Sorry for the long space between updates. Life can get crazy, you know? Sometimes fanfic has to go on the bottom of the priorities list. Anyway, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. It's really not a JoBe chapter, but it's really not about the Mick/Coraline connection either, at least not romantically. Again, thanks to everyone for the reviews. As always, Intimate Stranger, I appreciate the support.

LA

His sister was quite the clever bitch, Lance reflected as he entered the apartment building. No match for him, certainly, but a worthy opponent nonetheless. Out of all their siblings, she was the only one that had ever been up to snuff as either an ally or an opponent. He almost wished he had time to toy with her, to really drag out the game. Oh, the dice was loaded, naturally, and she could run, but there would be no hiding. Games were so much more fun that way.

Unfortunately, orders were orders, and dear ol' grandsire, Dominic, wasn't known for his flexibility or love of democracy. If Lance wanted to hold his spot as the favorite, his rightful place in the clan, he'd follow those orders. And why not? Coraline being on their grandsire's shit list suited him from the ground up. If he was lucky, she'd been burning in hell by next week. Pity she'd probably just get off with a decade of torture before she was given another chance. Dominic had a soft spot for her, probably because the old leech wanted a ride between her legs, and Coraline had obliged him through the years. It was Lance's observation that powerful women often exploited or denied their own sexuality. It was pitifully obvious which category sister dearest fell into.

So where did Mick St. John fall into all this? They weren't rutting, although the stench of their hormones was coming off them in waves. It wasn't like Coraline to abstain, so what was her ploy? And certainly, these two had history, the stuff Shakespeare would have wet himself over. These two had a history of surprise turnings, legendary fights followed by days of mating, extreme bouts of separation, and finally, a little fire to finish things off with. If it hadn't been for Coraline's knack of making useful friends, she would have been finished.

Even Lance himself, though his power offered quick regeneration, couldn't have withstood an inferno that massive. Why his sister would cozy up to an ex-husband who roasted her alive, he'd never know. And if she wanted him, why not take him? From what his sire, Veronica had told him, Coraline had risked her own life to drag this Mick from the flames. Was she entering a new level of idiocy, or was there an ingenious scheme up her sleeve? Not that it really mattered, of course, because any plans of hers were about to be interrupted.

Whatever his sister's motives, it seemed like her and Mick had stayed true to form, and were at each other's throats for now. Oh, their little spat last night was nothing compared to some of their past battles, but it was encouraging nonetheless. Who knows? Maybe lover boy was for sale. Strictly speaking, Lance didn't need help, but why not go the easy route if it was available? Besides, it would be delicious to feel Coraline's agony when her beloved turned out to be a Judas.

Lance didn't waste any time making his way to Mick's apartment. He had to work fast. He didn't how long Coraline would be, wherever she was going. Naturally, he was having her tailed, so he'd have full disclosure as to her activities, but for now, his mind was on other things. Hopefully, by the time she came back, the first domino would fall on her pretty head.

He didn't bother knocking; entrances were so much more effective when meaningless gestures were abandoned. The only other vampire in the room must have smelled him coming, but didn't bother putting down the heavy novel he was pouring over. It was a deliberate gesture of indifference, and Lance had annihilated vamps for less. However, since Mick St. John suited his agenda amply, he'd let this one slide…until he didn't need him anymore.

"Wrong apartment?" the younger vamp drawled, and Lance felt a wave of ennui coming on strong. Oh, goody. Quips.

"I know exactly where I am." Mick put down his book, finally gave him his attention. It wasn't satisfying. Lance had come to enjoy evoking fear, or at least respect in others. He felt neither coming from this whelp. His devious mind mulled this over, finally concluding that this audacity might be a good sign. He had no use for wimps, though most of his siblings fit that bill. "Do you know who I am?"

"I'm guessing you aren't the mailman." Oh, please.

"I'm Lance de Guise. I'm looking for the vampire who calls herself Coraline St. John."

"Good for you." Irritation splintered beneath his skin, and he briefly wondered if he should put this piss ant in his place, show him who was alpha here. Later, he promised himself, he'd do just that. For now, he might as well keep it civilized. "And this is my problem because…?"

"I can smell her scent all over this rat hole. She's obviously made herself at home, so let's cut the bullshit." His comment earned a quirked eyebrow from the other male, who lazily got to his feet. "Where is she?"

"Not her keeper, sorry. Can I leave a message?" The latter comment was loaded with sarcasm, and Lance wondered how Mick St. John had the balls to play this game. He was a mere child, and a weak child at that. Had sniffing around Coraline delivered him a dose of delusion? Did he think because he'd married into a powerful bloodline he was somebody? Or did this vampire have his own agenda?

Nonsense, an inner voice dismissed. Lance had done his research on this piddling P.I., knew his patterns all too well. For the last two decades or so, he'd played the do-gooder, acting like a neutered dog. He wasn't vampire enough to play on Lance's level. However, if the rumors were true, he did have enough motive to turn on Coraline, play the puppet for the sake of revenge and possible gain.

"What's she to you?" Lance demanded.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Mick countered smoothly. "Ex-boyfriend maybe?"

"Oh, Coraline's got enough ex-lovers for her own personal army, naturally, but I'm not in the ranks." Lance smiled dryly, wondering if Mick knew just how used his ex-wife's goods were, even by vampire standards. He didn't get much of a reaction, so decided to move on. "Actually, she's my beloved sister. Has she mentioned me?"

"Hmm. I think if she'd mentioned a brother with centuries of decay and a jet black eye it would have registered. Any reason why she should have?"

"Don't tell me, after all these years, you actually trust Coraline?"

Mick's laughter was quick and derisive. "Trust her? If you think I'm that stupid, you don't have a clue."

"She's heading for a downfall," Lance announced with grim delight. "She'll pull you down with her, if you let her. She's dragged you down before, I would imagine. However, there are alternatives."

"And here I was getting worried," Mick announced dryly. "Let me guess. You have a few suggestions."

"Don't go down with the ship," Lance advised. This was shaping up to be easier than he thought. "You're on the wrong side right now."

"I'm not on anybody's side," Mick informed him casually. "I'm just a working-class guy minding my own business. Why don't you and Coraline duke it out on your own time?"

"Not too swift on the uptake, are you?" Lance shook his head, circling the P.I., confident he had the younger vampire pegged. "You married into the most powerful vampire bloodline on this planet, but you'd never know it." He gestured around him. "Coraline's kept her puppy where she wants him, hasn't she? Follow my lead, and the sky's the limit."

"Let me guess: Power, wealth, women." Mick might as well have just said: Blah, blah, blah.

"So what exactly do you want?" Lanced wanted it on the table.

"You disappoint me, Lance. You paint me in such an unoriginal light." Lance decided he really hated that piss ant's smirk. "If you knew anything about me, the answer should be obvious. I want what Coraline stole from me. I want my humanity back."

"Do you?" Well, each to their own, Lance decided dismissively. "Well, that can be arranged."

"And you want me to do what? Hog tie Coraline?"

"If that's what does it for you, fine. But for myself, I was thinking of something far more subtle. I'm sure my sister thinks she still has a card to play, and I want to keep it that way for now. Tell me, what charming confidences has she made?"

Mick scoffed. "Look, Lance, if she hasn't even brought you up, it isn't likely she's going to discuss strategy."

"True enough." Lance wasn't sure Coraline had been as tight-lipped as Mick was letting on, but it didn't really matter. Now that he had the carrot dangled in front of the P.I.'s face, he had the puppet he'd come to buy. When it was over, he'd cut the strings, having got everything for nothing.

"How does the cure work? Is it permanent?" Oh, this was like stealing candy from a baby. Or, in Lance's case, a baby from its mother.

"It can be," Lance lied easily. "Naturally, you shall have the permanent version."

"Naturally." Did he hear sarcasm? His sharp eyes evaluated the younger vampire, searching for suspicion. A moment of evaluation offered him no further insight. Well, even if this Mick St. John had bought a clue, he could cut him off at the knees before Mick had a chance to strike, Lance reasoned. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Confide to Coraline about this little visit…the edited version, of course. Pour on the charm, get her to open up. Any information she leaks, you will pass on to me."

"How do I-"

"Get in touch with me?" Lance finished with a smirk of his own. "You don't, I'll be keeping very close ties. After all, you are…family, aren't you?"

"Excuse me if I don't get all warm and fuzzy," Mick retorted. "I don't mean to be a bad host, but you'd better make yourself gone. She could come back at any second."

"That would spoil the surprise, wouldn't it? So, I take it we have a deal?"

"Oh, trust me, we have a deal," Mick agreed. Lance could all but hear the thoughts of humanity dancing in his pea brain. Well, in any case, he wouldn't have to worry about being a vampire much longer. On his way out, he heard Mick say, "Weren't counting on the memory coming back so soon, were you, Coraline?" but didn't know what to make of it, so didn't waste too much time pondering it.

A few hours later, he stepped into his temporary residence a few miles outside of LA. It was more of a fortress than a mansion, but didn't lack any beauty for its security, both modern and old-fashioned. He headed to his sound proof basement, pausing outside the door to consult with his head of security, Milton. "I presume your trip to New York was fruitful?"

"I have the requested merchandise on the other side of that door," Milton assured him.

"Good. You get to keep your head another day." He opened the door, his eyes zeroing in on the helpless heap chained to the wall. To avoid any obnoxious screaming, she'd been tightly gagged, but she was making all the noise she could, muffled obscenities and empty threats spewing from her lovely mouth.

"Come, come, Miss Turner," Lance admonished with mock horror. "I'm sure you don't mean it." Those luminous blue eyes narrowed into a glare that was almost admirable, under the circumstances. "After all, I'm here to offer you what all human beings crave…immortality."