I owe a very special thanks to two very sweet ladies for helping me out with this. They keep me motivated. And keep me wanting to write. Thanks.

 

Any characters you recognize belong to Sherrilyn Kenyon or Laurell K. Hamilton. I’m just doing this for fun. This is rated PG.

 

Nate’s Intro 11: Out of the Frying Pan

 

I was sitting there eating my pizza and talking to a female caller while waiting for the news and weather to finish.  She wanted to hear some Marilyn Manson, one song in particular. It was a cover of an old Depeche Mode song called “Your Own Personal Jesus.” It was actually better than the original.

  

We finished our conversation. I put on some ads and went to check on Myra. She'd been asleep for a little over two hours. I wasn't sure how alcohol reacted with shifters here.

 

I walked into the lounge to find it empty. She was gone, again.  I guessed she was all right. I didn't know why I cared. I didn't trust her and I trusted her friends even less but something kept eating at me.  Why was she doing everything to drive a wedge in between us? All I wanted was one friend here, just one that I could count on. I had no network to fall back on, no squire to run interference. Hell, the squire I had was older than me.  No need to dwell on that. I just needed to get through this night and go home. I prayed that Douglas didn't call in sick.

 

Back in the control room the ads were winding down and I cued up a few songs. Then I sat there daydreaming. I wondered about little things, if my apartment was still in one piece, if Sanctuary was decorated for Christmas yet, how many credit cards Simi had gone through.  I had to smile when I thought of Ash's demon. She loved to shop.

 

The control room door opened and Douglas walked in. He was about five nine and one eighty. All muscle, he looked like a pro-wrestler. He shaved his head and I swear he polished it. It was always shining. This morning he was dressed in jeans and a blue tee shirt that read “I Ain't Your Daddy” in red letters.

 

I was going to comment on that but thought better of it. Instead we talked about the prospects of a new Disturbed CD coming out in early summer and what the hell did people see in Ashley Simpson. He'd always get this weird constipated look on his face when he tried to sing one of her songs. It was too funny.

 

I stayed an hour longer than I should have just talking. It was almost daylight when I walked out the back door to see that the Viper had a new hood ornament.

 

It was all dressed in black with long black hair and blood red streaks throughout, pretty in that 'I'm gonna kill you sort of way'. In her fingers she held a burning cigarette. The smoke drifted around her as she raised it to her lips. She took a deep drag and slowly blew out the smoke. She examined the glowing tip before she turned and looked at me through narrowed eyes. It looked like she was sizing me up or else wondering what I tasted like.

 

I moved closer to the car. “You know that stuff will kill you? But I guess you aren't too worried about that.”

 

She just looked at me for another minute. “Many things may kill me. But THIS will not.”

 

“Is there a Goth convention somewhere that I didn't know about?” She didn’t answer that one. “You plannin' on sittin' there the whole way to my place?”

 

She took another drag from her cigarette and blew it out. “We're not going to your place.  You were given a choice, and it seems that you didn't make the right one. I'm here to escort you to the meeting you kindly declined.”  The sarcasm was thick in her voice.

 

I tilted my head to the side. It was my turn to size her up. “Typical. Hide behind a woman. Of course I guess he's snug in his bolt hole somewhere, while you're here to do his dirty work.”

 

Her nostrils flared and I would have sworn that her eyes flashed emerald. Her voice was as haughty as any Roman general. “My sex has nothing to do with it. I was the right person for the job. If you continue to insult me you're going to be very sorry.”

 

I was beginning to worry about the light. Although I wasn't sure it mattered at this point. “Look Miss... Why don't you just go back to your boss and tell him that you talked to me and I still declined. No need to get ugly and I really need to get home.”

 

She flipped the cigarette out into the parking garage. She stood so quickly it was a blur. Raven hair swirled around her body as she faced me. “I've already told you, you aren't going home and as for ugly... Well, you haven't even seen ugly yet.”

 

How did guess she wouldn't be reasonable. I had started carrying the daggers that Ash had left. I reached under my jacket and pulled them out of the belt sheaths. “Wanna reconsider?”

 

She reached inside her black leather duster and produced two Glock semi-automatic handguns. With a roll of her eyes she said, “Just like a man to bring a knife to a gun fight.”

 

Well the odds just got worse. Daggers and guns did not play nice together but I was not going back willingly. I lunged bringing one dagger upward, one downward. I thought I heard a hiss before she glided behind me with a well-placed roundhouse kick. I was on the ground with the barrel of one of the Glocks practically embedded in the base of my skull.

 

She leaned over me. “You're either foolishly brave, or stupidly crazy.” She pressed the barrel in more. “And for your edification, this isn't even close to ugly.” She grabbed my collar and pulled me up. “You're driving.”

 

It was then that I noticed the slash in the right sleeve of the duster. She started to pick up the daggers all the while keeping one of the guns on me. They disappeared. She pulled back as if her hand had been burned.

 

Eying me suspiciously she walked around and opened the passenger side door. She motioned me to get in on the other side. I could have run but I wasn't brought up that way. Besides I knew I couldn't outrun a nine-millimeter slug.

 

I got in behind the wheel, started the car and waited for her to tell me where to go. Hell seemed like a good place. She eyed me quietly from the other seat. After some kind of internal battle she asked, “You going to tell me what happened to those blades?”

 

“I guess the gods didn't want them falling into the wrong hands and try not to bleed all over the upholstery.”

 

She looked down sharply at her sleeve and a feint growl filled the car. “You ruined my present from Aries. He's going to be pissed! Fuck that! I'm pissed! And I'll bleed where ever the hell I like. Right now it's all over your damn car.”

 

Aries? She couldn't know Aries. These people didn't believe in the ancient Gods. Olympus was just a page in the history books. She fought like a Hunter but Acheron would have told me if there was another of us here. Wouldn't he?

 

Shaking my head at my musings I asked, “You going to give me directions? Or are we just going to sit here all day?”

 

“Without looking up from inspecting her wound, she told me, “I'll tell you when to turn.” She wiped the blood away as she prodded the slash on her arm. Softly, as if she were talking to herself she added, “Not silver. It should close soon.”

 

“Okay Goth Princess. Wanna tell me which way out of the parking lot?”

 

This time I watched as her eyes bled over to emerald green. In a voice that barely sounded human she said, “Take a right out of here. Go down to the second light and make a left. Think you can handle that?”

 

I sat there staring into those eyes. They were hypnotic. I'd seen eyes like that before, Dante's people in their panther form. Still, the pull wasn't quite so strong. I looked away finally. “Another Katagari. What am I a magnet for you people? And what's with the silver comment? Should I invest in some?”

 

She shoved the gun into my side. Everything got brighter like a floodlight had been flipped on. I knew my eyes had changed. She told me, “Drive.”

 

There was a tap on the driver’s side window. She hid the gun down by her door. I pressed the button for the window. It was Charley, one of the daytime security guards.

 

As the window came down I greeted the man. “Hey Charley.”

 

He got this weird look on his face. “Hey man what the hell's wrong with your eyes? Them some new kind of contacts?”

 

“Yeah. My eyes are a bit light sensitive sometimes.” I reached up over the visor and put my sunglasses on. They were mirrored on the outside. “What's up?”

 

“I saw you sitting here and you're usually gone by now.” He was still trying to look at my eyes though I knew he couldn’t with the sunglasses.

 

“I was up talking to Douglas, lost track of time.”

 

“Okay then. Well drive safe.” I smiled and nodded. He walked away.

 

The woman next to me spoke up then, “Light sensitive?” I didn't answer. Instead I pulled out of the lot. “What are you?” I figured they already knew what Myra knew so I didn't answer. “That's alright. We'll know soon enough.”

 

That was it. I slammed on the brakes. She hit the dash and yelled a long string of obscenities. Good thing traffic was light. I whipped the car around and headed toward my place. I was going to take a shower and I was going to go to bed. If she wanted to stay, fine. If not, she could come back later and I told her so, right before she jerked the steering wheel to the left. I had to slam on the brakes again to keep from hitting a parked car.

 

She pushed the barrel of the gun under my chin as I turned to look at her. I sighed. “Look I need to sleep. I prefer to sleep in my own bed. Your boss isn't awake at the moment anyway. What could it hurt?”

 

“It could hurt a lot.” As if to emphasize the point, she pushed the gun deeper into my throat, causing my head to tilt back painfully. “Now turn this car around and do what I tell you.”

 

So I did and that's how I ended up locked in a room below a strip joint owned by a vampire and guarded by shifters. At least there was a bed. The shower would have to wait.