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Oops!  
By Nancy Kaminski  
(c) June 13, 2003 
(Friday the 13th, with a full moon)
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Nicholas trudged grimly through the dark alley, silently cursing the 
sudden crowd who had interfered with his attempt to apprehend a 
fleeing murder suspect. He was just about to launch himself into the 
air when a bar door had burst open and spewed forth six tipsy 
potential witnesses. The perp had leaped into a car and sped away, 
leaving Nick fuming in the slushy street.

To top it off, it was snowing again, his shoes were sopping wet, and 
cold water was trickling down his collar. He aimed a kick at a nearby 
drift. Now he had to return to his partner empty-handed --- the bad 
end of a bad night. 

A black shape dropped out of the sky directly in front of him. 
"Nicholas, I want a word with you --- now!" Lacroix did not look 
happy. Nick's night had just become even worse.

Nick trudged past his master. "Not now," he said crossly, "I'm 
working." Lacroix stared disbelievingly after Nick's retreating back. 

"Come back here, Nicholas! I want to talk to you...get back here! You 
stole my Urn of Amara, and I want it back!" 

Nick disappeared around the corner without a word. 

With an incoherent roar, Lacroix sped after his errant son at vampire 
speed. His rage was so great at this show of disrespect that he paid 
no attention to his surroundings, specifically, the sheet of ice that 
glazed the alley. 

As the master vampire rounded the corner, his feet went in one 
direction while the rest of him went in another. The roar of outrage 
suddenly became a roar of surprise as Lacroix's derriere hit the 
pavement and the two-thousand-year-old vampire slid, at great 
velocity, into the side of a garage with a resounding 'whoomp!', 
coming to a halt at the feet of his astonished offspring.

As Lacroix stared up into Nick's surprised face, they both heard an 
ominous crack. Lacroix's gaze shifted from Nick's face towards the 
source of the noise just in time to see an enormous icicle detach 
itself from the eaves of the garage and arrow downwards. He had just 
enough time to think, "I must have knocked it loose when I hit the 
wall," before it impaled him unerringly in the center of the chest.

Staked!

The huge icicle (which, ironically, weighed precisely eighty-one 
kilos) passed neatly through the vampire to shatter on the asphalt 
beneath his back. Despite this, a large chunk of ice remained in 
Lacroix's chest, causing him to gasp with the cold that enveloped his 
ancient heart.

Nick bent over to examine the damage. "I wouldn't worry, Lacroix," he 
said conversationally. "It's just water." He looked up at the garage 
eaves. "Maybe you want to scoot away from the wall. Looks like another 
one is going to fall." He stepped backwards to make room, his good 
humor restored. 

"And I didn't take your Urn of Amara --- it's a fake. Last time I saw 
it, you were using it for your toothbrush holder. Check your 
bathroom."

The End