Jan-19-2002 3:54 PM Message 64 of 523

Subject: Private Conference [Belladonna]

From: cyberian_belle

Reply to: Narcissa_ [ Message 63 ]

Belle watches Narcissa follow Briant out of the parlor. The poor girl seems a bit overwhelmed, which Belle has no doubt is part of Guillaume's plans, whatever they may be. Still, Belle can tell Narcissa has accepted in her own mind the idea of allowing Guillaume to "help" her. Any port in a storm...

Belle knows from personal experience that Dahlia's guestrooms are comfortable, actually quite luxurious. And Dahlia has plenty of clothes to share -- collected over many lifetimes -- in styles ranging from Victorian to the latest fashions. Narcissa will be able to choose whatever puts her most at ease.

Once Narcissa is well out of earshot, Belle turns back to face the two elder Kindred. The next few moments will decide the girl's fate. Although Belle realizes Guillaume manipulated the current circumstance regarding the mortal, she likewise knows who has ultimate say over every occurrence within the walls of Crimson Kiss. Belle looks into Dahlia's eyes and asks: "So, what happens now?"

***

Jan-20-2002 2:47 PM Message 65 of 523

Subject: RE: Saving Time [Tricia]

From: goddessT

Reply to: Laura_Junius [ Message 61 ]

Tricia just smiles and says"Point the way Laura, I am in for the long haul."

***

Jan-21-2002 6:14 PM Message 66 of 523

Subject: To start anew

From: Narcissa_

Reply to: goddessT [ Message 65 ]

::Briant led her up the stairs to a room, his disdain for her kind so obvious, and she believed it to be because she was of lesser class than those he served. He was used to the blue blood around him...and her tastes...well...they were a bit more gruff then he was used to. Her steps were heavy with fatigue and the winding staircase seemed neverending to her tired bones. He opened the door to one of many guestrooms without a word and guided her in with an annoyed hand. 'Clothes are in the closet...if you can fit into them.' was said with a sarcastic tone obviously referring to her curves. She did notice that Belle and Dahlia were very slender and very lean. She was by no means fat...just curvier. She stood in the middle of the room on an ancient rug that seemed brand new. She kept her arms at her side and nodded to Briant. Without any further words, he left the room closing the door behind...it creaked as if were an old man trying to stand up.

She stood motionless for a moment, merely letting her gaze take in the authenticity of the room. A painting hung over the bed...Degas? Monet? She wasn't sure...all those trips to the museum and she still wasn't sure. With soft steps she crept across the room...the dark mahogany of the walls reflected a million shadows from the fireplace...the old mahogany furniture seemed to blend right in to the walls. The light to the bathroom was already on which caused her to raise an eyebrow. The marble floors were perfectly buffed and shined along with the large marble tub that was displayed in the middle of the room.

She drew hot water and let the steam envelope the room. With a slow meticulousness, she stripped, somehow feeling uneasy about this bath. She was a stranger in a strange house. Each piece fell to the ground in a rumpled heap until she stood before the bath completely nude. She figured she would use a few of the oils in the decanters by the sink, and poured in the scent of magnolia and jasmine. The scent was alluring and relaxing. She stepped into the hot water and eased down against the cool marble. She closed her eyes and thought about nothing rubbing the oiled water about her skin.::

***

Jan-21-2002 11:38 PM Message 67 of 523

Subject: 3 blind mice.

From: Vampiress_Dahlia

Reply to: Narcissa_ [ Message 66 ]

~*Dahlia scans the faces of Guillaume and Dahlia, her eyes passing over a solumn-faced Ian. Her feelings for the new mortal girl surprise her. She isn't even remotely interested in her. The girl was indeed intruiging. The fact that she had found the Kiss proved that she was meant to be there. That in itself would immediately peak Dahila's interest usually. But she couldn't rouse herself to care about the girl's fate. That was up to Guillaume. Speaking of which...*~

~*Dahlia knew that Belle had heard her last unspoken words to Guillaume, and was shocked and disturbed by it. Belle should not have been able to detect them. Perhaps it was their bond, or Belle's own strength, but nonetheless it did not sit well with Dahlia. Taking special care to mask her mind and project her words directly to Guillaume's mind, she whispers...*~

'Guillaume. It is time for us to have that talk. Follow me.'

~*Turning to Belle she smiles softly and bends down to savor the taste of her lips for a moment. Pulling back, she strokes her face.*~

"Guillaume and I need to discuss some things. We will return shortly, my dear. In the meantime...try to pull Ian out of his shell a bit." she finishes with a smirk.

~*Dahlia turns and looks over her shoulder at the elegant older male behind her. She smiles and quirks her finger at him, beckoning him to follow in her wake.*~

***

Jan-22-2002 9:43 AM Message 68 of 523

Subject: To the Woodshed? [Guillaume]

From: Anborn

Reply to: Vampiress_Dahlia [ Message 67 ]

Under other circumstances, having the beautiful and notoriously effervescent Dahlia crook her finger at him in that manner would have thrilled Guillaume. Now, it only worries him. Has he overstepped his bounds with Narcissa?

Technically, Guillaume owes Dahlia nothing other than the appropriate gratitude and behavior of a well treated guest. But she is many millennia his senior, and Guillaume naturally defers to her on most issues of Kindred priority. Also, as a practical matter -- while Guillaume is physically bigger and probably stronger than Dahlia -- if it ever came to a fight between them, he suspects he would not have the advantage.

As Guillaume follows Dahlia into one of the corridors leading away from the parlor, he wonders if this might not be a pivotal moment, the one which will ultimately determine if his decision to leave his pleasant seclusion will lead to the fulfillment of his plans, or prove a devastating mistake.

***

Jan-22-2002 5:47 PM Message 69 of 523

Subject: All cleaned up

From: Narcissa_

Reply to: Anborn [ Message 68 ]

::She suddenly wakes up, not having quite fell asleep in the relaxing bath, but enough to make her lose track of time. She sits up suddenly, but realizes she must not have drifted off for long as the water still remained warm and a few bubbles continued to linger. She dipped her head under water and washed out the diesel smell of the bus from her long locks. Having had her fill of being in the bath, she lazily climbed out and dried while heading towards the closet. She stopped short however when she noticed an outfit had been picked out for her. She bites her lip looking to the door...it was still closed, yet she did not hear anyone come into the room. The way it was laid out was deliberate...posed.

It was a simple dress....crimson with tight bodice and long sleeves. She could tell just by looking at it that it was going to be tight...the skirt was straight with a long slit up the back. She grinned a bit thinking Briant must have put this dress out for her...who else could have? She let the towel fall to the floor and stood before the bed naked merely staring at the dress. She picked it up slowly and started to put it on...the fabric was so soft, perhaps the softest she's ever felt against her skin. The fabric slid against her skin like a snake shedding its own until it completely devoured her. She went to the dressing table where a neat comb and brush sat tempting her to tame her fiery locks. She did so, quickly brushing out the curls only to have them return as her hair dried.

She pulled out a small bag from her luggage and applied spills of makeup across her face...some mascara, blush and bright red lipstick to match the dress.::

***

Jan-22-2002 6:54 PM Message 70 of 523

Subject: Delinquent [Belladonna]

From: cyberian_belle

Reply to: Vampiress_Dahlia [ Message 67 ]

Belle is still recovering from the effects of her first encounter with a red-blooded mortal since fully becoming a vampire. Thus, she purrs wantonly as Dahlia kisses her, and pouts when it ends.

"Guillaume and I need to discuss some things," Dahlia explains. "We will return shortly, my dear. In the meantime, try to pull Ian out of his shell a bit."

Belle watches the two elder Kindred depart, then turns to face Ian, who stands tuning his mandolin in the far corner.

"I trust by asking me to pull you out of your shell, Dahlia was not suggesting that I treat you like escargot," Belle laughs. The bard's quirky smile shows he appreciates her joke.

"Truth be told," Belle continues. "I'm feeling restless. So if you don't mind, I think I'd rather leave you to your own devices -- give you a rest from your music -- and go out to stretch my proverbial wings."

Ian simply bows, then starts playing something light on his mandolin. Belle feels a little guilty not honoring Dahlia's suggestion that she entertain the musician, but Belle just cannot abide the idea of sitting still right now. Her heightened vampire senses are screaming for action. Besides, Ian simply does not seem the type to make small talk.

"Please tell Dahlia I went back to the lake house to gather a few of my old things," Belle requests, then walks through the foyer and slips out the front door.

***

Jan-23-2002 2:20 PM Message 71 of 523

Subject: Willing Observer

From: Iethro_Tullius

Reply to: cyberian_belle [ Message 70 ]

"I'm feeling restless," the Vampirette Belladonna tells Ian needlessly. "So if you don't mind, I think I'd rather leave you to your own devices -- give you a rest from your music -- and go out to stretch my proverbial wings."

Ian bows in polite agreement, and begins a little improvisation on his mandolin, set to a subdued march rhythm. Belladonna heads for the door, calling over her shoulder. "Please tell Dahlia I went back to the lake house to gather a few of my old things."

Ian does not mind the solitude, and is in fact glad that Belladonna decided not to follow Dahlia's advice that she engage him in conversation. Ian prefers to observe the drama unfolding around him -- and provide the appropriate musical accompaniment -- rather than actually participate in the brutal beauty of Dahlia's world.

The random notes he's playing line up into a familiar lament...

~~~

Everybody's jumping on the circus train;

Some jump high, some jump off again.

And the razzmatazz is rolling, women folk unveiled,

All truths to light, all crosses nailed.

Aiming high where the eagle circles,

Where he keeps his tail feathers clean

And wonders, "am I still a free bird...

Or just a part of the machine?"

They hitch their covered wagons and they roll out west --

Politics in the pockets of their Sunday best --

Shaking hands, kissing babies, for all that they're worth.

They promise you gold, promise heaven on earth.

Still, that old bald eagle circles,

It's not the first time that he's seen

His reflection in the eyes of innocence.

He's become just another part of the machine,

Part of the machine.

I wish I had an eagle like you

To look up to.

He could be my wings to fly in a big bird sky

Up above the whole machine.

Part of the machine.

Part of the machine.

Smart guys aren't running, they're home and dry

Up in the mountains where the eagle flies.

They wouldn't take that job offered on a plate.

They got to fly with the eagle, and he won't wait.

Looking down on the smoke and the factories

Till the truth creeps up unseen,

They see themselves in the faces of their children

And realize they too are part of the machine.

Part of the machine.

I wish I had an eagle like you

To wake up to.

He could be my wings to fly

In a big bird sky, hey

Let's be part of the machine.

Part of the machine. Part of the machine.

Part of your machine.

~~~

***

Jan-25-2002 2:16 PM Message 72 of 523

Subject: A re-entry

From: Narcissa_

Reply to: Iethro_Tullius [ Message 71 ]

::She looks around for shoes unseen to her and figures wearing her old worn boots would be an atrocity to this fine red dress indeed. She figures the shoes aren't entirely necessary and she did just have a pedicure a few days ago...the crisp silver nail polish stands out neatly as she adds a final toe ring. She chuckles to herself and takes an anticipated breath before leaving the privacy of this room only to be speculated about again by her hostess. She finds her way back down the dark staircase led only by the way by the glow of the firelight from the room she had left earlier. The floor creaks beneath her cautious step and she fluffs her drying hair a bit before re-entering. She comes into the room catching the last few lyrics of Ian's song and looks around in disappointment. Had her company been that bad? Perhaps everyone went to bed...::

"That song was just lovely sir. Do you know where everyone has gone?"

::she takes more cautious steps towards the fireplace::

***

Jan-25-2002 3:27 PM Message 73 of 523

Subject: Still No Word [Laura]

From: Laura_Junius

Reply to: goddessT [ Message 65 ]

"I am so sorry, but Mr. and Mrs. Phillips left for Puerto Vallarta yesterday," the Phillips' housekeeper tells Laura over the freeway Truck Stop's pay phone. The clipped British enunciation superimposed upon her South Asian accent suggests a degree of education not in keeping with her menial employment. "They will be away for the remainder of the month."

"What about Belle?" Laura asks.

"It is my understanding that Miss Belinda is at the summer house this week, keeping up with her studies." The maid's voice holds a tone of pride, with the implied criticism for students like Laura who spent Spring Break playing in Florida.

"Have you heard from her at all?" Laura persists.

"No, but that is not unusual. She has a cellular phone if you think it necessary to bother her."

"I've tried. It's been turned off all week."

"Indeed. Miss Belinda treats her education very seriously."

Laura knows she can cite many incidents that would challenge that assertion -- Belle's good grades were more a result of innate intelligence than diligent academics -- but Laura sees no advantage in shattering any illusions. "Well, if you hear from Belle, please let her know I am looking for her."

"Of course, Miss Laura. Good night."

"Good night." Laura hangs up the phone and turns to face Tricia.

"Well?"

"No one's heard from her all week," Laura sighs. "And now her folks have left the country, apparently without even bothering to tell their daughter 'goodbye.' That's pretty typical for them."

"Try not to worry," Tricia says as she reaches out to touch Laura's shoulder, then uncomfortably withdraws her hand. "With luck, we'll have this all cleared up in a couple hours."

"Okay," Laura smiles unconvincingly. "We are making great time, aren't we? Much better than I expected... thanks to your lead foot! At this rate, we should get there not much past midnight."

***

Jan-26-2002 12:20 PM Message 74 of 523

Subject: Out & About [Belladonna]

From: cyberian_belle

Reply to: Iethro_Tullius [ Message 71 ]

Despite her long dress and high heels, Belle moves through the dense forest with the agility of a prowling wolf. In the dim moonlight, her eyes catch details she once would have overlooked in broad daylight. She is quickly out of the trees and at the highway.

She sees her Miata on the far side of the road, with an unfamiliar Camaro parked behind it. She crosses the highway and sees both cars' windshields sport blaze orange stickers warning the owners that if the vehicles are not moved withing twenty-four hours, they will be towed away at their owners' expense. Belle laughs, remembering that only yesterday such trivialities would have concerned her.

It occurs to Belle that with her newfound strength and speed, she could easily trot to the lakehouse and back well before sunup. The idea of stretching her muscles in that way tempts her. But she decides she does not want to be away from the manor that long, especially having left without telling Dahlia.

Belle reaches out and touches the orange sticker on the windshield of her Miata. Normally, it would take a sharp razor blade, a pint of solvent and a tedious half-hour to remove it from the glass. With her enhanced dexterity, Belle slips her long fingernails under its edge and peels it away.

The door is unlocked. She sits behind the wheel and retrieves the spare key from under the floor mat. The engine roars to life and gravel flies as Belle pulls from the shoulder and makes a squealing U-turn. She presses the accelerator to the floor and speeds on her way to what she intends as one last visit to the realm of her prior, mortal existence.

***

Jan-26-2002 10:14 PM Message 75 of 523

Subject: The adventure continues(Tricia)

From: goddessT

Reply to: Laura_Junius [ Message 73 ]

Tricia, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable touching Laura, pulls back, and says "With luck, we'll have this all cleared up in a couple hours."

When Laura comments on her leadfooted driving, Tricia says "The faster we get there the faster you will get your answers. I should drive the rest of the way and you give directions,Deal? But first I need more Coffee. Hot and Black."Tricia heads for the diner at the Truck stop to get a cup to go.

***

Jan-28-2002 5:30 PM Message 76 of 523

Subject: Vacancy [Laura]

From: Laura_Junius

Reply to: goddessT [ Message 75 ]

The narrow road approximately follows the meandering lakeshore, making it difficult for Laura to get her bearings. Tricia, driving slowly for a change, glances sideways, seeing Laura leaning forward in her seat trying to spot some landmark that will remind her of the location of Belle's family's summer home.

"There!" Laura practically shouts. "That driveway on the left with the two brick posts. That's it... I think."

"You think?" Tricia chuckles uneasily. Nearly 16 straight hours in a small rental car -- during which Tricia had done most of the driving -- has left her exhausted and edgy.

"Umm... Yep. See the sign?"

The headlights now fully illuminate the nearer post, and the wrought iron plaque mounted on it, reading: "PHILLIPS."

Tricia turns between the two masonry posts and follows a long, gently curving, gravel driveway. Bright sparkles of reflected moonlight reveal the lake they approach. Soon, a large Victorian mansion looms, silhouetted between the silver water beyond.

"Damn!" Laura curses. "Belle's car's not there."

"Now, there is no need to panic," Tricia assures her. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything." Tricia thinks for a moment, then asks, "How old is Belle?"

"Twenty."

"Does she have a fake I.D.?"

"Of course."

"Well, if she spends every summer up here, she must have friends around. It's just past midnight. For all we know, she is out at some bar having a great time." Then Tricia laughs wearily. "Or she may even be on her way back to school. Wouldn't that be ironic? If we had passed her going the other way on the highway somewhere...."

Tricia parks in front of the house, and they sit quietly thinking. It is too early in the Spring for crickets, but the mating chorus of countless chirping frogs melodiously drifts up from the water's edge, feeling like a lullaby.

Finally, Tricia again speaks. "Neither of us are in any shape to drive anymore tonight. Besides, if we went to the cops now, what could we tell them? That we can't raise our friend on her cell phone... oh, and, 'No officer, her parents aren't at all concerned... Where are they? They saw fit to leave for Mexico.' The cops would chase us out of the station. I don't think they will put much stock in your premonitions."

"You're right, of course," Laura sighs.

"Here's what we'll do," Tricia continues, trying to sound confident. "We'll get a few hours of sleep. If Belle hasn't shown up by sunup, we'll try calling her at school. If she's not back there by then, we'll go to the police. Okay?"

"Okay."

Tricia follows Laura's gaze to the big, dark house. "I guess we'll have to sleep in the car," Tricia adds. "Unless you think we can get in there."

Laura smiles for the first time in hours. "Follow me."

She gets out of the car and walks right into the bushes to the side of the wide covered porch. By the time Tricia catches up, she emerges holding something that looks like a flattened baked potato. Laura turns a dial on the bottom of the object, and it opens with the unmistakable dull grinding of cheap plastic hinges. The key Laura extracts glimmers in the moonlight.

"Belle is notorious for losing her keys," she explains. "She always keeps a spare hidden somewhere. We've used this one before."

They climb the broad wooden stairs, cross the porch and use the key to enter. Laura turns on the lights and they walk through the first floor.

"No signs of struggle... No half-eaten meals laying out ..." Tricia observes.

"Yes," Laura agrees. "But the house is warm. The furnace is on. If Belle had gone back to school, she would have turned the heat way down."

They then tour the second story. When they reach Belle's room, Laura lets Tricia enter first, afraid of what they might discover. All they find are several articles of clothing spread on the bed, clearly the remnants of someone putting together an outfit.

"See, I told you she was probably just out for the evening," Tricia repeats. "I bet she'll be back here anytime now."

"I hope so," Laura replies, looking around the room. She then faces Tricia, whom she finds yawning. "The guestroom is the one at the top of the stairs on the left. You go ahead and sleep in there. I'm going to write a couple of notes to Belle -- one for the front door, the other for the windshield of our car -- so she doesn't freak when she pulls up and finds someone in the house. Then I'll sleep here in Belle's bed. I want to make sure she wakes me up as soon as she returns."

***

Jan-28-2002 6:33 PM Message 77 of 523

Subject: Into the woods.

From: Vampiress_Dahlia

Reply to: Anborn [ Message 68 ]

~*Dahlia opens a small door at the end of the corridor. Using her preternatural sight to peer into the darkness, she slowly descends the stairs, hearing Guillaume follow her. As they reach bottom of the stairs, Dahlia walks towards another door in a far corner of the wine cellar. She opens it, the cool night air rushing in. Stepping out into the night, she casts a look over her shoulder to see Guillaume follow and shut the door behind him.*~

~*She turns slowly, facing him with a calm expression. Her burnished brunette locks swirl around her in the breeze. She folds her arms beneath her breasts and smiles.*~

"You like the human."

~*Guillaume nods.*~

"You wish to make her one of us?"

~*Guillaume nods again, knowing it was a statement, not a question.*~

"Alright. But know this; she is a very modern girl. Her ideals are very democratic...americanized. If you turn her, the bloodlust could prove to be too much for her. I've seen it a thousand times. Piercings, tattoos, Harley Davidson's and black nail polish. When young ones today are turned, they want to rule the world."

~*He does not nod this time. Instead he listens in respect.*~

"If the girl does this, would you take care of what is left?"

~*Dahlia stares at Guillaume intently, waiting for his answer. Could he kill one made from his own lifeforce? His own flesh? His pet?*~

***

Jan-29-2002 9:07 AM Message 78 of 523

Subject: Necessity [Guillaume]

From: Anborn

Reply to: Vampiress_Dahlia [ Message 77 ]

"You doubt if I could do what is necessary if a pupil of mine goes rogue?" Guillaume asks Dahlia. He shakes his head disappointedly. "Have you forgotten Colette? Or, perhaps, you never heard...."

Guillaume sighs, then continues. "After Colette's excesses in Paris during the Revolution, it was I who arranged for her capture. I myself escorted her to the guillotine." He shudders slightly, then smiles sadly. "I still keep her skull on my desk as a paperweight; although in her honor, I did have the eye sockets set with rubies. Tell me, Dahlia, could you do the same with your precious Belle?"

The Vampiress' eyes flash dangerously, and Guillaume holds up his hands, then concludes, "That was a rhetorical question. Let us hope such will not prove necessary with either of our new pupils. Now, shall we return inside and see how they fare?"

***

Jan-29-2002 2:08 PM Message 79 of 523

Subject: Settling in for the night

From: Narcissa_

Reply to: Anborn [ Message 78 ]

::Seeing as Ian doesn't answer, she suspects that he doesn't like her much like the butler Briant. She furrows her brow and moves back to one of the plush couches that invites her to sit. She feels a bit of a draft that causes her to shiver but the fire of the hearth quickly re-warms her bones. The dress fits so snugly it reminds her that she is wearing it...she smooths out the folds as she sits and contemplates the silence around her. She can practically hear the creaks of the old wooden beams in the ceiling move and the scamper of mice in the walls. The only obvious sound is the firelog crackling against the heat surrounding it. She sighs audibly enjoying the silence of the countryside.::

***

Jan-30-2002 5:37 PM Message 80 of 523

Subject: Corresponding [Belladonna]

From: cyberian_belle

Reply to: cyberian_belle [ Message 74 ]

Belle slowly pulls the Miata up next to the strange car in front of the lakehouse. Twenty-four hours ago, finding intruders in her home would have scared Belle away. Now she relishes the idea of catching burglars in the old house... and exacting retribution.

Nevertheless, she is not disappointed when she finds the note on the Neon's windshield and reads it.

She enters the house, seeing a similar note on the front door. She immediately detects the scents of two women. One she recognizes as Laura, even though until now that scent was known only to her subconscious. She follows it up the stairs and into her former bedroom.

Laura lays curled on the bed, deeply asleep, wearing a wrinkled cotton blouse and blue jeans. Belle sighs. Of all the aspects of her mortal life, she realizes the only one she will miss is her friendship with Laura. Belle sits on the edge of the bed, and gently rests her hand on Laura's outstretched forearm. In her exhaustion, Laura does not stir.

Belle studies Laura, using her enhanced vampire senses. She wants to memorize perfectly the face she plans not ever again to see. It has never before dawned on Belle how exquisitely beautiful Laura is, with her porcelain skin, fiery curls, and lithe body....

Belle realizes her own breathing has deepened. The warmth of Laura's skin under her palm ignites a fire in Belle. Belle sits in shock at her own feelings. Will this happen with every mortal I meet? Belle wonders. She has not yet had an opportunity to discuss with Dahlia the nearly overpowering physical hunger -- and sexual desire -- she felt for Narcissa earlier this evening. Belle realizes she knows almost nothing about the true nature of her new immortality.

Belle understands, however, she must find the strength to leave. She must abandon her best friend, and the lost life she represents. Belle takes Laura's sleeping hand in her own, in a gesture of farewell...

...and feels the living pulse in Laura's wrist. Belle moans softly with lust, both for blood, and for the pleasure that would come from feeling Laura succumb to her. Instinctively, Belle's thumbnail slices across the blue veins in the back of Laura's hand.

"Ow!" Laura whimpers, pulling her hand away and coming fully awake. She looks around, blinking. When she sees the figure on the bed next to her, she forgets her pain. "Belle! Oh my God! It's you! I was so worried. I had a premonition... Some dreams really... That's why we came looking for you. I thought... I thought something terrible had happened...."

"Shhh, Sweetie... Shhh..." Belle strokes Laura's unkempt hair, fighting the urge to pull her into a kiss. "You needn't worry. I'm fine, really.... But I can't... I'm not... I'm not really here... This is just another dream... One to let you know I'm happy and well. But you're still tired. You should go back to sleep...."

The effect of her own words surprises Belle. As soon as she says "sleep," Laura's head droops, and then lolls, as if the girl is fighting the effects of a barbiturate.

"But... But...." Laura mumbles.

"No... No... You should sleep. Just remember when you wake tomorrow that I am fine and happy. You should go back to school and not worry about me.... Now sleep... Sleep...."

Laura settles back onto the pillow, her tranquil breathing a soft purr.

Belle's gaze is drawn from Laura's serene countenance, to the injured hand draped across the mattress next to her. A line of scarlet drops have welled up along the scratch Belle inflicted. Belle cannot resist. She bends down and slowly runs her tongue across the wound, savoring every bit of blood there.

When she sits back up, Belle is amazed to find the cut almost fully healed, leaving just a thin pink line in its place. She kisses the scar, then leans forward and gently kisses Laura's lips.

"Goodbye, my dear friend" she whispers. "I hope your life is happy and fulfilling." Belle stands and leaves the room without looking back.

Nonetheless, as she descends the stairs, she remains troubled by what Laura said. Belle knows about Laura's premonitions. If Belle does not do something to alleviate Laura's concerns, the poor girl will never stop looking for her.

Belle is too new at all of this to have any confidence in her nascent powers. She does not know if the suggestion she planted in Laura's mind will hold; she had enough trouble just lulling her back to sleep. To be safe, Belle decides to write her own note.

Belle realizes if she returns to Dahlia's manor in her car, it might lead Laura to places she should not go. Belle slips the note under the windshield wiper of the Miata, then walks silently into the dark forest.

***

Jan-31-2002 3:17 PM Message 81 of 523

Subject: Eve of Epiphany [Laura]

From: Laura_Junius

Reply to: cyberian_belle [ Message 80 ]

For many nights in a row, Laura has had a variety of strange and disturbing dreams. Tonight is no exception. As she lays alone in her best friend's bed, again deeply sleeping after a short disturbance, new images well up from her subconscious:

Laura remains fast asleep, even as her hands... her fingers... desperately roam across her writhing body.

***

Jan-31-2002 3:50 PM Message 82 of 523

Subject: Silent Nature

From: Iethro_Tullius

Reply to: Narcissa_ [ Message 79 ]

"That song was just lovely sir," Narcissa says. "Do you know where everyone has gone?"

Ian contemplates the nearly limitless ways in which to answer such a question. The girl misinterprets his momentary silence, and walks away. He watches her take a seat and relax into her surroundings.

"Pardon me, m`Lady," Ian says softly. "I was deep in thought. Thanks to you for your kind words regarding my music."

The bard smiles briefly, then continues, "As to the others, all I can tell you is that each has gone where his or her own nature naturally leads.... As must we all, dear lady, as must we all...."

He gently strums his mandolin and begins to sing. \

~~~

I once met a girl with the life in her hands

And we lay together on the summerday sands.

I gave her my raincoat and told her, "Lady, be good!''

And we made truth together, where no one else would.

I smiled through her fingers and ran the dust through her hands,

The hour-glass of reason on the summerday sands.

We sat as the sea caught fire.

Waited as the flames grew higher

In her eyes, in her eyes.

We watched the eagle born

Wings clipped, tail feathers shorn,

But we saw him rise, we saw him rise

Over summerday sands.

Came the ten o'clock curfew. She said, "I must start my car.

I'm staying with someone I met last night in a bar.''

I called from my wave top:"At least tell me your name!''

She smiled from her wheelspin and said, "It's all the same.''

I thought for a minute, jumped back on dry land

Left one set of footprints on the summerday sands.

I once met a girl with the life in her hands

And we lied together on the summerday sands.

~~~

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Feb-5-2002 5:43 PM Message 83 of 523

Subject: Dreamy [Laura]

From: Laura_Junius

Reply to: Laura_Junius [ Message 81 ]

Everyone has, now and then, the feeling of being watched. Tricia wakes up feeling it. This is especially disconcerting because despite the wan moonlight illuminating the room, she does not immediately recognize her surroundings. Then she remembers where she is: the master bedroom in the Phillips' northwoods lakehouse. She has traveled here with her friend Laura von Hoeffner to check on their schoolmate, Belle Phillips.

The feeling persists. Tricia sits up in bed to find Laura gazing at her from a couch across the room.

"I had two more dreams," Laura explains, "but they weren't nightmares this time. In one, I dreamt that Belle is alive and well, which is a good sign if my dreams really are premonitions." She lays on the couch, stretching sensuously in the dark silk nightgown she must have found in some closet in the house.

"And the other?" Tricia asks softly.

"The other?" Laura's chest heaves as she sighs deeply, then smiles with strangely languid contentment. "The other.... I'm not sure how to describe it.... Or even if I should."

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