A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece
Vacuus a Animus
Then: Family and Friends-Part I
Lucky Spencer stood on the pier waiting uneasily for Sam McCall. This certainly wasn't the way he had envisioned spending New Year's Eve. Lucky, taking after his mother rather than his more rakish father, was a traditional kind of guy. If he had his way, he would be married to one woman for fifty years raise a family with her and then get to enjoy sitting back and watching their children's children grow with everything finally coming full circle.
Unfortunately, life-as it often did-seemed to have had other ides for him and he had made many a detour on the journey to his ideal, perhaps even stereotypical, life plan. He mused silently about Sam as snowflakes started swirling around him. She was beautiful, vibrant, funny, smart and a confirmed danger junkie. Really, he smiled slightly to himself as the thought hit him for the first time, "It's almost like Mom and Dad, except in reverse."
Luke and Laura Spencer were a couple legendary in Port Charles history. Their relationship had started with an ultimate act of betrayal and ended up as a passionate, undying love. They had married but even then their life was anything but conventional. They had spent years with a young Lucky in tow always running, always one step in front of the law or some unsavory types that Luke had an uncanny penchant for pissing off. Finally, they had returned to Port Charles where Lulu was born and Lucky had put down deep roots that he knew were the direct result of his unsettled childhood.
He was his Mother's son while Lulu was Luke's daughter. Lucky wanted peace, serenity and continuity. Lulu couldn't seem to keep herself from getting into trouble, though her charm always managed to secure her help in getting out of it.
Lucky's first serious involvement had been with the beautiful, though somewhat wild, young Elizabeth Webber. They had been each other's first love and they had come together and parted and reunited more times then he could count. Sometimes he thought that down the road of life he and Elizabeth would have to be together. It seemed a natural outcome that the composed, professional, serene woman she had grown into was his perfect counterpart. She had been his wife twice but it seemed that her predilection for the wilder things in life was submerged but not vanquished.
He knew the first time she returned to Jason Morgan, who seemed to always be poised to cut into their life together, he couldn't actually blame her for the choice. After all, Lucky had fallen far from grace when he became addicted to pain pills and involved in a cold, loveless affair with Maxie Jones.
As a response to her pain Elizabeth turned to Jason and Jake had been the product of their connection. Lucky could perhaps forgive, but he knew he would never forget, the fact that Elizabeth attempted to pass Jake off as his rather than Jason's. He loved Jake and by the time he discovered the truth-that love was all that mattered. So, he entered into a conspiracy to keep Jake safe from all of Jason's enemies by posing as his father. Despite Jake's recent kidnapping the subterfuge had been worth the damage done to Lucky's pride.
Sam had been a consolation prize from the fallout of his and Elizabeth's disintegrating marriage. Sam had slept with her stepfather and that had been the catalyst that allowed Jason to accept Elizabeth when she came to him for comfort. The two disgraced partners from their failed mutual relationships had formed a bond based on bitterness and in Sam's case, the desire for revenge. The surprising thing was that Sam and Lucky had actually found they were good together. Ironically, their rebound relationship matured into the real thing while Jason and Elizabeth were estranged as a result of his lifestyle, his choices.
The only problem that Lucky saw facing him and Sam that might possibly block their move forward into something more permanent was that he wasn't sure he was exciting enough for her. Sam had long lived a self-sufficient life as a salvage boat captain and a con-artist. She had since reformed and now used her sea-faring skills to work as a harbor pilot. Yet, when the opportunity arose she would quickly become embroiled in activities that involved her being at risk. The only difference was that she now tried to use her various unique abilities in the service of the communal good rather than to the benefit of one Sam McCall.
This propensity of hers towards being addicted to action which had been making its presence more and more known of late was starting to give Lucky pause. He loved Sam, he absolutely did. Yet, his Mom and Dad had loved each other and it hadn't been enough to keep such disparate personalities together. One or the other was always forced to sacrifice. Laura hated all the transient years on the run and Luke despised the forced domesticity of dwelling in a suburban home and raising children.
Lucky could see the exact same situation arising between Sam and himself. The only difference would be that in their reenactment Lucky was playing Laura while Sam would be channeling Luke. It had the potential to be wonderful and was equally likely to be disastrous.
Take tonight for instance-it was New Year's Eve. Lucky would have liked to have gotten dressed up and shown off Sam to all those unlucky enough not to have a drop dead gorgeous raven haired beauty on their arm. He imagined an evening of dining and dancing followed by a return home to a candlelight soak in the hot tub under the lights of the Port Charles fireworks display.
Instead here he was freezing to death in a snowstorm standing on an ill lit pier waiting for his lover to arrive. He hadn't seen Sam in almost two weeks. He had been busy cleaning up the aftermath of the Russian initiated mob war. Meanwhile, every time he suggested getting together after work she put him off saying she didn't feel well. Lucky knew that a nasty strain of the flu was making the rounds of the city and he offered to take care of Sam and nurse her through it. She had thanked him but said that she didn't want to risk him catching what she had. Then a couple of days ago she had called him up and suggested a New Year's meeting.
So, here he was right where she had asked him to meet her-but no Sam. He fingered the leather cube in his jacket pocket for about the hundredth time. "Should he, shouldn't he?" He honestly didn't know what he was going to do.
"Lucky," her voice caused him to go weak in the knees-so husky, so full of promise. It seemed like it had been forever since he had been with her.
She appeared through a curtain of snow. Being ill certainly hadn't affected her looks. He couldn't remember her being more appealing, more luscious. He was simultaneously aroused and embarrassed that his first thought upon seeing her was to find the nearest horizontal surface and to melt the snow off of it with their combined body heat.
"Hey handsome," Sam grinned at him as though she knew every thought and feeling he was experiencing, Lucky felt a flush of heat in his cheeks. "You're blushing!" she said, delighted with the reaction she was causing.
"You're right, I am," he admitted in his forthright way as he stepped towards her. He took her in his arms and bent her head back to kiss the ivory column of her neck. She turned her head to let him have full access, immediately aroused she emitted a low groan of desire.
"God! I've missed you!" he mumbled into her skin, his tongue gliding up behind her ear as her skin quivered along its trail.
"I can feel that!" she whispered wickedly as she pulled him closer to her.
Where there had previously been two people there was now only one fused body. Entwined and moaning, they kissed and spun, each one fighting to direct the other.
It was Sam that broke them apart. She stood staring at Lucky whose chest was rising and falling in response to his rapid breathing. He reached for her and she put up her hand to forestall him. "Lucky," her eyes were dark, unreadable. She hesitated as unsure what to say next.
He was impatient to hold her again, to kiss her, to possess her fully. Whatever she needed to say could wait for later. He stepped forward, wrapping his hands around her impossibly tiny waist, "Later, afterwards, we can talk all night." He bent to kiss her once more and suddenly jerked back, his hand rising to feel the trickle of blood coming from his lower lip. "What the hell, Sam! You bit me! Man, that hurts!" He was furious, what had possessed her?
She looked at him entirely unmoved by his anger; if anything it was the bleeding lip that captured her attention. She stepped forward and reached up towards his mouth. He couldn't help it, he flinched away. "Ssh, let me just…" she dipped her index finger in the welling drops and scooped them up. Then she put the finger in her mouth and sucked up the blood all the while staring at him. Her tongue came out and licked her lips while her eyes closed and an almost inaudible moan erupted from her.
It was simultaneously the most sensual and most creepy thing Lucky had ever seen. "Sam," he started and then stopped, puzzled as to what was happening. Sam was passionate but she wasn't into rough or unusual sexual practices. He hadn't thought they needed more than what they had, two young healthy bodies that they knew how to fit together in ways most guaranteed to give them mutual pleasure. His hand crept back to the pocket where the ring box was, he knew he wouldn't be bringing it out tonight, not after this…
Sam was looking at him out of eyes that he never remembered as being so luminous and at the same time so impenetrable. Her gaze-it was almost hypnotic-he shook his head, he felt strange, dizzy. She smiled or her lips curved in the facsimile of one, he couldn't tell, suddenly everything was off-kilter. The falling snow, the dim light, the black water all seemed suddenly alien. Most strange of all was Sam who seemed both like herself and at the same time like someone pretending to be Sam. He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the softly falling snow. He vaguely wondered if his symptoms-the dizziness, the cold, the sense of disorientation were all signs of the flu that had been making the rounds.
"Um, Sam," he moved back from her, unexpectedly the thought of embracing her, kissing her was repellent. "I'm not feeling well. I think I might be coming down with the same thing you had. I know it's New Years Eve, but I think I need to go home and get some rest." He kept backing up. She never altered her stare or lost her smile. "I'll call you. We'll get together soon-maybe lunch."
"It would definitely be something in the daylight," he thought with a shudder, wanting nothing more than to leave.
Some primitive sense told him he had to be casual in order to not arouse her suspicion, its instincts-no, it was Sam, wasn't it? He was so confused. He turned on his heel, hating to expose his back to her but suddenly so desperate to get out of here, to flee.
She was in front of him-just like that. He stopped, gaping, it wasn't possible. Until this moment everything he had sensed was something that could be explained away in the reasoned light of day, but not this. Nothing human could move so fast, so effortlessly, so soundlessly.
"Why Lucky," she drawled, "What's your hurry? One minute you're all over me and the next you can't wait to get away. It's enough to give a girl a complex." She uttered a bone chilling laugh. "I know you. You're a gentleman. You would never intentionally hurt a lady's feelings. Tell you what I won't hold it against you. As a matter of fact," she continued her voice silky, "I'll give you a chance to make it up to me."
"I have to go Sam," he tried to walk around her but without effort she matched his every move. What's more she seemed to derive great amusement from his attempts to leave.
"Lucky," she was so close he could feel and smell her breath on his face. It wasn't human, it stank of decay and of evil-what a banal word but no other would fit. He closed his eyes trying in vain to mentally escape what he couldn't physically avoid. He was trapped, just like a rat hypnotized by a snake. The problem was that he thought she might want more from him than his life.
"I really don't appreciate your attitude. It didn't have to be you. I chose you. At first, I thought I would pick Jason but then I thought about which one of you had really loved me, really cared about me and then it was clear there was no competition-it was you all the way Lucky."
He thought how little in his life had ever lived up to his nickname. It was as though in calling him Lucky his parents had managed to effectively erase the likelihood that he would ever actually experience any good fortune. For the first and he now surmised the last time he fervently wished that Jason Morgan had won the girl but that indeed would have been too lucky.
Sam was reaching into his coat pocket. She pulled out the box and looked at the small square cut diamond that was all his salary would extend to. She looked up at him and smiled, and for the first time he could see the gleaming fangs.
"Oh, Lucky," she purred, her familiar beloved face twisted with malice and a dark glee. "I love it, it's perfect! I do, I accept!" With that she reached for his neck in a parody of his earlier seductive mood and with a vibrating growl bit down into the vessel where his very life blood pulsed.
Nadine Crowell was many things but one thing she wasn't inclined towards being was someone given to the "vapors" as her Aunt Raylene would say. She could talk a mile a minute and she was perpetually putting her foot in her mouth. Then she always ended up putting the second one in with it as she tried to extricate herself from the half a dozen embarrassing situations she somehow got herself into on a daily basis. All of that was just her innate personality rising to the surface as she forthrightly went after things and people that she believed were meant to be in her life-Nicholas Cassadine for instance-a perfect case in point.
It was because of Nicholas Cassadine that she was standing on the Spoon Island pier contemplating the topic of irrational fears while she watched the launch that had brought her over disappear into the rapidly falling blizzard of snow. The launch driver had been taciturn, a characteristic in others that always caused Nadine to babble more than usual, in other words a lot! The driver had been entirely uninterested in his passenger or anything she might say. Instead, during the entirety of the short journey he did nothing but stare up at the dark foreboding island and its gloomy mansion with a fearful expression. He didn't offer to help Nadine off of the launch. Almost before her trailing foot was safely on the dock, he had revved the engine with an earsplitting roar and the boat had turned with a sharp, abrupt lurch and was speeding away back towards the lights of Port Charles.
Nadine hadn't heard from Nicholas since she had seen him at the Christmas Eve party at the hospital exactly a week ago. Then he had called her up today at work and invited her over to Windemere to see the New Year in with him. She had taken no offense because he hadn't been in touch. Actually, she had been concerned for him and for Spencer who had both seemed to have been suffering from the flu virus that had been making the rounds.
"It was peculiar," she thought to herself, "that instead of making the hospital busier, this outbreak actually reduced the patient load." She shook her head impatiently, "It's not my concern if people want to stay home and try the true and tried remedies. It's not like we can do much for the flu anyway except prescribe rest and fluids. Anyway, I am glad that Nicholas and Spencer are better"
Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked up the steep path that led to Windemere. She was surprised that Alfred, or especially on a stormy night like tonight, Nicholas himself hadn't come down to escort her to the house. Alfred was frail and elderly and Nicholas ever considerate, the consummate host and gentleman, wouldn't have let his butler run the risk of falling and injuring himself. Yet, it puzzled Nadine that Nicholas would leave her to fend for herself on a night like this, especially after being so insistent that he had to see her, wanted to see the New Year in with no one but her.
"Oh, well," she tried to be nonchalant though truly she was beginning to feel a tad perturbed at the strangeness of it all. "I'm quite capable of walking from the dock to the house by myself-I must just have been getting used to Nicholas spoiling me…" She was speaking aloud in an effort to dispel her ever growing sense of disquiet. Aunt Raylene had often told her she had a touch of the 'sight'. Nadine ardently wished that it wasn't at this precise eerie time and place that she was beginning to believe it might be true that she did. "Well," she told herself firmly, "I'd better start walking if I want to get to where I'm going."
She began trudging up the path, happy that she had chosen to wear warm pants and sensible shoes rather than some sort of party dress. Nadine didn't know that several pairs of eyes were watching her ascent up the trail, but some sixth sense kept clouding her head with a feeling of dreadful anticipation. As she made her way up the trail fighting against the wind and snow, she shivered but it had nothing to do with the cold wind blowing in off the harbor.
After what seemed like hours but was probably only five minutes, she had arrived at the thick wooden front door of the forbidding mansion. She was reaching one chilled hand up to pull the old fashioned bell rope when the door opened with a series of creaks that wouldn't have gone amiss in an old black and white horror film. Nadine turned paper white and gave a little reflexive shriek at the unexpectedness of it.
"Great!" she thought to herself with disgust as she saw the grave and dignified Alfred standing at the ready to greet her. "Now he's going to think I'm one of those women-who jump at every scary sound and scream when they see a mouse. He'll probably tell Nicholas and…"
"Miss. Nadine," the dignified retainer said in his usual well bred manner, "How lovely to see you this evening. May I wish you a premature Happy New Year since it is possible we will be apart when the clock turns over. May I take your coat?"
"Alfred," Nadine replied, blushing a little at being caught in such an undignified position. "Happy New Year! Thank you," the last was in response to Alfred helping her out of her coat.
"Mister Nicholas is in the study. I am sure you know the way. I will return shortly with libations and some festive hor'doeuvres."
Nadine watched Alfred walk away and then as trepidation washed over her, she turned towards the study door. All of a sudden she felt like a high school girl with a crush on her hunky history teacher. Now she wished she had gotten dressed up, maybe she would have frozen to death on the way over, had to carry her shoes and so on. Still, at least she would have-"Looked like a complete and utter wreck, no matter what!" She said in disgust as she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the wall.
Frantically, she reached into her pocket looking for a comb to quell the dripping mess that was her hair, she found bupkus, Just as she was running her fingers through the wet, snarled strands in a futile effort to make it look like something it wasn't going to, the door to the study opened and Nicholas was standing there.
"Ah, Nadine," he looked good enough to eat and here she was looking like the proverbial drowned rat! "I thought I heard voices," he continued smoothly as he stepped towards her. "I am so happy that you could come over on such short notice to celebrate the New Year together with us."
"Us?" Nadine squeaked horror stricken as what Nicholas had just said penetrated her brain. "Oh, Boy!" she thought furious with herself, "It isn't bad enough that you didn't think to dress up when you thought it was just Nicholas and you-it never crossed your mind that he might be throwing a party."
Nicholas had taken her arm and was gently but insistently guiding her towards the study. "Nadine?" He was puzzled feeling her resistance. "Is something wrong?"
"Um, Nicholas," she didn't know what to say but when had that ever stopped her? "I look terrible and if there are other people here…" she stopped hoping he would understand without her having to spell it out.
Nicholas grinned in amusement, "You look beautiful, perhaps a little damp."
His smile turned into laughter as she pulled back and punched him in the arm. Nadine then stepped away from him and stood with her hands on her hips glaring at him for daring to tease her when she was feeling so insecure.
"Not funny!" she hissed furiously, trying to keep her voice down so whoever was in the study couldn't hear them. "I am not dressed appropriately for a party to begin with. Then that boat ride with all the salt spray soaked me and to top it off all the wet snow turned me into a soggy…just look at me!' Forgetting her intention to be quiet her voice ascended in a wail of despair.
"Nadine!" Spencer had popped out of the room and ran over and grabbed her hand trying to tug her forward. "I am so glad you're here. Daddy said we couldn't start celebrating until you got here and this is the first year Daddy is letting me stay up until midnight! There's going to be food and games and….and everything!" He finished in one final burst of exuberance as he continued pulling her back towards the study.
Nadine was smiling at Spencer's spontaneous outburst of pure, uncomplicated joy. Also, she couldn't help it; she was so relieved to find out that the party only consisted of Nicholas and his young son. "This was a good sign," she thought to herself, "Nicholas must really care about me, if he has asked me over for a family evening.'' Her hair issues were forgotten and she felt a warm glow of contentment come over her as she let the two Cassadine men, each with one of her hands in their grasp, lead her towards the study.
The trio entered the warm and welcoming room. A fire was burning cheerfully in the over large fireplace that was on scale with everything else in this huge house. There was a massive brightly lit Christmas tree shimmering in the corner and Vivaldi's four seasons was playing quietly on hidden speakers.
Nadine sighed with satisfaction, this was more like it, it was all worth the uncomfortable cold boat ride with that nasty man and the long trek up the hill and well, now everything was just grand. She grinned with unsophisticated joy at the two saturnine Cassadines who each smiled back at her.
While Spencer, who had his father's manners, escorted her to a seat on the couch next to the fireplace, Nicholas disappeared into the nether regions of the house. "So, Nadine, did you have a good Christmas? Did you get lots of presents?"
He even knew how to make small talk and put a guest at ease, he must be six going on sixty Nadine thought as she looked somewhat disconcertedly at her young host. "Yes, I went to some friends for the day and had a nice time. Did you get what you wanted from Santa Claus?"
"Santa Claus," he snorted, for a moment looking uncannily like his father when he thought some concept was beneath his blue blooded notice. "Is a mythical creature that is a combination of several pagan and religious figures. He is a device used to keep young children in line during the holidays. I always behave myself!"
"I'm sure you do." Nadine was taken aback, she still sort of believed in ole' St. Nick herself and thought it was sad to see one so young being so cynical and worldly.
"Here we are!" Nicholas was back and carrying several fluffy white towels.
Nadine was very relieved not to have to make any further chit chat with this little miniature adult sitting on the couch with her. It was bad enough when Nicholas managed to make her feel under educated and uncouth but when his first grader son did the same, well that was simply too much!
"Thanks a bunch," she accepted the towels gratefully and bending towards the fire started to towel dry her hair while using the heat of the fire as a primitive hair dryer.
She knew she would pay with frizzy hair but anything was better than the state it was in now. She happened to glance up and caught Nicholas eyeing her intently with a small secret smile playing over his lips. Nadine blushed, she felt hot all over and none of that was appropriate with a six year old in the room no matter how mature he seemed.
The tension she felt between her attraction to Nicholas and the bounds of propriety were suddenly snapped by the entrance of Alfred rolling a stainless steel serving cart into the room. "I took the liberty of opening the Dom Perignon, Master Nicholas. If ever an evening seemed an appropriate time to imbibe a fine champagne this would appear to be the one."
"Is it the '98, Alfred?"
"Indeed it is sir."
"Well," Nicholas turned to look at Nadine, who was finishing up with her hair, and smiled brightly, "This is quite special-you, me, Spencer and the '98. A night to remember!"
Nadine had no idea why but a chill ran up her spine at what was really just a commonplace remark. She smiled uncertainly at Nicholas and scooted a little away from Spencer, hoping he would simply believe she was getting closer to the warmth of the fire.
Alfred coughed discreetly in the time honored method of butlers everywhere who wished to gain their master's attention. "Will that be all, sir? I have several things to attend to this evening before retiring."
"Yes, thank you for everything, Alfred. Happy New Year." Nadine was puzzled as she noted an intensity, some unspoken communication between the two men.
"Indeed, sir, my pleasure. Happy New Year to you sir and to you, Miss Nadine and Master Spencer." Bowing slightly to the occupants of the room, Alfred backed out closing the double doors of the study with a resolute click.
Now Nadine felt too hot, the heat from the fireplace causing a flush to rise on her face as a fine line of sweat pearled her hairline. The room unexpectedly seemed claustrophobic and full of menacing shadows. Suddenly, Nicholas was standing in front of her offering her a flute of golden champagne, the bubbles at the surface fizzing gently.
"Here, drink this, we can toast to the New Year and to new beginnings."
Hesitantly, not sure she wanted to add to her confusion by drinking, even a single glass of champagne, she took the goblet that was proffered.
"Yes, a toast!" Spencer piped up enthusiastically. "May I try some Father, may I?"
Nadine laughed in protest as she saw Nicholas seriously considering his son's request, "Nicholas, he's only six! You can't be thinking…"
Nicholas cocked his head and looked at Nadine with something approaching disdain, "What can't I do, Nadine? My son's a Cassadine, the heir to a modern empire, he needs to experience new things-certainly a few sips of champagne won't injure him."
Nicholas offered his own glass to Spencer who taking it downed the liquid in two greedy gulps. Smiling up at his father, his lips shiny with champagne, he giggled eerily, "Excellent!"
Nadine was feeling more and more perturbed by the behavior of both Nicholas and Spencer. She quickly drained her own flute thinking that somehow it might give her the courage to act, to leave-this no longer felt like a place she belonged in or even wanted to be tonight.
Nicholas reached over to take her glass, chiding her gently, "The toast, Nadine, we need to have the toast. Let me refill this for you."
"Um, no, I think one is my limit, I can toast with water…" her protests were in vain as Nicholas was already back with another glass, this time it was almost brimming over.
"Here," he said in a calm but insistent tone, "We have to celebrate…"
His voice seemed to be coming from a distance and her head was spinning, it was like she was drunk but she had only had one glass. "Celebrate…I don't feel well."
The room was spinning and everything was coming in and out of focus making her feel even dizzier. Nicholas and Spencer were both staring at her intently as she fell back into the couch, the full champagne flute spilling from her hand.
"Nadine," Nicholas' face was filling her field of vision. She reached up and grasped his shirt collar trying to steady herself. "Can you hear me, Nadine?"
Her mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish and she couldn't say anything. Instead she nodded her head while the room reeled around her-fire, door, shadows, Nicholas, Spencer and full circle back to the fire again.
"Dizzee..," she managed to mutter.
Now Spencer was kneeling next to her and he was looking directly into her eyes. "My Father asked me if I wanted a Mother. He was worried that I needed someone to take care of me, bandage my scraped knees…" He snickered and his face looked nothing like a child's. "Bandages and bedtime stories, isn't that quaint?" Now he was smiling frostily and underneath her disorientation she could feel the first sensations of bone chilling cold and utter abandonment.
"No," she meant to scream out her panic but it was only a moan as she watched his lips draw back and the razor-sharp incisors glinted in the firelight.
"I told him," Spencer continued, his voice thick with anticipation as he bent towards her defenseless neck. "That I only needed him to guide me through the world and what I really wanted was this…." He plunged his teeth into her neck, biting and sucking, making a mess of it as all young do when they catch their first prey.
Nadine fought bonelessly under the influence of rophyphenol, uttering squeals of pain and terror until the loss of blood rendered her unconscious. Spencer continued to drink from her until her heart stopped pumping and he could get no further satisfaction. Sitting back on his knees he lifted his head and howled. The sound carried out into the night and was lost over the water.
Nicholas watched it all, sipping occasionally at the glass of champagne he was holding. "My little boy is growing up," he thought with pride.
"Wife!" Luke Spencer walked into the Quartermaine living room bellowing out his usual spousal greeting.
"Husband," calm, cool and collected as usual, Tracy Quartermaine glided into the room.
He smiled at her appreciatively, leave it to Tracy to incorporate her new found powers in such a way as to enhance her presence, her inherent power-he had never seen her look more sexy than she did at this very moment!
"What should we do this evening, Wife?" he asked with indolent uxuriousness.
Tracy put the tip of her manicured index finger to lips that were crimson without the artificial aid of cosmetics. "Well, now," she said considering, "It's not a simple question is it?" She looked over at her husband who was regarding her with a perplexed expression. "Luke!" she said fond exasperation clear in her tone. "What worked before-well, it seems a little tame when measured against…immortality…" She breathed the last word out with a touch of awe and it wasn't easy to get Tracy, even the human version, to admit to awe.
"Yes, immortality, that's it exactly Tracy! No more heart attacks, no more creaking joints, no more wondering about what do with rocking chairs looming in our future. No," he warmed to his theme expansively, 'Now we can eat what we want…" He stopped, realizing that perhaps it wasn't a totally true statement. "Drink, what we want…" he hastily amended as he went to the bar and poured himself a scotch. As he swallowed it down in one large gulp, he realized that it didn't manage to warm or fulfill him quite as much as that little waitress from Kelly's he had been nibbling on in her sleep this last week.
"Wait!" There was one more thing-he walked over to Edward's humidor and pulled out one of his excellent and illegal Cuban cigars. Lighting up, he took a deep draft and coughed as disappointment welled up in him-not stogies too, that was just too much, too much!
Tracy had patiently and silently watched the whole sad pantomime. Then with full waspish justification she said in her irritatingly officious voice, "See! Things aren't the same, what used to give you pleasure doesn't now. Then there's the small detail of what to do to fill endless evening after evening for the foreseeable future and beyond."
"Well, Wife," Luke stepped over to her and wrapped his arms around her, "I can think of one thing that I wouldn't object to doing over and over again for an eternity."
He was nibbling at her earlobe and she was giggling, squealing, "Luke, stop that!" Her words didn't fit her actions as she turned to face him and they were lost in a passionate kiss, both unaware that they were floating a foot above the ground.
"Oh for God's sake! Get a room!" Edward Quartermaine had entered the room, his cheeks were ruddy from a recent feeding but his disposition was as foul as ever. "It seems entirely unjust that I must spend an eternity with Luke Spencer under my roof."
"My roof!" Monica Quartermaine corrected him with punctilious and icy exactness. She couldn't quite believe that this quarrelsome, backstabbing clan, which was nothing to her by blood, had chosen to incorporate her into its unholy structure for the rest of time. "Well," she thought grimly, "We may now all reside as supernatural creatures of the night, but the law is the law and this house was deeded to me by Alan and they will toe the line. If they don't, I will throw them all out one morning just as the sun is rising." The thought of all her in-laws bursting into flames, though she knew she could never, would never do such a thing, brought a contented smile to her lips.
"Dinner is served," The maid, Big Alice, she of professional wrestling fame, announced.
The Quartermaines had always valued loyalty above all other traits. So, when it came to choosing the staff member that would serve them through the duration of this new experience, they had unanimously agreed that it should be Alice who accompanied them. Alice herself had different ideas about perpetual employment in the service of the conniving, bickering clan but forever was a long time and she was content to abide for now.
"What has Cook whipped up for us tonight, Alice?" Edward asked rubbing his hands together in anticipation, it seemed he was always hungry these days.
"Why," Alice was a little disconcerted. "Didn't they know?" she thought to herself puzzled. "Cook, Mr. Quartermaine," she answered formally, "Cook is dinner."
"Ooh!" said Monica, her stomach growling in anticipation as she headed with an intrigued Edward towards the dining room.
"Husband," Tracy said, her arms still wrapped around Luke's neck, "What say we go out for dinner?"
"I couldn't agree more," Luke said giving her a quick peck on the lips and grabbing her by the hand led her towards the garden doors. "Let's see if we can find ourselves any virgins within the city limits of Port Chuck-one for me and one for you."
"Ooh," Tracy simpered, imitating Monica, "Luke, you have the best ideas!"
Anthony Zacchara looked up from his catalogue of rose bushes and watched his daughter make her way down the staircase and into the living room. "Well, sleepy head," he said jovially, "It's been a while since we've had the pleasure of your company. All I've seen around here lately is your lunkhead of a husband-that man does not know how to make social chit-chat."
Claudia looked vaguely around the room, "Have you seen Johnny?"
"No, your brother has been MIA as well. In my day children respected their parents-showed up for dinner, checked in. Why I could have another stroke and no one here to care but the staff." He paused considering, "Funny but I haven't seen anybody around for a couple of days, good thing I am not really stuck in this chair." With an evil grin at his daughter, he stood up out of his wheelchair and took several fluid steps towards her.
It disappointed Anthony immensely that she was entirely indifferent, neither shocked nor frightened, by his revelation. He said harshly, "See what I mean? You find your father is miraculously healed and can once again walk and you can't even manage a simple 'Congratulations Daddy!'"
"Congratulations Daddy," Claudia said mechanically, her tone flat.
She had been spending most of the past two weeks in bed suffering from the flu that had taken over the city. Or at least she thought she had, she had been dreaming a lot and the images were very vivid-a kaleidoscope that was often dark and incomprehensible. Sometimes it seemed as though she were flying above the city and could see it lit up and spread out below her. At other moments she had felt arms around her as a voice whispered unbelievably filthy and erotic things in her ears while unseen hands caressed her body.
During the day Claudia slept heavily feeling tired and drained. Whenever she happened to glance in her mirror she looked pale and drawn, the last time she looked she could barely see her own image-she was so ethereal. Another strange side effect of her illness was that the slightest touch of even the weak winter sunlight on her bare skin caused her untold agony. So, she had been dwelling in a cave-like room with thick curtains fully drawn at all times. .
Still, tonight was different, Claudia had awoken clear headed and energized for the first time in weeks. She still had a mild sense of disorientation as she came downstairs and had her first overt interaction with another person in days or even weeks. She wished her brother Johnny had been down here to greet her instead of her much despised father. Still, something good seemed to have come from her illness. Anthony Zacchara had ceased to intimidate her or make her feel less than human as he had been doing her whole life. He was simply, she searched for an appropriate word-irrelevant.
"You're no fun," Anthony sulked as he walked over to the couch and settled into its encasing softness.
He was so glad that after he disposed of his pain in the rear son-in-law he could stop using the chair as a prop to his self proclaimed frailty. He could hardly wait to reassume the mantle of command and authority that was rightfully his. With Morgan already neutralized and Corinthos soon to follow he would be a very powerful man indeed.
"Then," he thought looking over at his daughter with narrowed eyes, "I'll teach you to respect your father, Missy!"
The door from the hall opened and Johnny Zacchara walked in. He stopped short when he saw his sister. "Claudia, I haven't seen you in such a long time," he walked over and hugged her, swinging her around as she smiled with pure ecstasy.
"This is more like it!" Claudia thought suddenly irrepressibly happy that her much beloved brother was back and glad to see her. He was the only person in the world that she sincerely loved and felt close to. "Johnny, you look so good, so handsome!"
It was true that the young man had always been attractive. His dark, intense looks combined with soulful and melancholy eyes proved irresistibly attractive to many a feminine heart. Yet, this evening he positively exuded vitality, strength, and confidence. His sister, always a little bit over the appropriate line of sibling feeling with regard to Johnny, found herself entirely mesmerized by him tonight.
"You don't look half bad yourself, Sis!' He teased her, his eyes twinkling.
Indeed, the siblings could have modeled for some upscale clothing line-particularly one that dealt exclusively in leather products. As though they had intentionally coordinated it, they were each attired head to toe in matching expensively treated dead cow skins.
"What about me?" Anthony whined from the couch. He was extremely perturbed that his favorite child and only son had entirely ignored him-his father-in favor of greeting his whore of a sister.
"Dad!" Johnny turned towards him with an exuberance which he had never before exhibited. "I didn't notice you there but I am so glad to see you. Tonight just wouldn't have been the same without you."
"Really?" a crease of worry had appeared between Anthony's eyes. He was gratified by Johnny's attitude, but he was also puzzled and a little bit suspicious of it as well. "Since when have you been so cheerful at seeing your old man? Not that I don't appreciate it." He added hastily. Johnny, and only Johnny, was the single person on the planet that could get under Anthony Zacchara's skin and make him do things he would rather not-like care.
"Sure," Johnny said with a frenzied energy as he beamed at his father. "Tonight is New Year's Eve-new beginnings and all that, and who is it more important to share it with than family?"
"My sentiments exactly," Anthony was proud, his boy finally got it. He was starting to understand what it meant to be Anthony Zacchara's son. The New Year was looking more and more enticing as he contemplated the wonderful new empire he would create with his beloved son at his side.
"Johnny?" Claudia was concerned, her brother looked great but he was acting very strangely. "Are you feeling okay?" Usually the brother and sister were united in their detestation of their father-she couldn't imagine what might have happened to change his opinion.
Johnny turned and glanced at his sister. He quirked an eyebrow at her, winked his eye and grinned before turning once more to speak to Anthony. "Yes, Dad tonight is very special and I just want to know is there anything I can get you-something to drink or eat?"
"Johnny!" Claudia couldn't help herself, even with his little reassuring pantomime, this was entirely out of character for him.
"You hush Missy!" Anthony roared at his reprobate of a daughter. "Finally, one of my children is treating me with the respect that I deserve and you are trying to interfere, getting in the way of a father-son bonding moment." He stopped, breathless. Then he turned and guilessly smiled at his son and heir. "A glass of bourbon would be great son, but only if you'll join me." Pointedly, he excluded Claudia from the invitation.
"Oh, absolutely, I'll be joining you, Claudia too," he gestured towards his sister, who was watching the entire interaction with horrified fascination. "After all, we're family!"
Johnny practically caroled the last sentence as he turned with alacrity towards the bar. He poured two fingers of neat bourbon into a crystal tumbler which he carried over to his father on the couch.
Anthony took the glass from his son, and looked up at him beginning to be alarmed by his demeanor. "Are you okay, Johnny?" he asked, echoing Claudia.
"Just peachy," and now there was something downright sinister about the cocky grin he was wearing as he looked down at his father. His eyes were bright, dark pools and Anthony felt distinctly nauseous as he looked into their depths. He took a large swallow of the bourbon, thinking it might help him recover his equilibrium. "I thought…I thought you were joining me…" he gazed at his son in confusion.
"I am, I am," Johnny said softly, soothingly as he bent down towards his father as though he were going to whisper a secret in his ear.
Anthony screamed as his son's jaws clenched around his neck, the fangs driving deep to find the best, the brightest, the arterial blood. Johnny looked over at his sister and somehow managed to smile even as his father writhed and moaned in his relentless grasp.
He gestured Claudia over and she was amazed that she wasn't repelled by what she was seeing but was excited and…and unexpectedly ravenous. Her own fangs were now exposed and she growled as she headed towards the once pristinely white couch that was now sprinkled with scarlet gouts of blood.
Anthony groaned helplessly as his daughter's teeth replaced those of his son's in the ghastly wound in his neck. Taking turns the siblings remorselessly sucked their father's life blood from him. When he finally was nothing but a twitching heap on the ruined sofa they stepped back, licking their lips to gather up the last ruby droplets.
Johnny smiled tenderly at his beloved older sister, "Family always comes first."
Claudia nodded in total agreement, smiling dreamily, "Yes, I think Daddy would be so proud." Ironically, she was absolutely correct-he would have been.
"Johnny, where are you?"
They looked at each other and then at the crumpled blood spattered corpse on the couch. "I'll take care of her," Claudia said with grim determination underlain with a frisson of anticipation as she headed for the door.
Johnny was in front of her his hand up forestalling her. "She is mine, Claudia. You leave her alone…"
"Johnny, not her, not Lulu!" She was so frustrated. She couldn't understand what her brother saw in that girl. Now, it appeared as thought she was going to have to share Johnny with her forever. She stamped her foot furiously but her brother was adamant.
"Don't make me choose between you and Lulu," he warned her. He went to the door, only opening it enough to slip through. Claudia could hear him. "Lulu, how wonderful you're here. It saves me having to come find you. Now we can spend New Year's Eve together!"
Claudia turned to look at her father's lifeless body and smiled with contentment. "One thing at a time," she thought to herself, "One thing at a time."
Carly Jax opened the front door to reveal her ex-husband Sonny Corinthos standing on her porch. "Sonny?" Carly was puzzled, they hadn't been on the best of terms lately and she hadn't seen him since he had married that piece of trash Claudia Zacchara. "What are you doing here?"
She was impatient, the last time Sonny had been at her house she had just rescued him from the harbor after an assassination attempt by the Russians. Then he had further embroiled her in his life by requiring an alibi after he had killed the Russian mob boss Andrei Karpov. Carly supposed she could have chosen to not alibi Sonny but it was almost a reflex for her to help him out when he was in trouble.
This time though her instinct to save him had cost her dearly. Her husband Jax and she had been having a lot of problems but he would have been willing to work them out if Carly had only agreed to finally renounce Sonny. Yet, when push came to shove, she had not been able to leave Sonny vulnerable to a murder charge and she had lied for him. Jax had left her and she was now bereft of the one man who had shown her that relationships did not have to be toxic and bitter as her redundant marriages with Sonny had been. Carly and Sonny had always been passionate together but it was difficult to tell from one moment to the next whether the emotion they evoked in one another was love or hate.
"Carly," Sonny was still on the porch, he hadn't bulled his way in as was his wont. "Can I can come in? I need to talk to you."
"What about?" She folded her arms and stared at him belligerently. Carly didn't want to see or think about Sonny. Just the sight of him standing on her porch, looking so cocky…and really sexy-was enough to restart those oh, so familiar butterflies in her stomach. Carly had thought she was immune to Sonny's charms, that he couldn't make her feel that way anymore… She was totally furious that her mind was thinking such things after the way Sonny had messed up her life yet again.
Sonny grinned at her, his famous dimples flashed as his white teeth almost blinded her. "You know, about us-old times. Come on Carly, it's cold out here and it's New Year's Eve…"
"Yeah, New Year's Eve!" she spat at him, suddenly furious. "I should be spending tonight with my husband dancing and wearing silly hats and toasting at midnight." Tears sprang to her eyes and she realized all over again everything she had lost when Jax had left her.
"Candy boy," Sonny said dismissively, "He was never good enough for you, Carly, you need a real man."
"Like you, I suppose." All the while, Carly was thinking, "Arrogant Jerk! But the way he smells…there is just something about him tonight. He looks good enough to eat…" She shook her head. She had no idea where these thoughts were coming from but she would be damned if she acted on them.
"Yeah, Carly, you gotta admit we were always good together. There's never a boring moment when you're around." Another flash of dimples accompanied by a soulful gaze from the most drop dead gorgeous brown eyes that she had ever looked into.
"No! I'm not going down that road again," she told herself sternly. Carly was desperately trying to implement her freshly created New Year's resolution of no Sonny-anytime, anywhere!
"What about Mrs. Corinthos? Carly asked him archly, "Wouldn't she object to the idea of you crawling back to me?"
"Claudia," he tsked dismissively, "She's nothing to me. I haven't seen her during the last couple of weeks anyway. She caught that flu that was going around and went back to the family home to recuperate." He looked back at Carly, suddenly intent and serious, his eyes gleaming in the porch light. "Carly, it's the New Year and I want it to be our year. I want us to be together again. You and I, we belong together, always have, always will. You shouldn't fight it."
Carly felt strange, confused and conflicted. Sonny Corinthos was standing on her porch, saying that he wanted to get back together with her. Ordinarily by now, she would have already slammed the door in his face. Yet, there was something-she looked into his eyes and could tell he was telling the truth, she knew Sonny so well. Still, there was a vague sense of disquiet, of something askew. Sighing, not quite believing that she was doing it, she inclined her head and stepped back. "Come in," she said it in a soft, almost defeated voice. She had never really been able to resist Sonny.
As Sonny crossed the threshold, a peculiar expression of mingled triumph and regret flashed across his face. "Where's Morgan," he asked casually looking hopefully up the stairs as though his son would materialize in front of him.
"He's at the Metro Court." Carly responded absently, she was still pondering her decision to let Sonny in. "I get it about Claudia, she was the price of a business deal." Carly looked at Sonny shrewdly, "Why aren't you with Kate, declaring your undying love and telling her you want to spend the future with that Bensonhurst tramp?" All the hurt and fury of her abandonment and jealousy came out in those last few syllables.
Sonny shrugged, "Same reason you're not seeing the New Year in with Candy Boy. I guess I made the better choice." He looked at her, sincerity shining out of him with every word.
Inwardly, he was coldly raging, he had tried Kate earlier but unlike Carly, she wouldn't let him in. "Well, once I'm finished here," he thought grimly, "I'll go back, Carly and Kate will just have to learn to play nice or not…" The thought of the two women in a pitched battle over him made him grin wolfishly in anticipation.
"Sonny?" Carly was beginning to regret the impulse that had caused her to let him in. She really did love Jax and wanted to be with him. As for Sonny-well, the highs were amazing but the lows-no, she never wanted to go there again not now that she knew what real love was.
He looked up at Carly and smiled a genuine smile. There was no way he was going on this adventure, this leap into the spectacular unknown without his family-Kate, Carly, Morgan, maybe even Jason he mused. Now though was Carly's time…
"I made a mistake Sonny," Carly sounded tentative, "I was lonely and upset but you're not what I want-Jax is."
"He can't have you anymore," Sonny stepped into her personal space as Carly took a reflexive step backwards. "We belong together Carly-forever." He reached out and put a hand on the back of her neck, drawing her face close to his.
She felt the strangest combination of overpowering attraction and paralyzing dread "Sonny, please," she tried to push him away but she was ineffective, puny even as he pulled her closer. Now through the intoxicating scent of cologne, she could smell something else-it was putrid-and she gagged. Fear overwhelmed her and she struggled with every iota of strength she owned. "Let me go! I don't want this! I want Jax…"
"Relax Carly," she was entrancing, such vitality, such a strong pulse. "It won't hurt-at least much and then we'll have forever…"
As he bit down she screamed in shock and pain. Before she passed out her last coherent thought was "I never should have let him in…" Carly's final mistake in judgment would be the one to cost her everything.