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The Usual Disclaimers Apply
Permiss to archive at fkfanfic, ftp, Lisa, with whomever I’ve given
prior
permission, and whoever asks!
Unbetaed for mechanics, but I tested out the plot.
I think I need chocolate--this is sweetbitter. :)
Fleur and Lacroix are mortal. Oh, my, oh, my!
September 2001
She was mortal again. She was mortal and riding in the passenger
seat of an
auto in the warm sunshine. The windows were partly open, heedless
of the
cold, and her long blonde hair blew gently in the breeze.
Fleur turned sideways and smiled at her driving companion. "Lovely
day,
isn’t it, Lucien? I think I haven’t seen so lovely a day as this
in a
thousand years!"
Lucien Lacroix, recently mortal himself, returned the smile, with interest.
"You haven’t been _around_ a thousand years, _ma cherie_."
Fleur threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, I know, Lucien, so
obviously I
haven’t seen a day as lovely as this one in a thousand years!"
Her mortal companion nodded in understanding, the grin he saved only
for her
bursting out onto his face. "I love the way you think, Fleur."
Adopting a mock-serious expression and tone, Fleur formally said, "Of
course
you love the way I think. You love everything about me, as you’re
so fond
of saying. Although I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t," she continued,
smirking wryly.
Lucien turned his head to look at his love, trusting his skilled hands
to
drive the car. "You are so silly," he murmured, taking one hand
off the
wheel to tap her lightly on the nose.
Fleur screamed. "Lucien, look!"
The road turned sharply, and the car flew off the pavement, impacting
with a
warning sign, rolling over twice in the ditch, and finally smashing
into a
line of redoubtable pine trees lining the road. Fleur and Lucien
lay there,
their broken bodies crushed and gushing blood from both natural and
inflicted openings in their skin.
"Lucien," Fleur moaned indistinctly, struggling to breathe.
Lucien Lacroix labored to speak, but was unable to do more than whisper,
"Fleur."
Then he was still, and the sun began to set over two slowly cooling
bodies
and a bashed-up car.
* * * * *
Detective Donald Schanke was driving to work in his old Pinto when
he came
upon the scene of an awful car wreck. He immediately phoned his
partner.
"Nick, man, oh, man, there’s this terrible crash down outside of town.
You
know how I was out hunting until today? Well, I was just coming
in to work
and I saw this mess. Nick, get Natalie out here on the double,
partner. I
don’t know if it’s a homicide or not, but we’ve gotta do something!"
* * * * *
"Nick, c’mon!" Natalie Lambert, M.E., urged her friend. "Stop
acting like
you’re a million years away! I know you’re frustrated and angry
that
Lacroix got to be mortal. I know you’re furious that it isn’t
you and that
he has your sister. But you’ve got to stop acting so distracted
that you
can’t do your job! Oh my God."
The Caddy stopped, and Natalie stared, astonished, at the scene.
"Nick,
there’s blood trailing all over! They must’ve had the windows
open, and
there’s some on the sign! Nick, I think you should stay in the
car," she
said, firmly motioning him to stay where he was. Nick got out
anyway,
stoically ignoring the scent.
"Hey, buddy," Nick’s partner greeted him. "Looks like this was
just an
accident, but man, oh, man, what a spectacular one! Geez, I feel
sorry for
the people in the car."
Just then, Nick identified the feeling that had been bothering him since
he
left his car. The blood smelled tantalizingly familiar, yet he
still
couldn’t place the identity. Curious, he walked to the battered
vehicle,
trying to avoid stepping in any blood, and peered inside. There,
in the
blood-spattered interior of the car, lay his master and his sister.
"Oh, yeah, Nick, I forgot," Don Schanke said, walking up to the stunned
vampire. "Merry Christmas."
* * * * * * * *
Feedback, Midol, or antidepressants to piccolo_kathy@hotmail.com
Kathy Walsh
