After Nick checked into his sumptuous suite at the Grand he realized he was starving. Upon reaching Toronto he'd made some calls to see who from the Community he knew might still be in the city and discovered that Miklos, the former bartender at Raven, had opened his own bar in one of he seedier waterfront neighborhoods. Perversely christened "Happy Hour", it was a vampire-only establishment by reputation, if not by design. Serving carouche as well as the full-blooded vampires, it kept a stock of varied kinds of animal blood, carouche being unable to consume human vintage. Nick pulled out his phone.
"Happy Hour, don't let the name fool you."
"Miklos, it's Nick. Okay if I come by for a drink? I'm getting a little peckish and didn't bring anything along with me."
"Nick sure! Your money's no good here, fair warning. And the butcher just delivered some fresh Guernsey vintage, should remind you of home. Come on down and enjoy."
"Great, thanks. I'll be there in ten minutes."
Happy Hour was a dive bar by anyone's definition. It was located between an abandoned building and a shabby by-the-hour hotel where the local vampire b-girls plied their trade. Nick almost laughed with relief as he entered; it was an honest antidote to Raven in every way. Not a dungeon bunny in sight; these creatures of the night were all the real deal. He went to the bar, where the female bartender gave him the twice-over.
"What'll it be, handsome?"
"Bottle of Guernsey, thanks, and a clean glass." He eyed the shelves and took mental bets on whether the latter would be a probability.
"Five bucks," she said with a shining, sharp-fanged smile as she sat both bottle and reasonably clean glass in front of him. "Unless of course you really want to make it worth my while."
"Taken," he told her, waving his left hand. Glancing around the dark room and taking in all of the stunningly attractive females mixed with the mediocre-to-good-looking male clientele, he figured (without much ego) he'd be waving that hand like a flag if he stayed too close to closing. She shrugged, win-some lose-some, and poured the glass full then went on to other drinkers.
"This guy doesn't pay, Doris," a deep voice announced from a door at the end of the bar. Miklos came around front to greet Nick energetically. Nick was genuinely pleased to see him; any friendly faces from the Old Days were most welcome, especially those not associated with dark memories. Miklos had always been a pleasant memory.
"Miklos you're looking well," Nick told him, and both of them laughed at the in-joke. No vampire looked anything but well, if a little pale. Being brought across cured all ills and healed all wounds.
"And you... I expected something more country. Cowboy boots and embroidered shirt, maybe."
Nick turned up his nose at that. "Denim more likely. But I put on my company clothes to visit." He was wearing his familiar black jeans, a burgundy tab collared shirt, and dark black blazer.
Miklos had Doris pour him a glass of 0+ and raised it to Nick. "To reunions." Nick raised his own glass in turn.
"To absent friends."
Miklos' smile flattened out a bit. "No sign of her, Nick, and don't think some of us haven't tried. Lacroix drove us crazy before he left, sending us to question everyone, mortal and im, who might have a clue. She's just masked herself and he wouldn't accept it."
"Well Lacroix has 'visited' us in Peacham, whether we want him or not. No telling how long he'll stay, but he hasn't said a word about Janette."
"Well he won't. Last time I saw him he said he was leaving this 'wretched city' and its 'wretched inhabitants' forever, never to return and never to remember. I get the feeling he meant it."
Nick could believe that. It's the nature of a vampire to move forward, not backward. Losses are cut and incarnations progress.
"So..." Miklos said, indicating Nick's ring, "don't tell me you made an honest mortal of Maura? How did the church not go down in flames?"
"Just a prop, for immigration." He looked around the room again at the prowling females. "And shark repellent."
As if on cue a comely female approached and draped her arm around Nick, asking Miklos, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
By reflex the left hand came up and the word "taken" was spoken. She slunk away pouting.
"Popular as always," Miklos observed archly.
Nick sighed. "Some things never change."
The conversation turned to everyday things, Nick's new home and life, how Miklos came to buy the bar, the bizarre choice of name, and all manner of other commonplace things that vampires share in common with mortals. Nick had to admit that in this small way, it was good to be back.
When Nick got back to his hotel suite (just under the rising sun) he saw the message light flashing on his phone. He knew it couldn't be Maura, and nobody else knew where he was. He put the phone on speaker and hit the button as he shut the heavy drapes in a hurry.
"Nick, it's me. Don't be angry with me but there is something I need to tell you about when you come to the lab tomorrow, something important I've been working on that's different than anything before. I didn't want to spring it on you, and hope you don't decide to leave without coming."
He sat on the bed with a thump and dropped his head into his hands. Natalie. With yet another try. He lifted his head and raised his hands as if she were there with him.
"What will it take, what can I say to make you believe this isn't meant to be, that it isn't what I want?"
He erased the message, undressed, and hit the lights before climbing into bed. He was exhausted... by travel, by emotion, by conversation.
different than anything before
As he slipped into deathlike slumber Nick realized that what bothered him more than her saying it was the way it stuck in his mind.