Heartbreakers

He smouldered darkly in the corner as the golden boy leaned across the bar to speak softly to LaCroix.  Between the beat of the music, the dancing shoes, and the white noise of courtship, it was impossible to make out more than a few words.  Even with vampire hearing.  Another night, in another mood, he might have joined them:  he was a familiar sight at the Raven.  Or he might have taken his lithe virility to the floor, twisting and shaking to the music.  He never had trouble finding company.  He was well aware of his appeal.

Tonight, though, he’d just had a fight with Tracy.  There had been a rat.  Not one of Screed’s; just a stray looking for … well, probably not food.  Nesting material, probably.  So she nagged him to move out of the church to some place more respectable.  Or, at least, less dusty.  With a couch that didn’t have the cloth split and the stuffing poking out.

“You think I want a landlord?” he’d said incredulously.  “The whole point of a squat, Trace, is that you’re free to come and go as you please.  The word there being ‘free’.  Or are you asking me to get a job?  Or would it be—and I’d remind you you’re a cop, here!—do you want me to rob some poor bastard in the street?  Maybe whammy his wallet straight out of his pocket?”

She’d flounced off.

When he spoke to Urs just before the Raven opened, she’d more or less taken Tracy’s side.  “I’m not that crazy about the church myself,” she’d said.  “And it’s not the churchness of it, either, Javier.  That doesn’t bother me, as you know.  But I’m not crazy about rats, any more than she is.  And yes,” she’d added quickly before he could protest, “I know Screed’s your friend.  That’s not the point.  I don’t visit him in the sewers, that’s for sure.  And there’s nothing the matter with your nose, either!”

Well, it wasn’t so much a case of “Love me, love my Screed.”  He merely put up with his friend’s carouche habits.  Not that he’d say anything:  the sailor was his oldest friend.  Almost as old a friend as the Inca was an enemy.  As for his squat:  it was easy come, easy go with him.  Always had been.  Like any vampire, he moved on—had to move on!—and travelled light.  Still, he was in the mood for diversion, put it that way.  Something to take his mind off.

There was tension in the stance of the pair at the bar.  Suddenly, Knight flung back—clearly with a retort on his lips—and turned to cross the club floor, angling for the exit.  On impulse, Javier rose.  A moment later, he was at Knight’s shoulder.  Sensing someone near, the other vampire swiveled on his heel.  Perhaps he expected LaCroix, for his face was hard; but it relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Care for a dance?” Javier heard himself say.

Knight looked startled.  Then he glanced over Javier’s shoulder, and stilled dangerously.  Turning his own head, Javier saw that LaCroix was staring their way, nostrils flared in silent fury.  Whether at Knight, or whether he’d managed—with the keenness of ancient hearing—to make out the invitation, that Javier couldn’t tell.

Then, with a sly twinkle and an impish grin, Knight looked Javier straight in the eye, and said, “Why not?”

Or maybe “straight in the eye” was not quite the right way to put it.  Later, as they exited the club by the back alley, Knight said, “I know why I’m doing this.  Why are you?”

At close quarters, with a high blood-flush in his cheeks, the man was irresistible.  “Just for fun,” said Javier.  And he was sure it would be.

Notes   This story was posted to the mailing list FKFIC-L@LISTS.EDU.PSU on 19 May 2020, and uploaded here the following day.   Among Forever Knight mailing list fans, “the Heartbreakers” is the name of a faction for Nick and Vachon.  It does not specify whether the nature of their relationship is sexual or not; and there is a second Nick/Vachon faction, the Night Haven, for those who prefer to specify that they consider them to be lovers.