keeping his eyes off the painting. Tyler stayed where he was, leaning against one of the wall panels, his arms folded in front of him. Behind Tyler, the robed figure peered out at Mick, gazing at him steadily from beneath her hood.

“Look at me,” Josef said, and unwillingly, Mick did so. “Mick, it’s been weeks. She’s not any better. She’s not going to get better. And we can’t keep putting her through this.”

“So what are you saying?” Mick burst out. “You want to kill her, is that it?”

“I’m saying she ought to be put down. For her sake as well as ours.”

“Put down? How? Do you want to cut off her head, or would you rather set her on fire? Fuck you, Josef!”

Mick leaped to his feet, heading for the door, but Josef was there before him, blocking his way.

“Get out of my way,” Mick said.

Josef didn’t move, and Tyler suddenly stood at Josef’s side. “Mick,” Tyler said, “Josef knows what he’s talking about. Listen to him, okay?”

Tyler’s eyes were downcast, but he looked resolute. “Tyler?” Mick said, staring at him. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want her to die. You know I don’t. But this – what we’re doing to her – I think it’s worse than death.”

Mick closed his eyes. Tyler was right, and he knew it, but –

“Mick,” Josef said. “There’s a painless way to do it.”

“What?” Mick remembered one of their very first conversations – the one where he’d asked Josef how a vampire could die. “You never told me that.”

“I haven’t known about it for long. It’s a new drug the Cleaners have, for when they have a - situation - like this. Nobody else is supposed to even know it exists.”

“So how do you?”

“I happened to meet a Cleaner a while back, and, well . . . let’s just say that I got to know her. Intimately. She certainly wasn’t supposed to tell me about the drug, but she did. The Cleaners have a lot of drugs that no one is supposed to know about. Drugs that work on vampires. Just don’t ever tell anyone else, okay? Either of you. Because if word got out, her life would be forfeit.”

Mick watched Josef, seeing the deadly serious look on his friend’s face. Josef cared about this Cleaner, and was taking a risk letting out one of her secrets. And Elaine . . . Elaine was suffering. Terribly. She had been suffering for weeks, and Josef was right – she wasn’t getting better. He leaned back against the wall, his head in his hands, remembering Elaine the way she’d been before. Before I turned her. Her overwhelming shyness, the way she’d blushed, the way her hands had moved on the strings of her guitar. The songs she’d written, the words that had touched his heart so deeply. That was all gone now. Everything he’d loved about Elaine was gone, long gone, destroyed in the turning that had gone so badly wrong. My fault. And my fault again, if I let this go on. He felt Tyler’s hand, gentle and reassuring against his shoulder, and steadied himself.

“All right,” he whispered. “But I’m doing it myself.”

“Okay,” Josef said.

“What is it? An injection?”

“Yeah. Goes in the vein.”

“How does it work?”

“It’s a narcotic, mixed with silver. It knocks you out, just long enough for the silver to kill you. You never wake up, and there’s not any pain.” Josef hesitated. “You want me to get it now?”

“Yes. I’ll – I’ll be with Elaine.”

Tyler went with him to the observation room. Through the glass Mick saw Elaine pacing across the floor of her room, just as he had done in Josef’s office, the chains trailing from her wrists and throat. In that instant she saw him, and she lunged toward him, snarling, fangs out and eyes white. Mick looked away, unable to bear the sight, and touched the controls to shorten the chains. She fought, but was inexorably pulled back, away from the window, down to the floor. Tyler stood in front of him, watching her sadly, and an instant later Josef was there, pressing a syringe into Mick’s hand.

“Look,” Josef said, “I’m sorry. But you know it has to be done.”

“I know.”

“You want me to come with you?” Tyler asked.

“No. I was the one who did this to her, and I’ll end it.”

Mick entered the room. Elaine was held fast now, where she couldn’t bite or claw him, but she still tried, fighting madly against the chains. Mick dropped to the cold floor beside her and looked down at the syringe in his hand. He touched Elaine’s hair, very gently, and pushed the long dark strands away from her throat. Shaking, he took the cap off the syringe and touched the needle to her skin, just over the jugular vein. She stared up at him, silent, as if she knew what he meant to do, and he pulled the syringe away abruptly, capping it and putting it into his pocket. Not yet. He quickly caught her head in one hand, her bound arms in the other. One more time. I have to try one more time. “Tyler!” he called out. “Loosen the chains.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I’ve got her, Tyler. She can’t hurt me.”

“Mick, she’s strong. She nearly took your head off, last time. She could kill you.”

“I’ll take that chance. Loosen them. Now!”

“Don’t do it, Tyler,” Josef said. “Don’t! It’s too dangerous.” But the chains grew slack, and soon Mick had to hold Elaine with every bit of his strength to keep her still. He leaned back against the wall, pulling her into his lap, holding her wrists in an iron grip, pressing her head against his chest. He’d never dared to hold her in his arms before. Tyler was right – in her current state, she was stronger than he was, and she could kill him. But I’m not letting her go without trying this. She struggled, fighting him, her long hair falling into her face and fanning out against his shirt.

“Elaine,” Mick whispered. “Elaine, listen to me.”

She twisted in his grip, frenzied, trying desperately to reach him with her fangs.

“No. Elaine, listen. Your name is Elaine Harrison. You’re seventeen years old. You’re a musician. And not just any musician; you’re brilliant, did you know that? You play guitar, and you write songs that can make a vampire cry. Because that’s what I am, a vampire. And that’s what happened to you.” Hopelessly he wished for the mythical vampire ability of hypnosis – if he could influence other people’s minds, he’d be able to reach Elaine, even in the state she was in now. But still . . . she wasn’t fighting him as hard as she had been before, and she almost seemed to be hearing him. He swallowed, and went on. “We met at the Monterey Pop festival. You remember that, don’t you? Well, it turns out that you ran away from home, you and your friend Chloe, because your parents weren’t going to let you go. But you loved the music so much, you ran away, and you went to the festival. I don’t know if you were planning to go back home, after. I never found out.”

He loosened his grip on her enough to stroke her hair. She could break free of him now; she could easily overpower him. But in this moment, he didn’t believe she would. “I met you there,” he said. “I heard you play, and I heard Chloe sing. I’d never heard music like that before, ever. And after that -- ”

“Chloe,” Elaine whispered, and he froze for an instant. It was the first coherent word she’d spoken as a vampire.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Chloe. She was your friend.”

“What happened to her? What happened to me?”

“You were attacked, Elaine. When I found you that night, you were bleeding to death. I saved your life the only way I could. I turned you into a vampire, like me. But something – went wrong.”

“Oh God,” Elaine murmured. “I remember. You told me before. Vampire. Oh God.”

I told you hundreds of times. But I didn’t know you’d ever heard me.

“Where’s Chloe? Is she all right?”

Mick let go of Elaine’s wrists and drew her close to him, cradling her in his arms.

“Where’s Chloe?” Elaine said again, looking up at him. “I don’t remember . . . oh, no. No.”

“I’m sorry.” Mick held her closer, hardly able to find his voice. “I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, no, no! That can’t have happened!”


















“No,” Mick murmured, in answer to a question he’d already forgotten. His eyes opened, and he found himself chained to the floor, just as Elaine had been. He’d never remembered that time so vividly before. I wish that had been a dream. But it wasn’t. It was all real. He thought of how he’d held the needle to Elaine’s throat – he’d come so close to ending her life. He’d believed it would be best for her, at that moment. But she’d survived, she’d gone on, she’d had joy in her life. She and Kevin had been together for a long time before their ill-fated marriage had ended that joy. Should I just let her go when Kevin dies? Would that be best for her? But no - it couldn’t be right, it couldn’t. He had to find a way to convince her to go on living.

But to do that, he’d have to survive.

“Then you can’t understand,” Asha said, apparently in response to something he’d said. “Turning doesn’t count.” She was pacing again, back and forth, and he could feel her gazing down at him. “So. Just tell me. How did she do it?”

Was she talking about Elaine? What did these people have to do with her? “Elaine?” he asked, confused.

“Not Elaine. Your wife. Coraline. How did she do it?”

“She’s not my wife.”

“What do mean, she’s not your wife?”

“Ex-wife,” Mick said, and looked up at Asha again. So many vampire women looked so . . . innocent. You’d never guess from looking at her how ruthless she is, how powerful. She’s like Josef, that way.

“She’s not your ex,” Asha said coldly. “You never got divorced.”

Why would I bother? I thought she was dead. Smoke filled his vision, smoke from the fire that had engulfed Coraline. He couldn’t smell it, though. He couldn’t smell anything at all.

“And you’ve been seen together. Recently. You know, you have to know. Tell me how she did it!”

The drug was coursing all through his body now, intensifying the pain, and the smoke was thicker than ever. It drifted around him, and he could barely see through it. “I thought she died in that fire,” he said. “All these years, I thought she was dead. I don’t know how she got out. I don’t know how she survived. I should have asked . . .” Would he ever get another chance to ask her? Had Coraline really disappeared from the hospital, or had he dreamed that?

Asha struck him, the pain sharp and intense, and he felt blood hot on his face. “Not that. Tell me how she turned human.”

“I don’t know! How would I know? I didn’t even know she was alive, all that time.”

“You were with her while she was human! You must know how she did it!”

“I don’t. I asked her, of course I asked her. She never told me. I didn’t want this; I don’t want this! If I knew how to turn back, I’d be human now.”

Asha seemed to wilt, her fury fading into despair, and she lowered herself to the floor. She sat for a moment in silence, then said, “You really don’t know anything about it?”

“I don’t. I wish I did.” The smoke swirled, and Mick thought he saw tears on her face. But surely this fierce, angry woman wouldn’t cry? “Is Coraline really gone?” he asked. “If she isn’t . . .”

Asha jumped to her feet, furiously rubbing at her face. “Marguerite will find her,” she said harshly. “Cleaners have their ways. And she’ll talk. We have you, and we’ll kill you if she doesn’t tell us.”

“Nobody can find Coraline, if she doesn’t want to be found,” Mick said. Not even me. He thought of the vial of blood he’d taken from Coraline – his only lead now to the cure, and a terribly faint one. He wondered why these people wanted it so badly. And why was a Cleaner looking for the cure? Cleaners were, by definition, devoted to the vampire world. Was it the boy who wanted it, so that he could escape an eternal childhood? If so, why was Asha asking the questions?

If she was still asking questions . . . he couldn’t hear her any more, couldn’t see her. The smoke hovered over him in a cloud, and he suddenly caught a scent. Not Asha, not Thomas – but he could smell humans, their blood warm and enticing, in the building next door. A wave of thirst passed over him, so strong that if he’d been free, he’d have broken down the wall to get to them. He threw himself against the chains, as hard as he could, and then collapsed against the floor, utterly spent. When you’re dying, you need blood. Was the drug killing him? It was so cold, so very cold. Strange sensations coursed through his veins, following the path of the drug.

“You shouldn’t have called her.” Asha muttered.

“You shouldn’t have used that damn drug,” Thomas snapped in reply. “You didn’t even learn anything.”

“He said he had a daughter. But he doesn’t! She’s just a turn. It’s not like I’m your daughter.”

“In a way, you are.”

“It’s not the same! It’s not the same at all! Katey is my daughter. If I ever turned anyone, it wouldn’t be anything like that.”

“Would you?” Thomas asked. “Would you ever turn anyone?”

“Not against their will,” Asha said, with venom.

“It was an accident,” Thomas said tightly. “You know that. And you were a freshie. You knew the risks.”

“I didn’t know I’d lose Katey!” Asha cried, anguished. “I didn’t know I’d never be able to see her again! I want my life back!”

“Well, maybe I do too.”

“You chose it. You told me - Marguerite gave you the choice.”

“Between that and dying, yeah. It wasn’t much of a choice.”

“It’s more than I had.” Asha paused, then said, “Hey – what are you doing?”

“He needs blood.”

“That’s not safe for us!”

“Shut up, Asha. Marguerite told me what to do.”

“Why do you always listen to her? She isn’t always right. She doesn’t always think of everything. I mean . . . what was she going to do if DuVall was there, anyway? What if DuVall had been hurt too bad to talk?”

“As long as she was alive, Marguerite could have revived her. Cleaners know some things about humans, too.”

“It would be a lot more useful if they knew something about truth drugs for humans,” Asha said bitterly.

“Truth drugs for humans don’t work worth a damn. And even if they did, something like that would have killed DuVall, in the state she was in. Hand me that line.”

Fresh blood rushed into Mick’s body, easing his frantic craving, and he started to make sense of their words. Asha had apparently released Thomas from the stake, and the boy was back in control. They all still seemed to want Mick alive, which was something, he supposed . . . and they were talking about Coraline. Could a Cleaner really revive a human who was so badly injured? And get answers from her? Somehow, Mick didn’t doubt it, and the thought was chilling. He didn’t like to think of Coraline in her hospital bed, being tormented that way, even though it hardly compared with what he had done to her himself. He opened his eyes, and he could see again, but his vision was still full of smoke. Was it smoke from the fire he’d set to kill Coraline? Or was it something else?

Thomas and Asha had talked about children - and about fledglings - as well.

Asha must have asked if I had children.

And I must have told her I had a daughter.

Elaine.

He’d never called her his daughter before, not out loud, though he’d often thought of her that way – his eternally teenage daughter, all self-doubt and uncertainty, angst and drama, emotionally unstable and sometimes suicidal . . . .

He thought of Elaine’s sad little house near the beach. He knew very well why she’d chosen a stand-alone house rather than a cheaper apartment. The smoke stung his eyes, seared his lungs. I think it’s a premonition.

“I have to get home,” Mick said hoarsely.

“Too bad,” Asha said.

“I have to. It’s Elaine. Something’s going to happen. I can feel it.”

“Something’s going to happen?” Asha said sarcastically. “Like what?”

“Asha,” Thomas said warily, “if you ask questions like that --”

But it was too late. Compelled by the drug, Mick’s mind fixed itself on all of his worst fears, and he fell into them, lost.











-

[Shadow]

-






There was smoke in the air, an orange glow in the night sky. Mick’s hands were shaking on the wheel, and he was driving much too fast. He turned a corner, tires screeching, and suddenly he saw flames, shooting up into the night. He'd known the fire was there, from the smoke . . . but even so, he nearly lost control of the car. It was Elaine’s house, he knew it, he’d felt it – he swerved around one more corner and crashed straight into a barricade. The firefighters were already there, hoses spraying water on the fire. Mick got out of the wrecked car and tried to run. His body was full of silver and he couldn’t come close to vamp speed; he was slow even for a human, and it felt like he was standing still. The house loomed before him, crumbling and melting in front of him, fire pouring from the windows. As he drew closer, the roof caved in. The fire dimmed, and then leaped higher.

“Elaine!” he screamed, running for the house, and two firemen lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. He rolled back to his feet but they caught his arms and dragged him away from the fire. They were only humans; how did they have the strength to do that? If it weren’t for the silver –

“You’ve gotta stay back,” one of the firemen gasped out from behind his mask.

“Elaine. She’s in there.” Mick struggled to get free, but they held him back firmly.

“Just one person?” the fireman said intently.

“Yes. Get off me, let me go!”

“No. Stay back, okay? Our guys will get her out.”

Even with the silver confusing his senses, Mick knew an outright lie when he heard it. The fire flared again, the walls of the house collapsing, and he watched in agony. There was no hope for Elaine, and he knew it as well as the firemen did. They were only trying to humor him, to keep him calm, to keep him from running uselessly into the flames. No one could still be alive in a fire like that.

Except Coraline.

Mick fell to his knees, and the firefighters cautiously released him. He might have been able to imagine hope for Elaine, that she had somehow survived the same way Coraline had – but he had felt her die. He’d been leaving the airport when it had hit him, so hard that he’d nearly fallen senseless. I didn’t want to believe it, but I felt it all. And it wasn’t just fire. She took the drug, and only set the fire to make sure.

“Mick? Mick! Are you okay?” It was Beth’s voice. What was she doing here?

He looked up, dazed. The sun was rising, and she was kneeling beside him, her hand on his, her face full of concern.

“Oh my God, Mick. What happened? You’re hurt. . . .”

She gently pushed up the sleeve of his coat, staring horrified at the deep burns on his wrist. He turned toward her blindly, reaching out for her, and she carefully drew him into her arms, obviously afraid that her touch might cause pain. “Were you in the house?” she asked, close to his ear. “Did you get burned?” Her hand moved to push aside his tangled hair, and he heard her breath catch. “Your neck . . . how can you be hurt like this? What can I do?”

“I’ll be okay.” He felt his shoulders shaking, her gentle comfort finally releasing his tears.

“You’re crying. Oh, Mick . . .”

“She’s dead, Beth. She’s gone. I can’t -- ”

“The girl who lived here – she was a friend of yours?”

He wished he had told her about Elaine before. But he would tell her now, he’d tell her everything, and then he could collapse in her arms again. He raised his head and looked at her, at her worried face limned by the dying fire, and he saw the cameraman behind her, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for her.

She was here for a story. She thought Elaine’s death was a story.

“Mick . . .”

He shoved her aside and scrambled to his feet, ignoring her shocked cry, running away from her as fast as he could. Away from Beth. Away from the house. Away from Elaine. The fire faded into the distance as the sun rose higher into the sky. The sunlight burned his eyes, and tears streaked his face. He ran on, swerving around a corner, and suddenly crashed into Josef.

“Christ, Mick! What happened? Were you in there?”

“No.” He gulped, swallowed, held on to Josef’s coat. “She was, Josef. Elaine.”

“I know.” Josef glanced over his shoulder and pulled Mick into the shadows by a wall. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I don’t know why the cops haven’t showed up already. Is your car here?”

Mick suddenly jerked free of Josef’s grip. “What do you mean? You knew? And you let it happen?”

“Mick, come on. There isn’t time for this.”

“You wanted her to die?”

“What?”

“You gave her your damn drug! When you knew she was suicidal!” Mick grabbed Josef by the collar, and with a gasp of effort, flung him against the wall.

“What was I supposed to do, when she came to me?” Josef pushed Mick aside easily, and reached up to straighten his collar. “She was going to kill herself either way. She didn’t want to suffer. Did you want her to die in pain?”

Mick threw himself at Josef in a fury, but Josef dodged him and shoved him to the ground. Mick landed hard on cold cement, the breath knocked out of him, screams echoing in his ears. He started awake, trying to sit, and was brought up short by the chains. He lay still then, sweating and trembling. It was a nightmare. It was only a nightmare. He’d had a memory of Elaine before, of the time when he’d almost given up on her, but this . . . this had been different. It hadn’t happened; it couldn’t have. He was still in New York, and so was Josef. He hadn’t really felt Elaine die.

Had he?

He could still hear the screams, broken now by choked sobs, someone crying in absolute and utter despair. Someone else was murmuring softly in counterpoint - Thomas, in the room next door. Who was crying?

“Asha,” Thomas whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you stop me? Why, why?”

“I tried to. I couldn’t. Asha -- ”

“Oh God! This can’t have happened! It’s a nightmare, it has to be. I just have to wake up. Please, oh please . . .”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Katey. Katey. Her blood . . .oh my God, her blood . . .”

There was blood on Mick’s hands. He lay in the street where he’d fallen, his hands scraped raw from the impact with the pavement. The injuries weren’t healing – there was too much silver in his body. What had happened? Why had he been fighting with Josef? Because of Elaine . . . but that had been a dream. Just a dream. Josef wasn’t here, and Elaine’s house – Mick sat up quickly and looked – Elaine’s house was still there. It hadn’t burned. Quickly Mick got to his feet and hurried to her door, desperate to see that she was all right. The door was locked; he slammed himself against it, breaking the bolt, and ran inside. “Elaine?” he called out. “Elaine!”

The house reeked of gasoline, and Elaine sat very still in a kitchen chair, her head bent, her hair falling in a dark curtain in front of her. Mick stepped into the kitchen, his heart pounding, and she looked up at him, lifting her head. He froze, paralyzed, as he saw the syringe she held. The needle was already in her vein, the plunger pushed all the way in. Elaine slowly fell from the chair, toppling forward, and as Mick lunged to catch her he smelled smoke in the air, saw orange flames licking at the walls. He fell to the floor with Elaine in his arms, clinging to her, aware only of her heartbeat. It faded away, and stopped, as the smoke drifted over them both.














“No,” Mick moaned. “Elaine, no.” He opened his eyes and the flames turned into the glare of artificial lights. Just another nightmare, that was all. Just a nightmare. Or a premonition. Mick shuddered. He was sure of it now – Elaine hadn’t gone to Josef’s place to settle a grudge, she’d gone to get the drug from him, the drug that killed without pain. She’d understood a lot more than they’d thought, during the weeks they’d kept her in chains. And now was the worst time in the world for Mick to be trapped here, away from Los Angeles. He had to get home. He whispered the words aloud.

“Yeah, we know,” a woman said gruffly. “You’ve been going on about it for days.”

“What?” Shocked, Mick pushed himself up to sitting, staring across the room at a woman in a black leather jacket. “Days?”

“Four days altogether, since we took you.” The woman was smoking a cigarette, and she had a small gun tucked in her belt. Four days? Mick reached into his pocket for his phone, afraid it wouldn’t be there. But it was, tucked away under his watch. He pulled it out and tried to find Elaine’s number. His hands were clumsy, unsteady; he dropped the phone to the cement floor, fumbled for it, picked it up again and held on to it tightly. Elaine never answered calls, but she’d usually answer a text - struggling with nerveless fingers, he finally got off a message. RRU OK? PLSS ASR. M. Once it was sent he stared down at the screen, waiting, and it took him a moment to notice his ring, glinting on his finger where it belonged. And the chains are gone. He hadn’t imagined or dreamed them, either; there were deep, aching burns circling both of his wrists, blackened and ugly. He touched his chest hesitantly, and found the fleury cross there. He was wearing his coat again, and his legs were covered with a blanket. What was going on?

The phone chimed faintly, announcing a message, and Mick was so relieved he thought he might collapse. NOT NOW MICK. GO AWAY. E.

She was still alive. But something was wrong, very wrong, and he could feel it. Smoke from the Cleaner’s cigarette drifted across his face, and he looked up to find her standing over him. “You’re Marguerite,” he said.

Her expression didn’t change, and she didn’t acknowledge the name. “Come on, get up,” she said.

He looked at her warily, eyeing the gun in her belt. It was probably loaded with silver. “Why?”

“You said you needed to get home, didn’t you? Come on.”

Why would they let him go, after all the trouble they’d undergone to capture and hold him? Had Coraline told them what they wanted to know? Confused, he said, “You found her?”

“Who?”

“Coraline.”

“I would have,” Marguerite muttered. “But there’s no need now. Do you want to go home or not?” She reached out her hand to him.

Well, what the hell – if she’d lost her mind, he might as well go along with it. He took her hand and let her lift him to his feet. He didn’t want to lean on her, to take any help from her, but he couldn’t even stand on his own. He had to let her support him, his arm across her shoulders, as they moved out of the room where he’d been held. The next room was a living area, and as they crossed to the front door Mick saw Asha huddled in a corner behind a chair, curled around herself in misery. Thomas sat silently beside her. The boy glanced at Mick, then quickly looked away. Mick faltered, suddenly remembering what he’d heard during his nightmares – Asha screaming, crying, calling her daughter’s name. Had that part been real?

“What happened?” Mick asked, staring at Asha’s limp form.

“Come on,” Marguerite said roughly, and dragged him out the front door.
















The van splashed through deep puddles in the streets, windshield wipers working hard as the rain poured down. Marguerite drove silently, her eyes fixed on the road. In the passenger seat Mick glanced at her, then lifted the flask she’d given him and drained the last few drops of blood from it. With a sigh he dropped the empty flask to the floorboards under his feet, and pulled his phone out of his pocket again. He’d already called the hospital, and had managed to confirm that Coraline had truly vanished – but he hadn’t been able to get any information on Kevin Grace. Elaine wasn’t answering calls or texts, and Logan’s phone was cycling to voice mail. Mick hadn’t even been able to reach Josef; his friend’s answering service had said that Josef was on a plane, heading for L.A. There was nothing Josef could do from there. Who else could he call? Mick sent another text to Elaine: IN NY. CMING HOME. WAIT FOR ME. M. The van was moving slowly, horribly slowly, along the traffic-filled streets. But as far as Mick could tell, the Cleaner really was heading for the airport.

“Did Asha kill her daughter?” he asked abruptly.

Marguerite didn’t look at him. “Yeah. She got past Thomas, and went to see Katey. The visit didn’t go so well.”

Mick closed his eyes. He’d outmaneuvered Coraline and had gone to see Rosie one night, long ago. He remembered watching Rosie through the window, remembered the glass, shattering around him as he broke through. No. Don’t think of that, not now.

“We should’ve moved back to Los Angeles, gotten clean away from the kid,” Marguerite muttered, turning a corner. “But Asha wouldn’t go.”

“You think Asha will survive this?”

“Doubt it.”

The van skidded on a slick piece of road, but Marguerite quickly got it back under control. The rain beat down harder, the windshield wipers barely keeping up with the torrent. No wonder Asha had wanted the cure so desperately, why she’d been willing to kill him for a chance at it. She’d wanted her daughter back; she’d wanted to keep her safe. Mick leaned his head against the window, not even able to hate her for what she’d done to him. He understood her far too well.

“Why’d you help her?” he asked Marguerite. “Did you do it for Thomas?”

She gave him a blank look, and turned back to the road, deftly lighting a cigarette as she steered.

“You sired him, right?” Mick said, persisting.

“Cleaners don’t sire. Everyone knows that.”

“Right.” Mick subsided. Asha had talked about Marguerite giving Thomas the choice . . . or had she? Considering the state he’d been in, Mick couldn’t be sure. “And do Cleaners make truth drugs for vampires?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Marguerite swerved to avoid a skidding car, turned another corner, and took a drag on her cigarette. “You seem to have had a lot of hallucinations.”

“That happens, when somebody shoots you with silver,” Mick said.

“Sorry,” Marguerite said quietly. To his surprise, he realized that she really meant it.

The rain eased to a drizzle, and Mick pulled out his phone again. There was still no reply from Elaine. He called Logan and Josef again, and got no answer. Then he pulled up Beth’s number, and hesitated.

He’d never even told Beth about Elaine. He’d been afraid to, back when Beth had spoken so seriously about wanting to be turned herself. Later, with Coraline tearing through their lives, there hadn’t been a chance. Beth had met Elaine, but didn’t have any idea who she actually was. And Beth hadn’t just been going home to Josh, when she’d driven off in that taxi. She’d been running away from Mick, away from his world. The things she’d learned about vampires had finally begun to frighten her, and she’d fled. How could he possibly ask her to try to deal with a suicidal vampire she didn’t even know? I can’t. And how could Beth help, anyway? Elaine would only resent her for being able to deal with the vampire world at all, when Kevin couldn’t. Mick put his phone away and stared out the van’s window, waiting for the airport to appear.














It was the longest flight of his life. Everything had gone as smoothly as it could: a ticket had been waiting for him, and the plane had actually left on time, but it still felt as if it had taken an eternity just to get into the sky. Mick shifted uncomfortably in his seat, thinking of how short the flight out to New York had seemed, with Beth at his side. Now, he checked his watch every minute, and kept his phone ready on the seat beside him, positioned where no one else could see it. Not that any calls were likely to come through, at this altitude, but you never knew. He’d already tried calling out on the in-flight phone, with no better result than he’d had before.

The woman seated beside him glanced his way and Mick hunched deeper into his coat, keeping his sleeves pulled down and his collar up, trying to conceal the aching burns. He didn’t think he could stand to hear any questions about them. He could feel the woman’s warmth, he could hear the blood moving in her veins – God, air travel was a nightmare. After all the blood Marguerite had given him he’d thought he would be able to manage the trip, but his senses were still haywire, and the blood of all the mortals packed into the plane was a siren call.

“Would you like anything now, sir?” the attendant asked brightly. She’d appeared, apparently, from nowhere, and he spun to look at her. “Anything to drink?”

Just blood. He couldn’t stop staring at her throat. “Nothing. Thank you.”

“Do you need anything else? I could bring you another blanket.” She eyed him doubtfully; he hadn’t been able to stop shivering since he’d gotten on the plane.

“Okay. Sure.”

And the blanket helped a little, easing the terrible cold that he felt, but then exhaustion overcame him. Huddled over his phone, he lost consciousness, and he didn’t wake till the plane touched down. Panicked, he checked his messages – none – and called Elaine, Logan, and Josef again. There was no answer from any of them, and he frantically pushed his way off the plane as soon as the doors were opened. He staggered into the terminal, looking around, dizzy and sick. He could walk now, but he was unsteady, and slow, and his slowness was driving him mad. He had to get to his car, had to get to Elaine’s house, had to be there. If only LAX weren’t so goddamned huge. He reached the exit doors at last – and something slammed through his head like white fire. Elaine . . . he found himself falling, into darkness and despair, and he was feeling everything that she felt. He fell with her, deeper and deeper, and he never felt himself hit the ground.
















“No, I already called 911. They sent an ambulance.”

“Is he breathing?”

“I don’t know. Can you tell?”

“Does he need CPR?”

“Isn’t there a doctor in this airport?”

“What happened to his wrists?”

The darkness fell away, and Mick looked up at a cluster of staring mortals. What happened? What did I feel? Oh God, no. “Elaine,” he whispered. He rolled to his knees and tried to get up, falling back painfully. The humans around him looked at each other uneasily, most of them staying well clear. He struggled to his feet at last, in spite of the efforts of an older woman who worriedly tried to hold him back.

“You shouldn’t try to get up yet, dear. Let the ambulance people come check you out first.”

“No. I’m fine. Really.”

He got away from her, shoved past the startled crowd, and made it out the door, out into the night air. As the door closed behind him he pulled out his phone and punched in the hospital’s number. The strain in his voice must have reached the receptionist, because she put him through to Dr. Duffy immediately.

“Mr. St. John, how can I help you? I’m afraid I don’t have any more information about Ms. Vincent.”

“That’s not why I’m calling.” Mick hurried into the parking garage and found the elevator. “I need to know about Kevin Grace.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t give out confidential -- ”

“Kevin Grace. Just tell me if he’s really dead.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line. Finally she said, “How did you know?”

“When did he die?”

“About five minutes ago.”

Why couldn’t I have been wrong?

“Mr. St. John?”

“Thank you,” he managed at last, and hung up. Five minutes ago. Elaine would have been with him, or near him. She can’t have had time to get home. She wouldn’t do it anywhere else, would she? She can’t be gone yet, she can’t. He found the Mercedes and pulled out of the garage, driving much faster than he should, frantic to reach Elaine’s house. The hospital was much closer to her house then the airport was; she was bound to get there before him. But she didn’t have a car. She’d have to get a taxi, and maybe that would take time. He pulled out his phone as he drove, and called her, but as ever, there was no answer. Fumbling with the phone, he sent another text – WAIT FOR ME – and nearly lost control of the car. He swerved, tires screeching, coming a bare inch from striking the car in the next lane. Horns honked around him, deafening him, and he hung on grimly to the wheel. His vision was blurred, the oncoming headlights merging into a single flare of light. I shouldn’t be driving . . . should have gotten a cab . . . but it was too late for that now. He’d have to manage. He glanced at his watch, looked at his phone, forced himself bring his gaze back to the road. The freeway he was on was moving well, and maybe Elaine would get caught in traffic. Maybe. Mick changed lanes, swerved around a pair of slow-moving cars, and sped up.

He pulled off at Elaine’s exit twenty minutes later, scarcely slowing down on the offramp, and tore through the residential neighborhoods, watching the houses pass by, smaller and seedier with every block. Four more blocks. Almost there. His vision faded, and he put up a hand to rub his eyes, not slowing down. One more turn. He swung into it, and as he did he saw a figure in the middle of the street, a pale face turning toward him with eyes full of pain. He swerved violently, thinking he could still manage the car. And he could have, if he’d had his usual reflexes, if he’d been able to see the way he normally could, if he’d been able to feel the way the car was moving. But his reflexes were gone and he couldn’t tell what to do, and the Mercedes skidded wildly, out of control. He felt the impact as the car struck a brick wall, and then he was falling again, and this time, he hit the ground hard.
















Mick’s hands were bleeding, and they weren’t healing. He pushed himself up from the pavement, dazed, feeling a strange crunch of bone along his side. Broken ribs, and they weren’t healing either. Where was the person he’d almost hit? Had he hallucinated that face? There was no one in sight now. Lights were flickering on in the houses around him, and the Mercedes was half on its side against a wall, wheels spinning idly, its hood and windshield smashed. He’d have to make it the rest of the way on foot. Four blocks . . . it ought to have taken four seconds. Mick got to his feet, held on to his side, and broke into a slow, staggering run.

He could barely walk by the time he reached Elaine’s house. It wasn’t just the pain; something else was wrong – he was getting weaker and weaker, as if he were bleeding inside. Well, I probably am. He leaned against Elaine’s door and inhaled, but he couldn’t tell if she was there or not. Should he knock? Or would that startle her into doing – something? He fumbled in his coat pocket for his lockpicks, and spent an interminable minute prying open the lock. Then he slipped inside, breathing hard, images from his nightmare overcoming him, filling him with terror. He was so afraid he’d find her dead. He stepped into the kitchen and forced himself to look. She’s not there. She must still be alive. She must be.

He found her in the next room, sitting on the floor near her computer, rocking back and forth and whispering to herself. A can of gasoline rested on the floor next to her, and she cradled a syringe in her hands. Mick couldn’t make out what she was saying, except for the names. Kevin. Chloe. Mick.

He dropped to the floor beside her and said, “Elaine.”

“Oh, Mick.” She didn’t look up. “Why are you here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“You have to leave. I just can’t keep going any more, Mick – I have to do this.”

Mick reached out gently and touched the syringe she held, not trying to take it from her grasp. “Do you know what I almost did, back when you were still at Josef’s? When I thought you weren’t ever going to recover enough to be free of the chains?”

“Yes.” Her voice was so faint he could barely hear her.

“Should I have done it? Would that have been better, for you?”

Her hands were trembling under his, and she was crying silently. “No,” she whispered at last.

“Then how can you know it’s the right thing to do now? Anything could happen, in the future.” Mick faltered, letting go of her hands to steady himself against the floor. The room was wavering, turning dark. “Something you don’t want to miss . . .” There was blood on Elaine’s hands now, from Mick’s touch, and she looked down at it in confusion.

“Mick?”

His strength was gone; he couldn’t even sit up any more. And he was too late anyway. He didn’t know how to stop her.

“Mick, what’s wrong? My God, what happened?”

She caught him before he fell to the floor, and he thought I have to remember this. Elaine had never reached out to him before, had never before put her arms around him. And she never will again.

In his last moment of awareness he could still feel her, holding him close.















His mother hugged him goodnight and left the room, but Mick didn’t fall asleep right away. He lay in his bed with his eyes closed, listening to the soothing sound of his parents talking in their own bedroom. He couldn’t understand the words, but he felt safe, listening to them. He shifted in the bed and felt a sharp flare of pain in his side. Well, it was no surprise, considering that he’d fallen out of that tree today. He winced and shifted position again, trying to find a comfortable spot. The bed felt weird, way too hard, and when he opened his eyes none of the furniture was where it belonged. The room was freezing. He could still hear voices, but they weren’t the voices of his parents. Josef, he thought, as the dream cleared from his mind. And Elaine. He hadn’t dreamed of his childhood in so long . . . with a pang, he tried to remember the dream, and then realized abruptly that he really was hearing Elaine’s voice.

She was still alive.

And talking to Josef?

Maybe I’m still dreaming.

“You goddamned bastard,” Elaine said furiously. “How can you even think I’d do that?”

Or maybe not.

Josef’s voice was calm. “I don’t know you very well, so I don’t know what you’d do. But I do know about grief. It isn’t a rational thing.”

“You want me to say it, then? Okay, fine - I won’t even think about doing anything to myself until Mick is better. Does that make you happy?”

“It’ll do.”

Yeah. It’ll do. A terrible tension lifted from Mick’s mind, and he relaxed, letting himself drift away again. Elaine was safe for now, and maybe he’d find his way back into that childhood dream . . . back to the time when he was just a normal kid, with his family around him.

















It was Sunday afternoon, and Mick ran out the front door of his house, heading for the tree he’d fallen from yesterday. You’ve gotta climb it again, Sam had said last night, or you’ll end up being scared. You can’t give up on stuff like that. Mick grabbed the lowest branch, pulled himself up, and started to climb. When he was high above the ground he looked down, and far below he saw his brother grinning up at him. He waved at Sam, then turned to look up through the dappled branches. The sun was hidden behind a cloud. But as he stared at it, the cloud blew off in a gust of wind and the sun appeared, roiling with brilliant white light. The sunlight hit Mick’s face and he winced painfully, trying to move away from the sharp glare.

“Damned curtain,” Elaine muttered. He heard the rustle of cloth, and soothing darkness surrounded him again. He opened his eyes and saw Elaine bending over him, straightening his blankets. He was cold, and the warmth of the blankets felt good. Where was he? The little room was shabby, the furniture cheap and mismatched – he definitely wasn’t at Josef’s house. He was lying on an old couch, its plaid fabric faded and nearly worn through. Elaine’s.

“You don’t have a bed?” he said, his voice faint and rough. “You should have one, you know. For cover.”

“Yeah? I haven’t noticed one at your place.” Elaine’s voice was almost as shaky as his. She sat awkwardly on a chair pulled close to the couch, looking down at him. “I can’t believe you wrecked your car.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“No kidding. The skid marks were pretty impressive. Josef still managed to make it all go away, though.”

“Then he really was here. With you. I thought maybe that was a dream.” Mick frowned, remembering. “I was trying to call him, before. Couldn’t reach him.”

“I know. It took him forever to call me back, and I didn’t know what to do for you. I can’t believe you wrecked your car while you were loaded with silver.” She swallowed, and looked away. “You almost died, you know. You weren’t healing at all.”

“Guess I shouldn’t have been driving.” Had it really been that bad? He saw the expression on Elaine’s face, and knew it had been.

“Mick. . .” Elaine hesitantly reached out a hand to him, and he took it in his, wondering at the touch. “Mick, you called me lots of times, when I – when I wasn’t checking my phone. You called Josef too. Were you . . . calling for help?”

“What?” Her hand moved, and he felt her gentle touch at his wrist. “Oh. No. I never had a chance, then. I was just worried about you.”

She took his hand again. His wrist ached where she’d touched it, and every breath hurt. “Who did this?” Elaine asked. “Will they be coming after you again?”

“No,” Mick said. “And - it’s a long story.”

“Josef’s ready to kill someone.”

“I bet.” Mick tried to smile.

“He’s got people watching the place, just in case. So you’re safe, either way. You can rest.”

Elaine would be safe, too. At least for now. She’d promised. Mick held on to her hand, keeping her close, and drifted off again, into dreams.
















The saxophone was playing White Heat again, over and over, but it was still bitterly cold. “Beth?” Mick murmured. “I can’t see you.”

“I’m here.” He felt her then, her hand moving gently across his wrist. The deep cold ache eased at her touch, and warmth spread up his arm to the rest of his body. She moved her hand to his other wrist, touched his throat, ran her fingers slowly down his side. Warmth followed her touch, and the pain eased. “I’m not going to leave you,” she whispered, moving to sit beside him. He could almost see her now, leaning over him, her hand stroking his hair back from his brow.

“But you did,” He wanted to reach for her, but he still couldn’t move. “In New York.”

“Not really,” she said softly. “You were still with me, in my heart.”

The sax had faded away, but now a guitar was playing a plaintive tune, and Mick looked up. Moonlight was sifting in through Elaine’s curtains. Beth wasn’t there, and never had been – there was no trace of her scent – but he could still almost feel her touch. Elaine was sitting on the floor, her head bent over her guitar, playing a melody line over and over again, with a different variation each time. Mick, listening, pushed his blankets aside and sat up on the couch, looking around the room. The living area segued into a tiny kitchen; the small adjoining bedroom held an ancient freezer that wheezed and muttered to itself in the dark. A trash bag by the couch contained a disconcerting number of empty blood bags and used IV lines. Mick glanced down at his wrists. The deep burns from the silver were gone, leaving only faint traces of scars that would soon fade away. He was healing again.

“Josef brought some more of your clothes, if you want to change. The shower’s over by the freezer.” Elaine was sitting at her computer now, her guitar resting silent against the wall. But she was playing it. Working out a song. As Mick made his way to the bathroom, Elaine stayed hunched over her keyboard, but he saw her dart a quick, worried glance at him, making certain that he was steady enough to walk. As he closed the bathroom door behind him she turned back to her screen, looking relieved and pleased. The door clicked shut, and after a moment, Mick leaned against it to listen. The door was only flimsy fiberboard, far from soundproof, and beyond the noises of the freezer in the next room, he could hear the tapping of Elaine’s computer keys, and the steady, strong beat of her heart.

Looking down at the clean clothes in his arms, he thought of Josef. His friend’s office might be gone, but Josef had plenty of other places where he could have taken Mick, where it would have been easier to guard him. And on any other day, he would have done so.

Bless you, Josef, for leaving me here.

















Elaine was still at the computer when Mick emerged from the bathroom, feeling like himself for the first time in days. She blanked the screen and turned to him, a serious look on her face.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he said, nodding toward the computer.

“It’s just Logan. He brought some new games back from Atlanta.”

“Yeah? Hope they work better than his phone does.”

“Oh, he lost his phone. In Atlanta. He said he ordered a new one, but I guess it hasn’t come yet.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Look, there’s something I’ve got to tell you. About Coraline.”

“I know,” Mick said, sitting heavily on the couch. “She’s vanished.”

“I’m sorry,” Elaine said awkwardly. “I know you really wanted to find out about her cure.”

“Yeah. There’s not much hope, now. But Elaine – if I ever do find it - did you mean it? You really wouldn’t want it?”

“No. Maybe when I’d just met Kevin, I would have - but not now.” Deep sadness crossed her face, but then she managed a smile. “Guess I can’t blame you, though, wanting it now you’ve met Beth.”

Beth, getting into the taxi alone. Beth, saying that she was going home to Josh. Mick shivered, trying to push the memories away, feeling a sudden emptiness inside. Beth had felt so close to him, in his dream. . . he remembered her last whisper, you were still with me, in my heart. But that hadn’t been real. It had only been a dream.

Elaine was watching him with her brow furrowed, and he said quickly, “There might still be a chance. I took a blood sample from Coraline while she was in the hospital, while she was human. I could get it analyzed, and see if anything -- ”

“Mick.”

He looked up at her.

“Shut up for a minute, okay? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“Come off it, Mick. Tell me.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “Beth’s gone.”

“What?”

“She left me, in New York.”

Elaine looked bewildered. “But Josef said you were going to try to make it work. He said you even went to New York together.”

“Did he tell you about Sarah?”

‘Yeah.” She frowned, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. “What does that have to do with it?”

“Seeing Sarah like that . . . it scared Beth. You know, it always seemed like she could cope with anything she learned about our world, but . . .” He shook his head. “Not that. She went back to Josh. Back to a normal life.”

“And that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“What else can I do?”

“Mick, a normal life isn’t ever going to make Beth happy. She isn’t cut out for that. And I’ll bet she really can cope, if you just give her enough time to take it all in.” Elaine paused. “Have you ever told her how you really feel about her?”

Of course he hadn’t. Mick stayed silent.

“Right,” Elaine said. “Come on, Mick. Don’t just let her go. Stay in her life, while she comes to terms with things.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“You’ve worked together before, right? Ask her for help with a case.”

“I don’t have any cases, except for a boy who went missing in 1950. I don’t really think she can help me with that.” There was something in the back of his mind, though, some clue to the case that he hadn’t thought of before. It hovered at the edge of his awareness, in his subconscious, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Well . . . then take the blood sample to her. She probably knows someone who can analyze it for you.”

“At a human lab?” He frowned doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I was going to take it to Guillermo.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Elaine said, her face suddenly very serious. “A lot of the older vamps aren’t just powerful – they’re proud, too. If they find out what you’re doing, they might think you’re some kind of traitor, looking for a way out. And I don’t really think you need any more enemies.” She took a breath, got up, and crossed the room to sit beside him. “Mick – what happened?”

He looked into her earnest, worried face, and couldn’t imagine how he was going to tell her. Your friend Thomas held me captive and nearly killed me, because of your email. Horrific. Even if he didn’t name names, she was bound to figure out who had been involved. “It’s not easy to talk about,” he said slowly.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “Is this some kind of Arabian Nights crap?”

“What?” He was baffled.

“You won’t tell me unless I stay alive another day? What are you going to do, give me one sentence a night?” She was still frowning, but there was a trace of a smile in her expression, lurking underneath.

“It’s an idea." He felt himself smiling,too, just for a moment. “You want me do it that way?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Okay," he said. “But it really is gonna be hard to talk about.”

“I know. I get it. Just tell me when you can, okay?”

“Okay.” He shifted position, reaching out to touch her hair, then taking her hand. She didn’t resist, and she let him hold it. “Elaine. How are you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s strange. When it happened, I didn’t think there was any way I could make it through even one day. It hurt too much; I couldn’t bear it. But then I did make it through one day, and another, and . . . it isn’t easier, it isn’t better. But I’ve done it, so maybe I can keep doing it again.”

Her life still hung in the balance, just as it had before. But she’d made it through the worst, and he couldn’t help but have hope. At the end of the day, it was the same for everyone: he’d come as close to dying as she had. Even for vampires, there wasn’t a lot that separated life and death.

So make every day count. Mick carefully put his arms around Elaine, pulling her close to him, and to his joy he felt her hold him in turn, her arms tight around his neck. He felt her tears against his shirt, and she clung to him even more tightly. “I love you,” he whispered, and how could he not have hope for her, when for the first time in forty years she was reaching out to him?

And Beth?

He thought of the way she’d put her hand up to his on the other side of the window glass, of the wistful, loving look in her eyes. I think my dream was right. She didn’t really leave me, in her heart, any more than I’ve ever left her.

And he’d never even told Beth how he really felt about her.

I love her. With all my heart. Maybe it was time he told her so.

Mick stroked Elaine’s hair, holding her, and all he could feel was hope.














-

[wpgrace]

O.M.G.

I'm so cliche, but I was on the edge of my chair, literally, reading this chapter. This is an unbelievably exciting chapter in your story!!!!
And more cliche from me, but I cried and I laughed hysterically, and I FINALLY took a breath when Elaine finally looked down at him and realized HE was hurt.
They saved each other. Mick gets that a lot. This was exhilarating, exhausting, and satisfying to the bone.

Never change a single word of this chapter. This sucker is perfect. I am so reading this many times over... but please don't change a single word.

[Shadow]

O.M.G.

I'm so cliche, but I was on the edge of my chair, literally, reading this chapter. This is an unbelievably exciting chapter in your story!!!!
And more cliche from me, but I cried and I laughed hysterically, and I FINALLY took a breath when Elaine finally looked down at him and realized HE was hurt.
They saved each other. Mick gets that a lot. This was exhilarating, exhausting, and satisfying to the bone.

Never change a single word of this chapter. This sucker is perfect. I am so reading this many times over... but please don't change a single word.

They may be cliches, Grace, but they are sure wonderful to hear! This was one of my very favorite chapters to write, which maybe explains why I discovered the file size limit for the first time.

(Wow! I just love that you don't want a thing changed! I'll try not to. . . but I did have to go and fix a couple of typos already. . . )

[redwinter101]

This is amazing, Shadow - and like Grace I was on the edge of my seat. I'll come back for a proper comment once I've had time to re-read.



Red

[jen]

Shadow

You have written some wonderful, entertaining stories that flesh out the story between the canon episodes, but this one may well be your best.

Fabulously suspensful, emotional and tense, it captures the clashing feelings Mick must have had at that time to perfection. Even though Beth was just a bit player in the action, she is never far from Mick's mind and heart and she sustains him in the trauma that he endured here.

Thank you!

Jenna

[redwinter101]

What a lovely re-read - this really is an amazing chapter in a wonderful series. We start with Mick's confusion - what's really going on with Beth? How does she feel and how should Mick handle it? His memory of the hopefulness of the beginning of the trip is so poignant, the ordinariness precious to him beyond measure:

He remembered walking by her side through the crowds at the airport, checking tickets and gates like any normal couple

Seeing Josef in love had been an inspiration, and Mick had been ready, tonight, to forget the vampire and tell Beth just exactly how he felt about her

Oh that's it. That's precisely what I saw on his beautiful face. He was ready at last.

But his dejection has made him careless (in so many ways) and all of a sudden we're off in a totally thrilling direction when he's hunted down and captured. The chase sequence was amazing, especially when followed by the disorientation - both Mick's and mine: who ARE these people and what do they want with him? And how is it connected to Elaine and Coraline and the cure?

His thoughts and hallucinations of Beth are so beautiful and incredibly touching. His yearning is so strong and his hope persists in spite of his fear that he really has lost her for good, even if he survives his current predicament. They danced - and Beth held his hand through the night. Oh, honey, you're squeezing my heart here.

The flashback to Elaine was heartbreaking too. I'm so glad we finally found out how/why Mick turned her and his view of her as his daughter makes his premonition of her suicide absolutely terrifying. Terrifying. I was (like Grace) on the edge of my seat the whole way through, forcing myself not to skip ahead to find out if he made it in time to save her. You've made their relationship so important and powerful, I believe that's a loss Mick would never have survived.

And finally, blessedly, he makes it and he and Elaine help each other to find a way to keep going:

And he’d never even told Beth how he really felt about her.

I love her. With all my heart. Maybe it was time he told her so.

Mick stroked Elaine’s hair, holding her, and all he could feel was hope.

Wonderful, marvellous and beautiful, Shadow.

Oh and I loved Josef's little, careful, loving interention too - just as long as he's getting the Mercedes fixed, it's all good.

Red

[francis]

Shadow, you've outdone yourself. This is perfect. So much hurt, so much happening, an intriguing story fitting into the mood and the plot of the actual show. Genius. I cried for poor Mick, hurt and confused, hallucinating. I cheered when Elaine postponed her demise once again. You really got them, and I'm so rooting for Elaine to make it.
Thank you!!!

[allegrita]

Oh, Shadow.

I saw this from my phone earlier, when I couldn't read it... and it's been stinging at me... READ ME!! READ ME!!! And finally I've had a chance, and now I'm just so overwhelmed that I don't have anything rational to say.

I have to sleep on this, and read it again tomorrow. And maybe a lot more times... but I'll be back with a real response.

Most important, and this I can say now -- thank you. For keeping the spirit of Moonlight alive, for bringing us this wonderful story-within-a-story. Thank you so very much.

[Shadow]

This is amazing, Shadow - and like Grace I was on the edge of my seat. I'll come back for a proper comment once I've had time to re-read.



Red

Red, it was fantastic just knowing you were going to re-read this . . .
and then your real comment popped up!!
This interval between episodes didn't seem to call for a lot of explanation, like so many of them do, which left it free to go in quite a different direction. I'm so glad there was some real tension about what was going to happen to Elaine. I really didn't know till the last second what was going to happen there so maybe that helped!
Thank you so much for that amazing comment! (And Josef did promise to get the Mercedes fixed . . . though I won't be surprised if he passes the bill on to Mick .... )

[Shadow]

Shadow, you've outdone yourself. This is perfect. So much hurt, so much happening, an intriguing story fitting into the mood and the plot of the actual show. Genius. I cried for poor Mick, hurt and confused, hallucinating. I cheered when Elaine postponed her demise once again. You really got them, and I'm so rooting for Elaine to make it.
Thank you!!!

Thanks so much, francis.
It is so great that this chapter still fit into the plot for you, even though it went pretty far afield this time.
I just loved your comment!

[Shadow]

Shadow

You have written some wonderful, entertaining stories that flesh out the story between the canon episodes, but this one may well be your best.

Fabulously suspensful, emotional and tense, it captures the clashing feelings Mick must have had at that time to perfection. Even though Beth was just a bit player in the action, she is never far from Mick's mind and heart and she sustains him in the trauma that he endured here.

Thank you!

Jenna

Wow Jenna, thanks SO much!
I'm really glad you think this one might be the best .... I like to think that maybe they're improving as they go along ....

[Shadow]

Oh, Shadow.

I saw this from my phone earlier, when I couldn't read it... and it's been stinging at me... READ ME!! READ ME!!! And finally I've had a chance, and now I'm just so overwhelmed that I don't have anything rational to say.

I have to sleep on this, and read it again tomorrow. And maybe a lot more times... but I'll be back with a real response.

Most important, and this I can say now -- thank you. For keeping the spirit of Moonlight alive, for bringing us this wonderful story-within-a-story. Thank you so very much.

Wow, Alle, this is a pretty amazing response right here.
It is just wonderful that this story could have such an effect .... and that you'll be re-reading.

(And I'm glad to hear that the story was so vocal and insistent, too! )

[Shadow]

I should probably come out and admit to making a tiny little change....
but I'm (almost) sure Grace won't notice it.

[Lilith]

So... now I have a little more time and am finally able to write a comment. This time here on this site, cause I've just read it here.

First of all: Wow! This was a really long chapter! I think the longest until now. But I love it! The longer the better. Second: I still love your style of writing. It's just wonderful although this time it wasn't that easy to follow the storyline but that's more linked to the content and not a critique (it has to be like that because of the nightmares and Micks drugged state).

And now to the content:
I really thought this is somehow a whole story on its own, so exciting, so long and it gives the relationship of Mick and Elaine so much more depth. Although it's not about Mick and Beth directly I really liked that chapter and I so feel with Mick. I'm so sorry for him that he now also has to endure such a horror-story with these desperate vampires. And even in his whole ordeal he constantly thinks about Beth, which shows how much he already loves her, how much he needs her - until his fears for Elaine become too strong.
And this flashback into their past was great. Finally we get to know what happened with Elaine and why he has such feelings of guilt concerning her. The whole scene where Micks holds her and trys to help her back into the world was so touching... Simply beautiful and so sad.

And I must admit, that although I hate Asha for doing theses things to Mick and almost killing him, that I feel sorry for her in the end. To kill your own child... That's a thing... Don't think she can live on with that.
But I'm so... SO relieved, that the part with Elaine murdering herself was indeed just a dream and Mick came back right in time to keep her from doing this. I also hope she'll not plan it again and see that Mick needs her. Her needs her to not break down with feelings of guilt. As one could see through the dreams her death would kill a part of himself and this isn't allowed to happen. Please, Shadow, don't do this. I really like the Elaine-Mick-storyline and I really like Elaine. Don't let her die in the end.

I really admire how you got back to the story of the series. You start there, develop a really good, exciting story and then manage to go back to the storyline and still everything fits together. Or better the storyline of the next episode of the series fits even better into the whole than before. It's fantastic! You're such a talent!
And I really look forward to the next part of your story.

Don't know if I wrote everything down that went through my head while reading (I don't think so) but if I forgot something I urgently need to tell you I simply come back again.