Time: Late Sunday evening, May 3.
Place: The Fiendish Glow
Follows: Support Your Local Pub/Cantina
Light Cousins and their Cousin Liaison Shelley, McLisa, Celeste, Lora Conk, Heather Poinsett, and Brenda Bell are used with permission.
Fictional characters Ronnie O'Mannion and Deirdre used with permission.
[Late Sunday, 3 May]
Celeste sat McLisa down on a stool at the long mahogany bar. "Stay," she said.
McLisa raised her lip slightly and hissed. Cats -- especially cats who were really human Cousins -- didn't take kindly to being talked to as if they were dogs.
Celeste, ignored her, instead turning to the salt-and-pepper haired barkeeper who was eyeing her strangely from behind her black-and-silver framed glasses as she polished the Guinness™-on-tap spigot.
"Bring me a Zombie Beachcomber -- on the double," Celeste said with an attempt at Cousinly authority. "And bring it in a saucer."
Annette pulled herself up to her full, queenly height. The redheaded bouncer making ready to frisk her had some pounds on her but couldn't match her disdainful, regal bearing. "Ah, come now, m'lady," said the muscle-boy in the black T-shirt with the neon-green letters shouting The Fiendish Glow. "This is neutral ground, you're in a combatant faction, and all yer friends already stood up to a search."
And some of the them looked like they'd enjoyed it, too, Annette thought to herself, then held up her arms. She kept a sweet smile on her face as he patted down her sides, trying not to giggle, hoping he didn't find --
"Eh, and what's this, now?"
Alison, the Light Cousin body builder, struck her best Xena pose. "Get your hands off our Webmistress."
Ronnie ignored her and slid his hand into the side of Annette's slacks. Before Annette could slap it away, he'd pulled out a bright blue dinosaur.
"That's a toy I bought for my grandson," Annette said helpfully, but Ronnie had already discovered the trigger mechanism and was smelling the T-Rex's menacing mouth.
Ronnie did a test squirt of the water pistol. "Hey. This wouldn't be garlic water, now, would it?"
"Just a touch of garlic. I swear," Annette said.
"It wasn't like she was planning on attacking anybody," Sherri added in her defense. "The flyer said that this is a vampire-friendly place and . . . ."
Ronnie flashed his boyish grin at everyone in the group and nodded. "Ladies." Then he strolled away, swinging the dinosaur gun at his side.
Annette grimaced. "I hope I get that back. It really is for my grandson."
Brandi put a consoling arm around her. An auburn-haired waitress in a satin jumper, balancing an armload of plates, smiled at them from across the room, giving them a little toss of her head as if to say, "I'll be with you in a moment."
"This is a beautiful place," Barb said, then hummed a bar of some lilting show song. "Too bad Arletta didn't come."
"She's meditating back at headquarters," Freeschia answered.
"And what's that you're humming?"
"How are things in Glocca Mora -- you know, Finian's Rainbow," Barb answered. "And what's Arletta meditating about? We're not planning any new major attacks are we?"
"No," Shelley said. "She's still trying to figure out how to get us a permanent headquarters."
"Us?" Nancy grinned and gave their True Cousin liaison a soft punch on the arm. "I knew you were a Light Cousin at heart."
Celeste watched McLisa lick the saucer dry, stacked it atop the three others she'd already collected, then gestured for the bartender to bring another. The tartan-clad woman, who'd introduced herself as Brenda, already had one poured.
McLisa paused in the middle of lapping up her Zombie Beachcomber, staring down at the saucer with a puzzled look in her bleary eyes.
"Nice kitty," Celeste said to encourage her to continue.
McLisa sat up straight and stared at her friend. "Kitty? Whoosh y'callin' 'kitty?'" Her head listed drunkenly to the side. "The stresh of war's gettin' t'you, m'friend. You're talkin's if y'think I'ma cat. 'N'why'm I drin'n' outa a bowl? Barkeep? Y'run outa glassware?"
Brenda cocked an eyebrow, then brought over another liquor -- this time poured for human consumption. "Lora sends her greetings."
The eight Cousins leaned back in their padded armchairs and surveyed the Celtic pub.
"These Tequila Fiends/Celtic Glow Worm factions are newer than ours, yet look at what a nice headquarters they have," Nancy complained. "Not that I'm complaining," she added hastily. "Arletta will come through."
The auburn-haired waitress strolled toward them. "I'm Deirdre. I'll be your server. First, ye'll all want something to slack ye thirst?"
"I'll have a Tequila," Annette said. "'When in Rome. . . '"
"Nothing for me," Brandi said. "I'll be the designated driver."
"Hey," Nancy butted in. "I never drink. I'd love to be the one to drive us back." Besides, she wanted to make sure she was alert when she got back to Light Cousin Headquarters. Her dog Bailey had been acting very strange since last night. She'd actually buried herself in a pile of leaves during the day and growled when her mistress tried to uncover her. Nancy wanted to check on her before she went to bed.
"No," Sherri said. "I'm the designated driver. I already offered."
Annette surveyed her friends. "Good grief. Does that make me the designated drunk?"
Alison laughed. "I'll have something -- a little something. I've got to take advantage of being 19 and 'legal' in Canada before I go back to the States. I'll have a tequila. One."
"Bring me a strawberry daiquiri so I won't taste the alcohol," Shelley said.
"I'll have one, too," Freeschia said, then turned to Shelley.
"If you don't want to taste the alcohol," she said reasonably, "why drink a cocktail at all?"
"I need something tonight. This War is just so confusing."
Shelley gave a slight shake of her head and glanced meaningfully at the waitress. The young woman took the hint and strolled away. Shelley leaned forward, including all the Light Cousins in her answer.
"This cure business. Who took it? Who should have it? What do the rest of you think?"
"Shhh, shhh, shhh." McLisa waved her hand vaguely at Celeste.
"There's a bunch o' Cousins ower there, and I'm tryin' t'hear -- "
"Those aren't Cousins," Celeste said, peering at the table full of women. "Well, Shelley is, but -- "
"They're Cousins . . . Cousins all right," McLisa said. "Light Cousins. Uncle acknowledged 'em at the Raven party."
"Shhhh." This time Celeste shushed McLisa. "Did you hear what the brunette said?"
"Which brunette?"
"The one with glasses."
McLisa squinted at the group. "It looksh like four -- maybe six -- of 'em 're brunette w'glashes."
"You're seeing double."
"Yesh," McLisa agreed. "And it makesh it really hard t' hear."
Celeste didn't respond, instead sheepishly returning Shelley's smile. "They heard us," she whispered to McLisa out the corner of her mouth.
"Whaszat?"
Celeste slipped off her barstool and grabbed McLisa's arm. "I said they invited us to come on over and join them."
Nancy smiled, remembering strange tails of that "alternate Universe" War. "My theory is that all of those alternates were aspects of the complete true LaCroix. Each aspect -- when running around on its own -- seemed exaggerated because it didn't have the other aspects to temper them." Ahh, she thought to herself. it's Uncle's inner conflict that really hooks me.
"Aspects of LaCroix. Interesting," Annette said. She took another sip of Tequila. "I think it was his 'nice LaCroix' aspect that responded to us at the Raven party. I'm sure of it."
McLisa rubbed her forehead. Why was she having this urge to jump on top of the piano and start yowling? She guzzled down the last of her current Zombie Beachcomber and her head began to uncloud once more -- clarifying just how confusing everything was becoming. "This is getting to be one very strange war."
"As if that's anything new," Celeste murmured.
Shelley smiled mischievously. "I think the FoD's took it. Just to cause a war. To make some extra bucks. Think about it. When do they get most of their business? When the factions gather. They fall back on their 'neutral status' and just shovel out the souvlaki."
Cousins of all stripes toasted her idea with drinks ranging from Guinness™ to Irish Breakfast Tea.
"I think Vachon took it," Freeschia said.
"Vachon?" Celeste asked. "Why would he take it? He doesn't like to get involved."
Freeschia shrugged and grinned wickedly. "I don't know why he'd take it. But I'd love to kidnap him and question him privately to try to find out."
The Cousins toasted again.
"Actually," Freeschia went on, "I think Nat just misplaced her notes or they fell behind a filing cabinet." She glanced at Alison. "What do you think?"
"Okay, theories on who took the goods." Alison took another sip of ale. It tasted just awful to a non-drinker like her. "I think it was Janette, to be perfectly honest. We know she really doesn't like Nat, and since Nick brought her back across, she's kinda mad at him too. She doesn't want him to have a chance at mortality after he took hers away from her. Even though the cure would be able to help her as well, she doesn't want Nick to ever be happy like that."
"Well, I vote for Janette too," Barb offered, "But not because she's mad at Nick. I think she'd be heartbroken if Nick went back to the other side without her. She wouldn't want to be human again without her fireman. If she's going to stay a vampire, she wants Nick. The only chance she has of getting him back is if he resigns himself to being a vampire."
"Well -- " Annette took another sip of Tequila -- a very small sip. She was on her third and wanted to nurse it slowly. "I think Uncle is behind the whole thing. He's making a big deal out of looking for it to avert suspicion. But I don't fault him. I think he did it because he knows it's the search for a cure that keeps Nick going."
Sherri frowned. "Frankly, I suspect everybody. But I agree that's the reason Uncle wants the cure. If I find it, I'll give it to him -- out of loyalty. But I wish we could give it to that whiner Nick."
"I'd give the cure to Nick," Freeschia said, "because I'm afraid Uncle would destroy it rather than give it to Nick. He should make his own choice."
McLisa laughed, still holding her sixth Zombie Beachcomber.
"Yes. I love Uncle, but I think all vampires should have the chance to choose for themselves."
Celeste smiled, noting that the more her friend drank, the more clearly she spoke. . . and she was human again . . . Bonus points!
"I agree vamps should have a choice to be 'cured,'" Freeschia continued. "But personally, I think vampirism could only be controlled through medication as diabetes is, not cured.
"Why not give the cure to everybody who wants it?" Brandi suggested. "There's always the xerox machine."
Again the Cousins toasted.
"Frankly," Sherri added. "I don't think Nick would be happy even if he was mortal. He wouldn't be able to blame everything on his Daddy. He'd have to take some responsibility for his own actions."
Alison smiled. "If we find it, maybe we should give it to Uncle but try to convince him to give it to Nick."
Nancy lowered her third iced tea. She'd be having to take another trip to that really cute powder room soon. "I don't think Uncle would need that much convincing. His new philosophy for winning Nick is, 'If you love something set it free.' Yeah, I know that's a corny phrase. But clearly that's how LaCroix has dealt with Nick ever since, well, at least Father's Day in '95."
The clincher to proving LaCroix's raised consciousness had happened Last Knight -- but Nancy didn't intrude that thought into the conversation. She didn't want to spoil the secret magic that allowed Wars to occur in a special Last-Knight-never-happened-and-not- everything-that-happened-in-Black-Buddha-really-happened universe.
"That may be why Uncle wants it so much," Freeschia mused. "So *he* can be the one to give Nick his choice."
"After Nick sees his first gray hair," Sherri said, "he'll probably come running back. Uncle's got to know that."
"We could convince the nice LaCroix to give it back," Shelley said. When she saw Celeste looking at her strangely from behind her glasses, she added, "You know. The LaCroix that hung out with Arletta and me during War 8.
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PARALLEL STORY: ADVENTURE DOWNBELOW
OR, HOW I TICKED OFF THE FANFIC FAIRIES
NEXT STORY:
WINKEN, BLINKEN, AND. . . TINKERBELL?!
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