DISCLAIMER: Sorry about the long wait, but I finally got moved into my new home—yeah. VIN is the idea of Susan Garrett—told you I owe her a debt.
Once again, they belong to TPTB, not me. Well, except for Cary, he's all mine.
CHAPTER 3
Instinct told Nick that it was almost sundown. He yawned and stretched and looked around at the room where he slept. It was a large room, decorated in late Victorian. It was a little fussy for his taste, but the 4-poster bed was extremely comfortable.
He arose from the bed and padded over to the heavy drapes and opened them. A blackout shade covered the window as well and Nick pulled it up. The sun was just dipping over the mountains in the background, lighting them up in a rainbow of hues. That, he thought, would be nice to paint. He sat in the window enclosure and thought about his week in Reno.
Aristotle and Larry Merlin had taken care of all of the finer details of his emigration from Toronto to the US. There were a lot of forms to fill out and he had to update his passport. Arrangements were made for the sale of the loft and the storage of most of the items contained within.
LaCroix was bemused by Nick's sudden decision, but approved, in his LaCroxian way. He actually saw his "son" off at the airport. The flight was long—departing at 6:30pm EST and arriving in Minneapolis at 7:45pm CST. Then he had a layover of an hour and a half before departing and arriving in Reno at 10:51pm PST. All together, it was a flight of over 7 hours, and it was not cheap—costing over $1200. He found a hotel shuttle and it took him to his room downtown at the Eldorado.
Though it was late, Nick decided to call the number on the card he had been given. He wasn't really surprised when a chipper voice answered.
"Good evening, S & G Enterprises. How may I help you today?"
"Cary Shelley, please."
"Yes, sir. One moment, please." A pause. "Sir, transferring call."
The phone rang and was picked up by someone, who transferred him to someone else, who handed him off to a third person. Nick was getting exasperated when a male voice came on the line.
"Yes sir, Mr. Shelley is expecting your call."
"May I speak with him?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Knight, but Mr. Shelley is out of town on business. However, if you would leave your hotel and number, Mr. Shelley will contact you the moment he gets back."
"And when will that be?"
"Not sure, sir. I do not handle Mr. Shelley's travel arrangements. I am afraid that the one responsible for that is not working tonight. But I am sure Mr. Shelley will be back within the week."
A sigh. "Do you know where he went?"
"No sir. Mr. Shelley's travel plans are handled by another department."
Around and around it went for almost 20 minutes, then Nick hung up the phone. He was not in a good mood when he called the automated VIN service. After listening to a myriad of menu choices (at $5.00 a minute), he finally found a source for sustenance, and they delivered.
So, for the next three days, Nick explored the city. It was a 24-hour town, for nothing seemed to close. He got into a poker tournament at the MGM, saw the Superstars show, watched the acts at Circus Circus, and generally toured. The atmosphere of the city was as the American's would say, laid back and comfortable—a truly Western town.
But there was another side: the Reno Gospel Mission and St. Vincent's were all within walking distance of downtown. Nick saw more than one homeless woman and child while on his nightly walking tours. He also learned to spot them at the Copper Ledge in the CalNeva, counting the change for the tax on the .99 cent breakfast, sans drink.
So the time passed, at least it wasn't boring here. On Tuesday, he took the elevator up to the 20th floor and paused by his room. Someone, or something, was inside. He carefully swiped his key card and opened the door. There, sitting in a chair looking out the window was a figure. Nick (not really needing it, but out of habit) flicked on the light.
The man in the chair smiled at him. He was drinking out of a water glass—human by the smell of it, and of a rather good vintage at that. The vampire had dark hair, hazel eyes and an average build. Nick could not tell his age, but sensed he was not very old at all. He was dressed immaculately in a charcoal gray Armani suit. Jeanette would like this one, Nick thought to himself. The man stood and approached Nick with his hand out, they stood about the same height.
"Hi, sorry to knock you into a cocked hat. I'm Cary Shelley."
Nick took his hand and smiled at the quaint expression of surprise.
"I got called off at the last moment on some business and had to leave rather suddenly. I do apologize for having you cool your heels."
The blond vampire shrugged. "Not a problem. I was out exploring."
"What do you think of it?" asked Cary, with a small smile.
Nick considered. "Interesting place."
"So, it's near daybreak. Ready to go?" said the other, going to the sink and rinsing out his glass.
"Go? Go where?"
"To check out. You do need to go house hunting, don't you? And to get things settled, I was told of your plans. Plus all these folks will be coming up here around candle-light, and you don't want people to suspicion, do tell."
All Cary got was a blank stare.
"I do apologize for my slang, sometimes I forget myself," he grinned. "It's a failing."
Nick waved it off, and realized what he had said was true. Due to his hours, people would wonder.
"And where do I stay?" he asked.
"Well, since I put you out, you can stay at my place. I do have a few extra bedrooms, and it is the least I can do."
"Fine," said Nick, finally. If it had to be, it had to be. "Let me pack..."
"All done."
All done? Nick raised an eyebrow at that and a quick glance around the room told him it had been. That was cheeky.
"They do have automated check out," Cary said, helpfully and indicated the phone.
What was going on here? Nick walked to the instrument and within minutes was checked out of the hotel. Out the door, down the elevator and through the lobby they walked, in silence. Cary handed the valet attendant a ticket and the man soon enough brought around a brand new Lexus sedan.
"No flying?" asked Nick, as he entered the plush interior of the vehicle.
"Too many people," stated Cary in a very matter of fact voice.
He drove carefully out onto Center Street and turned left at Fourth, then right onto Virginia. A sign indicated I-80 and he drove onto it going west. Several thoughts came to Nick at once, as he looked out the window. First, this was a vamp that had money and flaunted it. Second, the relaxed atmosphere extended to its undead citizens. Thirdly, who gave this guy the authority to decide that he needed to leave the hotel, and take his luggage?
A sigh caused the driver to look at him. Though it was dark, Nick's vampiric sight could make out the mountains up ahead. Cary spoke up, to break the uncomfortable silence.
"So did you have a smooth flight?" he inquired.
"I did, all the connections were on time, no turbulence. And you?"
A sort of smile. "I own my own Lear, so my flights are always smooth."
If you got it and could get away with showing it, Nick mused. "Well, that's certainly a different way of flying."
Cary laughed. "You could say that. I use mortal pilots, different ones for each flight so they never suspect. Humans are none too bright anyway, when it comes to us. And I had to fly to South America, which is a little far to fly myself."
He pulled off the highway and started south.
"Reno is rather easy to navigate, Nick. 80 runs east/west, 395 runs north/south, and McCarren circles the city." He stole a glance at his passenger, who was still looking out the window. "You drive, do tell?"
"I do," said Nick and explained about the Caddy.
Presently, they turned off onto a side street or three and Cary stopped at the entrance to a housing development.
"Gated community. This area is called Caughlin Ranch." He informed his passenger, as he pushed a button and the gate slid back. The car drove through and down several curvy streets before arriving at the end of a cul- de-sac. Cary used the remote to open the gate to his home and drove into the garage, as the door opened and the sun began to peep over the horizon...
So now, several hours later, he was ensconced in a 19th century bedroom with modern amenities and at a total loss for one of the few times in his long life. His stuff had been already hung up and put away before he had entered the house. He got up and picked out his outfit and headed for the private bath. The tub was an old fashioned claw handled one, and the sink was a pedestal, but the stall shower was very up to date, indeed, with its four showerheads.
Soon, Nick was dressed and ready—for what? He glanced at the time on the nightstand—6:38 p.m. Still at a bit of a loss, he exited the room into the upper hallway. He looked over the balcony to the foyer below, wondering. Then he heard the noise. It sounded like growling, but not of a vampire kind. What was going on? What had he gotten himself into? Was this why LaCroix was so amused. Come to think of it, Aristotle was a little shocked also, when Nick had told him where he was relocating.
Undecided for a moment, Nick walked up to the room at the end of the hall—the master suite. He gingerly opened the door and his mouth dropped onto the floor in shock.
Once again, they belong to TPTB, not me. Well, except for Cary, he's all mine.
CHAPTER 3
Instinct told Nick that it was almost sundown. He yawned and stretched and looked around at the room where he slept. It was a large room, decorated in late Victorian. It was a little fussy for his taste, but the 4-poster bed was extremely comfortable.
He arose from the bed and padded over to the heavy drapes and opened them. A blackout shade covered the window as well and Nick pulled it up. The sun was just dipping over the mountains in the background, lighting them up in a rainbow of hues. That, he thought, would be nice to paint. He sat in the window enclosure and thought about his week in Reno.
Aristotle and Larry Merlin had taken care of all of the finer details of his emigration from Toronto to the US. There were a lot of forms to fill out and he had to update his passport. Arrangements were made for the sale of the loft and the storage of most of the items contained within.
LaCroix was bemused by Nick's sudden decision, but approved, in his LaCroxian way. He actually saw his "son" off at the airport. The flight was long—departing at 6:30pm EST and arriving in Minneapolis at 7:45pm CST. Then he had a layover of an hour and a half before departing and arriving in Reno at 10:51pm PST. All together, it was a flight of over 7 hours, and it was not cheap—costing over $1200. He found a hotel shuttle and it took him to his room downtown at the Eldorado.
Though it was late, Nick decided to call the number on the card he had been given. He wasn't really surprised when a chipper voice answered.
"Good evening, S & G Enterprises. How may I help you today?"
"Cary Shelley, please."
"Yes, sir. One moment, please." A pause. "Sir, transferring call."
The phone rang and was picked up by someone, who transferred him to someone else, who handed him off to a third person. Nick was getting exasperated when a male voice came on the line.
"Yes sir, Mr. Shelley is expecting your call."
"May I speak with him?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Knight, but Mr. Shelley is out of town on business. However, if you would leave your hotel and number, Mr. Shelley will contact you the moment he gets back."
"And when will that be?"
"Not sure, sir. I do not handle Mr. Shelley's travel arrangements. I am afraid that the one responsible for that is not working tonight. But I am sure Mr. Shelley will be back within the week."
A sigh. "Do you know where he went?"
"No sir. Mr. Shelley's travel plans are handled by another department."
Around and around it went for almost 20 minutes, then Nick hung up the phone. He was not in a good mood when he called the automated VIN service. After listening to a myriad of menu choices (at $5.00 a minute), he finally found a source for sustenance, and they delivered.
So, for the next three days, Nick explored the city. It was a 24-hour town, for nothing seemed to close. He got into a poker tournament at the MGM, saw the Superstars show, watched the acts at Circus Circus, and generally toured. The atmosphere of the city was as the American's would say, laid back and comfortable—a truly Western town.
But there was another side: the Reno Gospel Mission and St. Vincent's were all within walking distance of downtown. Nick saw more than one homeless woman and child while on his nightly walking tours. He also learned to spot them at the Copper Ledge in the CalNeva, counting the change for the tax on the .99 cent breakfast, sans drink.
So the time passed, at least it wasn't boring here. On Tuesday, he took the elevator up to the 20th floor and paused by his room. Someone, or something, was inside. He carefully swiped his key card and opened the door. There, sitting in a chair looking out the window was a figure. Nick (not really needing it, but out of habit) flicked on the light.
The man in the chair smiled at him. He was drinking out of a water glass—human by the smell of it, and of a rather good vintage at that. The vampire had dark hair, hazel eyes and an average build. Nick could not tell his age, but sensed he was not very old at all. He was dressed immaculately in a charcoal gray Armani suit. Jeanette would like this one, Nick thought to himself. The man stood and approached Nick with his hand out, they stood about the same height.
"Hi, sorry to knock you into a cocked hat. I'm Cary Shelley."
Nick took his hand and smiled at the quaint expression of surprise.
"I got called off at the last moment on some business and had to leave rather suddenly. I do apologize for having you cool your heels."
The blond vampire shrugged. "Not a problem. I was out exploring."
"What do you think of it?" asked Cary, with a small smile.
Nick considered. "Interesting place."
"So, it's near daybreak. Ready to go?" said the other, going to the sink and rinsing out his glass.
"Go? Go where?"
"To check out. You do need to go house hunting, don't you? And to get things settled, I was told of your plans. Plus all these folks will be coming up here around candle-light, and you don't want people to suspicion, do tell."
All Cary got was a blank stare.
"I do apologize for my slang, sometimes I forget myself," he grinned. "It's a failing."
Nick waved it off, and realized what he had said was true. Due to his hours, people would wonder.
"And where do I stay?" he asked.
"Well, since I put you out, you can stay at my place. I do have a few extra bedrooms, and it is the least I can do."
"Fine," said Nick, finally. If it had to be, it had to be. "Let me pack..."
"All done."
All done? Nick raised an eyebrow at that and a quick glance around the room told him it had been. That was cheeky.
"They do have automated check out," Cary said, helpfully and indicated the phone.
What was going on here? Nick walked to the instrument and within minutes was checked out of the hotel. Out the door, down the elevator and through the lobby they walked, in silence. Cary handed the valet attendant a ticket and the man soon enough brought around a brand new Lexus sedan.
"No flying?" asked Nick, as he entered the plush interior of the vehicle.
"Too many people," stated Cary in a very matter of fact voice.
He drove carefully out onto Center Street and turned left at Fourth, then right onto Virginia. A sign indicated I-80 and he drove onto it going west. Several thoughts came to Nick at once, as he looked out the window. First, this was a vamp that had money and flaunted it. Second, the relaxed atmosphere extended to its undead citizens. Thirdly, who gave this guy the authority to decide that he needed to leave the hotel, and take his luggage?
A sigh caused the driver to look at him. Though it was dark, Nick's vampiric sight could make out the mountains up ahead. Cary spoke up, to break the uncomfortable silence.
"So did you have a smooth flight?" he inquired.
"I did, all the connections were on time, no turbulence. And you?"
A sort of smile. "I own my own Lear, so my flights are always smooth."
If you got it and could get away with showing it, Nick mused. "Well, that's certainly a different way of flying."
Cary laughed. "You could say that. I use mortal pilots, different ones for each flight so they never suspect. Humans are none too bright anyway, when it comes to us. And I had to fly to South America, which is a little far to fly myself."
He pulled off the highway and started south.
"Reno is rather easy to navigate, Nick. 80 runs east/west, 395 runs north/south, and McCarren circles the city." He stole a glance at his passenger, who was still looking out the window. "You drive, do tell?"
"I do," said Nick and explained about the Caddy.
Presently, they turned off onto a side street or three and Cary stopped at the entrance to a housing development.
"Gated community. This area is called Caughlin Ranch." He informed his passenger, as he pushed a button and the gate slid back. The car drove through and down several curvy streets before arriving at the end of a cul- de-sac. Cary used the remote to open the gate to his home and drove into the garage, as the door opened and the sun began to peep over the horizon...
So now, several hours later, he was ensconced in a 19th century bedroom with modern amenities and at a total loss for one of the few times in his long life. His stuff had been already hung up and put away before he had entered the house. He got up and picked out his outfit and headed for the private bath. The tub was an old fashioned claw handled one, and the sink was a pedestal, but the stall shower was very up to date, indeed, with its four showerheads.
Soon, Nick was dressed and ready—for what? He glanced at the time on the nightstand—6:38 p.m. Still at a bit of a loss, he exited the room into the upper hallway. He looked over the balcony to the foyer below, wondering. Then he heard the noise. It sounded like growling, but not of a vampire kind. What was going on? What had he gotten himself into? Was this why LaCroix was so amused. Come to think of it, Aristotle was a little shocked also, when Nick had told him where he was relocating.
Undecided for a moment, Nick walked up to the room at the end of the hall—the master suite. He gingerly opened the door and his mouth dropped onto the floor in shock.