She-Lion
A Hollywood Vampires Tale
By
Matt R. Jones, Esq.

                "Can I help you with something, cheri?"

            Yeah, get me a decent pair of jeans was the first thing that ran through Brandi's mind when the tall, dark-haired man with the rich Cajun accent sat down next to her and attempted to lay on the charm.  Hell, she had to admit he was a bit on the alluring side, with bright blue eyes, long black hair slicked back and tied in a neat ponytail, just enough stubble to look tough but not to the point of making him look like a bum, and a finely-boned face that spoke of a strong French presence in his bloodline.  In fact, the longer he sat on the barstool next to hers, the more she could smell the French in him, and she once again decided that she preferred the Cajun French to the European variety . . . much more spice.

            "Maybe," she said, catching his eyes with her own emerald ones and tilting her head inquisitively, trying hard to emit an aura of sensuality about herself.  Brandi adjusted the tight black leather miniskirt on her thighs, trying to get it to behave with little avail.  Both Clarisse and Darla had admonished her endlessly over never trying to land herself a man with her sexuality, as opposed to the "caveman method," as Darla called it, that Brandi had employed for so long.  The thing was that she greatly enjoyed the "caveman method," and not only that, Clarisse had more than taken care of the whole sexuality thing whenever she and Brandi had gone out together.  Though she loved going out and trolling for men by herself, in her own particular manner, Brandi had loved going along with Clarisse to all of the clubs and bars, letting Clarisse take care of all the footwork while she sat and watched, much like a lioness in the tall grass, patiently waiting for the right moment.

            Now, however, Clarisse was gone.  She'd left the Sisters of Fury a month ago for the bright lights of Hollywood, wanting to sample the fine, fine Tinseltown spirits and try her luck with the music scene on the legendary Sunset Strip.  It had been a quite amicable, though somewhat melancholy, parting, and Brandi had decided to stay behind for awhile in the city of Rockport before rejoining the other three Sisters in New Orleans.  Though she loved the dark, mean mystique of New Orleans, she needed some time to herself, to think and consider, before she moved on.  Clarisse had been a part of the Sisters for almost as long as Brandi had; they'd laughed together, been scared together, fought and rode side-by-side with each other for years, and Brandi had grown closer to Clarisse than she had the other Sisters, though she was dear friends with all of them.  Clarisse was like the sister she'd lost when she was barely a teenager, and though they all missed her, Brandi felt it most keenly.  It was an odd sensation, as it had been years since she'd lost someone she had given a damn about.  The other Sisters of Fury (Darla, Melissa, and Clarisse) were the only people she'd cared about in ages, and now that she'd lost one of them, she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.

            So for the hell of it, she'd picked herself up an outfit much like Clarisse would have chosen: the miniskirt, a low-cut white blouse with long sleeves, and a pair of knee-high black leather boots with some wicked heels on them.  She'd even carefully teased her hair, applied makeup, and put some dangly earrings on; the problem was, that instead of feeling glamourous, she felt like a dork.  The looks she'd gotten in the upscale dance club she was in, not to mention the attention of this would-be suitor, all told her that she was having the same effect that Clarisse did, but that didn't stop her from feeling like a monkey in a ballerina's dress.  And the damned skirt kept arguing with her, trying to ride up a lot higher than she would have liked.  While Brandi wasn't much concerned with modesty a great deal, she didn't want to appear a slut, at least not tonight, though the skirt had its own ideas.

            "Such a noncommittal answer from a girl who looks like she's used to giving the orders," the man observed, and Brandi mentally awarded him a point for his perceptiveness.

            "Maybe the girl's not sure if she should be gracin' you with a committal answer yet, darlin'," Brandi replied, effortlessly adopting a Southern accent that Clarisse had always put to good use.  She gave him a smile, though, and twirled a lock of her long red hair around one of her fingers, the nails of which were painted with a deep red.

            "Trust me, cheri, Jean de Cleur is more than worth a definitive answer," he said, taking her other hand in his and putting it to his lips.

            Brandi shook lightly with a giggle that wanted to make her gag, her earrings swaying with the motion.  "How genteel!" she purred, her smile getting wider.  "I haven't seen much in the way of Southern hospitality since I've been in the city."

            "Most of the rabble around here are mostly concerned with gambling, drinking, and alligator wrestling, cheri," de Cleur said.  "Even our upper-class citizens lack a certain . . . polish," he continued, gesturing around the bottom level of the two-story dance club, which was crowded with well-dressed people who were busily laughing, dancing, and eating and drinking at the tables which lined the dancefloor.  The tile-topped bar where she and de Cleur sat still had a few empty stools left, which were about the only empty seats in the place at the moment.  This place was definitely a step above the dives and taverns Brandi usually frequented . . . not only was everything clean and well-lit, there wasn't even a haze of smoke in the air, despite the number of people with cigarettes, which meant the place was even equipped with a great ventilation system.

            "There is a time and place for everything," de Cleur said as he placed Brandi's hand on top of the bar, and left his on top of it.  "I can wrestle alligators with the best of them, and am thus far the best in my family, but when it is time to be a gentleman, the 'gator wrestler in me takes his proper leave."

            "You wrestle alligators?" Brandi asked, goggling at him, and carefully inserted "amazement" into her voice.  She knew for a fact that she had wrestled 'gators long before Jean de Cleur had ever been born . . . lions, tigers, and bears, too, for that matter.  Still, the fact that this guy wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty piqued her interest a bit . . . though she usually preferred more straight-ahead tough types, intelligence, elegance, and earthiness made for a tasty encounter, especially since the proper combination wasn't all that easy to find.

            "Indeed, mon cheri," de Cleur answered, giving her a smile full of perfect teeth.  "It's long been a family tradition, and my uncle is swift to make sure that none of the younger ones, myself included, forget that.  I find it . . . invigorating."  He stretched a bit, and Brandi took note of the lean, muscular frame beneath his dressy white shirt and perfectly-matched sport jacket.

            "I bet you do!" she said, batting her eyelashes at him.  Oh, barf!  "You must be very brave to get in the water with an actual alligator."  Try duking it out with an angry grizzly some time, and see how you like that!  She leaned closer, letting him get a good whiff of her perfume, and making sure that he noticed that the top buttons of her blouse were undone.

            De Cleur laughed lightly, and gave her a soft pat on the cheek.  "It's nothing, cheri, really.  One must simply be swifter and more cunning than the alligator, which I have no problem with."  He leaned in a little more as well, definitely noticing.

            How could Clarisse and Darla do this all the time? Brandi wondered as she giggled again and idly nibbled on the tip of her index finger.  I feel like a complete ass!  "Don't you ever get scared?" she asked, her eyes still wide.

            "Of course not!" de Cleur chuckled.  "Why should I be afraid of a creature that's all tail and teeth, and no brain or cunning?  Why, I have the 'gator beat even before I get into the water with it!"

            "You're so confident!" Brandi informed him approvingly, though she thought he was overdoing it a bit.  But then, so am I.

            "Which I hope you find attractive, mon cheri, because I certainly find you to be," de Cleur told her, gazing into her eyes.  He softly ran his fingertips up her arm as he spoke.

            Think I got 'im.  "Do you really?" she asked, forcing herself to blush, no easy feat.  "Me?  Most men don't like it that I'm so tall, though . . ."

            De Cleur smiled again.  "Mon cheri, I find a woman that can look me in the eyes when we're standing toe-to-toe very attractive!  Remember, I wrestle alligators, so I don't have much use for diminutive, wispy women . . . women of your stature, on the other hand . . ."

            Yeah, and I can open a bottle with my teeth, then break it over my head, no sweat, too; maybe you'd find that attractive! Brandi inwardly laughed, though she did find it refreshing to find a man who wasn't put off by the fact that she was a good 6'2".  Most men found her to be slightly . . . imposing, especially when she was decked out in her usual leather and denim attire.  "Good to wrestle with, too?" she couldn't resist asking, and she could just hear Clarisse and Darla groaning.

            De Cleur, to his credit, rolled with it well.  "If the lady is feeling up to it, certainly," he said with a sly grin.  "Though I am far less hostile with a woman than I am a 'gator."

            "What if the gal's a bit on the ferocious side?  What then, darlin'?" Brandi asked saucily, reaching out and slowly running one of her nails down the side of his neck.

            "Then I am in heaven, mon cheri!" de Cleur replied, and she could feel him shiver infinitesimally from her light touch.

            "Really?  You mean it?" Brandi squealed, feeling like a complete baboon.  De Cleur, however, took it hook, line, and sinker.

            "Definitely, cheri, very definitely," de Cleur said, kissing her hand again.  "Perhaps you'd like to move to more . . . shall we say, intimate settings?"  Bingo; Clarisse would be proud.

            "I'd love to, sugar!" she purred, laying it on thick.  "Where would you .  . . suggest . . ." she trailed off as a new and very interesting scent made its presence known to her.  A far sharper, headier scent than that of de Cleur; so much so that it overpowered his.  She turned her head, trying to get a better view of the source.

            De Cleur, interpreting her distraction as coyness, began to suggest a place, though Brandi didn't catch it at all.  The scent was even stronger now that she was focusing on it, and she was almost drooling over it.  She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent, and then savoring for a few moments before exhaling . . . yes, a much better time than de Cleur could provide, that much was certain.  Brandi' eyes narrowed as she finally caught sight of this newcomer.

            He was shorter than de Cleur, with a stockier build, spiky brownish hair, a lean, predatory face which was adorned with five o'clock shadow that Don Johnson would have been jealous of, and sharp, black eyes.  Even if she hadn't been able to detect his scent, Brandi knew from the way he carried himself as he walked through the crowd that this man was a killer, and took pride in his work.  Very interesting, indeed . . .

            It also looked as if he wasn't going to be in the club much longer, as he was striding rather purposefully towards the door.  Hmm . . . must've been on the upper level the whole time she'd been here, otherwise she would have caught his tantalizing scent earlier.  Though she could just hear Clarisse and Darla scolding her for letting a catch like de Cleur go, she couldn't resist the newcomer.

            "Cheri?  Are you there?" de Cleur asked her, tapping her on the shoulder a few times and waving his hand in front of her face.

            She leaned over, gave him a quick kiss, then said, "Sorry, gotta go: business and all that jazz."  She reached down the front of her blouse, between her breasts, and produced a twenty that she laid down on the bar to pay for the orange juices she'd been drinking while she'd been sitting there.  "Another time, perhaps.  See ya!" she said to de Cleur as she hopped up and started to push her way through the crowd, heading towards the newcomer.  Now this is what she liked!

            "Hey darlin', howzabout takin' a spin on the floor with me?" a large drunken man wearing a cowboy hat slurred as he grabbed her shoulder and slipped his arm around her waist.

            "Go lay your momma, you inbred bastard," Brandi snapped as she gave him a blindingly swift headbutt, which knocked him away, allowing her to continue unimpeded.  As she moved, she checked her hair, and was pleased to discover she hadn't mussed it a bit.

            Her quarry hurried up the steps and passed through the last of the crowd, heading out the large glass doors at the front of the club.  As she continued to wade through the well-dressed people, Brandi watched him move to the curb and hold his arm up for a taxi.  No time to lose now, she shoved a fat man aside and pushed open the doors, stepping out of the crowded, brightly-lit, and loud club onto the far less-occupied sidewalk.  She'd gotten out of the just in time to see a yellow cab pull up to the curb and her target open the door and get in.  The cab pulled away from the curb and took off down the street.

            Ah, the game is afoot, Brandi thought, and she hurried over into the alley next to the club, taking note of the direction of the cab before she ducked in.  She kicked off her boots, then, not worrying about modesty now, pulled her skirt up around her waist to give her a better range of movement, then crouched down as low as she could, gathering herself.  She then launched herself twelve feet into the air, gracefully landing on top of the fire escape railing, then springing up again, grabbing hold of the ledge of the club's roof.  She easily scrambled up the rest of the way, landing on the gravelly rooftop with a soft thud, then she ran around in a circle to build up some speed.  Brandi steered herself towards the edge of the rooftop and, catlike, leaped from the ledge, executed a perfect somersault in as she tumbled through the air, then landed on the rooftop of the building next to the club.

            The bottoms of her stockings were already torn to shreds as she bolted across the roof, her bare feet digging into the gravel as best they could, and her eyes were fixed on the taxi that carried the object of her interest.  Oh well . . . not like I was going to use them again anyway.  To hell with the game playing she'd just gone through in the club; this was what she liked: the chase!  The hunt was so much better when it was swift-moving and exciting, as opposed to the careful planning and catstepping that Clarisse and Darla liked to do.  Besides, they did it so much better than her; best leave that sort of thing to the experts, eh?

            Brandi sprang from rooftop to rooftop, always keeping her quarry well in sight.  The strong night wind blowing across the rooftops had blown her hair into a hopeless wreck now, but she didn't much care.  The wind felt good on her skin, the movement had her blood flowing at a very satisfying pace, and she couldn't keep a feral grin from her lips as she ran.  Much better.

            The taxi began to slow, and she caught up with it in a matter of seconds.  She moved to the edge of the rooftop she was on, and perched on it like a redheaded gargoyle, peering down at the cab.  She took note of her surroundings now, and she found that she was very close to the waterfront . . . basically on the edge of the warehouse district.  She glanced around, taking it all in: the sprawl of the countless warehouses, the docks, the boats, the low lighting, and the lack of people.  This just keeps getting better and better, Brandi thought, a midnight errand in a rather deserted part of town.  Just like something out of those old detective magazines . . .

            The man got out of the cab, which promptly sped off, then started to walk down the gently sloping sidewalk that led down to the waterfront.  His footsteps sounded loud in Brandi's ears as he moved along at an even, unhurried pace.  Brandi swiftly and soundlessly moved along the rooftops, staying slightly behind him, keeping deep within the shadows; it was overcast, and there wouldn't have been any moon anyway, so there were plenty of shadows for her to hide in.  A few times he looked behind himself, but it was always at ground level, never above him, so she suspected he was looking more out of the paranoia that all killers have in one degree or another rather than actually suspicion that he was being followed.

            There was very little light in between the dilapidated hulks of the warehouses, and it was the perfect place for an ambush, especially with her extremely sharp eyes, which weren't affected at all by the darkness, but she was curious as to where he was going.  She also liked watching him move along.  Other than the occasional glance over his shoulder, he walked through the darkness fearlessly, apparently very confident in himself and his abilities to win any possible conflicts he ran into.  There were a few others down here; mostly bums with no better place to go and young punks looking for something to steal, and they all stayed clear of him, sensing that he was not one to be trifled with.  Brandi watched as they perked up and then withdrew to even deeper shadows at the purposeful sound of his footsteps, and she decided that this was going to be a very delicious encounter.  What Clarisse and Darla could find in the bars and clubs were fine for them, as they enjoyed those particular varieties of man; Brandi liked them too, particularly the ones Clarisse found, which was why she had gone out with her so much, but this was her favorite right here . . . nice and truly dangerous.

            Her man finally came to a stop in front of a particularly run-down, though smaller, warehouse, and sharply rapped on the sheet metal door three times before sliding it open, entering, and then closing it behind himself.

            Curiouser and curiouser, Brandi thought as she leaped onto the roof of the warehouse and scanned for an opening to the inside.  There was a gap big enough for her in a section towards the back where the boards of the roof had rotted away in the constant moisture, and she slithered through it, ending up among the rafters.  As she did, several new scents confronted her nose: several other men, a vampire with a very peculiar scent, and, most surprising, that of a child.  What the blazes?

            She crawled forward on the rafters, getting a better view, and she saw four men sitting around a table playing cards, looking up at her quarry as he quickly walked across the warehouse to where they sat.  The table was among stacks of crates positioned so that they gave whoever was among them a good view of the entrance, but still provided plenty of cover in case of an attack, and gave them a decent amount of room to move around in, too.  She was a couple cots, as well as a cooler, which meant that this place had been occupied for at least a few days, at least by the humans.  However, her attention wasn't really on the men, as her eyes darted around, looking for the source of the child scent.  Then she saw him.

            He was sitting on a chair, with several ropes around his waist to make sure he didn't go anywhere, though his arms were free and crossed over his chest, a look of both fear and irritation on his face.  The child couldn't have been more than seven or eight, with close-cropped black hair and a slightly pudgy face.  Brandi's eyes narrowed to slits, and a soft growl began deep in her throat.  Her desire for the man had faded, replaced by a great anger at the child's predicament, especially at the vampire's involvement.  It was an unspoken law among all the American vampires that she knew that children would not be involved in their affairs in any way, unless they were helping the child in some manner; keeping the poor kid tied to a chair was definitely not helping his situation any!

            Brandi crept forward even more, listening and watching.

            "I see you managed to get him," her quarry said to the others sitting at the table, who were still holding their cards up in front of them, the game still going, apparently.  The size of the pile of chips on the table confirmed that notion.  "I trust there were no difficulties?"

            "Nope, not at all," the one she identified as the vampire replied in a deep Cajun accent.  He was very lean, with longish dark blonde hair, and dressed in a simple white tanktop and blue jeans, both of which were rather dirty.  "Yer boys was plenty good help, just like y'all said."

            "They've never let me down yet, eh boys?" the man said with a grin as he nodded approvingly towards the three humans sitting at the table, who were all dressed in the same type of business suit that their apparent leader was dressed in.  They returned his gesture with wolfish grins of their own.  "I dropped off the message that you wanted me to, then laid low at a club downtown for awhile before heading back here . . . figured I'd give you all enough time to pull off your end."

            "Never knew what hit 'em," the vampire replied, and Brandi wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out why he smelled so odd to her.  Her sense of smell was sharper than most vampires', and she was used to some rather unpleasant scents, but she'd never run into one like this.  It reminded her of something, but it was different enough that she couldn't place it.  "Speakin' o' cakewalks . . ." he said with a grin that revealed his yellowish, almost raggedly sharp fangs, he laid his cards out on the table for all to see.  "Read 'em an' weep, boys!"

            Groans erupted from the three other men at the table, who threw their cards down in disgust.  The blonde vampire tossed back his head and laughed heartily.  "Y'all're outta yer leagues here, ain't ya?" he taunted, picking up the chips and letting them run through his fingers.  Brandi watched him, wondering about his origins . . . one didn't really see too many of the backwoods type among the Blood.  Maybe it was all an act, like the one she'd used to snag de Cleur in the club, but she could often pick out vampires' acts from their real personalities, and either this guy was one of the greatest actors she'd ever seen, or she had herself a genuine backwoods vampire here.

            "So how long do you think it'll be before we get a response of some kind?" her former prey asked the vampire, taking a seat on one of the smaller crates by the table.

            "Beats the shit outta me," the vampire replied.  "Don't much care, neither."  He got up from the table, stretched, then pushed the pile of chips back into the middle of the table.  "Here ya go . . . for yer troubles, I s'pose."

            "Cale, what do you mean, you don't care?" the other man asked slowly, and she could tell by the knit of his brow that he was on alert.  "You were raving to us about how important this was just last night."

            The vampire named Cale rubbed his nose with his forearm and looked at the man as if he were retarded.  "It means that I don't care, mebbe?  You dumb or somethin', Jake?"

            "You cared plenty last night when you hired us . . . why the change of mind?" Jake said, getting off his crate and walking around the table.

            "'Cuz now I got what I came for, mebbe?  Ya think?" Cale asked him.  "I'm gonna take the kid 'an go.  Y'all can take care of the rest."

            Brandi's body tensed up at the mention of the kid, and her eyes darted to where he sat in his chair; to his credit, he only looked a little afraid, and he was watching the exchange with a kind of grim interest.

            "What the fuck are you talking about?" Jake snapped, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Cale, who seemed totally unconcerned.  "Boys?"

            The sound of guns cocking briefly filled the air of the warehouse as the other three men pulled their guns out of their business suits and aimed them at Cale, who laughed again.  "Y'all seem to forget who you've got here . . . I can take bullets all day, and keep right on goin', no sweat.  Best be puttin' 'em away, guys."

            Cale was right to a point . . . a vampire could take a tremendous amount of damage before going down, and getting shot wasn't a concern for most vampires.  But then, if these mortals got smart and concentrated their fire on his head, reducing it to chunky salsa, they could probably take Cale down . . . and they all looked like they were on the ball enough to do it, too.  But the thought of all that lead flying around with that little boy down there . . .  She growled again . . .

            "Yeah, you can take bullets, but I'm willing to bet kiddy-boy here can't!" Jake snarled, whipping out a pistol and putting to the kid's head.  The boy's eyes went as big as saucers, and he pulled away from the barrel of the gun as far as he could, but it didn't do him much good.

            Cale was starting to say, "Now I wouldn't go and do something like that if I were you, Jake," when Brandi came silently hurtling down from the rafters, slamming headfirst into Jake's body, delivering a vicious headbutt to his face and yanking on his wrist so hard that she practically pulled his arm out of the socket.  She wanted to hurt him, and hurt him horribly for daring to pull a gun on a child!

            After they'd hit the ground hard enough to completely daze Jake, who was already practically unconscious from the pain, Brandi sprang to her feet, stomped his chest, shattering more than a few bones, then did a high and fast backflip over everyone's heads, landing well on the other side of the table, drawing their guns away from the kid's direction.  Good thing, too, as the three men opened fire on her even before she landed.  She snarled as a bullet ripped into her thigh and another tore into her shoulder; both hurt, but they wouldn't slow her down in the least.  She did another backflip and landed on the other side of the crates they'd set up to provide themselves a crude barrier between their area and the door.

            The three men immediately fanned out, keeping their guns in front of them, waiting for the slightest sign of her.  "What the fuck was that?" one of them demanded, sounding more than a little nervous.

            Cale grunted and said, with a note of hunger in his voice, "'Nother vamp, I think.  Shouldn't be much trouble for me, though."  She heard him start to move forward too, the child forgotten, which was what she was hoping for.  For a moment after she'd landed behind the crates, she'd thought that she had messed up by leaving Cale free to run off with the kid, but she'd been going on the hope that her instincts about Cale were right.  Almost any other vampire would have used the opportunity to run off with the child, but this Cale apparently wasn't quite as swift as most other vampires . . . ah, vampire instincts coupled with a woman's intuition was a formidable combination indeed!

            Brandi checked her wounds, neither one of which went deep, though they were going to bleed a lot.  As the three men and the vampire moved closer to her, she concentrated on her hearing and sense of smell, using her senses to track them almost like radar.  She was also pleased to hear Jake's ragged, irregular breaths, and she hoped that he was conscious to some degree so that he could feel what she'd done to him.  Fucker.  She crawled along the crates to her left a few feet, then got up into a crouch, tensing her legs like coiled springs.  Brandi grabbed hold of the edge of the crate that she was behind and used it as leverage to augment her leap, sending herself seventeen feet into the air.  She twisted and tumbled, dodging the bullets from the three men with ease.  Seconds later, she landed directly in front of the man farthest to the left of the group, delivered a punch that turned his guts to jelly, then dug her nails into the flesh of his stomach and shoulders.  Just as the other men opened fire, she held his body up in front of her, using it was a shield; the body twitched and shook from the multiple impacts.

            Brandi charged forward with the body, going towards the guy closest to her, who didn't have the time to react quickly enough to get away.  Her foot shot out and swept his legs out from under him, and the female vampire then slammed the now-dead body on top of him, and she was pleased to hear bones cracking and breaking.  A bullet whizzed past her wounded shoulder, and Brandi did a quick crouch and launched herself back in the air again, disappearing into the shadows.

            In the space of less than thirty seconds, she'd crippled Jake, heavily wounded another, and killed a third, leaving only one gunman and Cale unscathed.

            Cale, goggle-eyed, stared at the two men down, the ragged, pained breaths of Jake still filling his ears, and he yelped, "Who the fuck was that?!?!"

            The remaining gunman hurriedly reloaded his gun and mumbled, "Dunno, don't care.  She's as good as dead."

            They both raked the area with their eyes but found nothing until Cale howled, "The brat!  He's gone!"

            The gunman turned and saw that the chair where the child had been was empty, the ropes neatly snapped and laying uselessly on the floor.  "Shit!"

            That was the last word he ever uttered, as Brandi dropped down in front of him and delivered a devastating kick to his throat which ended up breaking his neck like a toothpick and also sent a jagged split up the back of her now-well-worn miniskirt.  "D'ohhhhhhrrrrrgh!" she snarled in irritation and flung the dead gunman aside none-too-gently.  A split-second later Cale slammed into her, knocking her backwards.  She rolled with it, and as soon as her back made contact with the ground, she planted her feet in Cale's stomach, kept rolling, and tossed  him behind her, using their momentum against him.  Cale hurtled through the air, out of control, and smashed into a stack of crates, which fell on top of him.

            Brandi neatly flipped back onto her feet and watched as Cale slowly extricated himself from the pile.  She watched the way he moved for a few moments, how clumsy his movements were, and came to the conclusion that he was probably so new that he'd barely tasted blood at all.  A neophyte.  Easy killing.

            Brandi ran at him full-out and hit him like a runaway freight train, sending the two tumbling through the crates, grappling with one another as they went.  She was surprised at how strong he was: usually neophyte vampires were barely stronger than mortals, and this one had the strength of several centuries behind him at least.  But despite his strength, he was obviously short on experience, as she broke through his guard easily and slashed at his shoulders and chest with her nails.  As their momentum through the crates finally came to a stop, she picked him up over her head and slammed him to the ground, but he was crawling to his feet scant seconds later; his resilience was compensating for his clumsiness, at least somewhat.

            The redheaded valkyrie delivered a spin kick to the side of Cale's head, knocking him down again, and she elbow-dropped onto his midsection, which made him grunt and tighten up with pain.  Quick as a flash she grabbed his throat and lifted him off the ground as she regained her footing.  He struggled with both hands to break her grasp, but as she had almost two millennia behind her, he didn't have a chance in hell of even matching her strength.

            Her emerald eyes bored into his and she shook him roughly as she glared.  "What kind of fucking beast are you to drag a child into your dealings?!  You're as bad as any member of the Crimson Order!" she growled, spitting at the name of the now-dead sect of vampires that had once terrorized both mortals and immortals alike in centuries past.

            "The who?" Cale gurgled as he beat at her hand feebly.  Now that she was up close she noticed that he was awfully dirty for a vampire, too, and his hair had enough grease in it to give even the biggest car a good lube.  For some reason, vampires seemed to repel dirt and grime, though revenants (degenerate vampires) were an exception, and a truly dirty vampire was unheard of; Cale was simply filthy, looking as though he'd lived in a swamp for most of his existence, and she still couldn't place his scent.  Not the reek of his filth, but the underlying scent of the blood that flowed through his veins; though he repelled dirt as poorly as a revenant, he didn't have a revenant's feral scent . . . besides, revenants were more animal than vampire mentally, and Cale, though apparently a bit slow, was obviously quite sapient.  "What the fuck you talkin' 'bout, missy?"

            Brandi's face twisted slightly in puzzlement at Cale's confused reaction to the name of the infamous Order . . . every vampire knew who they were, regardless of whether they'd had run-ins with the Order or not!  A vampire of any age not knowing about the Crimson Order was like an adult human not knowing who the Nazis were!  "Are you as stupid as you are slow?!" she demanded as she shook him again, then gut-punched him for added effect.

            Cale grunted again and twisted tightly from the impact of her fist, and he coughed as she tightened her grip on his throat.  Brandi's eyes never left his for a second, and now she bared her perfect, pearlescent fangs at him.  "Now tell me what you're doing kidnapping an innocent child, and I may leave you in one piece," she growled, low and mean.  "Maybe."

            Cale renewed his efforts to get away from her and hacked out, "Can't be doin' that, missy, nope nope!  Better be gettin' torn up by you 'n gettin' the bad voodoo!"

            Brandi grinned at him wickedly, and her eyes took on the reddish cast that they got when she was ready to destroy.  "I assure you," she purred softly, "I'm worse than anything anybody else could do to you.  Talk."

            "Nope!" Cale replied as he tried to kick at her legs with his dirty shoes.  "Can't do it, can't do it!"  He pounded on her arms hard enough to smash cars, but she barely flinched.

            With a roar she held him up over her head and, still using only one hand, slammed him down onto the ground with enough force to break even his vampire bones.  Cale wheezed and grimaced in pain, but kept kicking at her.  "Hey," he rasped, "Did I tell ya what a nice set 'o bazookas ya got?"

            Brandi's foot connected with his forehead a split-second later, and the back of his head smashed against the hard ground with a hideous crack that echoed in the warehouse.  As the ground around his horribly-caved-in head began to darken from the blood spilling from the fatal wound, Brandi scowled at the grin that remained on his lips.  He wanted me to kill him, she realized.  He was afraid that I might've been able to get his secret out of him, so he took it with him into his grave.  Inconsiderate bastard.  She gave his body a final kick, then leaned over to take a closer look at the blood that was leaking from him.

            She dabbled her fingers in it as it soaked into the ground, and when she drew them to her nose, she hurriedly took them away.  By the Deity, he reeks! she thought as she wiped his blood on his shirt.  Smells worse than any of the revenants I've ever knocked heads with!  She poked and prodded at him for a few more minutes, checking his pockets, but found absolutely nothing, not even a pocketknife or change.

            Wrinkling her nose from the scent of his spilled blood, Brandi scooped him up in her arms and leaped from crate to crate until she was up to the opening that she'd come into the warehouse through, and she pushed Cale's corpse through the hole.  When she was back out on the roof she dragged his body out into the middle of the roof, where the sun was sure to hit it when it came up.  It was custom of most vampires to dispose of their dead by leaving the bodies out for the sun to claim . . . less questions from mortals that way.  "Good riddance," she said to Cale's body, and kicked it again.  "Smelly bastard."

            She climbed back through the hole in the roof and moved across the rafters until she was above the high stack of crates that she'd left the child to keep him out of danger, and found him exactly as she'd left him: with his eyes tightly shut and his hands over his ears.  Good, he's still okay.  Now to take care of a few more details.

With an acrobat's grace, she flipped down from the rafters onto the ground and within a minute's time, Jake and the remaining gunman, both unconscious and both too messed up to be able to give her any useful information, had joined Cale and the other two gunmen on their trip to the afterlife.  She then found a water spigot near the base of the wall and washed the blood from herself as best as she could; her clothes were torn and shredded beyond any hope of repair and she'd have to put on some new ones when she made it back to the room she had at a nearby hotel.  She then made her way back up to the child and taking a final leap, landed next to him.  When he felt her gently drop down next to him, he opened up one eye and looked up at her.  "Can I stop now?" he asked her as she knelt down.

            She smiled and nodded; she'd made him shut his eyes and cover his ears to spare him the sounds of her destroying her foes.  And in a minute, she'd take care of what he had seen . . . watching Rambo was one thing, but seeing it happen in real life wasn't something a kid needed to see.  When the boy opened his eyes and uncovered his ears, she gently took his chin in her hand and turned his face towards hers, looking deeply into his eyes, softly probing at the fringes of his mind with her telepathic and empathic abilities.  A child's mind was much more malleable than an adult's when it came to telepathic and empathic suggestion, meaning that she could pluck out and smooth over very recent events still in his short term memory.  It wasn't something that most vampires did on even an occasional basis . . . in fact, most vampires wouldn't even make any kind of entry into the mind of a child, such was the air of taboo around it.  But Brandi decided that this was a special case.

            After she withdrew, the child shook his head slightly and grinned at her; he remembered everything but the actual killings, so he wasn't disoriented.  "Who are you?" he asked.

            "Good question," she replied.  "Call me Brandi.  And who might you be?"

            "My name's Phillip," he said, and he tugged slightly at the nearly shredded arm of her blouse.  "Your clothes are a mess!  Are you going to get in trouble?  I do when I get mine all messed up and dirty."

            Brandi chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the unusual sensation; it had been years since she'd been this close to a child.  "No, I won't get in any trouble at all.  Nobody tells me what to do."

            "Really?" he asked, enthusiastic about the concept, and she giggled at how brightly his eyes lit up.  "I wish nobody told me what to do.  Are you a mom or something?"

            She shook her head slightly.  "No, I'm nobody's mommy," she said, mentally adding I gave up that option a long time ago.  "I've been called Aunt before, though."

            "Okay," Phillip said, satisfied.  "What are we going to do now, Aunt Brandi?"

            "Well, I'd like to get you home," she said, smiling at the small child as he looked at her expectantly.  "Where do you live at?"

            "I live at 382 Carradine Avenue in Admonton, Virginia, 51834," the child said, reciting from memory.  "My house is really big with white paint and a big backyard and we have two lions made from stone in sitting in front of the porch.  My mom lets me put red ribbons around their necks for Christmas."

            "Virginia?" Brandi said, frowning a little.  "You're a long ways from home, kiddo.  Did those men take you from your home?"

            "No," Phillip replied, shaking his head.  "I was staying in the room in the hotel with Mongo when all the lights went out and I heard a big fight, and someone picked me up and took me out the window.  They covered up my eyes so I couldn't see, and I couldn't see again until I got here.  It was really scary!"

            "I can imagine," she said, amazed at how well he was taking everything, and she gave him a little hug.  "Don't worry, kiddo: your Aunt Brandi can kick the butt of anyone who tries to take you again.  Now, who's Mongo?"

            "He's my dad's friend, and he's a big guy, about as big as you are, and he takes care of me whenever my dad's giving a show."

            "A show?"

            "My dad's a magician!" Phillip said proudly.  "He can make things disappear and reappear and blow fire and do all sorts of cool things with his cane.  We weren't supposed to have a show in this town, but I guess we did because when mom and dad went out last night, my mom didn't come back until this morning, and she told me that dad had an accident during his show and had to go see a doctor, but he'd be back soon, so I shouldn't worry."  Phillip frowned.  "I was worried anyway, but Mongo told me it would be okay, too.  I hope Mongo's okay.  He's really nice to me."

            "I hope so, too, kiddo," Brandi said, running her fingers through his short hair, sincerely hoping that the bastards who lay dead below hadn't seriously hurt anyone close to Phillip.  "Why would anyone want to kidnap you?  Does your dad have any enemies?"

            "I don't know," Phillip answered with an exaggerated shrug.  "I don't think he does, because everybody likes him.  Maybe it's because my mom and dad have a lot of money or something . . . maybe they needed money to pay off gambling debs."

            Brandi chuckled.  "You mean gambling debts?"

            "That's what I said," Phillip informed her.

            "Ah, of course, silly me," Brandi said, nodding.  "Do you know where your dad's how was at?"

            "Uh uh," Phillip said.  "All mom said was that he had an accident with his show but that he was going to be just fine, so I shouldn't worry.  My dad gives shows everywhere during the summer.  That's why we were in a hotel: we go across America during the summer and see all sorts of different towns and cities.  My favorite town is Las Vegas because there's so many neat things there, like rides and lights and big dancing shows and guys in animal suits . . . have you ever been to Las Vegas, Aunt Brandi?"

            "Yep, I sure have," Brandi said.  "It's one of the busiest places I've ever been, but I thought it was pretty cool there."

            "It sure is!" Phillip agreed.  "I hope we can still go there this summer."

            "If I've got anything to say about it, you will," Brandi said, wishing she'd stomped Phillip's kidnappers a little more roughly before she'd wiped them out.

            "Yay!" Phillip yelled, giving her a hug.  "So what are we gonna do now?"

"I'd like to get cleaned up first . . . I've got a place we can go.  Maybe get you cleaned up a bit, too, eh?" she said, giving his cheek a friendly pinch, which made him pull away, laughing.

            "I'm fine!" he protested.  "I don't need a bath!"

            She looked him over and noted that his overalls and striped shirt underneath looked rather dirty.  "I'll be the judge of that, buster," she said.  "Do you know which hotel your mom and dad are at, by any chance?"

            Phillip shook his head.  "Nuh uh.  We were in a big hotel, but I don't know which one.  Our room had funny white carpet, though, and there was a big desk downstairs."

            "Well, that certainly narrows it down," Brandi replied, tousling his hair again.  That description can apply to just about every hotel in town.  She wasn't really terribly disappointed that they'd have to search a bit for his parents . . . it meant that she'd get to spend a little more time with him.  She wanted to get him reunited with his parents as soon as she could, to spare him any grief over their separation, but on the other hand, she wanted to come to know this child and enjoy his company for as long as she could before he went back to his parents.  She'd never had children of her own when she was mortal, and the closest that she'd come since Becoming were her numerous proteges, which were very much like her kids, except she hadn't been able to experience their childhood.  Like Athena from Zeus, her "children" had sprang forth from her blood fully formed.

            "It does?" Phillip asked.

            Brandi chuckled.  "Nope, not really, sorry.  Even I'm not that good, kiddo.  We'll have to go searching for them later on.  We may even have to wait until tomorrow, because the sun'll be up in a few hours."

            "So?" Phillip replied, frowning questioningly.  "Won't that make them easier to look for since it'll be easier to see?"

            "Normally yes," she answered, "But your Aunt Brandi's got a bit of a problem with the sun."

            "Do you get sunburned?  I got one once, and it stung like crazy and my mom had to put lotion on it."

            "Not quite.  Look," she said, and she opened her mouth wide, revealing her fangs.  "Know what those are?"

            Phillip leaned forward, his eyes wide with interest.  He nodded his head rapidly.  "Yeah, I know what those are!  They're Dracula teeth!  Are you like Dracula?"  He eyed Brandi anew, obviously impressed.

            "In many ways I'm like him, but I'm a lot nicer, I'm better looking, and I can do stuff that Dracula never could," she replied, pleased with how he responded to her revelation.  Kids were so open-minded and innocently curious about things that it blew her mind.  Vampires usually were almost as open to new experiences and fascinated by things as kids were, but it more often than not took them a century or so to clear out a lot of the preconceived notions, prejudices, and other crap that they'd accumulated during their mortal lives.  Then there were many who never quite got all of the shit cleared out, and missed out on a lot because of it.

            "Really?  Like what?" Phillip asked, reaching out with his finger to gingerly tap at her fangs.  He giggled and yanked his hand away almost as soon as he made contact with them.  "They feel just like my teeth!"

            "Ah, but can your teeth bite open a soda can?  Or open a bottle?  I can do that with mine 'cuz they're a lot harder than your teeth ever will be," Brandi told him, amused by his squeal of delight.

            "Will you open one for me?  And can you turn into a bat, too?"

            "Yes, I'll open all the bottles and cans you want, within reason, and no, I can't turn into a bat, but I can move so fast you can't see me."

            "I bet I can."

            "Bet ya can't."

            Phillip snorted.  "I can see--Aunt Brandi?  Where'd you go?!"  He twisted his head all around, trying to find where she went.  "Aunt Brandi?"

            "Down here, sport."

            The boy peered over the edge of the crate stack he was on, and saw Brandi standing on the ground looking up at him with a grin.  "Told ya."  She'd moved down to an area of the warehouse floor where there weren't any bodies laying around, so he was spared the gruesome sight of her handiwork.

            "COOL!" Phillip exclaimed.  "How did you do that?"  He let out a yelp when she suddenly appeared sitting right next to him.  A small puff of air that lightly ruffled his hair was the only indication of her movement.

            "We call it celerity, and it means that I can move really, really fast," she told him.

            "Faster than a speeding bullet?" Phillip asked, looking at her intently in case she decided to take off again.

            "Hmmm . . . about that fast, I think.  I've never actually clocked myself."

            "Do all of you have celery?  I never saw Dracula move that fast . . . only Superman and the Flash can move like that," Phillip informed her with authority.

            "Not all of us do," she replied, smirking at his mispronunciation but not bothering to correct him.  "But then, I can't fly, even though there are other vampires that can.  It's kind of luck of the draw, I guess."

            "Oh," the child replied, nodding, absorbing the concept.  "Do you drink blood?"

            "Yep, sure do," she said.  "What do you think these babies are for?" she added, showing him her fangs again.  "I usually only get bad people like muggers and killers, though, so you don't have to worry."  That was mostly true, though just as humans didn't survive on one variety of food alone, she threw guys like de Cleur in on a regular basis.  Vampires who fed solely from the evil and deviant tended to get cranky, irritable, and even a little sluggish after a while . . . it would have been equivalent to a human eating nothing but potato chips and Twinkies for days on end.

            "That's good," the boy said, nodding approvingly.

            Brandi tapped him on the shoulder and said, "C'mon . . . let's go back to my place.  I need to get into some clean clothes and I bet you're hungry, too."

            "Oh yeah!" Phillip said.  "Those guys didn't feed me anything at all!"

            "Figures," Brandi said, even more satisfied about the hell she'd put Phillip's kidnappers through.  "Aunt Brandi will get you whatever you want to eat, no problem."

            "Even pizza?"

            "Sure," she said, getting to her feet, Phillip following suit.

            "Yay!" he cheered, giving her a hug around her waist, which she reciprocated.  "I think I'm gonna like staying with you!"

            "Hope so, 'cuz I know I'm gonna like having you around, kiddo."  Maybe it'll give me a chance to catch up on some of the stuff I've missed out on, she mused, thankful for the opportunity to play mom for even a brief period of time.  This might be just what I needed . . . if only Clarisse and Darla could see me now!

*     *     *

            Brandi came out of the bathroom of her hotel room fully clothed in her customary black tanktop and blue jeans, still drying her hair with her towel, to find Phillip lounging on the big bed flipping stations on the TV with the remote eating pizza from the box sitting next to him.  "Not much on, huh?" she asked as she sat down next to him and pick up her brush off the night table.

            "Nope," he said, turning his attention to her.  "This is a nice room, though.  And the pizza's good!"

            "Hope it's nice.  I'm paying enough for this place," she said.  Rockport was a city of many hotels, in part due to the several casinos that occupied one end of town, and Brandi was staying in one of the more low-key upscale ones, in a well-furnished room that could've easily accommodated four people.  During her centuries of existence, she'd accumulated a truly massive amount of wealth, as many vampires chose to do for matters of convenience (though Clarisse had always teased Brandi that Brandi had made her fortune because she was a cheapskate), and she liked to treat herself to nice lodgings whenever the opportunity presented itself.  "As for the pizza, it was no problem havin' 'em deliver it.  I don't think the uppity-ups around here appreciated having a guy from Hector's All-Nite Pizza showing up at 3 in the morning, but that's their problem, eh?"

            "Yeah!" Phillip agreed.  "If they don't like it, you can just bite 'em!"

            "Hmm . . . dunno 'bout that, kid," she said as she ran the brush through her hair.  "They all look so sour that they might taste like vinegar!"

            Phillip laughed heartily at this and stuck his tongue out.  "Ugh!  I bet you'd barf!"

            "I might at that, you never know," Brandi replied, grinning at him.  Vampires got rid of excess or potentially harmful wastes through a process called purging, which was very much akin to a human throwing up, though it was a lot less messy and usually didn't smell even an eighth as bad.

            "Where did your Dracula teeth go?" Phillip asked her as she grinned at him.  "I saw 'em earlier, but now they're gone!"

            "They're still here, kiddo."  Brandi closed her lips over her teeth and a second later reopened them to show her fangs again.  "We can slip 'em back into our gums when we don't need 'em, and that way we can hide our fangs from people we don't want to see 'em.  If we went around with our fangs out all the time, it'd be easy for normal people to tell who was a vampire and who wasn't.  So I've actually got two extra teeth: my regular pointy teeth, like what you've got, and my big Dracula teeth.  I wear my normal pointy teeth most of the time, which makes it a lot easier for me to keep people from knowing that I'm a vampire.  Besides, it gets to be a pain chewing food with those big fangs after awhile," she said as she retracted her fangs and picked up a slice of pizza.

            "You eat food?  I though vampires only drink blood," the boy said, looking slightly confused.

            "Look at it this way, kiddo," Brandi began, taking a bite out of her piece of pizza, "We need blood to live just like you need water to live, right?  But just like a person needs to have food, vampires like to have something else to go in their stomachs, though we don't eat very much.  We don't need to eat food, and we won't die without it, but we get pretty thin and grouchy without food."  Eating regular food supplied vampires with additional nutrients that blood alone didn't provide them, making for a less corpselike appearance, better temperament, and often slightly better reflexes and overall performance.

            "Do you sleep in a coffin, too?"

            Brandi laughed.  "I used to sleep in a coffin years ago, but it was mostly out of convenience because they were actually the best things to sleep in to keep out of the sunlight.  Nowadays, I usually sleep in a bed with all the shades and curtains pulled, and if I don't have anywhere to sleep, I just dig into the ground.  I may get dirty, but it's a lot easier than lugging a big coffin around with me."

            "Oh," Phillip said, nodding.  He leaned over and put his head on her arm as she settled next to him on the bed.  "Do you have a mom or a dad?"

            Brandi put her arm around him and pulled him closer.  "Years and years ago I did, but not any more."

            "Do you miss them?" Phillip asked her, yawning.

            "Sometimes, though it's been so long, I've gotten used to it," she replied.

            "I miss my mom and dad right now, even though I just saw them both yesterday.  Do you think we'll find them?" he asked, and she gave him a soft squeeze.

            "Of course," she told him confidently, "Your Aunt Brandi's been around long enough that it never takes her long to find things, one way or another."

            "That's good," the child said, yawning again.  "Will we have to wait until after dark to go look for them?"

            "Yeah, we're gonna have to . . . Aunt Brandi and the sun don't get along too well, but we'll get moving as soon as we can.  We'll also see about getting you some clean clothes and maybe a few things to play with, too, in case you're going to be staying with me for awhile.  After we wake up, we'll get you cleaned up and I can start calling the hotels in town to see if your parents are there, and we'll try calling the police, too."

            "Okay."  Phillip cuddled closer to her, putting his arm on her stomach and resting his head against her breast, and she gently ran her fingers through his hair as his eyes fluttered shut.  She flicked her eyes around the room to make sure that all the blankets she'd put up over the windows to block the sunlight were still in place, and then she shut the TV off with the remote Phillip had left on the bed.  Finally, she clicked the lights off with the control button set into her night table.

            As she sat in the dark, the boy held close to her, she thought about what her life would have been like had she not chosen the path of the vampire.  Very likely she would have lived her whole life in the small village she'd been born in, become Hest's wife, as both her and his parents wanted, and would have been the mother of his children, raising them over the course of the next couple of decades, and finally spending her remaining years quietly whiling away the time with her husband, who had lived to nearly the age of sixty, an incredible age in those days.

She sighed.  It would have been a peaceful, simple existence, and very likely a rewarding one, but she had been too full of fire and a lust to see the world to have ever been satisfied with a life like that, and she had taken after the mysterious stranger who'd came into her village late one night.  After she'd discovered just what he was, she had pleaded and cajoled him to make her one of the Blood too, finally convincing him.  She'd been the most powerful vampire he'd ever created; through some strange quirk of their mixed blood chemistry, she'd been uncommonly strong and swift from the very beginning, so much so that her progenitor feared that she'd destroy him someday.  He'd made his own fears come true not long after he'd created her when he'd tried to kill her as she slept.  By that time, she'd learned more than enough from him to survive on her own, and she took off in the wild, ready to experience the world.

She made frequent trips back to her village over the years, leaving a bag of gold for her parents and Hest every time she did.  Hest married another, Dala, after he'd given up the hope that he'd ever see her again, and the two had many children together.  During her visits to the village, Brandi had peered through the windows of the hut that Hest's family called home and had watched the children as they slept, and she'd felt pangs of regret then, and she'd wept some at the thought that she'd never be able to hold a baby of her own in her arms, but the hurt receded whenever she set sail on the ocean or saw a new place that no mortal had ever set eyes on before.  The world was full of wonder, and though she couldn't experience the wonder that a husband and wife are able to create, her existence was far from empty.

The years passed, and Hest ended up outliving Dala and all of his children, in the end having no one but himself during his last days.  It was then that Brandi couldn't stand it any more, and she revealed herself to him.  The shock of seeing her exactly as he remembered her so many years ago had staggered him, but he'd taken it in stride as best he could, and had gladly accepted her company, listening in awe to her tales of the wide world outside of the village.  She sat by his bed every night before he went to sleep, holding his withered hand and comforting him as best she could.  When he awoke, she had gone, but she was always back just after the sunset, and they would sit up all night talking; his mind was still very sharp despite his age.  He told her that he wasn't upset with her for what she'd done, and he said that he was happy that she'd been able to see and do so much in her time on Earth.

She'd been there to hold his hand and ease his pain on his last night of life, and he'd thanked her for not letting him die alone and for filling his final days with laughter and happiness.  She'd wept heavily, but couldn't hold him because he was so frail she was afraid she'd hurt him.  When the light had passed from his eyes, and the spark of life had left his body, she took him to the hills near the village, to the place where they'd first made love when they were teenagers and buried him at a high spot that overlooked the ocean, which had been his favorite view when he was younger.  She'd moved a large stone, half the size of a full-grown man, next to his grave and had chiseled his name in it.  It was still there when she'd visited the spot early in the 20^th century, though his name had long been eroded away.  She wept once more as she wished him well on his journey into the afterlife she'd never know, and had left her old life behind completely, never returning until 1902.  She hadn't felt any regrets about not having a family since then, either, until now, as she held Phillip next to her and felt him hold onto her for comfort, like a cub nestling up to its mother for protection.

What kind of a mother would she make?  Would she be able to see it through to the very end, or would she grow impatient as she had all those years ago, and want to take off into the world again, with no bonds to hold her in place?  Or would grounding of that sort even necessarily be a bad thing?  Her questing spirit and zest for life had lasted far longer than most vampires', who, at her age, were often either insane or so worn out and disgusted with existence that they may as well be dead, and she'd easily adapted to every new era and place she'd lived in as she traveled around the world.  But within the last several decades, she had found herself gravitating more often than not towards some sort of familial group, where she was an important part of a whole rather than the rootless loner she'd been for much of her existence.  She'd been a member of the Sisters of Fury since they'd formed in the late sixties, and she discovered that it didn't bother her when someone else depended upon her for backup, help, or just a shoulder to cry on.

It felt both wonderful and frightening to have Phillip with her.  He was a great kid, even though she'd only known him a short time, but she felt herself bonding to him, and already cared deeply for him, more deeply than she cared for anyone except for the other Sisters of Fury.  He only had her right now, and without her, he was surely in deep shit, especially in a city as big as Rockport.  She'd never had anyone depend on her that much in her entire existence, and she felt the responsibility sitting on her shoulders like a Volkswagen.  But, as daunting as it was, it also felt strangely good, and she wouldn't fail him, no matter what happened.  She'd do right by him, or die trying.

Phillip suddenly tightened his hold on her, which startled her slightly because she thought he was asleep, and he murmured, "I love you, Aunt Brandi."

"I love you, too, kiddo," she whispered back, hugging him, and for a brief second, she had a selfish wish that they'd never find his parents, so he'd be hers to love and take care of for as long as he needed her.  But she knew it wasn't feasible; as a vampire, she couldn't give him the life he needed to live.  It wouldn't be fair for him to be raised in darkness by a parent that couldn't go out into the world until after the sun went down.  No, she'd find his parents for him, but she'd savor every second of his stay with her.  Vampires can make good aunts, but they're pretty lousy candidates for parents.

She looked down at Phillip's now-sleeping form, the darkness not impairing her vampiric vision any, and smiled.  Sleep well, kiddo, I'll get you home, don't worry.  I'm just gonna miss you like crazy whenever I do.

*     *     *

            After making a run to the department store down the block just after sunset and getting Phillip plenty of items to keep himself amused as well as some new clean clothes, Brandi sat down on the bed with the Rockport phone directory and started taking down a list of numbers to call, shooting Phillip questions as he sat and played with his new robots.

            "What's your last name, kiddo?" she asked as she wrote down hotel numbers.

            "Riley," Phillip answered, "R-I-L-E-Y."

            "Gotcha," Brandi replied.  "Do you know your mom and dad's names?"

            Phillip looked up at her and frowned.  "Uh, Mom and Dad?  Those are their names, aren't they?"

            Brandi grinned and shook her head slightly, remembering that she didn't even know that her parents even had actual names until she was around ten.  "I mean, what do other adults call them, or what do they call each other?"

            "They always call each other 'darling' and 'honey,'" Phillip told her, "But I've heard my dad's friends call him 'Eric' and they call my mom 'Sarah.'  Are those their real names?"

            "I'm willing to bet so, yeah," Brandi said as she wrote the names down.  "How old are you, anyway, Phillip?"

            "I'm seven years old," Phillip told her authoritatively.  "I didn't know moms and dads had names besides Mom and Dad . . ." he said.

            "Pretty shocking stuff, ain't it?" Brandi joked, grinning at him.

            "Yeah," he agreed, turning his attention back to his robots.

            "Well, here goes nothing," Brandi said as she picked up the phone and started dialing numbers.

            Half an hour later, she was at the exact same place as she was when she'd started.  "Damn!" she cursed softly as she put the phone back down on its cradle, her eyes wandering over to where Phillip was sprawled out on the floor engrossed with his toys, dressed in the new overalls and blue t-shirt she'd picked up for him.  Not a single one of the places she'd called had h