by Dianne la Mercenaire "It's gone!" Nick's habitual distraction vanished as he heard the familiar yet distressed voice over the phone. "Nat?" Nick asked, dropping his tone when Tracy glanced up in surprise. "What's wrong? What's gone?" "The lavaliere! My great-grandmother's sapphire lavaliere!" Nick felt a stab of fear when he heard the anxiety in her voice; what could have happened to make her sound like that? Reflexively he wanted more than anything to make it better, to make it all right. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?" Nick's voice was low and quiet, but threatened a swift and painful death to anyone who would even _dare_.... "No, no." Nat took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "I'm fine, Nick. It was missing from my jewelry box when I got home tonight. It's just...." She stopped and took another deep breath. "I sound crazy, don't I? I'm sorry; it just means so much to me!" With the reassurance that Nat herself was not-- had not been-- in immediate danger Nick's heart rate slowed to something nearer its normal lethargic rate and the burning amber haze that had threatened to obscure his vision quickly retreated. Nat was not one to over-react in the normal course of things. He didn't even want to admit how frightened he had been.... "No, Nat, it's okay." She'd worn it to the opera with him last night, and had told him about her great-grandmother giving it to her as a child, the sentimental attachment she still had to it.... "Have you reported it?" "No," she breathed. Nick could almost see her forcing herself into some semblance of calm. "I didn't think that would... be a very good idea...." Her voice trailed off and Nick frowned at the receiver, "Nat?" "Well, I don't see any way a _human_ could have gotten in." The tone of her voice was level, but pointed. "And Sidney.... Poor Sidney is so freaked out, he just keeps stalking around with his fur on end hissing at things that aren't there and...." She stopped, took a deep breath, and made an effort to pull herself together. "Considering the circumstances," she concluded wryly, "I thought maybe *you* would want to check this out first?" Nick nodded. It didn't sound like anyone he knew, but he could see why Nat was concerned. "Nick?" Starting, Nick realized he hadn't responded. "Stay there, Nat. I'll be over." ****************************************** Abyssa lay like the dead upon the raised table as she felt the smooth, soothing hands moving up and down her body. She had been addicted to a good massage since she'd first been brought to the Temple of Bast as a child. It was high time the art was revived over at this end of the world. Once the Roman Empire had fallen, Europe had degenerated into a mass of barbarians hitting each other with sticks for pieces of soggy marshland. You simply hadn't been able to get a decent massage west of the Nile Valley for _centuries_. In fact, she'd given up entirely and roamed the eastern edges of Asia for the longest time... <Oh yes! Right there....> Absently, she fingered the sapphire pendant around her neck. It really was beautiful and the instant she'd seen it around that woman's neck she'd known she must have it-- the way it sparkled under the lights, catching her eye, driving her to distraction with the urge to reach out, to touch it.... The change in the patterns the skillful hands traced on her back made her realize that she'd tensed up again, ready to pounce upon the dangling, glittering.... With a quick, embarrassed shake of her head she dismissed the memory and forced herself to relax once again, the muscles obeying her mental command as always. She didn't _need_ the massage, of course, she never did. She had been trained to stretch her long, lithe body regularly and well. "After all," her tutor had chided her, "Have you ever seen a cat that _needed_ a massage?" _Needed_, no. But that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate the sheer sensuality of the experience. The forced inactivity. The sheer, ego-gratifying attention.... ***************** In the time it had taken him to arrive, Nat had regained control of herself. She was no longer dealing with a cherished heirloom that had vanished under impossible circumstances, it was a case to be solved-- an impersonal mystery to unravel. Or so she said. He lead her through the standard questioning, and finally had to admit that she was right-- it made no sense as a conventional robbery. When she went to bed she had put the necklace in her jewelry box, intending to take it back to the safe deposit box the next evening. When she woke up at dusk, it was still safely there. After a quick run to the store, it was gone. She was absolutely certain that the door had been locked-- deadbolt and all. Nothing else had been touched. The only other possible access to her apartment was through an upper-level bathroom window too small for a grown man, woman, _or_ vampire to fit through. So what had happened? Nick stepped into the Raven, unsettled as always by the realization that it was Janette's no longer. The difference was not as shocking as it had been at first, but it still hit him hard. And she had left without a word, without a note, without any warning at all.... He was brought out of the circles of confusion and loss in his mind by Vachon, who caught his eye and motioned him to a corner booth. "There is a thief among us," he stated simply as soon as Nick sat down across from him. He caught Urs' eye across the room; she nodded and moved towards the bar. "You're certain it's a vampire?" Vachon looked up with a thoughtful expression. "It's no _mortal_ anyway," he amended. Urs appeared at their table and deposited glasses of thick, rich blood before them. Nick gave her a grateful smile as he scented the contents of his. She smiled back, instinctively flirtatious, and returned to the crowd at the bar. Nick nodded. "So, what's been taken?" "Feathers." He looked down at the glass before him. At Nick's confused look Vachon elaborated, "A strip of cord with bright feathers along the edge.... A momento of the one who brought me across." Vachon looked up briefly, as though daring Nick to say anything. But the older vampire only nodded, "Anything else?" "No, not from me. But one of the pieces from Marissa's senet board." He nodded as Nick stared at him in shock. "That thing must be a couple of thousand years old," he continued, "and you _know_ how she treasures that game. I don't think I've ever seen her here without it. She's raising hell with everyone she sees." "It was taken from the Raven?" Nick asked, incredulous. Vachon nodded, "Sometime mid-evening when everyone was here. She was playing a game in one of the back rooms with the General. They... 'retired' to the private rooms for a short time...." Nick looked startled, but Vachon merely shrugged. Having to remind himself that Marissa had been "sweet sixteen" for four centuries now, Nick nodded at Vachon to continue. "She swore it was only a few minutes and they were close by. You know mortals can't just wander back there. And there were a few fledglings in the cellar who swore-- even under the _General's_ questioning-- that there had been no mortals in the back." Nick shook his head and stared off across the dance floor. "And the same with your feathers?" "I was in the church alone asleep for the day. Not a single human heartbeat disturbed my slumber." Nick sat for a moment staring into his glass, swirling it slightly and watching the thick liquid as it clung to the insides of the bowl. So intent was he on trying to make sense of the few facts he had that he didn't feel LaCroix's approach. "It's good to see you getting out, Nicholas," he coaxed. "You know what they say about 'All work and no play....'" "I'm not here to 'play', LaCroix," Nick snapped. His master gave a theatrical sigh. "Don't tell me you're 'hard at work' on one of your bothersome little cases again. Don't they ever let you off duty?" Vachon sat, silent and vacant-eyed, watching the interplay. It must fascinate him, never having had time for a relationship with his own master. Well, Nick would happily trade any time. But he could see that the Spaniard was not about to interfere. Ignoring LaCroix's comment, he returned to the problem at hand. No vampire needed to steal from another to survive, and the choice of objects was unusual-- as if chosen for their meaning rather than their value. Someone was playing some sort of _game_.... "One of us is a thief," Nick announced. LaCroix laughed. "So Marissa tells me." He smiled. "It seems to be causing her a great deal of distress. Nonsense, of course, such petty attachment to objects-- the cast-off detritus of the mortal world....." Such easy disdain for one so drawn to the power of possession. Nick wondered briefly how convincingly his master would preach that sermon if one of _his_ 'treasures' were missing. "If you like, I am certain that Marissa will vouch for my whereabouts when her little toy disappeared." He was nearly leering now. Then his expression turned thoughtful. "A shame that. Such a beautiful set." Nick couldn't tell if the sentiment was sincere or not. He never quite could with LaCroix-- and it hardly mattered anyway. Rising to his feet, he nodded to Vachon and left the club, feeling his master's bemused eyes following him at every step. ************************ Abyssa stretched sensously in the warmth of the afternoon sun. She had fallen asleep again, but one look at the sky assured her she was in no danger of waking up cold anytime soon. She had been back at the temple, as her dreams often took her-- Awed by the huge pillars stretching high above her. Growing up there, learning the most secret and wondrous mysteries-- even after she had been touched by the Goddess, led in one indescribable moment out of the circle of short, ordinary human life-- the sheer, immovable expanse of cold, solemn stone had never ceased to humble her. She rolled to her side and propped herself up on one elbow on the couch, gazing lazily out the huge picture windows that made up half of the living room of her third-story apartment. She liked to be up high. She could look down on all of her one- and two-story neighbors from here, see the people passing on the ground without being seen, watch the birds on the roofs of the neighboring buildings.... A slight flutter caught her eye and she smiled as she saw the string of large bright feathers hanging from the curtain rod. She gazed, entranced, as the slightest breath of air set them moving in the most enticing ways. A slight frown crossed her face as she felt a hint of stiffness in one leg. Stretching herself out-- rippling every muscle down the length of her body-- solved that problem. Content once more, she turned slightly and settled back to sleep. ****************** Touching down lightly outside his loft, Nick entered the security code with the ease of much practice. The Caddie had suddenly refused to start so, frustrated and exhausted, he had muttered a few arcane curses, kicked the tire, and left it for the day. He was so used to the constant noises of the mortal, that he rarely noticed how quietly he himself moved-- moving with the unconscious stealth of the hunter... ...until he heard the heartbeat. It was coming from upstairs. In a flash he was on the second level, but the intruder was already gone. A moment later arriving and he would never have known. Throwing the unlatched window completely open and wincing against the rising light, he dropped into the alley below and listened. Nothing. A mouse scurrying beneath a dumpster. A cat watching it intently, its tail lashing a fraction of an inch above the ground. _Nothing_. A bright glitter caught the corner of his eye. Leaning over, he picked up the stray bit of metal. There was the growling sound of more curses, some of them quite elaborate. It was his pomander. The one given to him by Mary, Queen of Scots. With one last glance around the empty alley, he returned to the loft. Turning the small, elaborately jeweled faux-pomegranate over in his hand, he remembered her beautiful, noble smile as she gifted it to him, the night before her execution.... Lifting it to his face, he inhaled the faint faded scent of lilacs. She had always loved lilacs.... A small break in the filigree quickly brought him back to the present. Looking closer, he noticed a small puncture... no, a _pair_ of them. And another set on the other side; fresh breaks in the delicate, pure-gold lacework. Too small to be vampire, surely. More like a dog or a.... He saw it again in his mind: A frightened mouse... and an alley cat. What looked like an _Abyssinian_ alley cat with some kind of collar and who hadn't so much as looked up when he dropped suddenly out of the sky. Faster than thought he was at the window again-- just in time to see the long tail disappearing over a fence. **************************** Ten minutes later he was knocking on a third-story apartment door. The woman who answered was a small yet imposing presence. Jet black hair hung straight and long from what looked like gold and ivory clips. Smooth skin the color of mahogany surrounded deep, entrancing black eyes. And a sapphire pendant hung from a thin gold chain at her throat. Natalie's lavaliere. The pulse that beat under it was light and fast. "Ms. Mau?" She made no response. "I am Detective Knight with the Toronto Police Department. May I come in?" She blinked her large eyes slowly, then smiled and stepped back. Immediately he spotted the feathered cord hanging by the window. It was obviously old-- Vachon's certainly-- although some of the feathers looked more torn and tattered by claw than by age. Marissa's senet piece was on the mantle, along with a number of pieces of random brick-a-brack. Dust-catchers that, when looked at closely, did not look the least bit common. He turned back to see the woman watching him. He thought he could hear her humming slightly under her breath. "Ms. Mau, I am going to have to arrest you on multiple charges of breaking-and- entering, theft...." He was interrupted by her laughter, soft and musical. "Theft? Of what?" Nick was stunned for a moment by her brazen attitude. "The necklace you are wearing, these feathers, this game piece...." The woman laughed again. "Those are not stolen; they're mine." She spoke so matter-of-factly that Nick wondered for a moment if he might not be mistaken.... But the look in those dark eyes drove any doubts from his mind. She was laughing at him-- toying with him. He continued the official approach, "They match the description of property stolen within the last...." "If the thefts were reported, then why is a _homicide_ detective investigating them?" From her smile he hadn't hidden the surprise on his face. "I trust no one's been injured, let alone _killed_?" Nick dropped any pretense of an official investigation. "You were in my apartment this morning." "Nonsense, Detective," she smiled, "You can ask the doorman. I've been here all night." "And your cat?" "Cat?" her eyes opened, wide and innocent. "I have no cat." "I saw one enter your apartment from the balcony not five minutes ago." She laughed. "Well I'm glad to see Toronto's finest are keeping themselves busy." When Nick did not respond, she sighed. "I have no pets, they're not allowed in this building. You can hardly hold me responsible for the strays of Toronto!" "May I look around?" She inclined her head slightly. A quick survey of the apartment showed no cat food, no litterbox, no signs of a pet. Stooping, he brushed a few stray sand-colored hairs from his pant leg. From the apartment or the chase? On this carpet he would never be able to tell. There was nothing to prove there had ever been a cat here. In frustration he kicked absently at a stray cotton swab lying just under the edge of the bed. Feeling silly, he picked it up and dropped in a nearby wastebasket. Strange, in such an otherwise immaculate home.... When he returned to the front room he found his suspect sprawled lazily on the couch. "I am no contortionist, Detective. How could I have possibly entered those places without access, without being seen? _I_ cannot vanish from sight or turn myself into smoke... or a bat...." Her smug expression was driving him mad and the soft humming she made was even louder. The vampire glared at her. Natalie had been right: this was no job for the Toronto PD. "I could charge you with possession of stolen property," Nick threatened, but there was no conviction in his words. The thief shook her head almost sadly. "It would be my word against theirs. Unreported thefts of largely undocumented items investigated by a homicide detective who can't even explain how they were taken?" She shook her head again. "No, you'll never get very far with that." "What do you want?" he demanded after a moment of silence. "Beautiful things," she responded immediately. "The unusual, the rare, the meaningful. It's always been a little failing of mine you see." There was no remorse in her face or voice as she rose and moved to the mantelpiece, running her fingers lightly over the objects there. "And when I see something I want, I simply _must_ have it, you see. The crown jewels of an ancient Anatolian queen, ancient manuscripts in languages long dead...." "You have been doing this for a long time, haven't you?" the vampire asked. Her voice was wistful. "For much too long." "Well, it ends now," he said reaching for the string of feathers at the window. The soft humming noise she made rose quickly in volume and intensity until it was almost a snarl. Refusing to be intimidated, Nick grabbed the feathers deliberately... and ended up with a handful of curtain six inches to the right. He turned to the woman behind him in astonishment. "*What* are you?" The woman sighed wearily and looked up at him. "Nothing you need worry about, Detective. But I wouldn't wear yourself out trying to reach those things. Appearances can easily be _so_ deceiving." Nick self-consciously put his arm down, his eyes narrowing. "Why steal from vampires? Just because you think you _can_?" "I simply know where to find the finest things." Nick shook his head in amazement. "You may be able to stop me, but are you prepared to stand against all of the oldest vampires in Toronto?" Abyssa smiled sadly, "There *do* seem to be an awful lot of you, no?" She laughed at his startled look. "Well, it isn't as if I came here for the _weather_!" With a single fluid motion she was off the couch and at the mantle. She handed him the senet piece, then moved towards the strip of feather trim. "I suppose it's simply time to move on then." She handed him Vachon's keepsake. "I'm sure _you_ understand." Nick nodded. With a sigh of regret she unfastened the chain from her neck and let it drop into his waiting hand. "It won't happen again?" the cop in him insisted. She smiled, "Your Toronto is quite safe. Good morning, Detective." Nick stood there for a moment after the door closed. Then he turned down the hall and began looking for a passage safe from the rising sun. **************************** Behind the closed door, the Cat-Goddess' daughter smiled. A few treasures gained, a few treasures lost. And so the endless game went on. She sighed. By sunset she would be long gone. Absently smoothing down her skirt, her left hand collided with a small object in her pocket. The soft humming noise in her throat returned and an enigmatic grin spread slowly across her face. Retrieving the antique, silver sword-shaped pin, she polished it absently against her shirt. **************************** <finis> Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <moonlight@clever.net> -*-"We must be powerful, beautiful, and without regret."-*-
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