Night Court

"Detective Ellison," said a friendly voice, and Jim glanced up to see the sheriff standing there at Jim's desk in Major Crimes.

Standing, Jim said, "Sheriff Waters! Good to see you. What brings you into town?"

"Oh, just some brainstorming, I'm afraid. You know Detective Bowder? Detective Benitez?"

"I think we've all met," said Jim, and all the men shook hands before the Sheriff and his posse said good day and disappeared into Simon's office.

"What was that about?" Blair asked, appearing at Jim's side, and Jim just shrugged and got back down to work.

"I have no idea," he said.

Sometime later he found out, however, when Simon called both him and Blair into his office with the other men.

"Jim," said Simon, "Sheriff Waters here was just bringing me up to date on a little problem he's been having out in the county."

"Oh?' Jim and Blair sat down with the others and prepared to listen.

"Are either of you gentlemen familiar with Rev. Allen Shepherd?" Waters asked in his solemn, professional tone.

Jim frowned and said, "The name sounds familiar."

"He's the kook that keeps trying to have books banned at the library," said Bowder, shifting in his polo shirt and dark jeans.

"Not the guy that pitched a fit about the Wizard of Oz?" Blair asked.

The other men snorted and Bowder said, "Yeah, one and the same."

"What's going on?" asked Jim, wondering why in the world the sheriff and two of his detectives were conferring with the police over this guy.

"A few months back," said Waters, "one of our men was on night duty, and a woman came in. Not a local; said she had just moved back to the area, and that she wanted to report a case of grave vandalism."

Blair glanced over at Jim. So far, this did not sound like their typical case.

"I don't know if you're familiar with the Antioch community," said Waters, "but it's pretty far out in the country, barely more than a church and a gas station. The Baptist Church there is way out on a dirt road, and although they have a new cemetery they've been using for some time, there's still an old one located out in the woods behind the church."

"It's one of the oldest in the area," said Benitez, "but it's so overgrown that you can barely get in there now."

"Anyway," said the sheriff, "this woman, Victoria Cummings, said that she had gone down in there to clean up her the grave of her grandmother, who had been buried in the old cemetery. I think there's been a push lately to maybe clear out the area, restore it for historical purposes. She said that while she was there, she was practically attacked by this whacko who was trying to dig up some of the graves there."

"My god," said Blair. "How bizarre."

"Yes, well, we checked it out," said Christopher Bowder, "and as it turns out, it's none other than Brother Allen Shepherd who's doing the desecrating."

"So what's the problem?" Jim asked. "Did you arrest the guy?"

The three men looked at each other, then at Simon.

"This is where they're having a little trouble," said Simon delicately.

Sheriff Waters, who was a tall, handsome Cary Grantish type of man, raised his eyebrows in irony and said, "Gentleman, the next part of this tale is going to sound a little unusual."

"Huh," said Bowder. "More like freakish." He knocked his cowboy boots against the side of the table.

"About the same time this happened," said Detective Benitez, a dark-skinned, well-groomed man, "we got some complaints about livestock being killed in the area." He glanced at the Sheriff, who was looking very serious. "Me and some of the other guys went out to check it out, and...." He raised an eyebrow uneasily, "Well, the cows were dead, all right, but we're not exactly sure how they died. There were marks on their necks, and they were practically completely drained of blood."

There was a silence after this little remark, and Blair gave a small half-laugh of disbelief.

"Really," said Jim Ellison, who looked like he wanted to rise and thank the gentlemen for wasting his time.

"That was exactly our reaction at first, I assure you," said Alonzo Benitez. "But we had it checked out by the local vet, and it was true. We assumed, of course, that we had a very bad prankster on our hands."

"Or devil worshippers," said Bowder, and Blair couldn't tell if the man was serious or not.

"Anyway," said Benitez, "When we go talk to Brother Allen, he has apparently already gotten wind of this, and he says he is just desecrating the graveyard to get rid of, and I quote, "the evil vampires of hell" that are filling up the cemetery at Antioch Church. That's not his home church, obviously. His place is over on the highway."

"Hey, better your jurisdiction than mine," said Jim.

"Actually, that's why we're here, Detective Ellison," the sheriff said. "We'd like a little outside help on this."

"Have you called the Feds?" Jim asked.

"And say what?" asked Bowder. "That we've got a couple of vampires on the loose?"

"There's more, Jim," said Simon, who had just been sitting back and listening, his fingers arched together thoughtfully.

"Apparently, our Ms. Cummings, incensed that her grandmother's grave was being so badly treated, decides to do her own stake-out down in the woods. We get wind of it, and show up, of course, in case things decide to get ugly, and she's right, up shows Brother Allen and a few of his personal hell-hounds, with all kinds of tools, including some stakes, in case they get all the way into the graves and get a hold of some bodies." The Sheriff's tone was very dry.

"That's...god," said Blair.

"We tell him, okay, that's enough, Brother Allen," continued the Sheriff, "but then he sees her and he starts going off, saying that she is the vampire, she is the bane from hell, etc., and we have to restrain him from attacking her right on the spot."

"Sounds to me," said Jim, "like you have a lunatic preacher on your hands. Can't you just pick him up for grave-robbing? Vandalism?"

There's a silence.

"What?" asked Jim, glancing from face to face.

"We did arrest him," said the Sheriff, "but obviously we can't keep him forever. Some of his flock bailed him out that very night. The Antioch church people, none of which know Ms. Cummings but still sympathize with her plight, want guards at the cemetery, but of course we can't patrol that. We just don't have the people, and besides, it's way off the beaten path. Ms. Cummings knows this, of course, so she has decided to throw the book at Reverend Shepherd for various complaints, mainly all revolving around him destroying her grandmother's grave."

"I'm sorry," said Jim, shaking his head, "but I really don't get our connection here. Yeah, it's a strange case, but we've all had our share of those."

"Unless there's something you're not telling us," said Blair, and Sheriff turned and looked at him for a moment. The bigger man sighed.

"Ms. Cummings wants us to set a night court date for the proceedings," he said, "which is something we never do, since we don't have occasion to have night court. She has some kind of rare skin disease, and she can't get out in the sun."

"She's very pale," said Bowder. "White as chalk. Long dark hair."

"Fangs?" asked Jim dryly.

"It's been troublesome," admitted the Sheriff. "And there's more. My wife was cleaning out some old boxes the other night. The case has made her curious, of course, and she remembered she used to have a grandmother who went to Antioch. She pulled down some old photo albums, and she found a picture taken at one of the Sunday School picnics there back around the turn of the last century." There was a pause. Bowder scratched his arm; Benitez watched his boss. "She found a picture of Victoria Cumming's grandmother there."

"So?" asked Jim after a moment, when no one said anything.

"The picture looked exactly like Victoria Cummings."

"Oh, shit," said Blair, and Simon barely frowned at him.

Detective Jim Ellison gave a half-laugh, opened his mouth in disbelief. "So? It's her grandmother, right? What are you saying, gentlemen? That you think Victoria Cummings is a ghost? A vampire? An immortal? What, should we expect people with trench coats and swords next?"

"Jim," said Simon, "they've come to us because they need our help."

"Why not just call Scully and Mulder?" Jim asked. "I'm sorry, Andrew, I mean, no offense, I really respect the kind of department you're running out there, and ordinarily, I'd be glad to help. But I'm not sure what you're saying here, or what you want us to do."

"I understand your skepticism, Jim," said Andrew Waters sincerely. "Believe me, we're all with you on this. But the fact remains that this is a very odd case, and we'd like some unbiased opinions. Frankly, we'd rather not call in the Feds, and I'm sure you can understand why."

"What do you want us to do?" asked Jim.

"Well, Captain Banks has been kind enough to offer the services of his labs, which would really help us," said Waters. "That way we can keep the bigger boys out of it for now. It's probably nothing."

"Sheriff Waters," Simon said to Jim rather dryly, "has heard that you have an exceptional sense for solving cases others have problems with. That's why he wanted to talk to you in particular."

Blair quickly glanced over at Jim.

"We'd like to some help with stakeouts, maybe you guys keep an eye on the cemetery for a night or two, just bring in some people she doesn't know, add to our manpower a bit. Plus, we've had to be very quiet on this. It's bad enough with Allen Shepherd running around inciting his crew. We don't want any panic on our hands. People still get some funny ideas, even now," said the Sheriff.

"They sure do," said Jim.

In the truck home, Blair said, "Man! Was that fucking weird or what?"

Jim just shrugged, shook his head. "Waste of time, that's what it was."

"Staking out a cemetery," said Blair, shivering. "That is so not my first choice of things to do."

Jim glanced over at him, amused. "That kind of thing bother you, Sandburg? I thought you were the scientist here."

"Hey, part of being a scientist is being open-minded to things we don't yet know about, right? And you're the one who saw Molly the ghost, if I may remind you."

"If that was what it was," Jim replied. Yes, he had thought it was a ghost at the time, but unlike Sandburg, his skepticism was always at hand. No doubt there was some perfectly rational explanation for all of it.

At the loft, Blair gathered all of his equipment together for the next day, when they were to start their work in Antioch, some fifteen miles outside of Cascade.

"Not the x-ray specs again," said Jim, glancing at all the equipment in amusement.

"You'll be glad I have all this when the time comes," said the student firmly.

"The Blair Witch Project, Part II," Jim said in a self-satisfied tone.

"Man, don't say that. That was really bizarre, and I'm not in the mood to end up like those kids."

"What? Making a ton of money for a cheapo production?" Jim asked, and they bantered back and forth through dinner.

Afterwards, Blair got out some obscure tomes, and Jim said, "If you're reading about vampires, so help me...."

Blair looked up at him and said, "Jim, I died and was saved by a black jaguar jumping into my soul. I've learned not to shut the door on anything."

Jim had little to say after that.

The next morning, the two loaded up in the truck and headed out of the city to the small enclave of Antioch.

"Hard to believe there's so much undeveloped land this close to Cascade," Blair mused.

"Yep," said Jim. "Nice, though."

The road wound through hills and forests, and finally, they eased the truck back onto a small dirt road which lead them to Antioch Baptist Church.

"Nobody here," said Blair, staring up at the big brick church. It was relatively small in size, with a full steeple, and beside it sprawled a cemetery full of granite monuments.

"The other cemetery is down through those woods," Jim said, and Blair hurried to make sure he was right in step with Jim.

"Man, there's barely a trail," Blair complained, as they pushed their way through the woods to the directions the Sheriff had given them.

"Bet there's lots of snakes here in the summer," Jim said, and finally they came out to a small, grown-up clearing.

"Damn," Blair said. Although it was still mid-morning, the small cemetery was so surrounded by thick trees that it would probably never seem completely daylight there. The headstones were old, moss-covered, and as he and Jim prowled around them, Blair could see that many were completely unintelligible to read.

"Wow, these are some really old headstones," said Blair, eagerly reading the words that he could. "Talk about the Wild West. Reckon these were prospectors on their way North?"

"Yes, " said Jim. "Prospectors were a notoriously religious lot." He was peering at a small grave tucked away behind the remnants of the iron fence. "Chief," he said, "look at this."

Blair ignored the sarcasm, but followed him curiously, watching Jim step over the fence and read the stone there. It was a stone, and a grave, that had obviously recently been tended to.

"Victoria Cummings," Jim said.

"Victoria," said Blair. "I thought that was her grandmother's name."

"Apparently, they have the same name," Jim said.

"She's buried outside the fence," Blair said, looking at Jim. "You know what that could mean."

"Suicide," said Jim.

"Or maybe suspicion of something else," said Blair.

"Like witchcraft? Vampiracy?"

"Is vampiracy a word?" Blair pondered, then he said, "Hey, it is a strange story, Jim."

"You really think this woman is going around killing cows at night and drinking their blood?"

"I don't know," said Blair, "but I brought this just in case," and he pulled back his shirt to reveal a large Gothic cross.

"You kill me, Sandburg," said Jim. "Thank god you held off on the garlic."

"Well, actually, I didn't," said Blair, "but I brought the canned kind, just in case it would bother your nose."

"I thought I smelled something funny," said Jim, fretting, and Blair made a face at him as they stood there a moment, thought.

"What next?" Blair asked. He was not looking forward to coming back here at night. Not at all.

"Andrew wanted us to meet him in town for lunch," Jim said, looking at his watch, and started walking back through the woods.

"Hey man, wait for me!" Blair said, hot on his heels. Damn, it was creepy out there. He tried not to look back as they made their way back to the church and the wonderfully familiar blue and white truck. Once safely locked inside, Blair said, "This doesn't bother you."

"What?" Jim asked, as if he were surprised to even think about such a thing.

"The whole camping out in the cemetery type thing?"

"Sandburg, we're not going to be camping out in the cemetery. There's no back way in there, not without traipsing through miles of wilderness. I figure we can sit right out here and see anyone coming in or out."

"They'll see us," Blair said, although he uttered a great sigh of relief at Jim's words.

"We'll park behind the church," Jim said. "Anyway, I don't expect anyone. Surely the loony minister has learned his lesson."

Back in Haven Springs, the nearest community of any size, Jim and Blair slid into a booth at the local diner and ordered lunch while waiting on the Sheriff. He joined them soon, shaking both of their hands. He was a handsome guy, Blair thought dispassionately; tall and very well-dressed. He had sharp eyes and a very unassuming manner.

"We checked out the cemetery," said Jim, keeping his voice low. The place was just about empty, but he knew how news traveled fast in places like this.

"We saw Victoria Cummings' grave," Blair added. "Why is she buried outside the fence?"

"According to old church records, she died mysteriously, and there was some superstitious among the other parishioners."

"How did she die?" asked Blair.

"I don't know," said Andrew. "The book says that she was taken in a way "unordained" by God."

"Suicide?" Jim wondered.

"Could be. Maybe she was pregnant out of wedlock, who knows? There was some rough justice in those days."

"The preacher behaving?" Jim asked, eating a french fry.

Andrew sighed and said, "Who knows? If you catch him out there tonight, don't hesitate to bring him on in."

"Where does this Victoria live?" Jim asked.

"She gave an address at the Wilderness Inn out on the main road, but we can't ever get her there until after dark. She says she sleeps in the day," he said. "Says her eyes are sensitive to light, and her skin, too."

"That's a real disease," said Blair. "It could be possible."

"What does she do?" Jim asked.

"She's an artist," the sheriff replied. "Lives down along the Northern Californian coast, she says." Then he said, "When you meet her, well...I do want to warn you about her."

Both Jim and Blair waited.

"She's very...attractive," said the Sheriff. "And I don't mean it in the usual sense of the word. She's very striking, that's for sure, long dark hair, white skin, but it's something else. Something very...well, she's just extremely charming."

Oh, great, thought Blair. No doubt she and Jim will end up running off somewhere together, and I'll get the loony reverend.

"Hear that, Sandburg?" Jim asked. "Be careful or you might end up smitten with Lady Dracula. He's the one you have to watch," Jim said to Andrew.

The sheriff just smiled and said, "Is that right?"

"You can't get a warrant and get into her hotel room during the day time to see if she is there?" Blair asked later, as they walked out to their vehicles.

"We've got no cause. She's the victim here, not the perpetrator."

"But you don't trust her," said Jim.

There was a pause. "Let's just say that I always like to keep my eyes open," said the sheriff solemnly, and Jim nodded.

Later that night, Jim and Blair settled into the truck, which was parked behind the brick building of the Antioch Baptist Church. They had spent the afternoon driving around, had even talked to the farmer whose cattle had appeared to be mysteriously drained of blood. He was of the firm opinion that wolves had done the deed.

Jim had looked over at Blair at that and tried not to smile.

"Wolves," said Blair later, stomping his way back to the truck. "We always get blamed for everything."

They had ridden by the Wilderness Inn, an improbable looking location for the lair of a protesting vampire, all outside doors and fake siding, but Jim had not wanted to stop. "Don't want to tip her off yet," he said. "We'll talk to her tomorrow."

So now here they were, alone in a very remote spot, cemetery to their north, and cemetery (and woods) to their left.

"Thank god we don't have to go down there," said Blair for the millionth time.

"I thought you wanted to investigate the supernatural, Chief."

"Well, I do, it's just that this whole thing is so fucking strange."

"You were all gung ho over Molly," said Jim.

"Yeah, but she wasn't a vampire."

Jim just snorted at that. "You watch too much TV," he said.

"You don't watch enough," said Blair. "I bet you don't even know how those legends got started."

"People being buried before they were really dead, for one," said Jim. "Hey, I watch The Learning Channel."

"Well, I'm just saying there's a lot that we don't know," said Blair.

And then Jim said, "Chief," and Blair jerked up to follow his eyes. To his heart-stopping surprise, someone in white was walking out of the woods and over toward their car.

"Shit, shit, shit," Blair said.

"It's a woman," said Jim, seemingly as frozen as Blair, and then he reached for his gun, said, "Get ready to duck, Chief, on my word."

But the woman just kept getting closer and closer, until even Blair could see her face clearly. She wore a long white gown, had long flowing dark hair, and looked mad as hell.

Jim opened the door of the truck and got out.

"Who are you?" she demanded

Blair just sat there, mouth open as he watched.

"I'm Detective James Ellison, ma'am," Jim said quietly. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg, and we were just helping out the locals do a little surveillance here. Heard there's been some trouble with vandalism."

She looked at Jim first, and then she looked at Blair. When Blair's eyes met hers, he could almost feel the weight of her stare. She was quite attractive, in a distant, cold, way, and he had the feeling she could see him right down to his soul. Or perhaps he just had a very good imagination.

"Are you Victoria Cummings?" Jim asked.

Tearing her eyes away from Blair's and frowning up at Jim, she said, "Yes."

"May I ask what you're doing out here after dark, Ms. Cummings?" Jim asked.

"It's a free country."

"Yes," said Jim, "but we can't guarantee your safety if you're roaming around on your own. Reverend Shepherd is out of jail."

She almost looked amused. "Trust me, I can take care of myself," she said, and this time she gave Jim one of those glances.

"Why don't my partner and I give you a lift back to town," Jim suggested, and Blair was torn between fascination and apprehension at this idea.

"I prefer to walk," she said.

Jim, barely concealing his surprise, said, "You walked?"

"My ride is down the road," she said.

"Well," Jim said, "I would like to know what you were doing out here at this time of night, ma'am."

"I was making sure my grandmother's grave was unmolested," she said.

"That's really our job," said Jim patiently.

"If you could do it, then I wouldn't need to, would I?" said that good lady, and then just smiled and said, "Later, gentleman." Casting a very odd, concentrated look back at Blair, almost one of curiosity, she headed out into the dark.

"Well, Chief, there's your vampire," said Jim, getting back into the car. They both watched her until only Jim could see her. Then he turned around and stared at the forest, but Blair could tell he wasn't looking there at all.

"What is it?" Blair asked.

After a long moment, Jim said, "Nothing." Then he said, "Look at me, Chief," and Blair did, wrinkling his brow in confusion as Jim just sat there for a moment, appearing to be concentrating.

"What are you doing?" asked Blair.

Maddeningly, Jim said, "Nothing."

"Aren't we going to follow her?" asked Blair, sounding slightly surprised.

Jim said, "We're supposed to be staking out the cemetery, Chief, not her. She's the victim here, remember? It's the nutball preacherman we're really looking for."

"I can't believe we've been brought in just to sit in a cemetery," Blair said in a voice that almost sounded complaining. "They have deputies that can do that."

But still they sat there, and Jim was practically completely silent until after midnight or so. At one point, he reached over and looked at some of Blair's books. This surprised Blair so that he said, "What are you looking for, buddy?"

"Oh, nothing," Jim said, but Blair knew better than that.

The night grew longer, and Blair began to doze despite the fact that he was sitting opposite a graveyard and in a place where animals were inexplicably losing their blood. In the quiet of the truck, Jim leaned back, expanded his senses far around him until he was surrounded by the noises of the night. A barred owl. Scrabbling rodents. The ever-present dry crackle of leaves as they fell in the forest, or were tumbled by the breeze. Everything seemed normal, he thought. His hearing was just fine.

Beside him, Blair turned in his sleep, shifting on the hard truck seat, his books skidding off his lap. Absentmindedly, Jim picked them up, glanced at Sandburg. The student was breathing heavily, mouth open, and seeing Blair this way, vulnerable and innocent, made Jim purse his mouth and think of his partner fondly. The kid always kept up with him, no matter what. He was loyal, supportive, always there.

"I'm a lucky man," said Jim aloud, turning back to his vigil, and Blair murmured something in his sleep and then was quiet.

A round moon was topping the trees when Jim decided to head back into town. It was four in the morning, and he doubted the good reverend would be out keeping the demons at bay this late. Starting the truck, he said, "Chief, time to go," and Blair jumped, eyes widening, and then he was shrieking and practically jumping into Jim's lap.

"Chief, what the-" Jim asked immediately, and Blair was shaking, grabbing Jim's coat by the lapels, and saying, "Jim! There's someone out there! There was someone looking in my window!"

It only took a second for Blair's wild-eyed fear to kick start Jim into grabbing his gun and jumping from the truck, weapon raised. "Stay down," he called back to Blair, as he cautiously circled the truck. There was no one around. They had parked back a good way from the church, so there was nowhere for anyone to hide unless they had hotfooted it around the building, and surely Jim would have heard that.

In the truck, Blair was on his knees watching his partner, both doors locked but ready to be unlocked the moment Jim needed to get back into the truck. His face was white, and Jim could smell his fear from there. Something had really and truly frightened the student.

"I'm going around the building, keep the doors locked," he told Blair, but Blair shook his head no frantically, finally opening the passenger side and nearly falling out in his effort to hook his fingers into the neck of Jim's coat.

"No," he said. "Don't go. Jim, no, don't leave me."

"Come on then," said Jim, and grabbing Blair by the arm, he held him firmly as they ran toward the silent brick building.

Blair had a death grip on Jim's wrist as they hurried around the corner, Blair staying slightly behind the bigger man on the latter's insistence. All was quiet. There was no noise, no figures vanishing into the night. Jim ran up the steps and tried the church doors. It was locked.

"Fuck," said Blair, face white in the moonlight, "let's get out of here, man."

"Calm down, Chief," Jim said, never stopping his observance of the area. "What did you see, huh?"

"Jim, I saw her, it was her."

"Her who?" Jim could see nothing, detect nothing. Even the forest seemed unusually still. He wondered, not for the first time that night, if his senses were a bit off.

"The...that woman!" Blair hissed. "Victoria Cummings! The lady we met earlier tonight!"

Jim put down his gun, looked at Blair, disgruntled. "Sandburg," he said, "you're kidding me, right?"

"No, man, I swear! It was her, and she was looking right into my window!" Blair was right in his face, eyes wide.

"Sandburg, you were dreaming," said Jim. "C'mon, let's get back," and still holding Blair by the arm, he walked his partner back around the church to the truck. Blair slid in hastily, slamming his door lock.

"I swear, Jim," he said, as Jim started the truck. "I just looked up, and there she was. I mean, I could see her plain as day standing right outside my window! It was scary as hell, man!"

"You were asleep, Sandburg," Jim said, pulling the truck around the building and giving everything one last glance as they pulled away. "You were probably just dreaming."

"This place is fucking scary," said Blair, shivering. "I hope we are not coming back here, man, because I don't think I could take it. And I wasn't sleeping, Jim, I swear." But his voice was losing its conviction.

"Well, there was no one there, okay?" asked Jim. "And don't even start that vampire crap on me, alright, Chief?"

Blair said nothing for a while, just sat as they drove past empty fields and dark, sleeping houses. "I never thought I'd say this," he finally said after a while, "but I'll be glad when we get back to the city."

Jim turned to the right at the stop sign, and Blair said, "Where you going, man? This isn't the way back to Cascade."

Jim said, "We're not going back just yet," and kept on driving.

"What do you...oh, Christ, Jim, we're not going to the Wilderness Lodge, are we? Jesus." Blair stared out the window.

"Just look at it this way, Chief. If she's what you really think she is, she won't be there. If she isn't, and she's there, we can lay those little peeping Victoria jitters you got back there to rest."

"I never said I thought she was a vampire," said Blair rather disdainfully, his earlier terror finally abating. "But either way, she's not going to be happy at us snooping around at 4:00 in the morning."

"Who said anything about snooping?" Jim asked, pulling his truck into the quiet parking lot of the small motel. "We're going to get a room here."

"Oh, that's just great," said Blair, but Jim was already out of the truck and heading toward the tiny light underneath the sign which read, "Office." The motel was a small, one-story affair, but neat and striving for the tourist business with its neat window boxes and AAA sign in the window. In the half-second it took for Blair to open his door, he was right behind Jim on his heels.

"Oh, you're coming along?" Jim asked quietly, as they headed for the office door. "That'll look good. Hi," he said to the small balding man who looked up at their entrance. He was eating an egg salad sandwich and reading what looked to be a computer textbook.

"Hi," the man replied, wiping his hands on a napkin and giving Blair and Jim a suspicious look.

"We'd like a room," said Jim.

The man glanced over at Blair, who just gave him a rather vacant smile. Yep, just me and my boyfriend here at this hour, the student thought dryly, and he had to look away for fear of smiling a bit inappropriately.

"We'd really like room 22," Jim said, as the man turned for a key, "if it's available." Jim smiled, put a friendly hand on the back of Blair's jacket. "It's sort of a special room for us."

Blair's eyebrows rose, but he played along with it, sure that Jim had some kind of bigger plan in mind here. This time it was the man who looked like he was going to smile, but he merely said, "Yeah, here we are," and gave Jim the register to sign.

Blair glanced away nonchalantly, as if he always showed up at a roadside hotel at four in the morning with a sentimental male partner. When he glanced back at the motel clerk, the latter was smiling at him with frank amusement, and maybe some...interest? Blair hastily looked away.

"Thank you," Jim said, paying the man in cash. "Come on, honey," he said to Blair, throwing an arm around his shoulder, and Blair didn't know whether to laugh or pop him in the ribs as they made their way to the room completely sans any luggage but a few supplies they stopped to get out of the truck.

"Don't tell me, Room 22 is next to her room," Blair whispered.

"What are you talking about, Sandburg? I thought we'd just take a few minutes to get to know each other here before we went back to Cascade," and he did get a pop in the ribs then.

Jim was still laughing quietly when he opened the door, and he held his finger over his mouth to warn Sandburg to keep still as they stepped inside. Blair did so, trying not to fidget as Jim obviously expanded his hearing into the room next door. After a moment, he mouthed, "I don't hear anything," and Blair just sighed and sat down on the serviceable blue print bedspread. It was a rather small unit, with the obligatory brown pressed wood bureaus and round table, TV, phone, two double beds, and presumably, a sink, toilet and shower/bath combination in the other room at the back.

"Are we staying here or what?" Blair asked quietly.

"Might not be a bad idea to stay for a bit," said Jim. "See if she comes back here."

"Are you saying she's not in there?" Blair said, eyes widening a bit.

Jim shrugged. "I don't hear any heartbeats," he admitted, and looked away before Blair could see other, stranger knowledge in his eyes. "Why don't you get some sleep," Jim suggested, indicating the bed with a nod of his head. "I'll sit up a while."

But Blair just sat there for a while, as if he were too tired to move. Then he said, "Jim, I swear, that face seemed so real. I really don't think I was dreaming, man. I mean, it was like she was standing right there, looking right in at me." He shivered, jerking his shoulders under his heavy leather coat.

"There was no one out there, Sandburg," Jim pointed out gently.

Blair rubbed the back of his neck and said, "I know, man," in a very disgruntled voice. Then he said, "I hope I've got my extra toothbrush."

"You always carry an extra toothbrush around?" Jim asked, looking over at him.

"You know I do," said Blair smartly.

"What, just in case you get lucky?" Jim asked, unable to resist teasing his young friend.

"Yeah," said Blair, "and look where it got me, huh? Some really nice man just bought me a hotel room for the entire night."

Jim laughed as Blair found the hoped-for toothbrush and headed into the bathroom.

By the time Jim took his turn in the bathroom, Blair was already asleep, stripped down to tee-shirt and boxers and huddled under the covers of the bed farthest from the door. Quietly, Jim made his way to the other bed, turned down the spread, and settled back against the headboard. For a long time he sat that way, listening to the silence of the room adjoining theirs.

When Blair awoke, the sun was filling the cracks between the window and the heavy floral drapes, and Jim was sitting at the table, reading one of the student's books.

"Hey," said Blair, rubbing his nose and sitting up. "Whatcha doing?"

"Waking for my dream date to get out of bed," Jim said dryly. He had slept little himself, but didn't want to miss any surveillance time on the room next door.

"Oh well," said Blair, climbing out of bed and heading for the bathroom. "You snooze, you lose," and he left the bathroom door open while he used it, leaving Jim to shake his head in amusement. If Blair was in the middle of a conversation, and it was just he and Jim in the loft, he would sometimes leave the bathroom door wide open. If Jim was at the sink, however, and Blair needed to get into the bathroom, he would stay completely covered up until the man left. I guess it's okay as long as I'm not looking, Jim thought dryly. I ought to walk in one time when he's pulling that little door open stunt; see how well he likes that.

"Anything?" Blair asked, stumbling back out.

"Nothing," said Jim. "Not so much as a peep, Chief."

Blair sat down across the small table from Jim and said, "You don't think she's been in there?"

"I can't hear anything to indicate she is," Jim admitted.

Blair sat there for a moment, looking worried. Of course, in the bold light of day, his vision from the night before didn't seem quite so horrible. He could still, however, feel the remnants of the cold terror that had gripped him so firmly when he had looked up in the truck and seen.... He shivered.

Jim was looking at him, and Blair said, "Did you think she was staring at me when we first met her?"

Jim just shook his head, said, "Why don't you just go ahead and ask her out, Sandburg? It would save us all time. You could get to the bottom of the whole thing and we could close this case right up."

"No, I'm serious, man," Blair said, shivering again. "You didn't see it? When she was talking to you, she just kept staring at me. It was weird, man. It was almost like...she was looking right into my very soul or something. I don't know."

Jim was looking at Blair with a very humoring expression upon his face.

"Okay, what?" asked the student irritably. "I'm just saying...." His voice trailed off. "What are we going to do today?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Try to talk to her, I guess," Jim replied. "If we can find her."

"And if we can't?"

Jim shrugged. "How does a little trip down to Northern California sound to you?"

"Oh yeah," said Blair. "Maybe this case won't be so bad after all."

It was almost lunchtime, and they hustled out of the motel and back down to rendezvous with the sheriff at another local diner. When Blair got up to go to the restroom, Andrew said, "Jim, I'd like to speak to you in private."

"Okay," said the detective. He had already gotten the feeling that the sheriff hadn't quite told him everything about this rather odd case.

Andrew looked back over in the direction of the restrooms, said, "I am a happily married man."

Oh, boy, thought Jim.

"You know me," said Andrew earnestly, and Jim did. Andrew was almost universally well-thought of, and had won umpteen elections with virtually no competition. He was a good-looking, well-spoken man who represented his county well, and had an uncanny knack of staying clean of the seedier side of politicking. He and his wife of many years, Irene, were active in the community, and there had never, ever, been as much as a whiff of impropriety about the man. Jim admired and liked him immensely.

"She started visiting me in my office," Andrew said, and it took Jim a second to realize that the sheriff was talking about Victoria Cummings. "And I can assure you, it was all strictly business, but the level of informality she took me to was amazing, Jim. It was like I had known this woman all my life. I liked her; what's more, I trusted her."

Funny, Jim hadn't found her appealing at all the night before when she had walked up irritated to his truck. "I have to be frank here, Andrew," Jim said. "I really don't know why I'm here. I know it's an odd case, but basically, it sounds to me like you've just got an unusual perpetrator and an unusual victim, and that's about all."

Andrew said nothing.

"What?" Jim asked. "Andrew, what aren't you telling me? If it's something delicate...."

"No," said Andrew, "I can assure you that all of my dealings with Ms. Cummings have been completely above board. What I was telling you while ago...Jim, I like her. It's like I feel a connection to her. She's incredibly intelligent. When she looks at me, it's like she is seeing right down to my soul."

For a moment, Jim had a strange feeling of déjà vu. That was almost exactly what Sandburg had said only a few hours ago. "I don't know, Andrew," he said. He had already filled the sheriff in on their run-in with her the night before, and the fact that she didn't seem to be hanging around her hotel room much. "Since she ran into us last night, she knows who we are. I don't think she's going to be very forthcoming, even if we find her."

"She's very concerned about her grandmother's grave," said Sheriff Waters with a sigh, "and I promised her I'd do what I could to help her keep it undisturbed."

Jim waited a moment, then said, "Have you thought about exhuming that grave?"

Andrew's dark eye slid up to meet Jim's blue ones. In a very grim voice, he said, "Yes."

"Whew," said Jim, leaning back and contemplating his coffee cup. This was bad. Andrew Waters, one of the most rational, low-key law enforcement men he knew, was beginning to think way outside the box. He sure as hell wasn't going to mention this to Sandburg.

Blair took that moment to return, however, uttering a little, "Hey," and glancing at both of their downcast faces. "What'd I miss?"

"The check, as usual," Jim returned, and he started to slide out of the booth. "I think I'll head over to talk to Brother Allen," he said. "Maybe I can find out what his deal's all about, and then I'll try to track down our mysterious plaintiff. I'll give you a call," he added, and the serious Sheriff shook both their hands and went his separate way.

"What was that all about?" Blair asked, as he trailed Jim to the truck. "What were you talking about when I got back from the bathroom?"

Jim said, "We were talking about how different things are from the good old days, when you could take someone to a motel for a good time and they would at least pay for breakfast."

"Oh, you are loads of laughs today," said Blair. "Seriously, what?"

"Just about this Reverend Shepherd character," Jim said. He did not like to make a habit of lying to Sandburg, but he soothed himself by saying this wasn't really lying; it was more like omission. No use in getting the kid more worked up than he already was.

Brother Allen's church was in a different direction than Antioch, and it was newer with a nearby parsonage made of the same brick as the church. Those Baptists do love their brick, thought Jim, as he and Sandburg made their way from the truck to the door. The front one was locked, but the side door was open, and they stepped into the cool tiled hallway and followed the sound of typing.

"Hello," said Jim, moving through the open door of what was obviously the church office. A bespectacled young woman stopped in her work and stared up at him. "I'm James Ellison," said Jim, "and I'm here to see the pastor."

There was a movement behind the woman, and a tall, slender blond man appeared in yet another doorway. "I'm Reverend Shepherd," he said, walking over and shaking Jim's hand. "What can I do for you?"

Well, so far no stakes and garlic, thought Jim. The man was young, probably between his age and Blair's, and wore a plain white shirt and black tie. "I'm Detective Jim Ellison," he said. "This is my partner Blair Sandburg, and we wanted to talk to you about the matter of the cemetery over at Antioch Church."

"He paid his bail," said the woman at the typewriter, wheeling around firmly.

Reverend Shepherd quickly said, "This is my wife, Angela."

Jim and Blair murmured pleasantries, then turned back to the minister.

"Like my wife said," replied Reverend Shepherd amiably, "I paid my bail, and if there's been any other disturbances, I can assure you I have not been there."

"Do you expect there to be more disturbances?" Jim asked.

"Gentlemen," the man said, "with what's living in that cemetery, you can hardly help but expect disturbances."

There was a small silence, during which Jim smiled and said, "I'm sorry, Reverend, but you're losing me here."

"Are you a Christian, brother?" Allen asked.

"I really don't see what my religion has to do with anything here," the detective said mildly.

"I'm Jewish," said Blair, smiling placidly.

Brother Allen blinked at him for a moment behind his glasses before returning to the bigger man. "I am just saying, Detective, that if you are, then you cannot help but believe in the existence of higher powers in this world. And if we consider some of those higher powers to be benevolent, or good ones," (Like I don't understand what benevolent means, Jim thought dryly), "then you must also admit to the existence of bad, or evil spirits in our midst."

"Reverend Shepherd," Jim said, "I didn't come here to dispute the validity of your religious beliefs. My concern is with the law. You, as a citizen of this county and state, must know that there are certain issues at stake here, issues such as trespassing on private property, vandalism, etc. As a minister, you must undoubtedly also be aware of the importance these laws play in keeping our neighborhoods and communities safe, good places to live. Therefore, I am really curious what would make a minister forsake these laws and codes, if you will, to take such matters into his own hand when he must know the consequences of such an act."

Good speech, thought Blair, impressed, but the Reverend was just smiling and shaking his head. "Sit down," he said, indicating some chairs in his office, and they both followed him and did just that. The Reverend's wife sat back down in her office chair, but did not, Jim noticed, begin typing again.

"You are a man of the law," the minister began, and Blair glanced around the small room. Besides the rather messy desk, there were several bookshelves that contained titles such as "The Real Truth About Pagans" and "Mormons and Other Cults." Blair hid a smile and tuned back into the conversation at hand.

"Of course you are concerned about keeping our streets and towns safe," Brother Allen was saying. "So am I. We are on the same side, Detective. I just have to use rather more unorthodox methods on my end."

"Why is that?" asked Jim, making that little frowning face he used right before his irritation level was finally ready to be breached. Blair had seen that frown several hundred times. "Why do you feel that a private citizen needs to take the law into his own hands?"

Brother Allen leaned over toward them on his desk and said, "Do you believe in the devil, Detective?"

"No," said Jim.

Brother Allen tsked tsked over this and said, "Well, it's real, Detective, I can assure you."

"Are you saying that the devil is living in the Antioch Cemetery?" Blair asked, and the minister regarded him for the first time during the whole conversation.

"No doubt this is funny to the non-believer," he said, and Blair curled up his mouth and bit his tongue on that one. "And I can understand how it might seem so."

"Good," said Jim. "Maybe we're getting somewhere."

Brother Allen sat back, said, "Several months ago one of my parishioners lost three cows in one night. All were found dead the next morning, marks on their necks, bodies completely drained of blood."

Jim waited.

"He called the Sheriff's department, and they came out, but they couldn't find a single reason why that had happened, gentlemen. Then the sheriff's department brought in a medical doctor-"

"A vet," said Jim.

"-still a medical doctor, and that man of science, that learned man of all the ins and outs of modern diseases and all forms of animal mortality, could not find one single, scientific reason how those animals came to die in that particular fashion."

"Well, our labs are looking into that now," said Jim, "and I can assure you that in today's realm of criminal activity, almost nothing is impossible."

"Then I saw her," said the reverend, completely unperturbed.

"Who?" Jim asked.

"The evil demon," said the pastor, as calmly as if he were discussing his sermon for next week.

Which perhaps, Jim reflected dryly, he was.

"Does this evil demon have a name?" Blair asked, giving a laugh meant to be humorous but sounding unsure.

The pastor said, "She calls herself Victoria Cummings, though the good Lord above only knows what and who she really is."

"She is an artist from Northern California," said Jim dryly, "and I doubt very sincerely that she would be capable of subduing three heavy cows and sucking all the blood out of the bodies."

"Have you met her?" Allen asked.

"Briefly."

"I'll bet she didn't bare her fangs at you and hiss like a serpent," said the minister.

Jim said, "You would be correct about that."

Blair stifled a grin.

"Well, she did to me," said the smug minister, and Jim thought, who could blame her? I think I'm getting ready to here. "She lifted up that dainty head and hissed right at me like the devil himself. Fangs as long as a rattler's."

Jim sighed.

"When did this happen?" Blair asked, trying to help the frustrated sentinel.

Brother Allen turned to him and said, "The first night at the graveyard, after we tracked her to her lair."

"You tracked her to her lair," said Jim, unable to resist jumping back into the fray. "Pray tell how did you do this? You actually saw her sucking the blood from those cow's necks, and then trailed her back to the Antioch cemetery?"

"One of my parishioners, the deacon who owned the farm where the sacrifices were carried out, remembered seeing a strange vision in white that night, just before dawn."

"Of course," said Jim.

"The next morning, he kept an eye out, and saw it again," said the convinced Brother. "He took his rifle for protection, and followed her all the way up the road to the Antioch Church. There he saw her enter the woods, and he followed her."

He's a braver man than me, thought Blair, glancing at Jim.

"He got to the cemetery just in time to see her sink down into a grave that was buried outside the cemetery fence. Outside," he repeated for emphasis. "Do you know what that means, Detective, when a body is buried outside the churchyard fence?"

Jim ignored him, made another frowning face and said, "Who was this man who witnessed this?"

Allen promptly said, "Luther Murdoch. I can give you his number if you wish."

Jim rubbed his face, said, "What were you planning to do when you and your followers went back and tried to open that grave?"

"We were going to cut off the corpse's head and drive a stake through its heart," said the minister, as if he were surprised Jim had asked.

"This isn't Eastern Europe," Jim said. "It's Washington State, and it's almost the 21^st century. You just can't dig up someone's grave and desecrate the corpse. We have laws against that sort of thing."

"There are laws against sucking someone's cattle dry," retorted the minister.

Jim just sighed and shook his head.

"Besides," Brother Allen insisted, his voice a bit less calm now, "I saw the creature, Detective. I saw her rise before me, saw her bare her fangs with all the force and hatred of Lucifer himself."

Blair contemplated recounting a few tales regarding myths and their origins, but decided now might not be the time.

"Yes, Victoria Cummings, I understand, was in that graveyard," said Jim, "but from the account I received, you attacked her. With your shovel, I might add. You're lucky you're not in jail for attempted murder."

This shut the minister up for a moment.

"If you go near that graveyard again," said Jim, "We will have to arrest you. You just can't go around digging up people's ancestors and cutting their heads off. Do you understand that, Reverend Shepherd?" and the reverend just sat there and regarded Jim for a moment.

"If there are any more dead animals found around here," said the minister, "I will have to follow my conscience."

"And then I will have to follow the letter of the law," said Jim, standing up. That had been a waste of time, but he wasn't surprised.

Outside, Allen's wife glared at them as they walked down the hall and out the door.

"Jesus," said Jim, stepping outside into the afternoon light. "What a loony tune. And the thing is, Chief, he's not an unintelligent guy. That's the hard thing about it, you know? You wonder where people go wrong."

"Why would he lie, though?" Blair asked, mulling it all over in his mind.

"What? You believe that nut?" Jim asked, glancing over at Blair as the former started the truck.

"I'm not saying that. I just think we should examine all the facts, here, man. You know, turn them all over and look at them."

"He doesn't have any facts, Chief, just visions," said Jim derisively.

"I don't know," said Blair, sitting there and thinking for a moment. "Let's look at what we have here. We have a man, a farmer, who has lost three head of cattle to a supposedly mysterious ailment, or accident, what have you. We do know that that much is true."

"We don't know all the evidence on that yet, though," Jim countered, taking a hand off the steering wheel and waving it in Blair's general direction. "The vet kept part of the animal, and our people are going to take a look at that. That could have been some sort of prank, Chief, anything, really."

"I know," said Blair. "I'm just saying what we have at the moment, okay?"

"Okay."

"Right," said Blair, starting again. "We have three dead cows, apparently," he said, looking at Jim and stressing that word, "under mysterious circumstances. This unusual circumstances, when relayed to Luther whatever his name is-"

"Murdoch," said Jim.

"-Murdoch," said Blair, "makes him try extra hard to remember just what all had happened out of the ordinary that day, and so he just happens to recall that there was a mysterious lady in white walking down the road that morning."

"Maybe," said Jim.

"Maybe," agreed Blair, "but apparently that part is at least partially true, because how else would they have traced something to the Antioch graveyard? That's sort of random, don't you think, just picking that graveyard out of nowhere?"

"Well, why not?" asked Jim. "They didn't want to pick their own graveyard, bad for business, plus they would be digging up collection plate contributor's relatives, and I'm sure that would be a no-no."

"Next you're going to be telling me that Brother Allen's church had some kind of deep-seeded rivalry against Antioch, and that that's why the other graveyard was chosen," said Blair, grinning.

"Who knows?" Jim agreed pleasantly. "Softball game gone bad, a prize Sunday School teacher emigrates to a rival church, could be anything."

"Jim," said Blair, still amused.

"You can't tell me truth isn't stranger than fiction," said Jim.

"No, but I think this Luther guy really saw Victoria Cummings walking up that road," said Blair. "I mean, why not, right? We know she does that sort of thing; we saw her last night."

"And then what?" Jim asked. "Luther watched her morph her ghostly self into a hundred year old grave? I don't think so."

"Jim, by this time, the man was probably so scared he could barely walk," said Blair. "I know I would be. He was probably seeing all kinds of things. Like women staring at him through the window of a truck," he added dryly, and Jim glanced over at him sympathetically.

"So," Jim said, "you're saying that these clowns really did happen to see Victoria on one of her nightly little walks, and jumped to the wrong conclusion?" Jim had to admit that made sense.

"Either that, or she really is a vampire," said Blair. "Take your pick," and Jim was silent for a moment as they drove back toward the community of Antioch. "Jim?" Blair asked.

Jim shook himself out of a small stupor and said, "Well, where to next, Chief? Do you think we can take another one of Brother Allen's parishioners?"

Sometime later, Blair and Jim dragged themselves back to their new motel room at the Wilderness Lodge. Luther Murdoch had told them exactly what the minister had said; on the morning he found his dead animals, he remembered seeing a white form walking up the road. When he saw it the next morning, he followed it all the way to the Antioch cemetery (which was quite a jaunt, Jim thought dryly, and ol' Luther looked like he preferred ham and eggs to the Nautilus machine) before watching the woman turn into a white vapor and disappear straight down into a grave. This had apparently unnerved the poor man, even with his hunting rifle on the scene, and when he came back, he brought reinforcements in the shape of his fellow deacons from Brother Allen's church.

The deacons that hunt demons together stay together, Jim thought.

This had apparently directly lead to the frenzy of grave desecration, apparently stopped by Ms. Cummings herself, who nearly got a shovel on the back of her head for her trouble.

Jim was a little fuzzy on how and when the law got involved.

Now, back at the hotel, they moved silently into their new room, but Jim still heard nothing from next door.

"I don't think she's staying here," said Jim, and he glanced outside at the waning day. "I think we ought to go back to the cemetery," he said

"Oh, man," Blair whined.

"I think our Ms. Cummings might be doing her own stakeout out there," said Jim, "gunning for our religious friends."

"We haven't even found out why she was taking midnight walks out there to begin with," said Blair.

"True," Jim said. Then he said, "You hungry? Think they have pizza take-out around here?"

"Dream on, pal, we are in the sticks," Blair replied, and in the end Jim agreed to run out and pick up whatever he could find and bring it back to eat before they headed out to Antioch again. It was almost full dark when Jim left, and in a moment, there was another knock on their door.

"Didn't you take your key?" Blair grumbled as he headed over, but it wasn't Jim was standing on the other side of that door.

It was Victoria Cummings.

Oh, shit, thought Blair, barely refraining from saying it out loud. She stood there big as life, all slender and dark-haired in her black trench coat and very red lipsticked mouth.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Victoria Cummings. We met last night?"

"Hi," said Blair, not moving from the door.

"May I come in?" she asked, and Blair wildly remembered some old adage about vampires not being able to enter one's home unless they were invited. He thought, however, that that meant an invitation extended by the rightful owner of the place, which would, technically, be the person or persons who owned the motel, and even in the case of guests, it would be Jim's name who was on the guest register.

Victoria was still staring at him with an amused smile, and because he had no excuse, he said, "Sure," moving back but being careful not to technically invite her in verbally. Not that that mattered, he quickly reminded himself, Jim's name being on the guest register and all...Sandburg! What in the hell are you rambling on about? Get it together, man!

"I'm Blair Sandburg," he said, not extending his hand (the flesh of a vampire, cold and dead, ugh), and she smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, Blair." She looked around the small room, and Blair quickly said, "Please, have a seat."

She did, not taking off her coat. She had very thick dark hair, and her eyes were expressive and very, very intelligent.

With a rather disarming smile, she said, "I'd like to apologize about last night."

"That's okay," Blair began, but she said, "No, I was rather abrupt. Please forgive me. I've just had a stressful few weeks, dealing with some of the people in this community." She gave a demure shrug. "Frankly, I'm not used to dealing with people like...some of the ones I've met here."

"You mean like Brother Allen?" Blair asked, relaxing a bit into his seat.

She smiled and said, "Yes. I don't think I took him seriously enough at first, Mr. Sandburg, but after he came at me with a shovel, I realized I had undersold him."

"That was horrible," Blair said, shaking his head. He had completely forgotten the shock of seeing her face outside the truck window the night before. He must have dreamed that up.

"Not one of my favorite moments," she agreed.

Blair wondered how old she was. Thirty-five? Forty? One hundred and forty?

Stop it, Sandburg, he scolded himself. Then he thought...a vampire. What would the anthropological ramifications of that be? Despite himself, he felt a flutter of excitement beat inside his throat.

Blair, get a grip here, man. She is not a member of the undead. She is a living, breathing woman, sitting here right across from you in a no-frills motel.

"What a beautiful cross," she said, looking at the one around his throat, and leaning over, she took it in her fingers. Blair felt her cool hands graze across his skin and tired not to swallow too loudly. "Wherever did you get it?"

"Uh, actually, it was a gift," he said, her caress of the cross shooting that theory all to hell. Well, what was it they had said in "Fright Night"? You have to have faith for that to work on me?

I have faith, Sandburg thought almost petulantly.

She sat back, still admiring it. "I love crosses," she said. "I use them a lot in my work. They have such powerful imagery."

"Oh, that's right, you're an artist," Blair said.

She raised her eyebrows. "You've heard," she said.

Blair looked embarrassed. "Well..."

"I know, it's a small town," she said, "and you've been brought in to help with the case, so no doubt you've been filled in on all sorts of strange details." Before Blair could comment, she looked at him and said, "But what's your story? Are you a member of this pack of lawmen? Or a lone wolf?"

Blair's throat seemed to freeze up at her words, but she continued to look at him, smiling in what looked to be a truly innocent manner.

"Uh," he said, "not really a lawman, no. I'm a student right now, in anthropology. I work as an observer for the department."

"Anthropology," she said. "Really? How interesting," and she seemed to really think so.

"Yeah," he said. "I specialize more in South and Central American tribal lore, that sort of thing. Though I've studied all over the place," he added, more to fill the awkward silence than anything else. Blair, you are babbling here, he told himself.

"And how did you hook up with a man like your partner? Just dumb luck? A random assignment?"

"Actually," Blair said, "Jim and I met when I was doing research for my dissertation. The police let me ride along with him to work on my paper about closed societies."

"Or perhaps you were just drawn together," she said.

Blair blinked, didn't really know what to say to that. "Uh," he said. "Well, I think it was more like a coincidence." Liar, Blair thought. You are really spinning the bull here, buddy.

Victoria smiled, glanced down at her coat, which she smoothed across her knees. "And you believe in coincidences, Mr. Sandburg?'

"Sometimes," he said honestly. But not usually, he thought.

Victoria seemed to think about that, leaned her head back and glanced around the small motel room. "I used to think that, too," she said. "But now...I think everything happens for a reason." She looked back at him. "Your partner is a very powerful man. I don't think he knows just how powerful, do you?"

Well, now that was a question no one had asked Blair before. "I don't know," he said, giving a half-laugh. "I've never really thought about that before." Then he thought, what am I doing here? I'm discussing Jim with a woman we're investigating.

"He's lucky to have you to guide him, to direct him," she said.

Fuck, thought Blair. What the hell was going on here? Did she somehow know about Jim? But how could she?

"I'm just his partner," said Blair.

"I know what you are," she said.

Blair stared into her eyes and heart beginning to pound, thought, wasn't Jim the one people gave that line to? "What do you mean?" he asked, laughing uncertainly as if to try and lighten the whole bizarre conversation.

Victoria rose, said, "You're a man of science, Blair Sandburg. A child of a Reasonable Age. But deep inside, you've never left the open spaces of your beginning. You know that you're a man, civilized, controlled, but down inside, you have the soul of a wolf. Sometimes you still want to howl at the moon."

"Well," said Blair, rather stunned at this little uninvited analysis, "I think all humans still have vestiges of their more primitive selves locked deep inside." Some not as deep as others, apparently, he thought dryly, as she smiled a little secret smile at him.

"I must go," she said. "Thank you for letting me stop by, I really enjoyed meeting you, Blair Sandburg. If Detective Ellison wants to talk to me, I am staying at my grandmother's old house."

There's a tidbit, Blair thought, thinking what a piece of news that would be to share with Jim.

She stopped at the door, and as he quickly rose to let her out, she said, "You and your partner have made such an ordered little world for yourselves. I wonder if you ever ask yourself just what that little charade is hiding?" Then she said, "Good night, Mr. Sandburg," and with another smile, walked off into the night.

Blair shut the door behind her, and just stood there. Less than ten minutes later, Jim was turning his key in the lock. "Found a deli," he said, coming with a bag of food and a drink, and then he saw Blair's face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Guess who just came to see me?" Blair said.

At Blair's rather shell-shocked tone, Jim said, "Don't tell me-"

"Victoria Cummings."

"You're kidding!" Jim set the food down, stared at his partner. "You okay?'

"Yeah." Blair sat down rather blankly on the bed. "She knocked on the door right after you left, I mean you barely missed her."

"What did she want?"

Blair shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure, really. She sat down and chatted for a moment." He looked at up Jim. "She said she thought I had the soul of a wolf. Pretty strange, huh?"

"Did she say anything else? Like where she stays during the day?" Jim asked rather impatiently.

"Oh, yeah! She said she was staying at her grandmother's old house, wherever that may be."

"I'll bet the Sheriff knows," Jim said, sitting down with the food. Blair slid over into the other chair. "So she thinks you're a wolf, huh? What else did she say? Invite you over to study her etchings?"

"Jim, she is really unusual," said Blair, feeling a bit more settled now that he had food and his roommate in front of him. "She said a lot of really coincidental things, I thought, almost like she knew some things about us, you know?"

Jim considered this, thought of the similar words he had heard earlier from the sheriff. "I guess I'm just not getting this strange woman's appeal," Jim said. "Think she'd peg me for a jaguar?" He gave a little smirk.

"She said you were a very powerful man, and she wondered if you know just how powerful you were."

"Really," said Jim.

"Yes, and she leaned over and touched my cross," Blair dryly.

"Guess that blows your little theory all to hell," said Jim, smiling.

"Not necessarily," Blair said. "There could be ways of getting around that, you know."

"Sounds like she just had a way of getting around you."

"She said you were lucky to have me to guide you," said Blair, not forgetting those words. "Now, don't you think that's a little strange? That she said guide?"

"Sandburg, I've already heard she's a world-class charmer. She could be just using old-fashioned flattery, you know, and if you ask me, it looks like it's working."

"Oh, c'mon."

"Not that it usually takes much, anyway," Jim said, looking at Blair's bag of potato chips. "Are you going to eat those?"

Blair obediently dumped the chips out of the bag and motioned for Jim to have some. "She also said you and I have made a neat, ordered little world for ourselves, and she wondered if we ever wondered just what that little charade was hiding," the student said.

Jim glanced up at Blair rather guardedly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," said Blair casually, picking at his sandwich. "What? You don't think she means the sentinel thing, do you? I mean, for a moment there, I thought...." He shrugged. "But there's no way she could know."

"Know about what?" asked Jim.

"About the sentinel thing," Blair said in mock-exasperation, staring at Jim. "Hello? What else could she have been talking about, man?"

"Nothing, I guess," said Jim, shaking his head, trying to look off-hand. Okay.

"So, are we going to go see her?" Blair asked.

"You sure are relaxed about this whole thing now. I thought she was at the top of your Creatures of the Night list."

Blair shrugged. "Actually, I thought it was pretty interesting, the things she had to say. And just think," he grinned, "if she really is a vampire, think of the anthropological ramifications that would have!"

"Guess that would make a sentinel pretty old hat," Jim said, not meeting Blair's eyes.

"You said it, buddy," Blair said, light-hearted. He patted Jim on the forearm as he leaned over to get a napkin.

There was somewhat of a silence after this.

"What are you thinking?" Blair asked, glancing back up at the obviously lost-in-thought sentinel.

"Oh, nothing," said Jim. He wadded up the remains of his sandwich paper and started putting the trash in the bag. "About time to head back out, I guess."

"Oh, man," said Blair. "I'm not looking forward to that."

"Thought you were in the throes of vampire love now," said Jim dryly, as Blair helped him clean up their small table.

"Yeah, right. I always go for women with fangs and no soul."

"You always go for women, period," said Jim, and at those words, and the tone with which they were spoken, Blair looked up for a moment.

"Yeah, well, like, what else would I go for? Men?"

"Sandburg, don't be stupid," said Jim gruffly, but he had turned away. "What?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes with a glare when he turned back around and found Blair still standing there staring at him.

"Is there, like, a problem that I go for women?" Blair asked, his heart rate skyrocketing despite himself. No, Blair, let's not go here. You know the answer to all of this; you've known for a very long time Jim's never thought of you that way. Dissertation or not. He loves you very much, but...you've got to learn to live with it. Usually, I do! Blair lamented to himself. It's been a long time since I've even really thought about it, I mean, what's the point, right? I discovered the feelings I have, and I made the decision to stay here despite the fact he would never, ever feel the same.

"No problem with me," said Jim, shrugging. But he still wouldn't meet Blair's eyes, and for a moment Blair just stood there, uncertain. Had something just been touched upon here? Or was he just imagining all of it? "Are you ready, or what?" Jim asked, and this time he did meet Blair's eyes. For a long moment, they just stared at each other. "What?" Jim asked. "Chief, don't get all psychological on me, okay? We've got a stakeout to do."

"Okay, okay," Blair mumbled, but later as he followed Jim out to the truck, he thought, okay. Maybe this stakeout wasn't going to be as bad as he had previously thought.

I've done it now, Jim thought, as he pulled the truck out onto the highway. He had no doubt that Blair would never let that subject lie. Well, maybe it would be for the best, thought Jim. Maybe finally something would be said one way or the other.

But do you really want that, Jim? If the news is bad, wouldn't you rather be ignorant? At least you could pretend, then.

The stakeout actually went quite peacefully. Blair seemed relaxed and didn't even bring up what had been said earlier. Even though Jim had no idea of the thoughts whirling around in the younger man's, thoughts revolving around Jim's earlier words. You go for women, period, Jim had said. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I need to ask him about that, Blair thought. I really need to bring that up somehow. He wasn't sure about how, though. Although he really didn't think Jim would get mad and leave him out here at the cemetery, well...some things were better un-chanced, he thought dryly.

The night passed without incident, and by the time they returned to the hotel, Blair stumbled onto the bed and practically passed out. Jim, who already had a plan in mind, slept briefly, then quietly showered and shaved. Leaving a note for Blair, the detective snuck out and called the Sheriff for the address of the Cummings' family home. Then he was driving there, focused and determined to wrap this strange little case up once and for all.

The big white farmhouse was off a dirt road, and Jim liked the setting; pretty, green, remote. Wisps of misty clouds still lingered in the hills which ringed the area, and the air smelled fresh and of dew.

Nice, thought Jim, even though the settings were obviously old and modest; the outbuildings in need of some repair and the grass a bit high. It still suited Jim's tastes. He had an occasional need for escape and solitude and would have liked a place like this.

He went to the front door first and knocked; when there was no answer, he tried around back. A rented mini-van was parked behind the back porch, so he figured Ms. Cummings was there somewhere. Perhaps she was still asleep.

Perhaps she was in her coffin, he thought, with an inward smile.

Peering down at a small wooden flight of stairs that disappeared apparently into a basement area, Jim thought he saw a movement behind the screen door. Then he heard a voice that said, "Come on in, Detective."

Moving down the board steps, Jim pulled open the screen door and stepped inside to a very dark room. Most likely it had been some sort of root cellar at one time, he thought, and then the heavy wooden door shut behind the screen one, and there stood Victoria Cummings, holding a candle.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I only have electricity in one room down here. Will you follow me?"

As lack of light was no problem for James Ellison, he looked around and at her with interest. She was wearing some kind of lacy black gown, and her hair was long and loose. Still, however, no different from the artist types one saw hanging out all over Cascade and Seattle.

They moved into another small room in the basement, one without windows of any sort, and Victoria switched on a light. The single bulb illuminated a table of sort, overlaid with what looked to be jewelry-making equipment. "My makeshift workshop," she said. "While I'm here." In the bare light, she looked very pale, her eyes shadowed.

"I'm sorry to drop by so early," said Jim. "I didn't know your phone number."

"Where's your associate?" she asked, indicating a chair for him to take. It was yellow plastic and chrome, straight out of a 1950's dinette set.

"He had other things to do," said Jim, for some reason not wanting to say where Blair really was. Alone. Asleep. Vulnerable.

"He's a very interesting young man," said Victoria, and smiled in what seemed to be a genuinely friendly manner.

"Listen," said Jim, "if I may get to the point, I wondered how your case was progressing against Reverend Allen?"

Victoria sighed, sat down across from Jim. She seemed quite normal in that moment, just an ordinary, if rather pale and slender, human woman.

Which, of course, he reminded himself dryly, she was.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. "He's already out of jail, and I do expect him to return to my grandmother's grave. I really have no choice but to press charges against him."

"If you don't mind me saying so, Ms. Cummings, it will be hard to keep him away from that graveyard. Even if you successfully proceed against him with assault charges, which I certainly wouldn't blame you for, someone like that...once he's got something in his head, it will be hard to safeguard the security of your grandmother's grave. Have you thought about fencing the area in? Perhaps with a padlock or something?"

"I've actually thought about a mausoleum," she admitted. "I don't know. This visit isn't turning out anything like I thought it would." She looked down at her long, pale fingers. She wore several rings of various design. "I had always heard so much about this area. The land of my people, so to speak. But when I showed up and met up with that man...." She shuddered for a moment. "The warmth of the community has not exactly overwhelmed me."

"I can imagine," Jim said dryly.

"It's bad enough that my grandmother's grave is outside of that fence." She mused on that for a moment. "I don't know, maybe I'm just a Northern California girl who needs to go back home."

"I can understand why you would be so annoyed at all these goings-on," said Jim truthfully. "Like I said, we could maybe make an assault charge stick."

Victoria was shaking her head. "He's a minister in the community. He actually has a few followers who do think I'm a demon from hell. And you've probably heard about my skin condition."

"Yeah," said Jim. "What's that called?"

She told him, eyes watching him carefully, and he memorized the term for later repeating to Sandburg.

She was still looking at him. "I hear that the night court scenario is a rather far-fetched one for this area," she said. "I could wrap up on scarves and sunglasses and such, of course, but that might be a bit too much drama for these parts."

"If you don't mind me saying so," said Jim, "you seem to be on pretty good terms with the dramatic."

He got a smile for this. "Don't tell me you're a small town boy, too, Detective," she said. Her full lower lip curved upward. "I can't be the only person who wears black in this area." He smiled, and she added, "So how did you meet Mr. Sandburg?"

"I think I came here to interview you," he said dryly, standing up. "And I'm sorry I can't help you more. I do hope you decide to pursue the assault charges. The reverend was trespassing and I don't care much for citizens being attacked. But as for protecting your grandmother's grave, I really don't know what can be done about that short of new fences or locks."

"I appreciate you coming by, anyway," she said. "Here," she said, looking down at the piles of necklaces on her table. "Let me give you something for your trouble. I know the sheriff called you in from the city."

"No, no," Jim said hastily. "I'm just doing my job."

"I insist," she said smoothly, reaching down for a small metal pendant. "I'm specialize in jewelry. You can't hurt an artist's feelings by turning down a creative gift." And she held out the tiny offering.

Reaching down, Jim felt his own pulse began to quicken. In his broad palm, she had laid a crisp etched metal rendition of a wolf.

"Uh," he said.

"I know," she said, closing his fingers over the gift. "Probably more Mr. Sandburg's taste than yours. But perhaps it will remind you of him when you need reminding."

Jim stood there for a moment, biting the inside of his jaw. What the hell had Blair told this woman?

"You're lucky," she said. "Life is hard when you don't have someone to help you through it. Even Dracula had his Renfield."

Jim smiled. She did have a sense of humor. "Thank you," he said. He didn't know what else to say. Maybe the sheriff had been correct. She was an unusually perceptive woman. At the door, he said, "Sorry we couldn't help you more, Ms. Cummings. Good luck."

"Good luck to you, too," she said. "Both of you," and again, their eyes met.

Then she was moving back into the darkness, and Jim was moving upwards to the light of day.

As the police officer drove back to the hotel, his mood was very contemplative. Victoria Cummings obviously thought he had and Blair had a very strong relationship. Well, they did, but she had seemed to take it for more than the ordinary thing. Well, it was more than ordinary. Did she think they were lovers? No, she had seemed to liken them more to one of those old-fashioned soul-mate type things. The man and his devoted helper, no, not quite. Something more even, each needed in his own way. Which was, he knew, almost exactly what they were.

At the very least.

By the time Jim got back to the hotel, he actually had a few things in his mind that he might say to Blair. Maybe he would produce that little wolf charm and say, what do you think of this, Chief? Or maybe he could address how huffy Blair had gotten over the fact that Jim expected him to be interested in women. Jim couldn't believe that hadn't been brought up again, and now he was wondering if he was sorry it had not been. Maybe he and Blair were headed in one direction. He had certainly thought so for some time, and been ready for it. Could Blair, by some bizarre miracle, be ready for it, too? Could the king of table-leg humping ever consider settling down with Jim?

He opened the door, all kinds of possibilities suddenly flooding him, when Blair flew on him like the literal bat out of hell.

"Where have you been?" the younger man demanded. He was dressed, but still looked half-put together. Jim knew he had been pacing around the room; the energy fairly poured off of him.

Jim shrugged, tried to make it all look nonchalant, which it was, really. "I went over to that farmhouse," he said. "To see Victoria Cummings."

"Without me?" Blair asked, face astonished.

"It was no big deal," Jim said. "I just wanted to tie up some loose ends, Sandburg. Ask some questions, tell her we probably couldn't help her. That was all it was about."

"Oh no, I know what it's about," Blair said, his angry tone failing to cover up his hurt. "It's what it's always about, Jim Ellison getting into bed with the bad woman, wham bam, can I get there any faster, ma'am?" Jaw tightening, he turned around, lightly popped the side of the doorway with his hand.

What? Where was this coming from? Automatically, Jim felt himself jump immediately into defensive mood. "I don't know what your problem is, Sandburg," he said, sounding very annoyed. "We both know Victoria Cummings is not the bad woman here, and I just needed to close the case up, I thought I'd go so you could get some sleep. And what's this bed stuff, huh? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm your partner, Jim," said Blair, whirling back around and poking a hard finger into his own chest for emphasis. "Your partner. I was supposed to be there with you. We don't know anything about this woman. What if it had been some kind of set-up, huh? There you'd be, all alone at her mercy, and I wouldn't even know where you were? Is that smart? Huh? Is that wise? I mean, fuck, Jim, if you just wanted to get her alone, why didn't you just say, hey, beat it kid, get lost, I don't really need you, the woman's here now...." Blair's voice trailed off and he blinked, staring at the wall as he realized what he had been saying.

"Chief," said Jim, getting up and walking over to him.

"What?" Blair asked. He was trying to calm his breathing.

Jim didn't know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, but still wasn't sure it would be appropriate at this time. Blair had apparently worked himself up into quite a frenzy over a relatively minor matter.

And how would you feel, Ellison, if Blair had done the same thing? Not very happy, that's for sure.

"Oh, forget it," said Blair tiredly. "Forget it. Nothing's going to change. I don't know why I ever expect it to. You're a smart guy, Jim Ellison, until some half-crooked lawbreaker damsel in distress suckers you right in-"

"Oh, look who's talking," said Jim, coming back to life. "What was that girl's name? Iris? You almost bought the store that time, Sandburg, and you gave her your mom's Jimi Hendrix guitar!"

Blair quickly looked away, pursing his lips irritably.

"I don't think either one of us could point fingers in this department," said Jim.

"Really," said Blair. "Why don't we add them all up? I bet you've got me beat."

"This is stupid," said Jim, turning away. "This has nothing to do with the case at hand."

"Yeah, that's right. Walk away, Jim, walk away. That's what you do best, isn't it? God. This time, I thought it was really going to be different. I thought that maybe, just maybe, we had gotten past a little bit of this shit."

"You're the one bringing it all up!" said Jim, mouth open as he turned back to argue. "You're the one having a cow because I spent some time with Victoria Cummings. Now I ask you, what does that sound like, huh? Worrying about a partner? No, that sounds like pure old fashioned jealousy to me, Chief."

Blair gasped. Thinking quickly, he said, "I don't care anything about her, Jim."

Jim, thinking quickly also, said "Well, you're the one obsessed with her."

And once again, they obfuscated their way out of that little corner.

"I'm not obsessed with her," said Blair, quieter now.

"I'm not either," said Jim.

There was a silence.

"Look," said Jim, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to wake you. I didn't realize it was going to be such a big deal."

Blair was quiet for a moment. "Yeah," he finally said, waving a hand. "Yeah, I shouldn't have said those things, sorry about that, big guy. I just woke up and saw your note, and...." he shrugged, "I was worried, okay? I know we've decided she's a living, breathing human, but I'm still your partner."

"I know," said Jim, and his look was fond. There was another silence as the two of them tried to reel themselves back in a bit.

"Hey, while you were gone, I was reading some of these," said Blair, changing the subject and holding out a big tome on vampire myths and legends.

"Christ, Chief," Jim said, annoyed. "This-"

"Hey, I don't yell at you when you're listening to people talking two miles away, do I? Jim I'm just trying to look at the whole picture here. And it says in this book," he continued loudly, so Jim wouldn't interrupt him again, "that for centuries the legends of vampires have included strange connections with wolves."

"Oh, you think you have some kind of strange connection with her?" Jim asked.

"No, I'm just saying-"

"Sandburg, I love you, but some of the ideas that you get...." Jim's voice trailed off as he desperately tried not to think about that wolf pendent in his pocket. No, he definitely wouldn't mention that little tidbit to Blair. Nor the other thing had been bothering for a couple of days now.

But Blair was just standing there looking at him. "I love you, too," he said, his mouth twisted in almost amusement. There was a silence.

"Well, good," said Jim, and then his phone rang. "Hold that thought," said Jim, taking the car, and behind him, Blair smiled. Okay. They were still here, they were still together. Who knew what the future would bring but at least he had this, right?

"You're kidding," Jim was saying, his face serious, and Blair looked up, interested. "We'll be right over," Jim said, and hung up the phone. "That was the sheriff," he said. "The reverend is missing."

"Well," said Blair, as they grabbed their stuff and headed to the truck. "Where are we going?"

"Over to his house. The Sheriff's there now, talking to Brother Allen's wife."

When they got there, the tearful woman was sitting in a chair, drinking some coffee one of the deputies had made there in the parsonage.

"What's going on?" Jim asked Andrew, and the dapper sheriff pulled Jim and Blair over to the side.

"Said she got up this morning and he had disappeared," Andrew said. "His car's still here."

"He's not out with parishioners? Visiting somebody?"

"Apparently not. She says she's the church secretary and knows all his plans."

"Yeah, she was there the day we first met him, remember?" Blair asked, and Jim nodded.

"Has anybody been over at the graveyard?" Jim asked dryly. "Although Sandburg and I were out there all night last night and there was nothing stirring that we could see."

"She's already been out there," said Andrew, nodding back at the wife. "Said she went there first thing, since her husband had been a little preoccupied with that area lately."

"To say the least," said Jim dryly.

"She seemed so supportive the other day, too," Blair mused.

"It probably gets a little tiring to hear that day in and day out," Jim said in a low voice. "Not to mention what would happen to their income if he was charged for assault."

"Do you want to talk with her?" Andrew said, and Jim nodded. He and Blair made their way over to her.

"Hello, Mrs. Shepherd," Jim said, taking a seat across from her at the table. "I'm Detective Jim Ellison, and his is my partner, Blair Sandburg. We met you the other day at the church."

"Yes," she said. She had dried her tears, was regarding them intently.

"We'd like to hear your story," Jim said,

"Well, like I told the officers here," she said, "Rev. Shepherd was gone when I woke up this morning."

"What time was that?" asked Jim, and Blair got out a pad and pen to write the answers down.

"About eight o'clock," she said.

Sandburg and I were still asleep, he thought. He hadn't gone over to Victoria's until about ten.

"And this was unusual?" Jim asked.

"Yes," she said adamantly. "Unless there's an emergency, Allen and I always breakfast together, then walk over to the church. I have a copy of his schedule; I'm the church secretary."

Jim nodded.

"Plus, his car's here," she said.

Sometime later, Jim took a look around the house and the car.

"See anything?" Blair murmured.

"Nope," said Jim. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Not even blood or fang marks."

"It's that woman," said Angela Shepherd, stepping to the front of the house. "She's probably done this," but even she didn't look every convinced. Andrew walked over to Jim and Blair.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly.

"I saw Victoria Cummings this morning around ten," said Jim. "She didn't look like someone who had just gotten back from carrying a subdued grown man down the road to her house, but who knows? Want me to go back over there?"

"God, I hate this," the sheriff sighed. He and Blair and Jim looked back over at Angela, was being comforted by another deputy. "What a mess, huh? We don't even usually file a missing person's complaint this soon."

"I was wondering about that," said Blair.

"Yes," said Andrew, "but she was so hysterical, and in this case...." His voice trailed off. "I really don't want to go over accusing Victoria Cummings," he said. "We have no proof at all that she was involved."

"I would be more worried for Victoria Cummings," said Jim. "And what about this lunatic? Is he just a religious fanatic, or do you think he's truly out there? That trying to beat Ms. Cummings off with a shovel thing...was that what he perceived to be self-defense? Or do you think he would hurt her?"

"I've got no idea," said Andrew "What seems insane to me or you seems natural to his bunch of folks. I think most of them mean well, it's just a case of the blind following the blind. Hard to stick your nose into people's religion, no matter how bizarre it is, but when they are criminal violations, like there are in this case, well...." His voice trailed off again.

Blair waited for Jim to speak.

"Why don't you call Victoria and tell her the reverend is missing," Jim suggested to Andrew. "I do think she needs to know, just in case he decides to visit her. And Sandburg and I will run back by the cemetery, just in case."

"Be careful," said the Sheriff.

"Man, just when this case can't get any weirder," said Blair, as he and Jim headed back out toward Antioch. "And just think, if we were back in the city, it'd just be drug deals and greed."

"Yep, aren't we lucky?" Jim drawled, patting Blair on the leg. "I thought maybe we had just about wrapped up this case."

"Where do you think the minister is?" Blair asked, as they rode through the countryside.

"Who knows? Maybe he's shacked up with the choir director. Maybe wife doesn't know everything."

"Jim!" said Blair. "Guess it's hard to be a detective and not be cynical, huh?"

"It's just human nature," said Jim. "Give us a life preserver and we'll still sink to the bottom every time." Just look at us, he thought. You give me everything, and what do I give you in return? Usually just a hard time.

There was a car at the church, and Jim and Blair walked in the open front door. There they ran into the church secretary, a middle-aged woman with thick glasses who looked like she had been startled to death. Jim quickly introduced himself.

"Oh, okay," she said. "Police? Is something else wrong? My husband didn't want me to come out here this morning with all the craziness that's going on. Our church doesn't have any affiliation with Pastor Shepherd's," she added hurriedly.

"We know," said Jim soothingly. "And no, nothing's the matter, we just wondered if you had seen anyone unusual out here this morning?"

Immediately she was alarmed. "No, should I have?" She hastened her work. "Will you be around for a moment? Because I'm almost ready to leave."

Blair stayed inside and helped her gather her bulletins together while Jim walked around outside. The woman soon made a relieved exit, and Blair joined Jim at the edge of the sidewalk.

"Well? Shall we take another venture down to the old cemetery?" Jim asked.

"Why couldn't all the excitement be taking place at that cemetery," said Blair, pointing to the relatively new one at the side of the church. It was quiet and well-kept.

"Come on," said Jim, and the two men entered the woods on the poorly marked path. After fighting their way through the humidity and underbrush, they finally entered the small, gloomy clearing.

"You know, this isn't really bad in a gothic kind of way," Blair said, trying to look on the bright side of things. Everything looked fine; even the original Cummings grave was undisturbed on the other side of the fence.

After looking around a while, Jim headed back, Blair right on his heels. "You okay?" the bigger man asked in amusement, and he reached around and pulled Blair in front of him. "You lead the way."

Blair was very glad of this. The hair on his neck had stood up the whole way when he felt that place behind him. He knew it wasn't a reasonable response, but what could he do? He didn't like heights, either, so there.

Once in the truck, Jim said, "I think the old preacher man has just run into the city or something. Why don't we get something to eat? I'm going to call Simon, and tell him this is our last night in this place. We've done all we can do. Tomorrow we'll see if there's any news on Brother Allen and then head back to Cascade."

"Sounds like a plan," said Blair fervently.

They ate at a local diner, and then Jim said, "You know, there's a trout stream back up that road, I saw the sign. What do you think of that?"

"I think we're supposed to be working," said Blair, smiling.

"Hey, my cell phone's on," said Jim.

Back at the motel, Jim checked in with Simon, explained the situation.

"So no vampires," said Simon dryly.

"Not this time," said Jim, but he didn't think too hard about that. There was still that one little thing bugging him in the back of his head....

He had his poles in the truck, so he and Blair did a little fishing up until dusk. "This is good thing about working in the country," said Jim. "Getting off work early for this."

"Hey, you could rent a boat down at the harbor," Blair said, gamely trying his luck at catch and release. Jim tended to be a good teacher at that sort of thing. Much more relaxed than he usually was.

It was a good evening. The two of them joked and kidded around, grabbing another meal, then watching TV and heading for bed. Back to the city tomorrow, thought Jim, and again, he thought of all the things he and Sandburg hadn't talked about. But everything seemed okay, so why mention it, right?

"Good night," said Blair, after his shower. Wonder what Jim would say if I just slid in bed with him, he mused. Plenty, probably. Seemed so weird, to be so close to Jim all day, then separated this way at night. Didn't seem right. They were a team, a family Together on all things. Too bad they weren't together on this, too. But Blair tried not to think about that. He knew it only led to a very heavy heart. This had to be enough, because it was all he was going to get.

Several hours later, Jim was awakened by very rough shaking. "What? What?" he asked, looking up at Sandburg. Sandburg was obviously terrified, and Jim was instantly awake. "What?" he demanded again.

"Jim," said Blair, climbing onto the bigger man's bed, "Jim, did we check the mausoleum?"

"What?" Jim asked, frowning.

"The mausoleum," Blair said. "At the cemetery. That's where Brother Allen is."

"Sandburg, Sandburg." Jim sat up, grabbed the younger man's upper arms. "Calm down, Chief, okay? What are you talking about? What's wrong?"

"Brother Allen," said Blair, his eyes round. He was shaking under Jim's hands. "I dreamed that Brother Allen was being held in that mausoleum."

"Blair, it was just a dream," Jim said. "A dream, buddy, okay?" But Blair was having none of that.

"No," he said, clutching Jim's arms. "It wasn't a dream, Jim. It was so real. I'm telling you, Brother Allen is locked in that mausoleum. The one at the back of the Antioch cemetery."

"Hey, hold on." Jim shook Blair just a bit. "Hey, wake up, Sandburg. You've been dreaming."

"Jim, dammit, listen to me!" said Blair, smacking Jim on the chest with the flat of his hand. "I wasn't dreaming, man. I know what I saw!" And there was a small silence.

"It wasn't a dream," said Jim.

"No," said Blair, pulling on his arms. They were only inches apart. Unfortunately, all Jim could think of at the moment was that Blair's mouth was very close to his and that he would like to kiss it. He hastily tried to clear this thoughts.

"Okay. Are you saying you had a vision here?" Jim was proud at how calm and matter of fact he sounded.

"Yes," said Blair. "Or something like that."

Jim looked at him skeptically.

"Hey! I never said a damn thing to you when you saw that panther jumping into me, the wolf! You have visions, too! And don't tell me you didn't see that, because I'm here in the flesh as living proof that you did."

Jim said nothing, just gripped Blair tighter.

"I'm telling, you, Jim," said Blair, moving his hands to Jim's shoulders, "We need to go to that cemetery and check it out. I know it's late, I know it's out of the way, but-"

Jim stared at Blair for a long moment, the wide blue eyes, the beautiful, beloved face, the warm, insistent man in his arms. "Let's go," he said, and pushed Blair off the bed.

"Really?" asked Blair, grabbing for his clothes.

"Yeah. Before I change my mind. If he's not there, you owe me," said Jim, pulling on his own jeans and sweater, and delighted, Blair said, "deal."

"What do I owe you?" Blair asked as an afterthought as Jim pulled out of the parking lot.

"I don't know. I'll think of something," said Jim, with a small grin.

Blair looked at him curiously.

The church was dark when they arrived, and Jim pulled as far back to the woods as possible, grass be-damned. Then he and Blair took off through the woods, flashlights in hands. They weren't even at the gravesite when Jim heard the muffled sounds.

"Jesus Christ," he said, quickly locating their source; the small mausoleum at the back of the old graveyard.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," said Blair, clinging to the back of Jim's sweater with one firm hand.

Narrowly missing the old and broken headstones, the two men ran to the gate, only to see that the dilapidated structure's metal bars were apparently jammed in some manner.

"Go back out to the truck and call for backup," said Jim.

'The hell I will!" said Blair. There was no way in Hades he was going back through those woods at night in the dark.

"Then help me," said Jim impatiently, and then he saw the source of the problem; a stone that had been wedged between the bars on the doors. "Who's in there?" he called.

"It's me!" said a voice, and Blair jumped sky-high when a pale face staggered into view of their flashlight beam. "She bit me," said Brother Allen. 'She bit me," and he took his hand away from his neck where, Jim's flashlight revealed, blood was running from two tiny holes in the man's neck. Blair felt his knees buckle, and he slid onto the ground behind Jim.

"Come on," said Jim, "Let's get you to the hospital."

Blair realized vaguely that Jim was talking to Brother Allen and not to him. Then he remembered where he was and got back on his feet. His own blood was made of ice. He was scared to death. He was clinging to Jim's sweater and fighting the panic that threatened to completely demoralize him at any second.

"She kidnapped me," said the dirt-streaked pastor. Jim put an arm around his waist and Blair hastened to help. Together, they hustled the man across the forgotten graveyard and on to the dark hole in the woods that proclaimed the way out.

"Oh my god!" screamed Brother Allen. "There she is!" and he fell out of their grasps, disappearing into the woods.

"Wait!" said Jim, taking off after him, and Blair wished he had never seen the Blair Witch Project.

"Jim!" he cried, "Jim!" and then it hit him, something big and hard, tearing right into his neck and the next thing he knew he was on the ground, screaming like a banshee, hand on his throat.

"Shit," said Jim, flying to a halt. He could hear the screaming Reverend running off in front of him, and Blair screaming in terror behind him. What the hell was happening? He could see or hear nothing else human in the woods.

Maybe it's not human, Ellison, came a horrible little voice. Fuck the lunatic minister, he thought. I can't leave Blair.

"Jim? Jim, Jim! I'm bleeding!" Blair was screaming, and Jim turned around and plowed to a stop beside the fallen young man. Jim felt as wrecked as the others, but the panic in Sandburg's voice forced calm through the bigger man, making him pull at Blair as reasonably as he could and look at the wound Blair was rubbing at on his neck.

"Ssh, Sandburg, you're okay, I'm here," he said, pushing Blair's hand away from his neck.

"There's blood, isn't there, there's blood," said Blair, sounding truly frightened, and Jim held his friend around the neck and tried to see. "Oh, god," said Blair, knowing from Jim's concentration that there was blood.

Jim just said, "You're going to be okay, buddy, don't worry, you're not at the fang stage yet."

"That's not funny, Jim," Blair said, "It hurts. I've died once, dammit."

"Good news, Sandburg," Jim said, still squinting at the place, "it's not bite marks. Looks like a plain old scratch."

Blair scrabbled at Jim's shoulder and said, "You sure? You sure, man?"

"From that monster of a tree, I'd say," said Jim, looking up. Blair had run right off the path and into a gnarled branch.

"Oh god. You sure?"

Taking Blair's face in his hands, Jim said, "Would I lie to you, Sandburg?"

And out of relief, out of fright, out of a total mishmash of all the emotions he had been feeling over the past few days, Blair just leaned right on up and kissed Jim full on the lips.

Shocked, Jim said, "Sandburg, you're not dying here, okay?"

"I know," said a relieved Blair, leaning his head against Jim's shoulder. "I know."

And Jim allowed himself one brief squeeze of Blair's arm before he said, "And now, for Brother Dracula." He hurried Blair to his feet, and pulled the young man out to the opening of the woods, Blair's arm around the detective's waist.

The hysterical minister was lying curled up on the ground at the truck, wailing about demons.

"Call Andrew," Jim said, and Blair did, his neck still smarting and his heart racing. For various reasons. God, I'm going to think about that kiss later, he thought.

"Listen to me," Jim was saying to the raving man when Blair returned. "There are no vampires. Besides, Blair has a cross on. Show him your cross, Blair," and Blair did so.

"He's bleeding, too," said Brother Allen, frowning. "How'd you get bitten?" he looked truly perplexed.

"A tree limb," said Blair, glancing at Jim. Fortunately the bigger man didn't seem mad at Blair's recent rather hysterical behavior.

"It can happen to the best of us," said Jim, glancing over at Blair with a very soft look. So soft, in fact, that the ice in Blair's veins melted just a little bit. Okay, let a whole battalions of vampires come. He had Jim. At least as a friend, and maybe something else as well? He couldn't even bring himself to think about it, it was so incredible. Or maybe Jim was just being nice. Maybe he was preparing to ignore that little slip up in the woods. That was more like it, Blair thought, coming back down to earth with a bump. But that was okay, too. He was no worse off then he had been before, and at least now he had something to think back upon.

Jim tried to get a story out of Brother Allen, but had little by the time Andrew and two deputies arrived, sirens blazing. Thankfully, Blair thought, it was the deputies who got to go back to the mausoleum to look around. That was usually something Jim would have done, but for some reason, he seemed loath to leave Blair.

"How did you know to come out here?" Andrew asked.

Without a beat, Jim said, "We just thought we'd check it out just in case. Sure enough, we had scarcely gotten back there when we heard him shouting."

Blair said nothing.

"Want to meet us at the local hospital?" Andrew asked. "He does have what looks to be two puncture marks on his neck."

"We'll be there," said Jim. "C'mon, Chief," and he put a protective hand on Blair's back as they walked over to the truck. Once inside, he said, "You were right."

"Right about what?" Blair asked.

"The dream." Jim looked over at him. "My apologies."

"Man," said Blair. "This whole thing is freaking me out. Why do you think I dreamed that, Jim?"

"Must be that vampire/wolf connection," Jim said, kidding. He really didn't want to think about dreams and visions at the moment. They were too much for him even when he was at his best.

"Must be," said Blair thoughtful.

"How's your neck?" Jim asked. "We'll get that cleaned up, too."

"I'm so sorry about that," said Blair. "Man, I just really freaked. I mean, we had Brother Allen screaming about vampires, blood dripping from his neck-"

"It's okay," said Jim. "I shouldn't have taken off and left you. This whole case has been strange, Chief." And he reached out and patted Blair's thigh. Even left his hand there for a little bit, and Blair got brave and put his hand over it lightly. Immediately, Jim wrapped his fingers around Blair's.

"Thanks for being there," said Blair, swamped with emotion and not having a clue as to what to say.

"Always, Sandburg," said Jim, looking over at him and squeezing that hand.

"Yeah," said Blair happily, and the smiles they exchanged lit up the night.

"Come here," said Jim, pulling at his hand, and more than happy to oblige, Blair slid over next to the bigger man. Jim took one hand off the steering wheel, and slipped it around Blair's shoulders. Stomach full of butterflies, his adrenaline level off the scale, Blair laid his head over on Jim's arm. They rode that way all the way to the hospital, Jim adroitly maneuvering the country roads with one hand.

In the emergency room, doctors and law enforcement people were conferring. Blair had his neck scratch cleaned and lightly bandaged.

"Don't tell me, another vampire bite," said the doctor in charge when he returned.

"Just a tree limb," said Blair, smiling.

"Thank god," said the young man. "I was thinking we were going to have to call Transylvania General for a moment here." They could all hear Brother Allen shrieking in the next room. His litany of vampire abuse had not abated.

"What caused the marks on his neck?" Andrew asked, his manner calm and competent.

"Looks like two separate puncture wounds," said the doctor, "made by some kind of pointed object. Doesn't look like a bite mark, if that helps, but we are doing lab work on the fluids there."

"Could it be made by this?" asked a breathless deputy. "Found this in the mausoleum." In his hand was a plastic bag containing an ice pick.

"That looks like ours," said a rather shell-shocked Angela Shepherd, who had been in the room with her husband. "Why would it be in the mausoleum?"

The law enforcement people exchanged looks.

"Ms. Shepherd," said the doctor, "could you come with us? We have a few questions about your husband's recent state of mind."

Blair felt very sorry at the expression on the woman's face. "Man," he said to Jim. "You know that's got to be hard."

"What do you bet we find his own fingerprints all over that ice pick?" Andrew asked.

"Hum," said Jim, shaking his head. "What a case."

"My guess is he just finally went 'round the bend," said the solemn sheriff. He looked at Jim and Blair. "You two sticking around?"

They exchanged a glance. "I don't know," said Jim. "Probably going back to the motel now and get some rest. Let us know about the fingerprints. If we don't hear anything else, we'll probably head back to Cascade. Looks like there's no supernatural forces at work here after all." He smiled.

Andrew smiled, too. "I'm sorry about all this," he said. "But we just didn't know what to think."

"We still don't know what killed those cattle," Blair said, remembering.

Andrew and Jim exchanged glances.

"Wouldn't surprise me if the minister didn't have a loyal follower to help him stir up the soup a bit," said Jim. "It happens."

"We'll see if we have any more incidences," said Andrew.

"Well, definitely keep us posted, "said Jim.

"I will," said Andrew. "Thanks again." And he shook both their hands as they left.

"Nice fellow," said Blair. He and Jim got in the truck and drove back to the small motel. Blair stayed on his side of the seat this time, but his pulse was thrumming nicely as he cast happy glances over at Jim. Things were definitely looking up for them. In the motel parking lot, however, he turned and nearly jumped out of his skin.

There, obviously waiting for them, stood Victoria Cummings. "I heard what happened," she said. "My uncle left his scanner at the house."

"Yeah, they found him," Jim said, walking over to her. She wore her usual dark coat, was standing beside her nondescript mini-van.

"I guess you'll be moving on now," she said. "Back to the city."

"Yeah," said Jim. "What about you?"

"I’m leaving here," she said, looking at both of them. "You’re right, it’s not worth the headaches. Especially now that I'm heard about that minister. His poor wife."

"Yeah," said Blair.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in this," Jim said truthfully.

"It's okay," she said. "I just appreciate your scientific approach to the whole thing. Aside from Andrew, I think you two were the only folks around who didn't think I was a real vampire." She looked straight at Blair, and he smiled uneasily. "By the way," she said. "Before I go." She pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to Blair. "I made this for you," and he looked in his palm and saw a tiny sterling image of an etched metal jaguar. Shocked, he looked up, first at her, then at Jim.

Victoria reached out and lightly touched the cross that still hung beneath Blair's tee-shirt. "This way," she said, "You can wear something that you really do believe in."

"Thank you," said Blair, nearly speechless.

"You take care of him," Victoria said to Jim with a dry smile. "Finding someone to guide you through life can be quite tricky. Guard him well."

"I intend to," said Jim solemnly.

"Well, good bye," said the artist. "If you're even in Northern California...."

They smiled, and the vampire of the Antioch graveyard got into her rented mini-van and drove away.

"Man," said Blair. "This has been one strange case, huh?"

"Yep," said Jim, opening up the room and stepping inside. Their things lay there, undisturbed in the stale-smelling room. "So," said Jim, "what do you say we get some sleep and head out tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me," said Blair. Was nothing going to be said about that kiss? That handholding in the truck?

"How's your neck?" Jim asked, reaching over to touch it, and Blair lifted his chin automatically.

"Ah, stings a bit, nothing major," said Blair. They were very close. "She's right about one thing," he added, while Jim gently moved his fingers along the edge of Blair's bandage. He held up the small jaguar that Victoria Cummings had given him. "I do believe in this." And his eyes were on Jim's, trusting and open.

"I believe in you, too, Sandburg," said Jim. For a long moment they just stayed like that, frozen, and then Jim was leaning down. Closer and closer he came, until their mouths met softly and held. Blair felt jolts of lightning spin their way down his spine.

Jim's mouth pressed harder, and Blair's hands grabbed the strong biceps, hanging on as his own mouth opened against the surprising softness of Jim's.

"Love you, Sandburg," Jim said quietly. Blair grabbed him harder then, wrapped an arm around Jim's neck and pulled him closer.

"Same," he said, against Jim's mouth.

Jim started pulling at his own jacket, his lips never leaving Blair's. "Do you want to take a shower first?" he murmured.

"You're a sentinel," said Blair, his head clearing just enough to remember that. "Shower first."

"Fine," said Jim, and when he started propelling Blair toward the bathroom, Blair thought, oh, he means both of us! Well, that was fine, too.

Jim paused to get his clothes off, and Blair started doing the same thing, but Jim stopped him, said, "Hey, hang on there, Chief, I wanna do that."

"Well, then I get to do you, too," said Blair, in the issue of fairness, and Jim just smiled and shook his head.

"Stubborn," he said.

"Look who's talking," said Blair. But he was so excited to be there, he could barely get any of the buttons to cooperate.

Jim took his hands, held them for a moment. "It's late," he said, "and we're tired. Do you want to wait until tomorrow?" He leaned over, kissed Blair's head. "Because unless I'm wrong here, we've got the rest of our lives, right?"

"Absolutely," said Blair, his voice full of conviction. "But no, I'd rather not wait," he added with a sly grin. "Do you want to wait?"

"How can I resist a face like this?" Jim asked, gently touching Blair's dirt-streaked one. He got back to the business at hand, which was unfastening clothes, and Blair's breath let out with a whoosh as his jeans hit the floor. He was shivering from excitement, hands ghosting all over Jim as the bigger man's clothes finally hit the floor. Then they were standing there in the semi-darkness, only in their boxers.

"C'mon, Chief," Jim said, pulling Blair into the bathroom by the hand, still holding onto the younger man as the cop leaned in and turned the shower on to a nice, warm stream. Then Jim had his fingers in the waistband of those boxers.

"Uhm," said Blair, eyes blazing as Jim started pulling those boxers down. Despite the late hour and the ordeal he had just been through, his cock was impatient and ready. Jim smiled as he looked down at it.

"Oh, yeah," said the bigger man. He touched the tip of Sandburg, and for some reason, the gesture gave both of them goofy grins. Or maybe they were just extraordinarily happy. Jim knew he was.

Then Blair's eyes had heated once more, and he was pulling at Jim's boxers. "C'mon, big guy," he was whispering, and Jim watched his underwear slide to the floor and pool there. He stepped out of them, and Blair's hands were both on the now-exposed cock, reverently stroking. "Do you mind?" he whispered, looking up, and Jim smiled fondly down at his new lover.

"Right. Yeah, I mind," he said, leaning over and burying his mouth in Blair's neck. Blair closed his eyes, gasping, his fingers slipping from Jim's cock as the bigger man started pulling him to the shower. Then they were inside, the warm spray bathing them.

Finding the small bar of soap they had been sharing the past few days, Jim eagerly ran it over Blair's slick, naked skin. There was no rhyme or reason at first; he stroked Blair's chest, his belly, his cock. Then he wrapped Blair to him again, stopped the younger man's shivering by kissing him deeply, his hands running down Blair's back to cradle his ass.

"We can make love here," Blair said, not needing the bed.

"How about both?" asked Jim, very optimistic.

"Hey, sounds good to me," said Blair, and then he settled in for real. Jim tried to push him out of the spray, sparing the dressing on his neck, but Blair didn't care. It wasn't a deep wound, and he wouldn't have cared if it were. All he wanted now was Jim against him, their skin slippery from the water and soap as they moved around, trying to find the best way to press harder. Blair could feel Jim's fingers hard beneath his butt, moving him closer in the very important quest for alignment. Then, oh yeah, there it was, a great position and the younger man gasped, throwing his head back.

"Blair, that bandage," Jim said.

"Jim!" said Blair. "God. Don't worry about that. Worry about this, baby," he said, and gave Jim an enthusiastic thrust with his bulging cock.

Jim, distracted, moved his hands around to that cock, cupped Blair's balls, thumbed the shaft. Then he was moving in the water, falling to his knees in the hard tub, his tongue trailing down Blair's belly as he went.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, thought Blair, automatically spreading his legs, bracing himself against the cool walls as he realized what Jim was getting ready to do. And then Jim was there doing it, his tongue toying with the edge of Blair's cock, making it jerk, making it bob, making Blair go, "Oh yeah...." Blair had to close his eyes then, lived through a dizzying moment of vertigo as he felt his rock hard erection enter a tight hot world of wetness: Jim Ellison's mouth.

Yeah, thought Jim, oblivious to the hardness beneath his knees, the water coursing down his back. Blair tasted so fucking sweet. So slick, so hot, so...erotic. Jim was so horny he thought he would absolutely die. He sucked harder. Took a fist, got a good grip, thumbed the rim of Blair's swollen cock. Blair was big, bursting. Blair would feel like a fucking battering ram up his ass. He couldn't wait.

Blair was crying out now, pitiful little mews, and Jim was loving it, milking him with urgent movements and words. Raw, incredibly descriptive words, words like, "You're so sexy, Chief, god you're big, god you're hot, I am gonna suck you until you explode," words that made Blair lunge up on his toes and cry out in abandon as his essence spewed into Jim's eager mouth. Falling back onto the wall of the shower, Blair finally opened his eyes and stared at Jim with dazed shock.

"Fuck," he said.

"You want to?" Jim asked, sizzling as he climbed up from his knees, stood in front of Blair, all hard pecs and pulsing cock.

"Who the hell are you?" Blair asked, but he was smiling, a wonderfully surprised thing.

"I'm your worst nightmare," said Jim, gently biting into Blair's neck. "I've been sent here to keep you in a perpetual state of excitement." He stood back, sniffed the air between them. "Looks like it's working."

"Jim," said Blair earnestly, pulling back and looking up at his roommate. "Please tell me this is what the rest of our life is going to be like."

Jim just laughed, pulled Blair closer. "It is, baby," he said. "It is."

"You're in a good mood," pronounced the very happy Blair, and then Jim ground his cock into the student's hip.

"I could be in a better one," Jim announced against Blair's throat.

"Then by all means let me get to work on that," said Blair, shimmying up next to Jim with all the reticence of a stripper.

Jim chuckled, turned the shower off, got them towels. Blair, deliciously wicked now, only half-covered himself with his and said, "Do you really want to fuck me, Jim? Because, you know, I'd like that."

Jim hesitated, some of his bravado failing. Fucking. Now that was serious talk indeed.

"I'd like that a lot," said Blair, and throwing down his towel (some things never change, Jim thought dryly), the younger man cast a teasing look over his shoulder and then took off for the bed, that ass flashing deliciously as he turned the corner.

Jim dried off a bit more, then appeared at the foot of Blair's bed clad only in his towel. Blair, naked with the sheets pulled back, spread his legs invitingly, and said, "Here it is, baby. Come and get it."

Jim, his eyes hooded with desire, said, "You sure, Sandburg?"

"Hey, we're forever, right?" Blair asked, his voice a bit louder.

"Yep. You know the score on that," said Jim. "Forever and monogamous, if that's okay with you, Romeo."

"Your Romeo," said Blair. He watched Jim as the latter moved over to his bag. The student was puzzled at first, but then he realized what Jim was doing, and that realization made his heart skip in anticipation. Jim was getting lotion.

"The offer still stand?" Jim asked, moving to the side of the bed.

"Oh yeah," said Blair, even though his pulse was off the scale.

Jim whipped the towel off from around his waist and looked down at Blair like some kind of sculpted love god statue. That thing jutting out from his lower body suddenly looked strangely disproportionate, Blair thought, swallowing. But he could feel his own body respond in kind anyway, could already feel the nerves jitter along his rectum.

"I don't want to hurt you, Chief," Jim said, his voice gentle now. His movements were quiet, cat-like, as he slid into the bed beside his lover.

"You won't," said Blair confidently. He reached over and Jim held him for a while, smoothed the skin on his lower back.

And then, because his erection wasn't getting any softer, Jim said, "You wanna turn over on your stomach for me, Chief? Or how about your side." Jim had never done this sort of thing before, but he had heard quite a bit about it during his stints in both the army and vice.

"Wait," said Blair, heart pounding, and he crawled out of the bed, moved back to the sink where he got something off the side of it. Then he was unfastening the cross at his necklace, and Jim realized what he was doing. He was putting the jaguar on the chain and refastening it around him. "Okay," he said, scooting back into bed, and Jim was very, very touched at that little gesture.

"This a wedding ring type thing?" he asked, hoping he wasn't out-of-line with that question.

"Maybe," said Blair, eyes hot as he looked up. "A ritual thing, man. That a problem?"

"Not at all," said Jim, his voice fuzzy with desire as he leaned down and kissed Blair on the tip of his nose. He thought of the wolf that Victoria had given him, but he didn't have a chain. Then Blair's mouth was on his, and his thoughts were elsewhere.

Jim reached out for the lotion, and Blair turned around and moved across Jim's legs, getting up on all fours so that his rounded ass was presented right in front of Jim's face. Gasping, Jim could feel the sweat popping out underneath his arms, in his groin. Shit. His heart was pounding with excitement. But he said, "Chief, I want to see you."

"You can't see that? And I thought you were a sentinel." There was amusement in the younger man's voice; nerves also.

"Oh believe me, I can see it," said Jim, a hand moving up to frankly caress Blair's firm curves. "I can see every delicious bit, Sandburg," and then he was kissing Blair's ass, literally, his wet tongue sliding down into the dark crevice between the smooth cheeks. Moving around a bit to get a better angle, Jim was soon spreading the student open and seeking for the holy grail.

"Oh," Blair moaned, arching his back and moving fetchingly as Jim, further excited, pressed his tongue against the tiny hole. "God."

"Just Jim," managed the sentinel, before wriggling inside the opening. He could feel Blair shaking around him. "You okay?" he asked between licks.

Blair was thrusting his bottom back against Jim's face in reply. Jim could feel his own cock about to explode. "Sandburg," he said, "you want just my tongue? Or you want something else. Anything is fine with me. Only we'd better hurry and decide."

"I can't have both?" whined the student.

Jim smiled, said, "Later, Mr. Greedy," and gently popped him on the butt. Then Blair was carefully pulling away, disentangling himself before turning completely around and putting a knee on either side of Jim's legs, facing the bigger man.

"Fuck me," he said, swaying toward him seductively.

Jim just growled, grabbed Blair, devoured him with hungry kisses as he moved Blair's body slowly down toward his cock. Blair got the general idea and started pressing as Jim quickly got himself lubed up.

"Yeah," said Blair, eyes half-slit, as he spread himself as far as he could go and still stay up on his knees. His thigh muscles were trembling. So was the rest of his body, inside and out.

"Jesus," said Jim, grabbing Blair's ass and pulling him even farther open. Then he was adjusting other parts, and the sweaty, breathless student, wearing only the pendant of a jaguar in the hollow of his throat, began settling down on Jim's cock.

"Yeah," Blair breathed again. Okay, this was harder than it looked. It would take a while, and it hurt a lot. But he still wanted to do it more than he had ever wanted to do anything in his entire life.

"You okay?" Jim asked worriedly, at the waves of hesitation pouring off of Blair.

"Just fine," gritted Blair. He purposely settled down a little harder. Jim bit his lip to keep from crying out. "You can push up," the student offered generously, but Jim used every ounce of strength he possessed to keep from doing just that. Then Blair looked up, his ass filling with Jim's hardness, and said, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Chief," said Jim, his voice choked with emotion.

Then, after some more time, Blair gave a final cry and sank down onto Jim's lap. "Augh!" the student couldn't help but breathe. But he gazed right up at Jim, his dazed eyes full of strength and the hardness of love. "Yeah," he said. "Fuck me, Jim." Then he immediately added, "Give me a minute," and Jim did, letting Blair further adjust before the latter bit his lip, said, "Okay. Now."

And they began to move, the cop and his lover, up and down, up and down in the timeless rhythm of love and desire.

Jim, his mouth slack, let his head fall back, and then he was coming, moaning, clutching at Blair's ass and lower back and saying, "Oh yeah, Chief, oh yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming." Blair, his own cock throbbing again, squeezed Jim tightly with the muscles of his rear and the bigger man reached a thundering completion with wonderfully wordless cries.

Afterwards, as Blair lay half over on him, they finally parted, and Blair fell at Jim's side on the bed. Sore, but still horny.

"Chief," Jim said, rolling over and gathering Blair to him, and Blair went gladly, wrapping himself around his new lover.

"Wow," said Blair, his body and voice both shaking.

"You're mine now," said Jim.

"I always have been," said Blair, even though before he had met Jim, he had railed against all those little phrases that spoke of ownership. I guess it's okay to use at this moment, he contented himself with when he couldn't find his old objections. "And you're mine, too," he said, figuring in with a penny, in with a pound.

"Always have been," said Jim, kissing him on the nose. He ran a hand down the front of Blair's sweaty body, found the cock that leaned into his touch as if just waiting for him. "What do we have here?"

"Huhm." Blair just smiled into the side of Jim's neck, thrust as Jim stroked him to completion. It didn't take long, and then Blair was sleepy as they cuddled into one another's arms.

"Chief," said Jim, kissing Blair again, "you know that what we just did? I want to do it again, when we're not so tired. And I want you to be inside of me this time."

"Really?" Blair asked, very, very pleased.

"Of course," said Jim.

"Completing the bond, so to speak?"

"Something like that." And Jim rolled over, fumbled for something on the other bed for a moment before finally snagging it and moving back over.

"What is it?" Blair asked.

Jim held out the tiny package that Victoria Cummings had given him.

"It's a wolf," said Blair, not understanding. Then he did. "Did she give it to you?"

Jim nodded.

"Well, that's pretty strange."

"I don't know," said Jim practically. "Didn't you say the two of you talked about wolves? It's common symbolism in that mystical kind of claptrap world, right?"

Blair just smiled, shook his head. "Yes, Jim," he replied dryly. "In the mystical claptrap world where sentinels and shamans live, too."

Jim just smiled, pulled Blair closer to him. "Guess I can wear mine then," he said, meaning when they had sex again, and hoped it wasn't too foolish to say.

Blair was surprised, pleased, and resisted the temptation to tease his usually stoic friend. "Yep," he said.

Jim leaned down and gently nibbled at the jaguar pendant that nestled at Blair's throat. "Your dressing," he said, remembering. "We need to change that."

"Five more minutes" said Blair, closing his eyes and doing some nestling of his own.

There was a silence, then Jim said, "You know, Chief, speaking of Victoria Cummings."

"Yeah?" murmured Blair.

"It's great to be able to hear your heartbeat like this," said Jim.

Blair smiled, melted further into Jim's embracing arms, waited for the Victoria part.

"Because," Jim said, "I never could hear hers."

Funny how fast a sleepy Shaman could wake back up.

The End.