Sun!  Gloriously warm inviting sunshine!  Summer sunshine!  In February!  Tracy stepped off the plane and almost dropped to her knees in praise of the all-powerful sun god!  Sure, Toronto winters were never the most forgiving, but this year’s had been particularly bad.  And after eight severe snow storms in six weeks, Tracy knew that she’d be booking her vacation time somewhere warm, sunny, and far, far away from Canada.

        And boy howdy did it look like she’d picked a winner!  With Sydney, Australia, surrounded by sandy beaches, mountains and -- not to mention -- oodles of blazing bright sunshine, she’d found her cure for those winter blues!  With a happy sigh, Tracy made her way through customs and out into the wonderful thirty-two degrees Celsius Sydney sun.  She hailed a cab and headed off for her hotel, which was just off Manly Beach, north of the Harbor.  She couldn’t help staring at the Opera House as the cab coasted along the way; seeing it in person was just sort of impressive.

        Tracy was pretty proud of herself for making it all the way to her room before squealing like a little girl.  It was just so exciting!  Being here, all the way on the other side of the world, alone.  In the land of didgeridoos, the Crocodile Hunter and everything else that just made the land down under so amazing!  She smiled to herself as she walked across her room and opened the drapes to reveal a breathtaking view of the Sydney Harbor.

        She lay down on the huge king-sized bed and watched the boats go by.  She hadn’t been able to sleep on the plane, and the time change was starting to catch up to her, but even as she yawned, she smiled again.  She’d always wanted to see Australia and here she was.  Thousands of miles away from her father, the precinct, and, especially, vampires.

        When Tracy woke, her room was dark.  She cursed softly to herself as she sat up groggily, hoping it wasn’t too late, because she was starving.  She glanced at the clock on the nightstand: midnight.  Well, hell, Sydney was a huge city; surely she could find some place still open, right?

        Pulling back on her shoes and grabbing her purse, she made sure she had her key card before slipping out of her room . . . and almost broke her neck as she fell over something into the hall.

        "Ack!" Tracy yelped as she tumbled over what turned out to be a man and his bag, though what he’d been doing sitting in the hall -- leaning against her door, no less -- she couldn’t begin to guess.  But as it was, he seemed to come to just in time to catch her before she landed face first on the carpet.

        "Easy there, Baby Jane.  Gots to look before ya leaps."

        His Cockney accent was instantly recognizable.  Tracy found herself closing her eyes and groaning without even looking up.

        "Bird?  You ‘urt?"  Screed -- and it was the carouche; Tracy knew beyond a shadow of a doubt -- sounded concerned as he gently lowered her to the ground.

        He rolled her onto her back and made as if to look for injuries, but as soon as Tracy felt his hands on her leg she sat up so fast she felt the blood rush from her head.  She’d never been so close to passing out since Vachon had gone looking for his hand!  "Screed!"  She asked dazedly, "What are you doing in Australia?!"

        Screed’s green eyes widened, as if he were surprised by the question.  Then he simply smiled at her and helped her to her feet.  "Can’t a droog go ta see the sights?  I ‘appen to like Oz-land, spankyou very much."

        Tracy just stared at him for a full minute, her eyes narrowing.  "Just happen to be seeing the sights in the hall outside my room the night I got here?"

        Screed sighed and looked away.  "We needs ta talk, Sweetness."

        Tracy groaned.  "No, no talk.  Vacation!"  She led him back into her room, still complaining under her breath as she sat in one of the chairs near the picture window.  The panic she’d felt at first seeing Screed so far from Toronto was subsiding, replaced with a cold dread that was spreading across her shoulders and creeping up her neck.  This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.  He was here for her, and that couldn’t be good.

        Screed sat opposite her and waited for her to settle down.  She didn’t look at him and she obviously didn’t want to hear what ever it was he had to say.  He frowned; it’s not like he wanted to ruin her trip.  He knew she worked hard, fourteen-hour workdays, six-day weeks -- hell, that’s nothing he’d want a part of!  He watched her closely as she fidgeted in her chair.  At last she seemed to resign herself to the inevitable and peeked up at him through blonde bangs.

        "So?" Tracy asked, finally.  "Do I have to go back to Toronto?"

        "Nah, Sweetness, ya jus’ ‘ave ta deal wit’ me a bit, thas all."  At Tracy’s confused expression, he rushed to explain. "See’s Vachonetti, Urs and mes, we used ta run together inna crew, ya knew tha’ roight?"

        Tracy nodded slowly, no clue where he was going.

        "An’ ya know there was a fourth un with us before?  Tha Frenchie Bourbon?"  Screed sank back into his chair, his eyes darkening a bit.  "Well, tha Frog’s tha reason I’m ‘ere. "

        Tracy held her questions and waited for him to continue, but her mind was already jumping ahead.  Yes, she’d heard of Bourbon before.  He and the rest of the "Crew" had had some sort of falling out a few years before Vachon, Screed and Urs had come to Toronto.  She’d never gotten any details, but what she’d gathered from Urs was that Vachon and Bourbon had a huge fight about something and were no longer on speaking terms.  She’d honestly assumed the fight either had something to do with either Urs herself or possibly the Inca, which was always a sore subject with Vachon, so she’d never pressed for more information.  But that certainly didn’t begin to explain why Screed would follow her to Australia!

        "Looks like tha Frog’s been nosin’ around Vachonetti’s business," Screed began, his eyes drifting out to the view of the harbor.  "Some might say some o’ ‘is business is you, Sweetness, so whiles ol’ Javy is out lookin’ fer Bourbon, I’m supposed ta look after you.  Make certain ‘e don’t come lookin’ ta start a fight that ways."

        Tracy bit her lip to stop from cursing again, not that Screed would care if she did.  Dammit, she didn’t want to give up her dream vacation because of some stupid blood sucker!  She glanced back at the carouche, but he was still watching something out the darkened window.  She sighed.  They’d become almost friends of late, Screed, Urs and her.  Hell, Screed had made the joke many times, much to Vachon’s annoyance, that Tracy was the newest member of the Crew.  She wasn’t even surprised to see him here rather than Vachon himself; things had cooled a while ago between her and the Spanish vampire as she went from "mortal who knows" to merely one of the gang.  But that still didn’t explain everything.  "You really think he’d come all the way out here just for me?  I mean, I’ve never even met him!"

        Screed slowly turned his eyes to her; he looked so apologetic that Tracy instantly felt guilty for snapping at him.  After all, it wasn’t his fault.  She nearly growled, but instead stood up and began pacing the room.  She didn’t like this one bit.

        "This sucks."  Tracy continued pacing.  She could feel Screed’s eyes on her, but he’d seen her do the same thing when she got stuck on a case a dozen times before, so she didn’t think twice about showing her frustration.

        The carouche shrugged.  "It ain’t that bad, is it?  Jus’ a friend-like ta go around wit’ after dark.  You’ll still get yer ‘oliday, Baby Jane."

        "Hurmph," Tracy grunted as she threw herself back into her chair.  "So I suppose daylight activities are out of the question?" she asked with a sigh.

        Screed reached across the space between them and squeezed her knee.  "Now, no need ta be getting’ all gloomy gus like!  Ya can still see all the sights, do tha touristy thingees an’ such."

        "Tanning on the beach doesn’t really work at night," she said wryly, but she smiled weakly at him all the same.  "How’d you get so lucky as to get babysitting duty anyway?"

        "Twas either me or Ursa-lala, and I figgered you wouldn’t want to go shoppin’ fer tha ‘ole two weeks."  He winked at her.  "Besides, I ‘appen ta like the land o’ Oz."

        "Been here before?"  Tracy perked up a bit; maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.  She just had to look on the bright side -- sure, she wouldn’t be biking out into the desert, but she burned too easily, anyway.  So there were complications, dammit, she was still going to enjoy her trip!

        "Nah fer a ‘undred years.  Place ‘as changed a might."  He stood, then asked, "Where was you going anyways, Baby Jane?"

        "Going?" Tracy blinked.  "Oh!  I was going to go try to find a place to eat.  I’m starving."

        "I suppose we can find sumpthin."  He offered her his arm.  "Milady."

        "Kind sir," she smiled.  Okay, maybe not the start of a dream vacation, but not a nightmare either.

        They ended up at a place called the Rose, Shamrock and Thistle Hotel.  It was a friendly, lively pub that still had live blues music playing when they made their way in at one in the morning.  Tracy ordered fish and chips and a coffee, while Screed ordered a Fosters and no food.  She eyed him when his beer arrived, but he paid her no mind.

        Tracy sat back; the pub had a nice feel about it and she could feel herself relaxing.  In the background, she could hear people chatting and she drank in the accents that always struck her as sounding happy and carefree.  She smiled at Screed and he smiled back as an old blues man took the stage to start his last set.

        "So, you said the last time you were here was a hundred years ago?"  Tracy sat forward.

        Screed smiled at her enthusiasm.  Never mind that she’d known Vachonetti, himself and Urs for almost two years, she still got a kick out of the fact that they were walking history books.  "Maybe I wuz off a mite.  Prolly been abouts one-thirty or so, just after thare gold rushin’. "

        Her grin grew.  "Tell me about it?"

        He shook his head and smiled back, beginning to whisper her tales of adventure.  Sometimes his stories took on a fanciful air, and while Tracy occasionally looked a bit skeptical, she never challenged him on any of his more "creative" memories.  He was beginning to suspect she listened to his stories for entertainment value only, which was probably for the best.

        They were so engrossed in their shared whisperings that they didn’t notice the pub had closed until the overhead lights came on.  They blinked up in surprise and were ushered out onto the street with all the other late night drinkers.  Neither felt like going back to the hotel, so they followed a few college kids over to a place called the Blackmarket Nightclub, which was an after-hours club that only opened at four and kept the music going as long as there were people standing.

        After ordering a few more drinks -- on Vachon’s tab, Screed was happy to explain -- Tracy somehow convinced Screed to go out on the floor with her.  She’d never seen him at the Raven before, so she had no idea if he could dance or not, but she didn’t feel like going out all by herself, so she dragged him along.

        It was fun.  The night’s DJ was spinning terrible pop remixes, but bad music was just an excuse for even worse dance moves and the crowd was definitely obliging.  Tracy couldn’t remember when she’d had a better night out.

        Tracy woke the next day around three.  She sat up, rubbing her eyes as she yawned before remembering where she was and who she was with.  She peeked off the edge of the bed to see Screed curled up with a blanket and a few pillows on the floor beside her.  Last night, she’d thought about offering to share the bed, but that would have been just a little too weird.  Besides, why he didn’t just get his own room was beyond her.  Vachon was apparently paying Screed’s way, though where the Spaniard was getting the money she probably didn’t want to know.

        Screed seemed to think the danger posed by Bourbon was serious enough to come all this way and sleep in her room, and, well, he obviously knew better than she did and she really wasn’t ready to become a chewed part of some ongoing vampire feud anyway.  Sighing, Tracy crept her way across the floor to the bathroom.  There she quietly shut the door and turned on the shower.

        As she stepped under the hot spray, she wondered at what she was going to do all day.  Surely it would be all right if she went out for a little bit?  Just to the beach, or a little shopping?  Spending another four or five hours cooped up in the room being quiet while the vampire slept just didn’t sound like much fun.

        She frowned.  If Bourbon was here, he could conceivably get to her if she went out.  Sure, vampires didn’t like the sun much, but she knew from Vachon and Screed that there were plenty of ways to get around a town during the day without setting foot in the sun, and Sydney was most likely no exception.  But then again, the hotel was right across from the beach; surely if she stayed in the blazing Australian sun, she’d be safe, right?

        Making up her mind, she climbed out of the shower and pulled on her favorite pink bikini.  She threw on a pair of shorts, a tank top and her sandals before grabbing her beach bag.  As an afterthought, she scribbled out a short note to Screed promising she’d be careful, then slipped out of the hotel with a happy sigh.

        Slipping on her sunglasses as she stepped out onto the street proved a good idea as the summer sun blazed overhead.  She made her way across the street and onto the sandy beach.  There were people everywhere; hordes of teenagers ran like packs down the back, while families and sunbathers sprawled closer to the water.  Tracy stopped at one of the vendors and bought a blue raspberry shaved ice before throwing down her towel and claiming her spot to sun.

        And to think, Tracy grinned, it was probably negative seven degrees Celsius back in Toronto!  She slipped off her shorts and tank, before grabbing the 45 SPF sunblock from her bag and slathering it on.  Pale Canadians and tropical sunshine didn’t mix well.  Her eyes wandered over the crowds, content to people watch as a regular tourist instead of a cop looking for signs of trouble.  There were toddlers being held up by parents in the shallow rolling waves, and surfers further out, enjoying themselves in the sun.  Her attention turned back to the beach as someone turned on a boom box and reggae began playing just barely in earshot.  Tracy nibbled at her frozen treat as she soaked it all in.  This is what she’d been hoping for when she’d booked her trip.  Lazy contentment, and the only snow to be seen was on her snow-cone!

        Tracy was just about to lay back and doze when something caught her attention from the corner of her eye.  A red van had pulled up in the street directly parallel to the beach.  She wasn’t certain why she’d noticed it, except that it was in a no-parking zone.  She frowned; it was probably all that talk of Bourbon making her paranoid.  But nonetheless, she found herself watching the van through her sunglasses, the red van with the windows that were so tinted they were almost black.  She finished up her snow-cone, but no one came out of or went to the van.  It just sat there, parked by the beach for a full twenty minutes before finally driving off.

        "I’m being paranoid," she told herself as she gathered up her things once the van was gone.  "What are the odds they were looking for me?  Most likely they were just checking a map or something."  But despite her own assurances, within minutes she was on her way back to the hotel.

        As she slipped back in, Screed was still on the floor snoring softly.  But as she crept past him on her way to the bathroom, he rolled over and opened his eyes.  He looked confused a moment, then smiled.  Tracy blushed when she realized she hadn’t put back on her clothes, but was just standing there in her pink bikini with its little white polka dot design.  "Uh, hi Screed."

        "Sweetness," he said by way of greeting as he sat up, his eyes never leaving her.  Suddenly though, with a twitch of his nose he smelled the sunblock and realized she must have gone out.  Tracy almost winced at the lecture that she expected to follow, but he just sighed and stood to stretch the kinks from his back.

        Tracy was surprised, but also relieved.  She was so used to getting treated like a misbehaving child by her father and partner -- and sometimes even Vachon -- that it was refreshing not to be called on things like this.  She had been careful and all.  She watched him pick up her note and scan it before tossing it in the trash.  He smiled and then disappeared into the bathroom with his bag.

        "Huh," Tracy sat on the bed with a shrug.  No lecture.  For the first time she was actually glad Screed was here. I t was actually . . . nice.  "Huh."

        Tracy was still on the bed, watching TV in her bikini, when Screed finally came out of the bathroom.  She’d switched to lying on her stomach with a leg bent at the knee, with one foot doing small, mindless circles in the air as she fidgeted with the sound and such on the controller.  She’d been trapped in her bikini for almost an hour, so she’d given up feeling self-conscious about it a while ago.  She had discovered something to feel embarrassed about though, being caught watching Aussie soaps.  Geez, and she though the American ones were outlandish!  She flipped the channels to some music show and turned her attention to where she’d heard Screed come in.

        "Hey, what are we doing tonight?" Tracy asked, then noticed how he was dressed.  "Hey, you look nice!"

        "Welly, figgered we might try sumpthin’ more fancy than a pub tonight eh?  ‘Ence tha togs."  Screed looked away from the smiling bikini-clad girl with a small cough.  "As fer wot ta do, I’m up fer anythin’, Sweetness.  It’s yer ‘oliday after all."

        Tracy climbed off the bed and circled around him.  He was wearing light-weight gray pants and a loose sage green silk shirt.  He looked somehow both comfortable and strangely elegant at the same time.  She’d seen him dressed in a suit once; it’d been Urs’s birthday and the four of them -- Urs, Vachon, Screed and herself -- had all gone to Urs’s favorite opera, Tosca, to mark the occasion.  And while everyone had dressed up, Screed had looked miserable in his obviously borrowed suit.  But tonight, well, tonight he looked great!  "I’d better go put on something purty so I look like someone you’d be seen with huh?"  She circled back around and smiled, "I just hope I brought something fancy enough!"

        And with that, Tracy grabbed her own bag and headed to the bathroom.  And it was Screed’s turn to sit on the bed, which he did, sinking into the mattress with a huge sigh.

        When they arrived at the restaurant Screed had chosen, Tracy sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she’d indeed decided to wear the best dress she’d brought.  Even as it was, her all-purpose little black dress almost wasn’t fine enough for Forty-One, one of the most exclusive restaurants in Sydney.  Right away, she knew Screed must have called ahead and made reservations, because they were shown to a luxurious private dinning room with a spectacular view over Sydney Harbor.  It was the classic postcard view of the Opera House and she couldn’t help but gasp when she saw it.

        The menu was all French-based foods with Asian influence, a match for the impressive setting.  As they were left with a bottle of wine, Tracy found herself turning wide eyes to her companion.  "Screed?  Why?  I mean, this place--"

        "Don’t ya like it?"  Screed sat forward a bit, setting his wineglass down.

        "It’s amazing," Tracy said, still in awe of the place.  However, you just didn’t take a friend to a place like this, and she wasn’t sure what to say if Screed thought this was a date.  But as she looked across the table she realized she couldn’t go on; she was just going to hurt or insult him if she did.  "Thank you."

        Screed looked away, but was clearly pleased.  "Thares a bloke back ‘ome, comes out ta Oz a lot, says this ‘ere is his favorite.  Thought ya might get a kick out o’ it.  Urs likes ta dress up an’ such too every now an’ again."

        Tracy took a sip of her wine to hide her frown, then almost choked when she realized she was actually disappointed that he brought her here with no ulterior motives.  He’d brought her here for the simple fact that he’d thought she’d enjoy it.  It was terribly sweet and more than she could have hoped . .  so why did it feel like someone had just canceled her birthday?  She forced a smile, though; she was being silly.  It was just the romantic setting, that’s all.  Screed was a friend, nothing more.

        It turned out that Forty-One had one of the more extensive wine cellars of the vampire variety in the southern hemisphere, and Tracy was shocked when the waiter didn’t even blink an eye at Screed’s order of Cabernet Sauvignon with "accents."  Tracy herself ordered the fillet of wild barramundi with roasted shallots and shiitake mushrooms; it was one of the chef’s specialties, she was told.

        The conversation, if possible, was almost better than the food.  Screed was charming and his accent seemed to soften as he relaxed throughout the meal.  By the time dessert was brought -- a dark Valrhona chocolate truffle cake with armagnac macerated chestnuts that Tracy almost gave up her citizenship for -- the two friends were lounging comfortably together as they thoroughly surrendered to Forty-One’s decadence.

        After leaving the restaurant, they strolled hand in hand through the Royal Botanical Gardens.  Though the gardens closed to the public at dusk, Screed was able to "persuade" the night-watchman to give them a bit longer.

        "So why’d ya pick Oz-land fer yer ‘oliday anyway, Baby Jane?" Screed asked, still warm and slightly unfocused after all the wine.  He slid his arm around her waist.

        "I got a deal on the air fare for one," Tracy didn’t mind the arm; in fact, she leaned against him contentedly.  "But I’ve always wanted to see Australia.  It’s so warm and open, seems a world away from Toronto, ya know?  Plus," she gave a small laugh, "when I was fifteen, Crocodile Dundee came out and I was in love with the whole country after that."

        "Crocodile Dundee, eh?" Screed grinned.  "Always like that movie.  Funny lookin’ bloke with an accent gets the gorgeous, sophisticated blonde.  What’s nah ta like?"

        "Nothing," Tracy giggled, turning towards him with smile.  "You’ve been wonderful, you know that?  I’m glad you came on vacation with me."

        "So am I," he answered, dipping his head to bring his lips to hers.

        It was a gentle kiss, warm and comfortable in a way that was unusual for a first kiss.  As her head tipped back, Screed’s arms came around her and they both let out soft sounds as they moved closer together.

        "Now isn’t this a pretty picture.  The rat-catcher finds love!"

        A voice came from the shadows, and in an instant Tracy found herself being shoved behind Screed.  "Bourbon," Screed nodded at one dark blob; she figured he must be able to see, but it had grown much too dark for her mortal eyes.  "What brings yer frog self ‘ere?"

        "Ah, must we play games, my old friend?"  The man finally drew close enough for Tracy to see.  He was stylishly -- if a bit effeminately -- dressed in tight black pants and flowing black silk shirt.  His hair was dark blonde and hung in curls to his shoulders.  His brow line was high and his nose small; he looked young, but Tracy remembered Screed mentioning once he’d been a Musketeer.

        "You were tha one ‘oo always liked games, mate," Screed’s voice sounded calm, but his grip on her wrist, keeping her behind him, was like steel.  This was not likely to be a friendly reunion.  "Yer nah ‘ere lookin’ fer trouble?"

        "I had come here looking for something, I admit that," Bourbon just laughed, a self satisfied kind of chuckle as he walked in slow, wide circles around the pair.  "But this, this is much more intriguing."

        "There’s nuthin’ ya needs with tha girl," the former sailor twisted, keeping the other vampire in sight.  "But if ya wants, we can meet fer a drink.  Chat over ol’ times if that’s wot yer after."

        "There was a time when we’d reminisce and share the company of a beauty like the girl."  The Frenchman smiled an awful smile, taking a step closer.

        Tracy’s eyes widened; this was not looking good.  "I thought you were looking for Vachon?!" she blurted out suddenly.  "Why are you here?"

        "So she speaks."  Bourbon came closer, and, ignoring Screed’s audible growl, took Tracy’s hand and brought it to his lips.  "It’s a pleasure, Miss Vetter."

        Now, Tracy had known that he must know who she was; after all, how could he find her if he didn’t?  But hearing him say her name was unsettling, to say the least.  "Uh--"  She started, but then let loose a started yelp when she felt his teeth on her skin, "Acck!"

        Screed physically flung her away from the Frenchman, even as the smell of her blood rushed into the night air.  He let lose a sound that was more animal than anything and lunged at Bourbon.

        Tracy climbed to her feet and for a moment hovered, uncertain what to do.  Screed and Bourbon were hurling each other around, hitting, biting and snarling, fangs fully extended and eyes red with fury.  After a second, Tracy realized she was being ridiculous; there wasn’t anything she, a mortal, would be able to do about a fight between century-old vampires!  She took off at a dead run towards the cultural center in the middle of the gardens.

        She had to pick the lock to get in.  Luckily, a misspent youth running with Bruce had honed her skills, and she was in in less than a minute.  Once inside, she looked at her hand; he’d bitten a good chunk off the top, near the side up by the wrist.  It was bleeding heavily, but didn’t look too serious.

        She grabbed a tee-shirt with the Botanical Garden’s logo emblazoned on the front and wrapped it as tightly as she could around the wound.  Next, she started to search for a weapon.  Not that she didn’t think Screed could take the younger vampire, but if the French-vamp ran and happened to choose this direction, she wanted to be ready.

        She looked around at the displays, seeing drums and boomerangs, and diagrams of Aboriginal settlements.  Finally, she spotted something that might work.  She grabbed the long, thick stick, but it was much lighter than she needed for bludgeoning the undead.  "Don’t be stupid, Tracy," she said out loud.  "No, you can’t do that with a didgeridoo!"

        But just as she was about to put it back, Bourbon came crashing through the plate glass window overlooking the gardens.  Tracy screamed, and without even consciously thinking about it, broke the instrument over her knee and plunged the splintered wood into the roaring vampire’s chest.  He gave her such a look of shock, but then his eyes seemed to glaze immediately.  He was done by the time Screed followed him inside.

        Screed paused just inside the broken window, taken aback by the sight before him.  Then he carefully stepped over the body and came to Tracy’s side.  He gently pried the remaining piece of didgeridoo from her hand and led back outside into the cool summer night air.  "Are ya all right Tracy?" he asked quietly.

        "He’s dead," Tracy turned huge eyes to Screed.  "He’s already dead."

        "Tha wood, musta been ‘oly er sumpthin."

        "Are you angry?" Tracy asked suddenly.  "I mean, he was your friend once."

        "Nah really mine," Screed shrugged, then pulled a still-shocked Tracy into his arms.  "But ‘ow ‘bout we not tell Vachonetti about none o’ this, okee dokee, luv?"

        "Fine by me," Tracy nodded, finally managing to blink.  She noticed from the corner of her eye that the body was already disintegrating into dust.  Handy, that.  She gave a huge sigh.  "Can never say this vacation wasn’t memorable."

        "Can never say this ‘oliday wasn’t a dream," Screed smiled down at her before claiming her lips once again.

Epilogue

        Back in Toronto, Screed was putting a few things in a bag when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

        "You old sea dog, you!" Vachon leapt on Screed’s back with a hearty laugh.  "I can’t believe you’re moving in with a woman.  A cop, no less!"

        Screed shook the Spaniard off with a few hard jumps.  "Figgered its about time ta settle down.  Been sewin’ me wild oats fer four-hundred-fifty years mate, jus’ might be about time ta try sumpthin’ new."

        Vachon shook his head, a huge grin still in place.  "Never thought I’d see the day."

        Screed looked away.  "Ya ever find out wots tha wot wit’ ol’ Frenchie?"

        "Nah.  Whatever it was," Vachon shrugged, "he must have gotten it out of his system."

        "Good ta ‘ear," Screed mumbled, before swinging his packed bag over his shoulder.  Just then, both vampires heard the unmistakable sound of women laughing as Urs and Tracy came around the corner.  They waited in silence for a moment, then, with a hoot, Screed tackled his love and kissed her soundly.

        Urs shoved her way past the oblivious couple and made her way to her master’s side.  "Do you regret sending him after her?" she asked quietly.

        "How could I regret something that makes them so happy?"  He gave her a small smile.

        "Even though Bourbon . . ." She trailed off.

        "I’m just glad I didn’t have to do it."  Vachon looked pensive for a short moment, then seemed to shake it off.  Then he took a long look at the couple before calling out, "Okay, you two, get a room!"

        Screed and Tracy broke their kiss and looked back at the others.

        "Soon as you help us move this stuff there," Tracy grinned cheekily, grabbing a bag and heading out with Urs to the car.

        Vachon shook his head as Screed came up beside him again, "Told ya hombre, she’s one a tha crew now."  The carouche grinned.

        "May God help us all, " Vachon smiled back.

Endnote.  If you’re curious, here’s the restaurant.  I’m pretty sure they don’t in fact keep a wine cellar for vampires, but, then again, I’ve never asked. ;-)

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