DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Paramount Studios, Inc
and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are
copyright (c) 2003 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
The Lost Years: Reckless
by Djinn
Kirk stood at the back
entrance to Starfleet Command, staring out at the park-like compound. Shadows lined the twisting network of paths
that wended their way through the trees.
Only the lights spaced along the paths and the full moon overhead gave
any relief. He took a deep breath, tried
to relax after another long day at his desk.
He massaged the knots that never seemed to leave his neck anymore.
It was late, he should get
home. But his apartment was empty. Empty and less welcoming
each day. He turned away from the
path that would take him to his street, walked in the opposite direction. He'd take the long way home. Maybe pick up some food on the way. Or grab a drink.
Anything but be alone.
The night air felt good after
being cooped up all day. It was warm,
and just humid enough to feel as if someone had settled a warm blanket around
his shoulders. He looked up, stared at
the golden moon that seemed to hang so low in the sky.
The moon. He shuddered
involuntarily. The moon seemed to always
bring back memories of Drusilla. She'd tortured
him, meant to kill him, possibly turn him.
But she hadn't done it. Christine
and Spock had rescued him, kept him alive.
They hadn't been able to keep
him safe from everything though. Anacost
had bit him, drained him. Kirk
remembered every moment. He could still
feel the vampire's arms around him holding him in place as he'd bit down on
Kirk's neck. The pain of that bite, and
then the strange pleasure that had filled him, even as he'd felt his life being
drained away. And then the blood--Anacost's blood, dripping into Kirk's mouth. Hot and sweet and sticky.
He'd felt his own heartbeat
slow, knew he was dying. And he hadn't
cared. His whole world had been the
blood the vampire had fed him, the blood Kirk would have given anything to keep
drinking. He would have died eagerly for
it. If McCoy and Alma hadn't fought for
him, he would have died. Would have
become a vampire, one of the things Christine hunted.
She hunts tonight. The thought came out of nowhere. But he knew it was true. He closed his eyes and swiveled his head
slowly, trying to get a feel for where she was.
It wasn't possible to feel her, and yet he did. There, just below him, in the darkness of the
heavy trees. She kicked and punched and stabbed. He opened his eyes, started walking down the
grass, ignoring the path that would have taken him to town. He didn't know how he knew that she was just ahead, near the memorial, but he felt it in his gut.
But was he feeling her or the
vampires? He wasn't sure. And how could he feel any of it? What was happening to him? What was it Alma had said just before she
left him? That he had his own
magic? What had she meant?
He could hear the familiar
sounds of a struggle up ahead. He put on
a burst of speed and saw Christine fighting three vampires. Before he could think better of it, he waded
into the fight, swung a vicious punch and kicked out, knocking one of the
vampires away.
Christine looked over, a
startled look on her face.
"Hi," he said,
feeling something wild coming alive in him.
"Thought you could use my help."
"Are you
crazy?" She tossed him a stake, dug
another one out of her pocket.
"Probably." He'd fought vampires
once before, the night they'd tried to stop Anacost from taking the Orb. He'd been scared out of his wits, but also
riding an adrenaline high that stayed with him for hours afterwards.
The vampire he'd kicked came
roaring back at him, knocking Kirk across the grass. He turned it into a roll and was up on his
feet, punching quickly then dodging away.
He let the creature get close, then feinted
left. When he saw the vampire follow, he
ducked back, pulling the stake in close then slamming it into the chest of the
vampire. He yanked the stake back out
before it could disappear into dust.
In the time that he had taken
to kill the vampire, Christine had put down the other two and was watching
him. She clapped.
"Guess you didn't need
my help?"
"I didn't. But it was sweet of you. In a lunatic sort of
way."
He pointed up. "Lunatic fits."
"Yeah, it's beautiful
tonight, isn't it?" She walked over
to him, dusted off his shoulder. "Occupational hazard."
"Thanks."
She gave him a hard look. "You that bored with
being alive that you have to rush in where even fools should fear to
tread?"
"Maybe."
As she turned to walk away,
he reached out and stopped her.
"You've got some too."
He brushed off her jacket.
"Didn't mean to ruin a good slay." He grinned at her.
She shrugged. "That's the great thing about
vampires. They make more." Her smile was grim.
There was an awkward silence,
then she held her hand out for the stake. When he put it in her hand, she said,
"Well, good night."
He watched her walk
away. As she was just about to disappear
into the darkness, he called out, "Are you hungry? I was just going to grab some dinner."
She turned around, seemed to
be studying him.
"I know a great steak
place," he said. "Do you eat
meat?"
She nodded. "One more reason my relationship with
Spock was doomed." Her tone was a
long way from light.
He decided to let the comment
go. "Then join me."
"I shouldn't."
"You're not
hungry?"
She smiled, for real this
time. "I'm always hungry after I
patrol. I just mean...I
shouldn't." But she walked back to
him.
"My
treat. To celebrate my
promotion."
"You didn't
celebrate? That was announced weeks
ago."
"Nogura
threw me a little party. The other
admirals came."
She frowned. "But no friends?"
He smiled; he could feel how
forced the expression was. "My
friends seem to be..." He couldn't
finish.
"Anywhere
but here?"
He nodded. She nodded too, understanding showing in her
eyes. Then she looked
uncomfortable. What was it he'd told her
that day she'd stopped by his apartment?
That he didn't want her pity.
He forced another smile. "You're busy. Spike's probably waiting for you."
Her voice was gentle. "Spike's gone."
"You left him?"
She laughed. "No, he left me. But not like that. It was the right thing to do, for both of
us." Her expression was
wistful. "I miss him though."
"I know. I miss
Christine was staring at
him. He wondered what she was
thinking. Decided not
to ask.
"Come on." He put his hand on the small of her back,
pushed her gently toward the path.
"I'm not exactly dressed
for a nice restaurant."
"It's not fancy. Just a great place for
steaks. Besides, I think you look
great."
She shot him a glance, and he
smiled at her. A real smile, he could
feel his lips turning up in a way that used to be familiar. She smiled back.
"You sure this is a good
idea?"
"I'm not sure of
anything anymore, Chris. Except that I'm
hungry." He picked up his
pace. "And so are you."
They walked in silence for a
moment. Then she said, "You're
pretty handy with that stake."
He grinned.
"It was a stupid thing
to do, Jim."
"You'll get no argument
from me."
"And you enjoyed every
minute of it, didn't you?" At his
look, she just shook her head in mock disapproval. Then her eyes narrowed. "What were you doing in that part of the
compound?"
"What were vampires
doing in that part of the compound?"
"Ordering
takeout." She put a hand out, stopped him. "I'm serious. Why were you there?"
He wasn't sure how much he
should tell her. She might think he was
crazy. On the other hand, he felt like
he'd go crazy if he didn't talk to someone about this. Who better than a slayer?
"Jim?"
"I sensed you. I knew you were fighting. I came running." He looked away, unwilling to see what might
show in her eyes. "When I came
back...from almost being turned, things were different. Some of my senses were different, sharper
somehow." He peeked a look at her,
was relieved to see she wasn't reaching for a stake.
"The
darkness?"
He shook his head. "Not this time. At least, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I felt you not them. I certainly know whose side I wanted to be
fighting on." He grabbed her hand,
pulled her down the path again.
"Can we discuss this later?
I'm starving."
She pulled her hand
away. But she did keep walking. And when he asked her how classes were going,
she didn't object to his attempt to change the subject.
But he could tell she was
concerned about him by the look in her eyes.
If he hadn't been equally worried, he might have enjoyed her
concern. It felt damned good to have
someone care enough about him to worry.
-------------------------------
Christine looked around the
silent classroom. Her classmates seemed
nowhere near done on the final exam, and she'd already checked her answers
twice. Fighting a surge of self-doubt, she
carried the padd up to the instructor, then walked
back to the lab table, grabbing her things.
The professor was standing by the door and with a nod of his head
indicated that she should precede him into the hallway.
"Sir?"
"Just
wanted to congratulate you on an excellent term. I'm sure your
exam will be as well-done as the rest of your work."
She felt a surge of
pleasure. It had been a long time since
she'd been in school. Working in
sickbay, it had been easy to forget that she held one doctorate already. "Thank you, sir."
"I have some research
fellowships available if you need an assignment for the summer?"
She shook her head. "I'm planning to take the accelerated
anatomy program."
He grimaced. "That's a bear, Chapel. But I'm sure you'll do well." He held out his hand. "Best of luck to
you."
She smiled, took his
hand. "Thank you, sir."
He went back into the
classroom, and she headed home to her apartment. There was a lot of studying to do. She still
had three more tests to go before this term would be over and she would have a
week to herself. Then the accelerated
term would begin. She'd heard the
anatomy class was tough but she was counting on her practical experience
helping her out. It had in all of her
other classes so far. She'd had no idea
when she was working in sickbay with McCoy just how much knowledge she was
absorbing from him and the procedures they'd done. If she had realized it, she might have run
off to med school much sooner.
She rounded the corner to her
apartment, saw the door open and Mrs. Rhatigan come
out. Her landlady spotted her and
waited.
"Damn," Christine
said, under her breath. Spike had liked
the old bat; Christine had never warmed up to her. "Edna," she said as she passed her.
"Miss Chapel." By the tone, the woman was put out with
her. Again. She'd been less pleasant ever since Spike
left. "You've been coming in at all
hours. I really can't have that."
"There's no curfew
written into the lease. And I try to be
quiet."
Mrs. Rhatigan's
mouth tightened. "It'll be in the
next lease, you can be sure. Which is up for renewal very soon."
Christine could imagine how
long the lease would be, and that the rent would suddenly go up
substantially. It wasn't like she had
much to move, if and when her landlady tried to make it unpleasant enough for
her to leave.
"Have a nice day,
dear."
There was nothing in Mrs. Rhatigan's tone that supported those words so Christine
ignored her, stepping up to the retina scan and popping in through the door
before the old woman could say anything else to her. She checked her chrono
as she opened the apartment door. She
could study for four hours before it would be time to travel across town and
dust the vampire she expected to rise. She
could feel her heartbeat speed up as she planned her evening. She could not remember ever enjoying the hunt
as much as she did now. She wondered if
that was because she just didn't care anymore.
Whatever the reason, no one could say that she wasn't an extremely
effective slayer.
Spike had told her once that
she was at a critical point, poised somewhere between the slayers that turned to
the darkness and the slayers that just gave up and let the vampires win. He'd been frustrated with her the day he'd
told her that. Angry
at her for taking taken too many chances with a particularly nasty vampire. She'd ended up with a nasty gash on her
shoulder, one that had just missed her carotid artery. He'd yelled at her. Told her to stop the thrill
seeking. She'd seen how afraid
he'd been for her, had been contrite.
From then on she'd tried to be a little less reckless,
to care a little bit more.
But she still wasn't there. She was better, she knew that. The despair that had washed over her and
nearly drowned her when she'd destroyed the Orb was receding. But she was still dangerous--to herself, and
to every vampire that crossed her path.
Her comm
unit message light was flashing and she played the message.
"Chapel? Kevin Silver here. I
assume you're aware that there's been a substantial upswing of vampiric activity in your area?"
She rolled her eyes. She watched the news, avidly. Even had Uhura checking the
special access channels. All to
stay one step ahead of this idiot who ran the Council of Watchers. He blathered on a bit more about her having
to stay vigilant, then signed off.
Christine resented having to
watch the news reports, but she resented even more the increasingly more
frequent communiqués from Silver ordering her to stop this or that evil. She hated having Silver one up on her, and he
hated admitting that the Council needed her.
She had no use for the Watchers, trusted exactly one of them, but Peter Wyndam-Pryce had been transferred to Mombassa to take over
the training of a potential slayer. She
was happy for Peter--and for the slayer who was fortunate enough to end up with
him and not some other, less human, watcher--but she didn't like dealing with
Kevin Silver. Not that she had much
choice in that matter. The head watcher
seemed intent on keeping her away from anyone else. Probably afraid she'd corrupt them. Christine knew she didn't enjoy much of a
reputation in the Watchers' Council. Or
perhaps she had too much of a reputation.
Either way, she was kept at arms length.
Which was fine with her. She wished they'd stay even farther back.
Her intercom buzzed and she
frowned. "Yes."
"I come
bringing post-final food." Uhura laughed
as she waited to be buzzed in.
Christine hit the buzzer that
would open the door, then opened the door and watched her friend come up the
stairs carrying two big bags. "My god, Ny. How much food did you get?"
Uhura grinned. "Well, not everything here is food." She thrust one of the bags at Christine and took
the other into the small kitchen.
Christine opened the bag and
began to laugh. "This is so
sweet. You brought me stakes."
"They were having a sale
down at the garden shop near Len's place.
He said he got them there last time." Uhura grinned. "Figured what with studying for finals
and all you wouldn't have time to whittle."
"Thank you." Christine set the sack down and peeked into
the kitchen.
As she'd expected, Uhura was
staring into her refrigerator.
"You'll let all the cold
air out."
"You truly have the most
bizarre chiller I've ever seen."
She pulled out a blood pack. "Leftover from your little fling?"
Christine shrugged. "I keep meaning to throw it out."
"Uh
huh." Uhura checked the date on it. "It's good for another six months or
so." She stuck it back into the
chiller. "He could come back,
right?"
"Yeah. If he needed
my help he might."
"Or if you needed
his?"
"That
too." Christine took a deep breath. Something smelled good. "You didn't have to do this, you
know."
"I know." Uhura smiled at her, her manner light years
away from the tentative overtures when they'd set out to rebuild their
friendship. "You need to take
better care of yourself. Keeping a
little food around wouldn't kill you, you know."
Christine leaned back against
the counter. "I know. And I mean to do it. But then I get to studying or patrolling, and
I forget all about it until I get home."
Uhura shook her head as she
reached into the heating unit, pulling out two packages of food and quickly
splitting the portions between two plates.
She handed one to Christine.
"We're doing Chinese
tonight. I had a hankering."
"God, you sound like
Len." Christine followed Uhura out
to the living room. "How is
he?"
"He's good. Still worried about you. You need to come to Savannah with me one of
these days. Prove to him that you're
doing all right without Spock."
Uhura frowned. "Although I
think he's more worried about the admiral."
"I saw him the other
night. He wandered in on my patrol. If you can wander in at
full speed." At Uhura's
look, Christine shrugged. "Vampires at Starfleet Command. I mean we knew some of the brass
were monsters, but this is ridiculous."
Uhura chuckled. "What were they doing there?"
"Lost, I guess. Weird place for them to be. They don't tend to hunt there. Especially since they know there's a slayer
that frequents the Starfleet side of town more than any other neighborhood." She frowned.
What had the vampires been up to?
"Maybe they were
cadets? Could they have run into some
vamps while in town and been turned?
Maybe came back to the familiar?"
Christine nodded, they had
seemed young. "It's possible."
Uhura's mouth set in a grim
line. "I'll check it out tomorrow. Let you know if I find any unexplained disappearances
in the cadet ranks."
They tucked into their food
for a bit, then Uhura said, "How is he?"
"Jim?" At her nod, Christine smiled. He'd been at his most entertaining during
dinner. And trying very
hard to keep it light. "I
think he's lonely."
"I'm sure he is. Who does he have left?"
Christine shook her
head. "The
admirals?"
Uhura made a rude noise.
"Yeah, I
know." Christine shrugged. "I guess no one. Not close like Len and Spock were, anyway.
Uhura looked thoughtful. "It's not good to be alone like
that. To be that isolated. He needs a friend." She fell silent for a moment, then she smiled. "Why not you?"
"Me?" Christine raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly stability central. And I have a lot to do between school and the
slaying."
"What? You can't fit in a dinner after class now and
then? Or do something with him on the
weekends?"
"Ny. He's Spock's best friend." She shook her head. "Was his best
friend."
Uhura rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, Christine, I'm not
telling you to jump his bones." She
grinned wickedly. "Although
if you do, I want all the sordid details."
Christine laughed.
"Just be
his friend. How hard is that?" Uhura nodded and looked very satisfied, as if
she had just solved everyone's problems.
"You can drag him with you when you come to Savannah."
Christine didn't bother to
argue, just went back to eating. "This
is really good. Thanks."
"You're
welcome." Uhura looked around the
apartment. "You need to make this
homier, Christine. It's so..."
"Barren?" Christine thought of Kirk's apartment, the
warmth of the furnishings, the care he'd obviously put into hanging his
collection of weapons. She had nothing
on her walls, and barely any furniture.
It was cold, impersonal. Temporary. Possibly
more temporary than she knew if Old Bat Rhatigan had her way. "I keep meaning to decorate," she
said weakly, thinking of her empty fridge.
"I keep meaning to do a lot of things."
Uhura nodded, looked away and
said quietly, "Any word from Spock?"
"No." Christine felt her mouth tighten. She couldn't help the guilt she felt. He had left because of her, because she had
rejected him when he'd wanted things back the way they'd been. He couldn't understand how she could do that
to him. Not when she'd said that she
loved him. And she did love him, more
than anything. But she hadn't been ready
to be with him. She wasn't sure why,
could find no rational way of explaining it other than to say she needed to be
on her own for a while. Find out what
she was made of.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought him up."
"I think he's really
gone, Ny. I don't think he'll ever come
back." Or if he did, he wouldn't be
the Spock she had loved. The Spock she
might someday give anything to have a future with. She'd read up on Gol
and the Kolinahr disciplines. He would purge his emotions on the hot Vulcan
sands. The man she'd loved would be
gone. Might already be
gone.
She looked at her
friend. "You're happy with
Len?" When Uhura nodded, she said
softly, "I was happy with Spock.
But everything was so confusing. My life, the slaying.
All of it.
I miss him. I miss him
terribly. But things are sort
of..."
"Peaceful
without him?"
Christine nodded. "Which sounds like a
very strange way to describe a slayer's life." She set her plate down on the floor, leaned
back in her chair. "I'm finally
doing things for me, you know? I'm on a
path that I chose, for once."
Uhura nodded. "And knocking them dead
at Starfleet Medical." She
smiled. "So can you take some time
off from studying tonight? Or do you
have to get back to it?"
Christine shook her
head. "I've got another test
tomorrow."
Uhura rose, grabbed
Christine's plate and carried it into the kitchen with her own. "I'll let you get to it then."
Christine waited for her at
the door, gave her a long hug.
"Thank you."
"Cut it out. We're friends. That's what friends do."
"I'll bring some for you
soon."
Uhura winked at her. "Take some to the admiral. He needs it more."
"You never
stop." Christine smiled at
her. "Have I ever told you how glad
I am that you forgave me?"
"Only every time I bring
you food. I think I see a
pattern." Uhura walked over to the
bag of stakes, pulled one out and stuck it in her pocket. "Just in case."
"You're not a
slayer."
"They don't know
that." Her friend grinned. "I have my cross too." She pulled out a very large, ornate silver
cross. "Had it blessed by the
Bishop the last time he was in town."
Christine smiled. "That doesn't make it work any
better."
"Made
me feel better, though." Uhura grinned. "I couldn't figure out how to get holy
water out of there without him seeing, though." She shrugged.
"I'll keep working on that one."
"You do that." Christine walked her friend down to the main
door. "You want me to go with
you?"
Uhura shook her head. "It's not even dark yet."
"It will be soon. Go straight home, okay?"
"You
having a premonition?"
"No. It's just generally good advice." She touched Uhura on the hand. "You know what kind of evil prowls the
darkness. No reason not to be
careful."
Uhura nodded. "Yeah, I know." She rested her hand on the pocket that held
the stake. "And I don't plan to be
a victim again. At
least not a helpless one."
Christine nodded. She didn't envy any vampire that took Uhura
on.
-----------------------
Kirk stood at his window,
watching as the sun went down, lighting the sky up with pink and golden
light. He took a sip of his cognac and stared
at his reflection, trying to imagine what it would be like to not have one, to
just fade away. He felt as if he were
doing that already. Interminable staff
meetings, unnecessary management junkets, they were all eating at him. Destroying him.
He missed space. He missed the Enterprise. He missed his life.
And his
friends. God, how he missed McCoy
and Spock. He knew that he could
make up with McCoy if he just would admit that his friend had been right. But he'd be damned if he'd do that. He couldn't admit it, not to anyone
else. Because then he would be more than
just bored and lonely. He'd be pathetic and he'd know it. And so would his friends.
He was James T. Kirk. He triumphed.
Always.
He couldn't stand the idea of anyone looking at him with pity. He supposed some would look at him with enjoyment. There'd always been a few rivals who had said
he'd get his eventually. That a rise as meteoric as his would be accompanied with a slide
just as steep.
But he was an admiral now, dammit. That was not
a slide. Very few would ever get this
high. As high as he'd
made it. In
record time. While
he was still young enough to enjoy the power, the prestige.
And he'd give it all up in a
second to get the Enterprise back.
He turned away from the fading
sunset. He had work he could do, or
there was always the tri-vid. But he was tired of doing the same thing
every night. He turned back to the
glass, laid his face against the cool surface.
Shutting his eyes, he tried to turn off his regular senses, tried to
call up some deeper ability and feel what was out in the night.
All he felt was the window
against his cheek.
He tried again, standing
motionless as he attempted to still his mind.
Then he felt it, a tug at his awareness.
He tried to follow the sensation, tried to give it form in his mind, to
determine what it was he was feeling. He
backed away from the window. Whatever it
was he was sensing, he didn't understand it.
But it made the hair on the
back of this neck stand up. He walked to
the wall, took down the sword that he'd kept with him on the Enterprise. He held it lightly, then
swung it once, twice, testing the balance, the feel of the blade. He set it down on the table, went into his
bedroom and changed into warmer clothes and sturdy boots. He dug around in the recesses of the closet
until he found the scabbard. He
tightened it around his waist, walked back to the front room to retrieve the
sword, and sheathed it.
He left the apartment before
he could ask himself where he thought he was going. He didn't even know if it was legal to walk
around with a non-ornamental sword, hoped if security saw him, they'd assume it
was for decoration.
The sunset was holding on, a
few last rays of rose and orange licking at the western horizon. He could almost feel the darkness taking
over.
So where was he supposed to
go now? He turned slowly on the street
in front of his apartment, trying to get a feel for which direction to head. The doorman--a new one who Kirk didn't
recognize--looked at him with raised eyebrows.
Kirk smiled. "Nice night."
"Yes,
sir."
Kirk put his hand on the
sword hilt, and turned away from the doorman.
He set off down the street, not following anything at first, just trying
to get away from his front door and people who knew who he was. He walked for some time, then
he felt it again. An awareness that was
nothing more than a slight tingle, as if he had been standing near a power
source. He felt the hair on his arms
stand up, and increased his pace. Whatever
it was he was heading for was just ahead.
In the
cemetery.
He didn't even pause at the
gates to consider what he was doing, just began to trot down a path that was no
different than the other four paths that radiated from the entrance. He was not sure he could have stopped if he
wanted to, so he let the feeling continue to drive him on.
He was needed. He didn't know for what, or by whom, but he
knew that someone or something needed him.
He broke into a run.
The night seemed less dark
than it should have. He ran without
straining his eyes, without ever tripping on the low gravestones. He was halfway to a large mausoleum when he
broke from the path, turning into the trees that ringed this side of the
cemetery and slowing his pace. It was
just ahead.
What was just ahead?
He walked silently, the
needle-strewn ground muffling his footsteps.
And then he heard the voices. Laughing, dangerous voices, coming from the mausoleum. He peeked around a tree, watched as two
vampires stood silhouetted in the doorway of the crypt. Then they moved aside, and a third walked
out, her movements uncertain at first, but becoming more assured with each new
step she took.
A
fledgling. Looking for her first kill,
her first blood. Kirk reached
down for the sword, and as he did so, a strong arm came around his chest
pulling him back as another hand clamped down over his mouth.
"This is becoming a
habit," Chris said softly, her breath warm on his ear. She didn't sound like she thought it was a
good habit.
He relaxed, and she let go of
him.
"What are you doing
here?" he whispered.
She pointed at the
newly-risen vampire. "I'm going to
spoil her birthday."
"Can I help?"
She shook her head. "No, but you can watch." She glanced down at his sword. "Interesting ensemble. Or are you on your way to a costume
party?"
"Oh, go slay
something." He backed up, let her slip past him and onto the grass.
She pulled the crossbow he
hadn't realized she was carrying off her shoulder, freeing the strap and taking
aim at the biggest vampire. The bolt hit
perfectly, driving deep into the vampire's chest. He looked down in surprise, then exploded into dust.
"Get down," the
other vampire said to the fledgling, pushing her behind a gravestone. He strode up to Chris and she let loose
another bolt. He moved, more quickly
than Kirk's eye could track him. The
bolt missed him.
"I'm hungry," the
young vampire cried out as she rose from behind the gravestone.
"I said get down!" the
other vampire yelled. Then he turned, ran at Chris, making no attempt to hide
from her crossbow.
But she was ignoring him for
some reason and going after the new vampire instead. Christine fired and the bolt caught the
vampire square in the chest. She
screamed for longer than he expected before she disappeared in a shower of
dust.
Chris scrambled to get
another bolt loaded but the last vampire barreled into her, knocking the
crossbow in one direction, her in another.
Her head hit hard on a gravestone and she seemed stunned. The vampire ignored the weapon, followed her
down. His hands wrapped around her
throat and with a sharp guttural cry of triumph he began to choke her. She kicked out hard, but she couldn't shake
him loose. She hit him again, and again,
but he did not let go.
Kirk ran out of the trees,
pulling the sword out of the scabbard.
The vampire looked up just as Kirk reached him. He looked startled, then
another expression took over. As Kirk
raised the sword, swung it around on a tight and fearsome arc, the vampire
smiled and said, "Master?"
He said nothing else as the
sword slid through his neck. He blew
into dust as his head tumbled to the ground.
Kirk turned to Chris. "You sure I can't help?" he said as
he sheathed the sword and knelt down.
"Okay, just this once." She touched the back of her head gingerly,
her fingers came back red.
"Damn."
"Let me see," he
pushed her head forward gently.
"It's a big gash. You hit
hard. You might have a concussion."
"Great. Just what I need right
before a test." She pushed
herself up slowly, reached down for the crossbow and groaned.
He held a hand out and she
waved him off. "I'm
fine." She took a few unsteady
steps.
"You may be fine, but I
feel pretty shaky," he said, as he hurried over to her, put one hand under
her arm, the other around her back, and eased her toward the entrance.
"Liar." She tried to
push him away.
"Chris. Don't be so damn stubborn. You need my help."
"Fine." She relaxed. "Could you at least change sides? That sword keeps bumping me."
He moved to her other side.
"Sorry. Forgot I
had it."
"Damn good thing you had
it." She shook her head, then groaned.
"Spike would be lecturing me on taking too many risks."
He looked at her
startled. "You mean how you didn't take
the shot on the male vampire when you had the chance?"
She shrugged. "She seemed like the better
target."
"She was a newborn. He was much more dangerous."
"I didn't say I was
right." She stopped with a moan and
he tightened his arm on her arm.
"Need to sit down?"
"No, I need to throw
up. But it's going to hurt too
much." She took a deep breath and
started walking again.
"Did you hear what the
vampire said to me?"
She turned her head slowly to
look at him, grimacing as she did so.
"I thought he called you 'Master.'
But why?"
Kirk shook his head. "He smiled when he saw me."
"These vampires just
keep getting weirder."
She led them out of the
cemetery and back to the main drag.
After a few minutes, they came to an old building. She engaged the scanner and when he heard the
click he pulled the door open for her and tried to get his arm around her but
she pushed him away.
"I feel
better." She climbed the stairs as
if it were true.
"Well, let me clean out
that gash for you." He
grinned. "My revenge for all those
antiseptics you used on me back on the Enterprise."
She laughed, then cried out in pain as the motion jarred her head.
A door opened on the main
floor and an older woman stared up at them, an irritated look on her face. "Ms. Chapel, could you possibly hold it
down?" The woman looked at Kirk and
scowled. "You're what she replaced
young William with?" She sniffed,
turned back to Christine. "At
least, you're dating someone your own age now." Her face twisted, as if she had caught a
whiff of a bad smell. "You're on
borrowed time." Then she turned and
walked into her apartment.
"Young William was four
hundred years older than me," Christine said as she palmed open her
door.
"Who was that?"
"Landlady
from hell."
"Literally?"
She shot him a look.
"Well, with you, who
knows?" He followed her into the
apartment. It was dark inside, and as
she turned on the lights, he went to the window to check out her view. It was of a brick wall of the apartment
building next door, if he ducked down and looked up, he could just see the moon. He turned to watch her move around the
apartment. The place was sparsely furnished;
padds covered an old dining room table. More padds spilled
into the living room, covering a ragged chair.
The chair across from it was empty and she sank down into it.
"I'm so
tired." She looked over at the padds. "I have
hours of studying to go"
He walked over to her and
pushed her head forward gently so he could examine the wound. It was deeper than it had looked in the
dark. "Where do you keep your
supplies?"
"In
the kitchen." She started to rise.
He pushed her back down. "I'll get them. Just tell me where."
"In
the drawer, to the right of the chiller."
He rummaged in the drawer,
found some antiseptic and sterile gel.
He wet a towel with the antiseptic and walked back over to her. The wound had stopped bleeding. He remembered her saying that slayers healed
fast. "This is going to
sting."
She hissed in pain, but
didn't cry out. He smiled. So tough.
He laid the gel down on the
wound, spread it evenly into a thin layer and watched as it dried into a clear
and flexible bandage. He finger combed
her hair back over the gash.
"You have a gentle
touch," she said softly, when he was done.
"You'd make a good nurse."
"It would certainly be
more rewarding than what I'm doing now."
He looked down. He had not meant
to say that.
She reached out, touched his
arm. "Is it bad?"
He liked that. No 'I told you so.' Just concern. "Yes.
It is." He moved away from
her. "But I'll get used to it. It's just a hard adjustment, having no ship
of my own anymore."
She nodded but didn't look
convinced. "I need to
study." She reached over for a padd
on the table and yawned. "Or sleep
would be good." She yawned again, then pushed herself to her feet. "I'll walk you home."
"You're in no shape to
be walking me anywhere." He turned
her toward what he assumed was the bedroom.
"Go to sleep."
"What about you?"
"I'll sleep on the
couch."
She turned slowly.
"There is no couch." She held
her hand out. "Come on. You'll have to wake me every two hours anyway
to make sure there's no concussion."
He took her hand. "How did you explain this lifestyle away
to Marcus?"
"He thought I was
clumsy." She saw his look and held
up her hand. "He trusted me. And it was easier to think that than
something more dire.
Nobody says, 'Oh, the woman I love must be out till all hours fighting
vampires.' People retreat to what's
familiar."
"I guess so. But how lonely for
you." He undid his scabbard,
set it down on the dresser than pulled his shoes off. "Keeping secrets,
fighting alone. So much of your
life must be lonely?"
"Whose isn't at some
point?" She walked over to him,
handed him a chrono.
"I set it for two hours. You'll
have to reset it. My exam is at
nine. I have to be up by seven thirty."
He nodded. "Do you have a headache?"
"No worse than you'd
expect from a bang like that. I'm fine,
Jim. I don't have a
concussion." She slid under the
covers, and he followed her. "Good
night. I'm sorry you have to do
this."
He wasn't sorry. The sound of her even breathing as she slipped
into sleep lulled him. She flinched
suddenly and he wondered if she had been falling in her sleep. He hated that, the jerking jolt that
accompanied the falling sensation always set him on edge, made it difficult to
relax enough to fall back to sleep.
When she quieted, he closed
his eyes and drifted off. The alarm went
off only minutes later, or so it seemed.
He turned on the light and reset the timer.
Christine had rolled over,
was facing him. She looked very peaceful
and he said, "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Chris. But wake up."
She opened her eyes slowly as
he shook her arm. "Not yet,"
she mumbled. "Jut a little more
sleep."
"What's your
name?" He couldn't remember if he
needed to make her walk.
"Rip Van
Winkle."" She rolled over.
"My sparkling wit is intact.
I'm fine." She sounded very
cross.
"What's my name?"
"Mud, if you don't shut
up."
He leaned closer. "Does your head hurt?"
She didn't answer right away,
and he thought she'd fallen back to sleep.
But then she said, "A little," and he realized she had been
analyzing how she felt.
"Do you want to get up
and walk?"
"No. Do you want to be kicked out of this
bed?"
That was an easy one to
answer. He settled back down in the covers,
listened as her breathing slowed again.
It felt good to be with someone.
Even like this. He smiled,
resigned himself to irritating her even more when he woke her in two more hours.
-----------------------
Uhura followed her temporary
section chief out of the staff meeting.
Her butt hurt and her head ached.
Onboard the Enterprise, they hadn't had the luxury of three-hour megameetings, nor did she think that Kirk could have sat
still through one. She wondered how he
was managing now. She knew that the
admirals were known for their ability to go on and on. She'd have to ask Christine. Maybe he'd said something about whether he
was enjoying the new job at the dinner Christine had mentioned.
Not that Uhura really needed
to ask. The few times she'd seen the admiral
in the hall, he'd looked tense and unhappy, at least to her, though others
might not notice the telltale signs.
After five years on the bridge with him, it was second nature for her to
read his mood by the set of his jaw, or by whether he was
relaxed in his chair or not, or by the way the back of his neck turned red when
he was angry. The back of his neck had
been very red the last time she'd seen him.
Uhura pulled up the private
personnel databases. All of the officers
in the main comms unit had access to these, but very
few ever put them to the use Uhura was going to. She checked her chrono. Christine should be out of class soon, maybe
was already free from her second final.
It didn't surprise Uhura in the least that Christine was blowing through
her classes, even if her friend never seemed confident that her own abilities
would get her to her goal.
Uhura pulled up the files
that detailed transitions among the ranks, began to check all Starfleet personnel
for disappearances or deaths in the last week.
The list was more extensive than she expected. She limited it to those stationed on Earth
only and the list dropped considerably.
It had been easy to forget while she was on the ship how dangerous being
in space still was. The long list of
names she'd just seen brought that home.
"Hey." Christine's soft voice sounded far too tired
for just one final.
Uhura looked up, and
gasped. A bright line of bruises ringed
Christine's neck, and her hair looked a little strange, as if her something in
her scalp was pushing it up. "You
got hurt last night?"
Christine sat down
quickly. "I'm telling anyone that
asks that it happened in self-defense class." She looked away.
Uhura frowned. "I don't remember you ever having
bruises this bad on the ship?" She
reached out, touched one gently and watched as her friend flinched. "You hit your head too?"
Christine nodded. "My hair looks like crap, doesn't
it?" She grimaced. "Damn vampires."
She held her hand up to her
neck, as if protecting it. Uhura
wondered if she even knew she was doing it.
"I thought you healed
fast?" The bruises looked very new,
the angry reddish-purple standing out against Christine's pale skin.
"I do. You should have seen them this morning."
"God." She met
Christine's eyes. "You could have
died."
Christine looked away and
Uhura could tell she was about to lie.
"Don't." She touched Christine's hand. "Don't lie to me."
Christine slowly turned back
to meet her eyes, and Uhura could see how hard it was for her to whisper,
"I would have died. Jim was
there."
"You took him slaying
with you?"
Christine rolled her
eyes. The tension of the moment seemed
to roll off her as she shook her head.
"No. He just showed
up." She frowned. "Again." She was silent for a moment as if trying to
work something out.
"He saved you?"
Christine nodded. "Took care of me too. It was sort of strange. He and I have never been that close but..."
"But
what?"
Christine shook her
head. "It's stupid, but it just
seemed right. For him
to be helping me. Like...like he
understands me. He isn't judging
me."
Uhura thought back to his
expression the last time she'd seen him.
She didn't think he was in any position to judge Christine. "You sound like you're uncomfortable
with the idea?"
"I am." She leaned forward. "There's something about him. Something that calls to a
part deep inside me."
Uhura laughed. "Yeah. It's called charisma, magnetism, good looks,
personality."
Christine didn't smile. "No.
I mean something dark."
"Oh." Uhura could feel her smile fading. "That's not good. But that's not the only reason he's around
you, is it?"
Christine shrugged. "I don't know." She looked at the screen. "Did you find anything?"
Uhura shook her head. "No cadets have gone missing or been
murdered in the last year, let alone this week." She pointed to a name in the list. "This is the only person who disappeared
from the regular Starfleet ranks."
Christine peered at it. "Ben Johansson. Is there a visual?"
Uhura called up the
picture. Handsome, sandy brown hair,
fit. A captain, due to
retire soon. Starfleet had
launched an investigation, which was still ongoing. Uhura could tell by the way Christine was
shaking her head that he hadn't been one of the vampires. Then her friend leaned in to get a better
look.
"Does he remind you of
anyone?"
"Now that you mention
it, he looks a bit like Admiral Kirk."
Uhura looked at the list, then went back to the
original group of names.
"What are you looking
for?"
Uhura shook her head. "I don't know. But I have a feeling it's here if I just knew
how to see it." She stared at the
names, then shook her head. "It's not going to just come to me, that's for sure. I'm
going to have to look at some of these disappearances. See if I can find a common thread." She heard her friend yawn. "You need some rest."
"I didn't get much last
night. With Jim waking
me up every two hours."
Uhura shot her a look. "You sort of left that part out."
"Oh." Christine looked sheepish. "I didn't mean to."
"Liar."
Christine grinned. "It was a medical relief effort, Ny. He was only
sharing the bed--"
"Okay, back up and start
at the beginning. You two were in
bed?"
Christine shook her
head. "Fully
clothed. Nothing
like that. God, Ny, I'm his best friend's
lover--former lover--whatever. That
alone would keep him from touching me."
Uhura nodded. Kirk wasn't the kind of man to go poaching on
a friend's territory. On the other hand, his friend had pretty much ceded this
territory when he went to purge his emotions.
Uhura could only assume that purging would include any love Spock felt
for Christine.
She studied Christine, tried
to see what lay behind the carefully bland expression. "And what keeps you from touching
him?"
Christine's eyebrows went
up. "He's not exactly my
type."
"Uh
huh." In Uhura's opinion, he was everybody's type.
"He's Spock's best
friend, he's on the rebound from Alma, he's as screwed up in his own way as I
am. I could go on."
"You don't have
to." She smiled gently. "You guys can still be friends. And if he's going to be making a habit of
saving your life, then I think he should be your very best friend."
"Better
than you?"
Uhura didn't smile when she
said, "I couldn't have saved you.
And you need someone watching out for you." She saw Christine yawn again. "Go home, get
some sleep, then study. Only two more
tests to go and you'll be done."
Christine nodded. "Thanks, Ny."
"I'll keep working
here."
As Uhura watched Christine
walk away, she realized that this had been the first time Christine had sought
her out. Before, it had been Uhura who
had made the overtures by bringing Christine food or dragging her out in the
evening to a club or a concert. It felt
good to have her friend come see her.
Even if it
had been partly for business.
----------------------
Christine stifled another
yawn as she walked through the busy path on the way home. In a few hours, it would be dark and these
paths would be far less crowded.
Vampires tended to avoid this area.
Considering how extensive the grounds were and how easy the pickings,
that was a bit surprising. According to
Spike, the undead had avoided the military ever since Buffy's time, when a
small unit of soldiers called the Initiative had declared war on all manner of demonkind. When the
Initiative had failed due to internal corruption, some of the soldiers were
transferred to other units. They'd
carried on the fight from within the normal ranks. Spike said that since it was never clear
which units harbored demon fighters, the monsters felt it safer to just avoid
the military altogether.
So why break now with three
hundred years of tradition? She shook
her head. Who could tell why vampires
did anything?
She decided to take a
shortcut through the memorial. She
hurried down the shallow granite steps, walking through the rose garden and
heading for the building that held the memorial for all those lost in space,
their bodies never recovered but their spirits honored forever. The door opened silently, the cool, somewhat
musty air wrapping itself around her as she stopped briefly in front of the
white marble monument to pay her respects.
It was a superstition, but she never cut through the building without
greeting the dead on her way. It seemed
the least she could do if she was using their space as a convenience. Her heels clicked on the hard floor as she
moved on.
A whisper of sound stopped
her in her tracks. She turned and saw a
movement in the corridor that led to the restrooms.
"Who's there?"
If it was a tourist, or
another fleeter taking a shortcut, they should answer. No one did.
Christine slipped her pack off, dug into the front pocket for the stake she always
carried. She stepped into the sunlight
that poured through the stained glass windows, the colored beams distorting the
image of a starship and the planets surrounding it. "Who's there?" she repeated.
A man stepped out of the
hallway. He was in a uniform, captain's
stripes on his sleeve. His face was
hidden in shadows.
She hid the stake behind her
back. "Sir, I'm sorry, but you
startled me. I thought I was alone
here."
He didn't answer as he took
another step, bringing his face into the light.
He stared at her with an odd look of longing.
"Oh, shit," she
said under her breath.
It was the man that Uhura had
pulled up the file for. The missing man. Captain
Johansson. He moved toward her. Stopped just shy of the
sunlight.
"Do you know who you
are?"
He nodded. "Ben Johansson." He frowned, took a deep breath. His face changed into the monstrous features
of a vampire. "You smell
good."
She knew he wasn't referring
to her perfume. Gripping the stake
tighter, she asked, "How did you get here?"
He looked confused, seemed to
frown. "I was just walking
home. And they stopped me."
"Who?"
"Two
men. They thought I was someone else. They wanted him, not me." He looked around suddenly. "Did you hear that?"
"What did they look
like?"
"The
men? They had bumpy faces." He didn't seem to realize that he sported the
same features. He was confused--it
happened sometimes, especially when the sires didn't show up. The newborn vamps rose with all the powers
and instincts of their kind but no knowledge, and just enough of their old selves
to be disoriented. They almost
invariably returned to the places they knew.
Like Johansson had returned to the Starfleet grounds.
"Who were they looking
for?"
He reached out for her, and
she ducked back into the sunshine.
"They said they sought
the master. That they
wanted the sorcerer. I didn't
know what they meant. I tried to get
away. Then they attacked me." He shook his head. "My people will be worried about
me. I don't know how long I've been
gone. They'll be looking for
me." He snarled, seemed surprised
at the sound. "I'm hungry."
"I know." She pointed behind him. "Look, is that one of your people?"
With a smile, he turned to
look. She stepped out of the sunshine and
slammed the stake home. He was dust
before he could turn around.
"That was merciful of
you."
Christine whirled. A woman, thick bodied and dressed in tweed
stood in the hallway that led to the entrance Christine had come in by.
"Taking pity on vampires,
are you?" Her voice was lightly
accented. Scottish, but different than
how Scotty sounded.
Christine put the stake back
in her pack. "You can only be a
watcher. Silver send
you?"
"That's right."
Christine slung the bag back
over one shoulder. "Why?"
The woman smiled. It wasn't a particularly friendly
expression. "Surely, at your age,
you know how this works, my dear. You're
a slayer, and I'm a watcher. Your watcher, to be more specific."
"You've got to be
kidding."
"I'm afraid not." She held her hand out, the gesture all
business. "Emma Drake. And you're Christine Chapel. I've studied your files." She grimaced.
"Colorful reading, I must say."
"I don't need a
watcher."
"Oh, but you
do."
Christine turned and walked
away from the woman. "I don't want
a watcher. How's
that?"
The woman hurried to catch up
with her. "You don't
understand. You don't have a
choice."
She grabbed Christine's arm,
her grip tighter than Christine expected.
Christine turned, slamming the watcher up against the marble wall. "Let me repeat myself," she said as
she held the watcher in place. "I
don't work for you."
"And let me repeat
myself," Drake said. "I'm your
new watcher." She pushed Christine
hard, causing her to fly back and hit the other wall. "What part of that are you having
trouble understanding?"
Christine stared up at her, then shrugged out of her pack, digging quickly for her
stake. "This is some kind of sick joke."
She held up the stake.
The woman rolled her
eyes. "You are thick, aren't
you?" She walked out of the doors
into the sunshine.
Christine followed her. "You're not a vampire. But how..."
"Put that stake away. A low profile begins with you,
Christine." Drake walked over to
the fountain. She sat down, letting her
fingers drag through the water. "I
come from Maritus IV.
The New Glasgow mining settlement. You know it?"
Christine nodded. "A heavy gravity
world." She should have
realized that from the woman's solid physique.
"Now, you're getting
it." Drake smiled, the expression
still conveyed little that was warm.
"Kevin thought you'd respond best to someone you couldn't push
around."
Christine smiled
tightly. "You can't be too high on
his list if he assigned you me. He
considers me slightly lower than pond scum."
"Well, there was that
incident with the bolus demon."
"I've heard they're very
nice. When they aren't
molting." Which
was about once every five years.
But they were known for being on the side of the watchers for the right
price. "Killed one of Kevin's informants,
huh?"
Drake nodded. "No one told me they weren't
evil." She stood up. "They looked like the cantavian devils on Maritus
IV. And those aren't at all nice."
"An
honest mistake." Christine smiled, tried to make it real. "I suggest you tell Kevin exactly that
the next time you see him. When you also tell him that I was too much for you." She turned.
"Ms. Chapel. I don't plan to leave. I will carry out my assignment." She pointed back toward the mausoleum. "Do you have any idea what he was
talking about?"
Christine shrugged
noncommittally.
Drake walked over to her. Moved close, too close. She stared up at Christine, her nose
practically touching hers. She didn't
look like a person who was going to give up easily. "Christine. You have to trust me."
Christine backed up
quickly. "I don't have to do
anything." She turned and hurried
away.
"You're ours till you
die," Drake said.
"I already died. Or didn't you get that memo?" Christine broke into a run. The woman might be strong, but there was no way
she could keep up with her. Christine ran
until she was almost to her apartment, then allowed
herself to slow down.
What had Johansson said? That the vampires had been looking for the
sorcerer...for the master? What the hell
did that mean?
She had a sinking feeling
that whatever it meant, it had something to do with Jim. She hurried into her apartment, managing to
avoid Rhatigan this time. She looked
longingly at her bed for a moment, then commed Jim.
"Chris? This is a pleasant surprise."
She shook her head and he
frowned.
She didn't waste time. "Remember those guys we saw on the
compound the other night?"
He nodded.
"They weren't looking
for takeout." She had his full
attention. "I think they were
looking for you."
His frown deepened. "Why?"
"I don't know. But I know someone that might. When can you leave?"
"I'm done now."
She looked at the chrono. About an
hour of daylight left. "Get here quick."
"I'll leave right
now."
"Hurry."
She signed off and dumped out
her pack. She stuck the stake back in,
pushed the padds aside, and went to the weapons chest
that Spike had insisted it was traditional she have. She filled the pack with a variety of crosses
and holy water, then threw in more stakes from the bag
Uhura had brought her. She checked the
crossbow, then set it with the pack on a chair. As she waited for Jim to arrive, she fought
down a feeling of panic that things were rapidly spinning out of her
control. Again.
---------------------------------------
Kirk changed into the off
duty clothes that he kept at the office and picked up a padded carrying tube,
hitching it over his shoulder. The fit
was good, snug against his back, and much less conspicuous than a
scabbard. He wasn't exactly sure why
he'd felt compelled to bring it, and the sword that was hidden inside, to work,
but he'd learned over the years to trust his instincts. Especially if, as Alma had
said, his instincts were actually some type of magic. He was learning that magic was real and
things did go bump in the night--and those things usually had sharp teeth and
wicked claws.
He hurried out of the Command
building. Chris had sounded just short
of panicked, and that worried him. A lot. She'd said the vampires had been looking for
him. Why?
He hurried down the paths,
barely noticing his progress as he tried to come up with reasons why the undead
would be interested in him.
Unless it was something to do
with
The path ahead was congested,
and Kirk wove his way through the crowd, slowing to avoid crashing into
anyone. In the
She reached out and stopped
him, her grip on his arm surprisingly strong.
"Excuse me, but how do I get to the piers?" she asked, her
words softly accented in a way that reminded him of Scotty.
He smiled. "Follow this path to the main drag, then head downhill.
When you hit the water--"
"--I'll know I'm
there. Thank you."
He nodded, hurried off. The walk to Christine's apartment was short
and he rang the chime.
"Jim?"
"It's me. Can I come in?"
There was a dead
silence.
"Chris?"
"Do you need me to
invite you in?"
"No I need you to buzz
me in." He suddenly realized what
she meant. "It's broad daylight,
Chris. At least for
another forty-five minutes. I'm
human. Mortal. Not a vampire. Just let me in."
"Oh,
sorry." Her voice sounded more distracted than
sheepish. "I'll be down. Just hold on."
A
moment later, the door opened and she hurried out. She handed him the backpack, then did a double
take at the carrying tube. "What's
that?"
"Sword." He grinned at
her. "You may not mind carrying a
crossbow around with you, but I wanted to keep a lower profile."
"That's
the second time I've heard that term today." She scowled at him. "Come on, let's get going."
"Where?"
"To see a friend." She seemed to
stumble over the word.
"Anyone
I know?"
She
shook her head.
They
hurried down the hill and he was surprised when she led them to the piers.
"Uhura
called while I was waiting for you."
He
waited, knew she would have a point.
"We
were trying to figure out who the vampires were that you and I met up with the
other night." She looked over at
him. "Looks like you had some
stowaways from Vega Hydra."
"On the
She
nodded.
"But
that's impossible. They didn't
feed. There were no reports of trouble."
"They
must have laid low. They can do
that. She said the disappearances
started at Starbase Seven, after the
"They
want me. You said it yourself."
She
looked over at him, seemed to take his measure.
"Okay, then. They want
you. But we don't know why." She nodded to an empty booth. "And the person we need should be
sitting right there. Damn it."
"Christine?"
Kirk
jumped, the voice behind him seemed to come from out of nowhere. He turned, saw an
old Andorian smiling at them.
"What
were you doing in the alley?" Christine asked.
His
antenna fell forward, in a strange reverse twist on Spock's eyebrow lift. "I was walking from the other
street. Is that allowed? Should I get permission?" His amused smile took any sting out of the
words. "Even a fortuneteller as
dedicated as I am has to visit the facilities every once in a while."
"More
than I wanted to know." She
followed the Andorian to the booth, pushed Kirk into the chair at the table,
crouched down next to him. 'Tolvar, this
is Jim Kirk. Jim, Tolvar. He's a friend. I think."
"I
am a friend." Tolvar shook his head
as if disappointed in her.
"Whatever. Okay, Tolvar.
Prove you're the all knowing. My
friend's in trouble. Tell me what from."
"Other
than being skewered by that sword?"
Tolvar leaned forward.
"You're going to need to reinforce the end of that unless you
relish being a pincushion."
Kirk
nodded. He'd thought that too.
Christine
pushed herself up in one graceful movement, her expression exasperated. "Try again."
"Anacost's blood flows in his veins. Do I have your attention now,
slayer?" Tolvar leaned back in his
chair. He looked at Kirk in what appeared
to be admiration. "You survived the
unsurvivable. I
know you had the fire demon to help you, but you fought off a master vampire's
influence. You live, when you should be
undead."
Kirk
looked away from the startlingly piercing eyes of the Andorian. "I didn't fight. I would have turned."
Tolvar
looked at Christine. "How many
people have you seen survive being drained and having drunk?"
She
took a deep breath, looked over at Kirk.
"None."
"None." Tolvar took Kirk's hand, turned
it over. "You have power. Hidden, untrained, but very strong. They want that. They want the power of Anacost and the power
you already possessed within you. They
want you as one of them...as their leader."
Christine
made a disparaging sound. "It's not
going to happen. I'm going to stop
it."
Tolvar
shot her a bland look. "Of course
you are."
Kirk
didn't think he looked convinced.
"Do
you know where they are?"
Tolvar
nodded. "Where
you first found them."
Christine
got up. "You stay here," she
said to Kirk.
"No,
Chris."
He
got up but Tolvar held his hand fast.
"Let her go. This must play
out as it will."
"No!" Kirk pushed him away savagely.
"If
you go, you only give them what they want.
Let her fight them alone."
"No. Not alone." He ran after her.
She
had quite a head start on him; he could see her jogging up the hills back to
Starfleet Command. Then she hit the
paths and disappeared into the trees.
"Chris, no." He put on a
burst of speed, sure with every instinct inside him that she was in terrible
danger.
---------------------------------
Christine ran up the paths,
toward the spot she'd first fought the vampires. She heard a noise from the woods behind her
and stopped. Dragging the crossbow off
her shoulder and over her head, she pulled it back, set a bolt in it.
"Slayer," a vampire
stepped out of the shadows. He held up
his hands. "I die, so that Anacost
might live again."
She shot him and he exploded
into dust.
"Chris?" Kirk rushed into the clearing.
A vampire stepped behind
him. She loaded another bolt, shot it
frantically. The bolt whizzed by Kirk's
arm, hitting the vampire dead center.
"That's two," a
deep voice said in her ear. A heavy hand
cuffed her to the ground
She lost her grip on the
crossbow as she hit.
"That's all the shots
you will get with your little toy."
He stepped in front of her and stomped on the crossbow, shattering it.
Two new vampires came out of
the shadows, one knocking Kirk to his knees as the first vampire dragged
Christine to her feet. She kicked out
and he cuffed her again, then put his hand around her
throat, his fingers finding the bruises that the other vampire had made. Her vision began to blur. She kicked out again and again but he hit her
again, this time hard enough to leave her dazed.
"Chris!" She could hear Kirk struggling.
"Don't worry, young
one. I'll not kill her." The vampire tossed her to one of the guards,
who tied her hands behind her, then looped the rope around a tree.
The first vampire walked over
to Kirk. "My name is Nacellus. I was Anacost's second-in-command. I will be yours too, when you rise and take
on his power. We have followed you here,
to offer our lives to you."
Kirk pulled the carry tube
off his back. Before he could yank the
top off, Nacellus batted it from his hands.
"No, Kirk. That is not the way this will go." He grabbed Kirk's collar, pulled him towards
Christine. "You will taste a slayer's
blood tonight."
Nacellus thrust Kirk's face into Christine's neck. "Can you not smell her? Feel the life within her beating under your
lips? Her blood will feed you. She will be your first kill and then, if you
wish, she will be the first of many vampires made by your will and your
blood. Such powerful
blood."
Nacellus stroked Christine's face. "I hope he turns you, slayer. I would like to see what a creature like you
becomes when your darkness is fully unleashed."
"No." Kirk struggled. "Let me go."
"Soon." Nacellus stroked Kirk's hair, as if soothing a small
child. "This will only hurt for a
moment."
Christine struggled, tried to
get free. Nacellus
glanced over at her, grinned as he bent to Kirk's neck. Kirk groaned as Nacellus
bit down and began to drink.
"That will be quite
enough of that." A figure in tweed
strode into the clearing.
Christine forced herself to
look away from Kirk. Drake had added a
walking stick to her starchy ensemble. Unfortunately,
the end wasn't sharpened.
Nacellus dropped Kirk.
He turned to look at the intruder, then he
laughed. Loudly. He motioned for the guards to come around to
flank her as he too moved forward.
Kirk crawled away from the
vampire, began to work on the ropes that held Christine. "Who the hell is that?"
She watched as the vampires
converged on the woman. "My new--soon to be dead--watcher."
One of the guard vampires
reached Drake first and hit her with a solid blow to the chin. It didn't seem to phase
her as she punched him hard. He fell
back, then launched himself at her again. She caught him, spun quickly, and threw him
into a tree branch. He exploded as the
branch thrust out his back. The other
guard leapt at her but she caught him too and used his momentum to propel him
into a headstone. As he lay stunned, she
leaned down and casually twisted his head.
Off.
Christine was impressed. "Did I mention that she's from a
heavy-gravity world?"
"You left that
out." He said as he worked at the
ropes.
Drake parried a blow from Nacellus with her walking stick.
"And she's really
starting to grow on me," Christine said as the ropes fell free. "But this is my gig." She charged into the fight.
"About time you worked
yourself free. Very
bad form, depending on a weakened sorcerer to get you out of your mess. We have our work cut out for us." Drake kicked Nacellus
toward Christine.
"You are
not"--Christine dodged his kick and jabbed out, catching him under the jaw
and knocking him back to Drake--"my watcher."
"Well, if I'm not, then
I'm wasting my time here." Drake
twisted the vampire around, pulling the walking stick up and under his neck, holding
him against her. "I presume you
have a stake?"
"Chris!" Kirk tossed her one.
"Extremely bad
form," Drake said with a shake of her head, as Christine drove the stake
home. Drake ignored the dust, just lowered
her walking stick and turned to the woods.
"All right, Tolvar. You can
come out now."
The Andorian walked out of
the woods. He waved at Christine.
"You got him to actually
do something? Not just sit around and
make predictions?"
Drake grinned. She looked about ten years younger, and
Christine suddenly wondered exactly how old the woman was.
"Oh, Tolvar and I go way
back."
"There's a lot of that
going around." Christine began to
smile, the expression growing almost against her will. "The bolus demons that Silver's so
annoyed about? You didn't just kill one,
did you?"
Drake shrugged. "I killed them all. It was quite unfortunate really. I told Kevin that one positively needs a
scorecard on this planet to tell who's evil and who's
not. And even then things change so
rapidly." She strode over to Kirk,
began to examine his neck.
"I know you." He winced as she pushed a handkerchief
against his neck.
"Yes, thank you for the
directions." She pulled the
handkerchief away, seemed satisfied.
"Apply pressure. You'll need
blood."
"I'll survive."
She studied him. "Yes, I suppose you've gone through
worse if what that vampire said was true."
She nodded to where Tolvar was standing.
"We heard everything. I
wasn't precisely sure what he was talking about though."
Christine frowned. "I thought you read the files on
me?"
"I did. But there was nothing in them about this
one. Someone must have expunged the
record." She shrugged. "Or they were too caught up in searching
for you to put together a proper report.
That is, in my experience, the more likely reason. Human failing."
She looked back at Kirk. "Or Vulcan."
He looked away.
She held out her hand to
him. "Christine won't introduce
us. I'm Emma Drake."
"Kirk. James T."
"Oh, I know who you are,
Admiral." She picked up his carry
tube, turning to Christine and said, "Now this is understated. You could take a lesson from him." She handed it back to him, then
eyed the shattered crossbow with distaste.
"You know that they make collapsible models? Very much the thing."
"Please tell me you already
have a place to stay?" Christine said.
"Of course, I do. I'll send you the address. And I expect you to be there tomorrow after your
exam for training."
"You're
delusional." Christine turned
away. "I have exams all week. I need to study."
"Then when
your tests are over."
Kirk took pity on Christine,
shaking his head. "We're
celebrating the end of another successful term." He turned, winked at Christine.
Drake crossed her arms over
her chest. "The
next day then. I'll expect you
bright and early." She
straightened, dropped her arms to her side, the walking stick held firmly. "We have a great deal of work ahead of
us, Christine." She marched away. "Come along, Tolvar. We've a lot of catching up to do."
The Andorian followed her
with a strange smile. Christine decided
she didn't want to know what their definition of 'catching up' was.
"Did I say she was
growing on me?"
Kirk nodded.
"Like a Lotellian fungus. I
may never get her off."
He laughed, then grimaced. "Ow?"
She checked the wound; the
bleeding had stopped. She gently peeled
the handkerchief away. "You
probably do need blood."
His expression
tightened. "I'm okay. He didn't drink that much."
"Then let me get you
bandaged up? I don't want that to get
infected."
He nodded.
She picked up the
crossbow. "Collapsible,
huh?" She looped the thing
over her shoulder. "How handy are
you?"
He just grinned.
"With a--" She saw his
face, broke off what she'd been about to say.
"I can see that there is no way I can end up anywhere safe with
this conversation, is there?"
He grinned again. They walked in silence, then
he said softly, "Would you have staked me that night. After Anacost bit me?"
She looked at him in
surprise. She couldn't imagine that
Spock would have told him how close he had come to dying at her hand. Perhaps
"Chris? Would you have?"
She nodded.
He nodded back, seemed to
accept her answer. "Maybe it would
have been for the best."
She shook her head. "No.
It wouldn't have been." She
took his hand and squeezed it quickly, then let go.
"It's inside me. He's inside me. The vampires know it."
"Well, then they know
it. But they also know not to mess with
me. Or with the
watcher from hell." She
grinned at him. "You're not a
vampire, Jim. Whatever reason you're
alive right now, it's because of what has always been inside you. Not because of some vampire's blood." She saw his expression lighten somewhat. "So are we really going to celebrate
after finals?"
He nodded. "Anywhere you want."
She laughed. "Well, there is this great little café
in Nice."
"Sure."
"That's Nice as in
He grinned. "I do.
Comes with being an admiral. Rank should have its privileges, shouldn't
it?"
She grinned back, already
thinking of the pate and steamed mussels.
She began to recite what she could remember of the menu to him. He groaned, as if starving and she
laughed. For all she knew, the place
might be closed. It had been years since
she'd been to Nice.
When they reached her
apartment, she walked up to the security device to scan in, then
stopped. She turned to look at him. "There may come a day when you need to
get in here quick."
"The old lady won't like
it."
She smiled. A very big, and she
suspected evil smile. "I
know."
"It's not like I'll have
to help you move furniture, if she kicks you out. Or much of anything
else." He moved in front of
the scanner.
She keyed in her override
security code, set it to record his pattern.
"Just for the record, this does not constitute an invitation to
come in if you ever are turned."
He laughed. "Gotcha." He stepped away from the scanner, then looked back into it.
The door unlocked.
"So would you have
turned me?" she asked. "Or
just fed?"
He shrugged, gave her a
cavalier grin, the one she hadn't seen him use for some time. The one that always charmed
her.
"You're not going to
tell me, are you?"
He shook his head, held the
door for her. He followed her up the
stairs. His voice was very serious as he
said, "I expect you to kill me, Chris.
If I ever am turned. Don't hesitate. Not for a minute."
She shot him a look. "I guess that means I'd have just been
dinner, huh?"
He didn't look away. "No.
It means you wouldn't have been.
I'd have turned you."
There was a long strained
silence. He looked away first.
She rummaged through the
first aid drawer, found what she needed, and began to wash out the bites. "Well, technically, either way I'd be
dinner. It's just a question of whether
I'd be dinner with a future or not."
He smiled, seemed to
appreciate her willingness to try to lighten the moment. "I'd prefer you weren't dinner at
all."
"Me
too." She bandaged his neck, then
pulled away. She could still feel the
ropes on her wrists, could still see Nacellus biting
into Kirk's neck, hear the sound of him feeding. "She saved us. You know that?"
He nodded. "She was pretty amazing out there. You're sure she's just a watcher?"
"Pretty
sure."
He smiled, rose and headed
for the door. "Well I'm glad she's
on our side."
"Our?"
He turned. Didn't say anything, just
smiled. Then he was gone.
Christine grabbed a stake out
of her bag, hurried to the door. He was
still on the stairway and he looked up at her.
"You might need
this." She tossed it to him.
He caught it, shoved it in his
pocket. "Thanks. Good luck on your tests. Not that you'll need it."
She nodded. "Good night."
She waited on the landing,
listened to him walk down the stairs. A
door opened, and she heard Mrs. Rhatigan, say, "Oh, it's you again."
"You know, I don't
believe I got your first name. I'm Jim
Kirk. Admiral Kirk. It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice was at its silky best.
"Oh, well. My, my. I didn't realize you were an admiral. I'm Edna.
Edna Rhatigan. I own this
place."
"It's a lovely place."
Christine could imagine him
leaning in, giving her landlady that golden boy smile.
"Chris is very happy
here, and I know that's because of your management." The front door opened. "Good night, Edna."
"Oh,
good night, Jim. I can call you Jim?"
"Please." The door closed.
Christine smiled. Maybe her rent wouldn't skyrocket after all.
FIN