By Laura Davies
None of these characters belong to me--I'm just playing with them for a while. This is the sequel to Hunter's Moon, and a crossover with Forever Knight. Tank, this is your fault--you gave me *ideas*. <eg> My thanks to NiteMar for betaing this. Blame this weirdness on too much sleep deprivation, PEZ, chocolate, Pixie Stixs, and Kool-Aid.
The Black Crow, Metropolis
October 15, 2004
LaCroix glanced over the crowd at the newly opened Black Crow and scowled. Aside from an occasional twinge, his fangs had healed from his last hunting trip, but he still lusted after the hunt. His eyes glimmered gold as he remembered the stalk, the rush, the sweet, hot blood bursting forth across his taste buds. He turned and snarled at the fledgling that dared stumble into him.
The young one apologized and settled on a stool nearby, speculating loudly to her friend what a particular new type of blood would taste like. Slowly, LaCroix smiled evilly. He had sometimes wondered the same thing--and thanks to a run-in with a certain billionaire, he knew how to obtain the desired vintage.
He ran his tongue over his retracted fangs, glad that he had managed to imbibe enough blood--human and vampire--to completely heal from his last hunting expedition. LaCroix stood and walked into his office, shutting the door tightly behind him. Carefully, he ran his fingers over the wood paneling and pushed an indentation in the woodwork. The panel swung open and he typed in an access code to unlock the hidden safe. Green light bathed his pale visage as he emptied the space and stuck it in his pocket.
LaCroix grabbed his leather duster and, leaving the nightclub, took off to stalk his rare prey. He made his way through the midnight sky, attuning his sensitive ears in for shouts of help, knowing that he would probably find his quarry nearby. He arrowed toward a call, smiling as he saw the blur of red and blue approaching the victim. He landed in the shadows and waited patiently until the caped man left the scene of the crime. At vampire speed, he followed the man, finally catching up as the blue-clad hero stopped to survey the city.
La Croix caught the man's odd heartbeat and began to speak in a compelling voice. "You will come with me," he whispered. The man's brown eyes glazed over and he nodded, following submissively at LaCroix's heels. They landed in the darkest part of Hobb's Bay and he pulled the piece of green mineral out of his pocket. The caped hero's face contorted in pain and he dropped to his knees. "Don't fight it," LaCroix whispered.
The man slumped to the ground, his handsome face relaxed. LaCroix yanked him up and bared his neck before sinking his teeth into the now-pliant flesh. He pulled the warm, sweet, life giving essence into his mouth, drawing eagerly at the sustenance. It tasted different than any other blood he had ever partaken of. It tasted… delicious. He swallowed one mouthful, then two before the burning sensation started.
LaCroix released his victim as smoke began to pour from his mouth. He shoved the rock into his pocket and took off, flying towards his son's new loft as smoke continued to issue from his mouth. For the first time in 2000 years, not only did he have the worst case of heartburn he could ever remember, but he had a sore throat. LaCroix entered through the skylight and ran to the refrigerator at vampire speed, almost ripping the door off the hinges in his haste to get to the bottled blood that would cool down his burning throat and mouth.
LaCroix grabbed a bottle and began to gulp down the chilled blood. He sighed in relief as it slid down his throat, cooling the fire that burned within. Natalie chose that moment to wander into the kitchen. "LaCroix?" she questioned, noticing the small burned spots around his mouth. "What happened?"
"Went hunting," he managed to gasp. "That big blue boy scout--I just wanted to know how Kryptonian blood tastes."
"Let me see," Natalie ordered, pulling his face toward her as she examined the burns minutely. "Open up," she said, pulling a tongue depressor out of her pocket and looking around his mouth. "The burns will heal… You hunted Superman? I guess that gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'fast food'." She grinned at him impudently as Nick walked into the kitchen, having overheard the conversation.
He shot a quizzical glance at LaCroix. "Father, I'm afraid that this serves you right--just like last time. You're lucky to still be alive; haven't you heard yet? Superman is… solar powered."
"And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..."
--Arthur Rimbaud, The Flash of Lightning