Sat, 12 Feb 2000 
     

This is the fourth story in my silly series.  It follows "LaCroix's Lament."
I own none of the characters.  I just thought I'd make a little
light-hearted fun of them.  That's all.  No harm intended.  Thanks to Stormy
for beta-reading the last story as well as the grammar help from Penny.
Anyone who cares to may archive.  Adult innuendo, but I don't think it's any
worse than some of the soaps, er, I mean "daytime dramas."

General Mischief, Part 2 of 3
By Elise


     Ten thirty-six A.M. was the time according to the bedside clock. Nick
lay very still not daring to even think loudly.  He was afraid of waking his
new bride.  Natalie lay curled up asleep next to him.  She had forced him to
give it up twice before letting him out of the shower and then again before
falling to sleep.  His body was beginning to resemble a pin cushion.
     Levitating above the bed, Nick floated silently down the stairs. Once
in the living area, he flipped on the large screen television, making sure
to mute the sound.  Then he checked the local weather forecast.  When the
screen flashed the words, "sunset at 5:58 P.M., " he sighed with relief and
turned off the set.
     Hitting the speed dial button on the telephone, Nick pulled the phone
as far into the kitchen area as the cord would allow.  He waited impatiently
for someone to answer.
     "Hello, Schanke residence."  Myra's voice was cheerful this morning.
     "Myra?" Nick whispered hoarsely.  "This is Nick.  Let me speak to Don,
please."
     "Nick?  Oh, Donnie said you two were back.  Now you two will have to
come over for dinner one night.  Donnie says my pot roast is out of this
world, and.."
     Myra was so nice; Nick hated to interrupt her, but he didn't know how
much time he may have left.  Nat could wake up and attack him again at any
minute.  "Myra, I hate to cut you short," he interrupted her, "but I really
have to speak to Schanke now."
     "Oh, okay.  Donnie!" She didn't sound upset at all.
     There was a moment's fumbling until a froggy voice spoke up. "H'lo?"
     "Schanke, this is Nick.  I need your help."
     Schanke was instantly awake.  "Nick?  What is it, Buddy?" he asked.
     Nick lowered his voice.  "Could you call the loft tonight at 5:15 and
tell me I need to come in to work?"
     "What?  I don't get it.  Why do you...."
     "Schanke, just do it, okay?   Tell Nat there's an emergency. Anything!
Just insist that I have to be down there tonight. Will you do it?" he begged.
     "Yeah, yeah, I'll do," Schanke mumbled.  "But you'd better have a good
explanation.  Jeez!"  Then Don Schanke hung up the phone and rolled back
over to sleep.
     Nick had barely put the receiver back in its cradle when Natalie came
down the stairs.  She looked for all the world like a succubus.
     "How did you get down here without my hearing?" she asked, cocking her
head to the side.  A lascivious pout settled about her mouth.  She licked
her lips as she stared at his nude body.
     Please not again, Nick begged silently.  "I levitated."
     "Levitated?" she asked brightly.  "I'd forgotten vampires can levitate.
Would you show me how?"
     Thrilled to have her show an interest in anything besides sex, Nick
smiled with relief.  "Of course, Nat," he told her happily.   Soon the two
of them were floating about the loft.
     "Oh, Nick, this is wonderful!" she cried.  Speeding up, she caught up
with him and wrapped herself around him.  "Imagine all the new positions we
can manage.  Have you ever done it in mid-air?" she asked giddily.
     "No," he confessed timidly.
     "You mean, `not yet,'" she supplied.  Fiercely, Natalie kissed him and
planted her fangs in his jugular.  Nick's fangs grew long and hard, and his
male anatomy copied the response.
     For once Nick was glad he was a vampire.  Between his traitorous body
and Natalie's sex drive, if he were mortal he'd soon be dead of exhaustion.
                            *     *     *
     Mrs. Zolkwoski had gone home before lunch, leaving LaCroix in the
capable hands of his Mentor teacher, Mrs. Tawney.   The woman was a
veritable fount of information, and LaCroix found himself enjoying her
company immensely.
     Suddenly, their pleasant lunch was interrupted by a strange, elfin
creature.  "Are you going to eat your peaches, Mrs. Tawney?"
     Lucien LaCroix looked down at his elbow to find a small girl staring
pleadingly into the face of his Mentor teacher.  "No, I don't think I will,
Lucy," Mrs. T. answered the girl.  "Would you like to have them?"
     "You bet!"  Then, quickly, before the woman had time to change her
mind, the girl snatched up the two peach slices and vanished.
     LaCroix was appalled.  "Her parents should teach her better manners,"
the General complained.
     "Lucienne lives in a foster home," Mrs. Tawney told him.
     "Lucienne?"  The child's name as well as her appearance startled the
General.  He cast an appraising eye at the little girl.  Although she had a
slight frame and looked fragile, she was a beautiful child.  Her long
platinum blonde elflocks framed a heart shaped face filled to overflowing
with her huge, luminous eyes.  Those eyes, a clear and bright cerulean, were
her most striking feature.
     Mrs. T. noticed how he was watching the child.  "Her foster mother
takes in four other foster children, and her monthly check from the
government doesn't cover all the bills or put enough food on the table at
times."
     The General now turned to look squarely at his Mentor teacher.  She was
a short lady, still petite, even though she must be somewhere in her
sixties.  Once fair hair, paled now with gray, was pulled up on her head,
but her blue eyes were steely and the strength in them was more than match
for his own.  He liked this feisty little old lady.  What a glorious woman
she must have been in her youth.  Pushing aside his tray (the food was
nutritious, he was sure, but entirely unappetizing), he folded his arms on
the table before him.
     She shrugged, lumping the shoulders of her navy blue sweater that had
seen better days.  "I guess putting food on their plates is more important
than teaching them manners, wouldn't you say?"
     "I stand corrected," LaCroix answered with a bow of his head.  He
turned his head back to the fragile looking child.   The General felt his
heart go out to the child in a manner that he hadn't experience in more than
two thousand years.  The last time he had utterly lost his heart to a child
was when his daughter Divia had been born.   How he wished he could do
something for her.  Abruptly, he snapped his head around, eyes shining
fiercely.  "How long has she been in foster care?" he demanded.
     Mrs. Tawney eyed him speculatively.  "Lucy?  Nearly all her life," she
told him.  "She was found wandering the streets some five years ago. She
was a toddler at the time, and no one has ever stepped forward to claim
her."
     LaCroix's face clouded over with outrage.  This angelic child?
Abandoned?  How could a parent abandon a child?  Suddenly he wished he could
take her in, shelter her, raise her, and give her all the things that a
child should have.
     "Are you married, Mr. LaCroix?"  Mrs. Tawney asked intently.
     "What?" he asked confused.  "No, I am not."  Puzzlement shown on his
handsome features, features so like the tiny girl.  "Why do you ask?"
     Nodding sagely, Mrs. Tawney told him.  "Social services requires all
prospective adoptive parents to be married."
     "I do not understand," LaCroix told her coldly.
     The gleam in her eye only shone brighter.  "Of course you do, Mr.
LaCroix," she told him in a conspiratorial whisper.  "I know what you're
thinking.  I can read it in your face.  You want to help that child, give
her a better life.  There's no harm in that.  I've adopted four of my
students who needed a home."
     LaCroix stared dumbfounded at the small woman.  How could she possibly
have guess what he was thinking.  Slowly, he smiled and touched his temple
with a graceful gesture.  "Touche."
                          *     *     *
     The clock proclaimed it noon.  As a newborn vampire, Natalie should
have been dead-to-the-world asleep.  She wasn't.  She was busy trying to
awaken her husband.
     "Please, Nat," he begged, "just let me rest a while."  He grabbed the
pillow and pulled it down over his head.
     She pried the pillow up and began kissing, nibbling, and biting his
ear.  "I did let you rest," she told him.  Now she was sucking on his
earlobe.
     Nick was getting aroused in spite of himself.  "Nat, a fifteen minute
nap is not a rest," he complained and jerked the pillow back over his head
more firmly this time.
     Natalie sat back on her heels with a huff.  Then a slow, wicked grin
crept over her vampiric features making her look nearly demonic. "That's
okay, lover," she told Nick as she pulled away the sheet exposing his naked
body.  "I really don't need that end anyway."  Soon she was kissing,
nibbling, and biting him again.
     That's when the pillow hit the floor.
                         *     *     *
     The afternoon progressed without too much trouble, and LaCroix soon
found himself on the bus ramp standing next to Mrs. T.  Perhaps he was
showing favoritism, but he personally made sure that Lucy was safely seated
on her bus.  Mrs. Tawney didn't fail to notice and smiled broadly at him.
     Dr. Bradley ambled over.  "And how was your first day?" he asked.
     "I survived," LaCroix quipped.
     Mrs. T. snorted.  "That's because it's a Friday.  Just wait until
Monday morning."  She moved off to help one of the stragglers onto a waiting
bus.
     "Now, I'll need you to be here on Monday at 7:30 A.M. bright and
early," Dr. Bradley informed LaCroix.  "You'll be in charge of the fifth
graders holding room."  The principal nodded, smiled, and headed back across
campus.
     The General later asked his Mentor exactly what Dr. Bradley had meant.
"Mrs. T., what is meant by a `holding room'?" he asked, a puzzled expression
on his face.
     She smiled, cracking lines all across her withered face.  Her blue eyes
danced merrily.  "So, he's put that job on you already, has he?"  She
laughed and took him by the arm, ushering him back to the building. "You
get to collect all the fifth graders in one large room and keep them from
killing each other and you before school begins," she explained.
     Until lately, LaCroix would have taken the "killing" comment quite
differently, and he shot his Mentor a sharp look, causing peels of merry
laughter to escape.
     "I don't mean that literally," she said.  Then she became rather
serious and shook her head.  "Then again, now days, some of these children
go in for all sorts of violent games.  They think killing or hurting others
is cool, fun even."  She looked up at him, a sad look in her old eyes.
"They like music oozing with profanity and raw sex, video games and movies
about murder and mayhem.  The catch phrase of the day seems to be `It's all
right as long as you don't get caught.'"
     LaCroix opened the door for Mrs. T. and followed her into the building.
He thought long on her words, and his thoughts bothered him.  Getting the
room set for Monday morning occupied a good forty minutes of his time, but
he still couldn't shut out her words.
     What she described was basically the vampire lifestyle, but a daylight
version of it.  Hurting and killing for pleasure was how he had lived for
the past two millennia.  Although he had never cared for vulgar language, he
had engaged in more than his share of sex.  Murder and mayhem had been his
way of life.  Why did it bother him now to think of these innocent mortal
children learning the same lifestyle?  To think of little Lucy growing up to
face such a life?
     LaCroix shook his head as if that action could loosen such thoughts.
He gathered his belongings and trekked to the faculty parking lot to
retrieve Nick's Cadillac.  It was nearly 4:00, and he still had some
shopping to do before returning the Cadillac.  He wasn't used to having time
and concerns weigh so heavily upon him.  With a sigh, he got behind the
wheel, started the engine, and headed to the store.
                            *     *     *
     The phone rang waking Natalie from her light doze.  She pushed her
tangled hair out of her eyes and picked up the receiver.  "Hello?" she
answered huskily.  Already, she could feel herself growing hot, thinking of
her gorgeous husband sprawled out face down next to her.  Absently, she
reached out to stroke his alabaster skin.
     "Uh, Nat?"  It was Schanke.  "We're having a, uh, emergency of sorts
down here, and I really need Nick to come down."
     Natalie's voice was cold and hard when she answered.  "Nicholas is on
vacation.  Someone ruined our honeymoon to London, so we are having it here
and now."
     Schanke hated this.  "I know, I know, but, see, I really, really need
Nick on this one."
     "Who is it?" Nick rolled over.  He was silently hoping it was good old
Schanke.
      Natalie handed him the phone.  "It's your partner," she informed him.
      "Hello, Schanke, what is the problem?"  Nick used his official voice.
     "Danged if I know," Schanke told him.  "You said for me to call, and I
am, though I don't mind telling you I feel like a dog lying to Natalie and
all.  And, man oh man, does she sound sincerely pissed."
     "I see," Nick said into the phone.  He glanced back at Natalie and
shook his head, a fake frown on his face.  Natalie looked like a tiger about
to pounce.  Nick could swear he could almost see a tail swishing from side
to side.  He swallowed hard.  "Are you absolutely certain the documents must
be filed tonight?"  He switched the phone to the other ear.  "Could you
swing by and pick me up?"
     "Yeah.  I'll pick you up in half an hour.  Oh, and Partner, you owe me
a big explanation for this one," Schanke fussed through the phone line.
"Goodbye."
     Nick set the phone back in place before turning to face his hellcat of
a wife.  "Look, Nat, Schanke needs me to finish some paperwork.  He can't do
it alone."  He stood making sure to wrap one of the sheets around himself.
"I won't be gone long.  Maybe an hour or two," he said with a smile.
     Natalie was following him slowly across the bedroom, the lioness
stalking her prey.  Nick grinned lamely.  He pointed to the clock on the
bedside table.  "It's five twenty-two," he told her.  "I should be back by
seven thirty, eight at the latest."  Natalie was still advancing; Nick was
backing away.  "When I get home, we'll share a couple bottles of bloodwine
and watch a movie.  Just like old times, okay?"
     "Nope," she told him.
     Nick was actually fearful for his body at this point.  He licked his
lips nervously.  "Maybe you'd like me to teach you to fly?" he asked
hopefully.  He had back into the bathroom by now, and she had him cornered.
     "Nope," she told him again as she wrapped her arms around his body.
     He swallowed before asking in a high pitched voice.  "What then?"
     She smiled a lazy smile and licked her lips again.  "When you get back,
we'll try the hard positions."  Nick nodded helplessly in answer to her
statement.  That's when she bit his neck.

End of Part 2