Disclaimer: 'Forever Knight' is owned by other folks, and the Blues Brothers are owned by another set of folks. I just needed to use them for a short while and mean no harm to anyone.
As for this "story," I have no excuse for it. I've been taking my medication just like the doctor said to, but this scene has continued to haunt my brain for weeks now. Special thanks to my son, John-Travis, who not only has to endure my addiction to FK, but also acted as my beta reader. Should anyone wish to archive it (the story, not the brain), permission is given.
Janette saw the door of the Raven open; the dim rays of dusk's remaining light washed into the club. She stood at the end of the bar, safe from the sun's departing fire. The evening crowd was starting to filter in. The mortals came in first (naturally), and then the vampire crowd slipped in among the humans. They were like sheep and wolves roaming throughout the club; rubbing shoulders, dancing, talking. Janette smiled to herself as she watched her guests enjoy the dark hospitality of her unique establishment.
As the evening grew late, Detective Nick Knight strolled into the vampire community's well-known haven. It was crowded tonight; the air was heavy with cigarette smoke, perfumes, and the ever-present scent of humanity. He made his way through the crowded dance floor, smiling as he met Janette's sparkling eyes. Perched on a corner barstool, she was elegant in her red and black evening gown. "Nicolas!" She studied his face as he kissed her fingers. "You *must* be here for pleasure...for a change." she said teasingly.
Nick leaned in closely and whispered into her ear, "How could you tell?"
"You're smiling and . . ." She was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of screeching tires. Nick tensed for the inevitable crash, but it never came. He all but flew out the front door of the club and into the street. He looked left --- He looked right --- But everything seemed to be in order.
Relieved that there had been no collision, he turned to go back inside. He'd only taken two steps forward when he saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him stop. Parked directly behind his beloved Caddy was another large car, this one desperately in need of serious body work. It had obviously been a police car some years ago - an old black and white. What was left of the paint was faded and chipped. It had Chicago license plates, and there were some very odd skid marks leading directly to its tires. The marks indicated that the parking job had been done in an extremely irregular fashion, as if the car had been coming from the opposite direction and turned quite suddenly, spinning the car around and into the spot between the Caddy and a black Jaguar. "An interesting way to parallel park," Nick thought as he considered speaking with the driver about Toronto traffic laws. "Nah...it's my night off , and I didn't actually witness anything illegal." He glanced at the auto one last time when he heard the car door open.
The driver getting out of the eyesore was tall and had an average build. He wore a black business suit with a white shirt and a narrow black tie. The ensemble was completed with an old fashioned black porkpie hat. Nick was reminded of the 1940s when hats were common; a more stylish period, he thought nostalgically. However, something else caught Det. Knight's immediate attention: this stranger was wearing dark black-rimmed sunglasses. "Even *I* don't wear my sunglasses at midnight." he whispered to himself. As the man approached the building, Nick saw the black leather satchel that he carried in his right hand and was handcuffed to right wrist. The man's expression was deadpan; his stride confident and determined. "It's like this guy is on a mission," Nick said under his breath just as an image of an old movie-style gangster floated through his mind. As he passed, Nick noted the man's heartbeat: a mortal.
He followed the darkly clad fellow into the Raven and rejoined Janette. She smiled and raised a questioning eyebrow, glancing at the austere stranger. Nicked shrugged boyishly in response. The odd visitor spoke to the bartender and was directed toward the back corner table within the shadows. Lacroix's table.
Nick had realized that his sire was there the moment he'd arrived at the bar; he simply hadn't acknowledged it. As the stranger, still wearing his dark shades, approached Lacroix, Nick decided to follow at a discreet distance. There was no telling what the briefcase contained, but it made the detective suspicious. Telling himself that he was looking out for the safety of the public (as opposed to the idea of protecting his creator), Nick positioned himself within earshot of the two men. Not surprisingly, Lacroix's expression mirrored the stranger's grave countenance.
Lacroix raised his glass to his lips and took a sip from the ruby-filled chrystal goblet; their eyes locked, and he said softly, "Hello, Elwood. I've been expecting you."
"Then you know why I'm here."
"I think I do, but perhaps it would be best if you just tell me." Hearing the exchange, Nick was on the edge of his seat, the curiosity almost painful.
"Lucien," Elwood said stiffly, "I'm getting the band back together." Even through the pulsating beat of the club's music, the silence was deafening - for approximately five seconds.
"Yes. Exactly what I had anticipated." Lacroix sighed, reached over to the chair beside him, and picked up several items. "I'm prepared, of course." He then turned his attention to his favored son. "I'll be out of town for a few weeks." No further explanation was offered, and Nick stared open-mouthed as Lacroix donned a black porkpie hat, covered his ice blue eyes with a pair of black-rimmed sunglasses, and followed Elwood out of the Raven.
End
Positive feedback, questions, and virtual blues musicians to: Laura. Negative feedback should be sent somewhere else! (I'm fragile and break easily.)