By Ebony Silvers

|Chapter 1|2| 3| 4|5| 6| 7| 8|Epilogue|

Prologue - "Welcome to the Jungle"

Welcome to the jungle - We got fun 'n' games.
We got everything you want - Honey we know the names.
We are the people that can find - Whatever you may need.
If you got the money honey - We got your disease.
In the jungle, Welcome to the jungle. Watch it bring you to your knees, knees.
I wanna watch you bleed.

Welcome to the jungle - We take it day by day.
If you want it, you're gonna bleed but it's the price you pay.
And you're a very sexy girl that's very hard to please.
You can taste the bright lights but you won't get them for free,
In the jungle. Welcome to the jungle. Feel my, my, my serpentine.
I, I wanna hear you scream.

Welcome to the jungle - It gets worse here everyday.
You learn to live like an animal in the jungle where we play.
If you got a hunger for what you see, You'll take it eventually.
You can have anything you want but you better not take it from me.

And when you're high, you never, Ever want to come down, YEAH!
You know where you are. You're in the jungle baby. You're gonna die.

In the jungle, Welcome to the jungle. Watch it bring you to your knees, knees.
In the jungle, Welcome to the jungle. Feel my, my, my serpentine.
In the jungle, Welcome to the jungle. Watch it bring you to your knees, knees.
In the jungle, Welcome to the jungle. Watch it bring you to your...It's gonna bring you down!

New Orleans, Louisiana
Wednesday, 10:43 am
February 19, 2020

Amanda Miller looked up as the ADC's office door opened. She clenched her teeth as Jack Niemczyk kissed his girlfriend. It never failed to appall her that her boss was in an open affair with Baby Roxton. Agent Miller had served six months in the New Orleans office in 2016 before being reassigned to San Diego and had been impressed with Jack's abilities even then. She'd been happy when she'd been given the opportunity to return to New Orleans. Being Jack's field assistant was rewarding and exciting. He was a talented leader and an amazingly skilled agent. It was galling that a man with the potential of her supervisor was tied to a woman like that. Agent Miller disliked Mrs. Roxton with a passion. The reasons why were myriad; "Lady" Roxton was an egotistical, brazen, overbearing, obnoxious bitch in Amanda's opinion. For the life of her, she couldn't see what attraction the woman held for Jack. The only thing she could think of was the lure of easy and apparently kinky sex. It was a shame. The ADC was a brilliant man and he deserved much better. He shouldn't be wasting his time on a piece of cheap trash like that. The woman was married, for God's sake! And she practically flaunted her affair with the ADC in the middle of Jackson Square. Amanda shook her head and returned to her paperwork. It was simply incomprehensible.

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Wednesday, 11:21 pm
February 21, 2020

Spike grinned at his wife's companion. "You did good back there, FBI," he said.

"Thank you, Master," Jack replied. He had helped Jean and some of the other children with various tasks for the family but this was the first time he had accompanied Spike and Baby on an "official" outing.

The task tonight wasn't that difficult. One of the demon gangs was a tad late in the payment of their tribute and Spike wanted to emphasize that he didn't like that sort of attitude. An appearance by the Master himself was usually more than enough to convince any reluctant vassals that proper respect and tribute were more than the Master's due. It had been no different tonight. A few hard looks from Spike, a flash of fang and knife from Baby, and the demons were bowing and scraping before the lord of Louisiana.

Jack wasn't sure why Spike had bothered to come himself. Jean or René could have whipped that group into shape in seconds. Jack suspected Spike was more concerned about how Jack would conduct himself in such a formal confrontation than in the tardy tribute payment. He had the feeling it was a test and Spike was checking him out to see if he really was fit to be a member of the family. He knew Baby was thinking of turning him soon and he knew she'd prefer to do it with Spike's support. Jack would prefer that as well. If Spike was going to be his grandfather--and Jack had finally come to understand just what that meant--then it was best to have his full approval. Jack apparently had conducted himself properly. Jean had been doing a bit of coaching and Jack had a much better idea of what was expected of him as Companion to the Queen of New Orleans and possible grandson to William the Bloody than he'd had even six months earlier.

Jack froze when Spike held up a hand. He reached for his sidearm as he saw a group approaching. Jack had no problem in recognizing the gang insignia and over-blown machismo of the 'Tite Filles, the most notorious female gang in the city. They ran half the drugs that flowed through the warrens of West Jeff Parish. Despite the fact that they were human and mostly teenage girls, they were far more dangerous than the demons Jack had just confronted. After a moment, Spike signaled that Jack should put his gun away. Jack noted that Spike gave the young women plenty of time to note that Jack was armed.

"T-Boz," Spike said with just enough edge to his voice to let Jack know he couldn't completely relax. The Master, however, appeared completely at his ease with his arm around Baby's waist and slight smile on his handsome face. "There a problem?"

"No, Master," the gang leader replied. "We ain't got no problems these days. Actually, we heard you was in the neighborhood." She paused for a moment and signaled one of her people forward. "Things have been good lately, sir. Real good." She grinned. "The Filles, we remember our friends. Your boys, they helped out Lady T last week." She put her arm around the neck of a small brunette and pulled her close. "I'd have been real unhappy if anything happened to my T-Girl." She smiled down at the other woman and kissed her temple. "So, we thought we'd show our appreciation in a little gift for the family." Her subordinate popped the case open. Stacks of money and a small bag of white powder rested inside.

Spike cocked an eyebrow and smiled. He knew this went well beyond an appreciation gift, although that was an excellent excuse. The 'Tite Filles were trying to expand their territory and they'd like either Spike's help or, at the very least, his neutrality during the conflict with rival gangs. It was a political bribe, nothing more or less. Still, gift horses and all that. "Now, that's a nice way to say thank you, isn't it, rose?"

Baby grinned. "Very." She knew what the black girl was up to as well. She was impressed with T-Boz's political acumen. Pity the girl would, in all likelihood, be dead long before she reached thirty.

"Jack, hand that to me, would you?" Spike asked in a tone that clearly made it an order. Jack complied and stepped back so he was available but not actually at Spike's side. Spike grinned his approval. Niemczyk might be an egotistical bastard but he knew how to follow protocol. Spike's eyebrow climbed again as he noted the denominations on the bills. "Very nice indeed." He pulled out a stack of money and stuck it in his pocket before closing the briefcase and handing it to Baby for safe keeping.

T-Boz smiled. "Glad you approve." She knew her war of expansion had just received approval from on high. Life really was good tonight. There was no need to linger. The Master didn't like for people to waste his time. She waved a hand and her entourage turned and headed back the way they had come. "Got things to do, sir, if you don't mind."

Spike nodded his dismissal and, with a nod of respect toward Baby, the gangsta queen and her girlfriend followed her people into the night.

Jack gasped as Spike slammed him against a wall. "YOU... did excellently!" Jack didn't know what to think when Spike's mouth descended on his for a mind-blowing kiss. Jean had told Jack once that no one could kiss quite like Spike. Jack understood what he meant now. Jack didn't resist when Spike's tongue explored every crevice of his mouth. It was electric. The power that radiated from the Master had never been clearer to Jack and now it was focused on a kiss of such depth and ferocity that Jack couldn't breathe and wasn't sure he wanted to. Breathing would interrupt that kiss and Jack didn't want anything to interrupt that. Jack let the storm force that was Spike wash over him. In that single kiss, there was not a part of Jack's being that Spike didn't find and dominate. Jack had never been more sure that this was where he belonged.

When Spike finally released him, Jack slumped against the wall, panting. Spike grinned and licked his lips. "Oh yeah, you're gonna make a fine addition to the family, Jack-o," he said and patted Jack's cheek. He kissed Baby briefly but intensely. "And as part of the family, you're entitled to some of the benefits." He pulled the stack of cash from his pocket and tossed it to Jack.

Jack looked down at the worn bills in his hand. "But... that's drug money," he finally said.

Baby looked at him and shook her head. "Honey, where do you think the money for the house, the car, and the clothes comes from? We're not exactly running a department store, you know."

Jack closed his eyes for a minute. "I know. I just... I never actually touched any of the money before. You always paid for everything." He'd known from the very beginning, long before he'd known what they truly were, long before he'd become addicted to the sex and the blood, that the family was heavily involved with organized crime. He'd known all along where Baby's wealth originated. He'd known intellectually what paid for the comforts he so enjoyed. He'd just never been faced with it at so visceral a level before. He could practically smell the coke on the bills in his hand. But he'd made his decision years earlier. This was his life now and would be his life long after he died. He couldn't very well be squeamish about it at this late date. He'd made this bed the first time he'd told Baby to drain someone so he could watch.

He opened his eyes and looked at the vampires before looking down at the cash again. He slid it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and smiled. "Where to now, Master?"

Spike smiled back, quite pleased with the human. He deserved a reward. "Now... now we're going hunting. Want to come along?"

Jack's eyes glowed. He'd never seen Spike hunt. The thought was absolutely exhilarating. "I'd love to!"

Spike led them laughing into the darkness.

~~~~~

"Got him!" Agent Morrison snarled. "That slimy MF is ours now."

His partner turned off the video camera. "Yeah. I couldn't get a clear shot of what was in the brief case but I got a good one of him taking the money. And the audio sounds crystal."

Morrison grinned. "Yeah. Niemczyk's ass will be in the penitentiary before he knows what hit him." He started the car. "About time, too. Jesus, I can't stand an agent on the take."

His partner nodded as they pulled out into the quiet street. "Well, this one's going down hard. We don't have to worry about that. There's no way he can wiggle out of this one."

Chapter 1 - "Same Old Song and Dance"

Get yourself cooler. Lay yourself low.
Coincidental murder, with nothing to show.
With the judge, constipation will go to his head.
And his wife's aggravation, you're soon enough dead.

It's the same old story, same old song and dance, my friend.
It's the same old story, same old song and dance, my friend.

Gotcha with the cocaine they found with your gun.
No smoothy face lawyer to getcha undone.
Say love ain't the same on the south side of town.
You could look, but you ain't gonna find it around.

It's the same old story, same old song and dance, my friend.
It's the same old story, same old story. Same old song and dance.

Fate comes a-knockin', doors start lockin'.
Your old time connection, change your direction.
Ain't gonna change it, can't rearrange it.
Can't stand the pain when it's all the same to you, my friend.

When you're low down and dirty, from walkin' the street,
With your old hurdy-gurdy, no one to meet.
Say love ain't the same, on the south side of town.
You could look, but you ain't gonna find it around.

It's the same old story, same old song and dance, my friend.
It's the same old story, same old story. Same old song and dance.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Wednesday, 4:03 am
February 26, 2020

Jack stretched and settled back into Jean's arms. He had to admit that afterglow with Jean DuValliere was exquisite. Everything about Jean was exquisite. Jack supposed it would not be beyond the realms of the probable to say he had a crush on the Cajun. He smiled to himself: him and half the city of New Orleans. Jean seemed universally attractive. Jack had been slightly surprised, but not too terribly, the first time he'd had flashes of desire for Jean. Jack knew that everyone had homoerotic thoughts at some point. He'd been curious about what attracted men to other men before though he'd never actually felt that attraction. No, he couldn't say he'd been at all surprised that he was attracted to Jean. He had been surprised though when he'd found the level of desire increasing each time he saw the other man. And when at last the opportunity to enjoy Jean's physical attentions had come, Jack had been quite happy to let Jean seduce him. He still got shivers thinking of Jean's softly accented voice whispering in his ear, "You ever been with a man, Jacques? You want to be with one now?" It was his own softly whispered "Yes," that had been surprising.

Jean had certainly changed Jack's mind about his own sexuality. And Jack was rather amazed at how comfortable he was with his newly-found bisexuality. Maybe that was because all the vampires seemed to consider it the norm. Maybe he was already thinking more like one of them than like the normal humans around him. He rather hoped so.

It really didn't matter. Sex with Jean was great and Jack enjoyed it immensely and that was all that mattered to either man. Jack had been extremely happy when Jean had accompanied him home after the annual family Mardi Gras celebration and asked to spend the night. In fact, all in all, Jack was quite happy with his world at the moment.

Jack hummed slightly as Jean ran knowing fingers over his chest. "Oh, that's nice." Jean's chuckle wound its way through Jack's body and Jack sighed contentedly. Jean's hands roved smoothly across Jack's muscles, sending sweet sensations through the human. "Ah, Jean, if you keep doing that, I will get no sleep at all before I have to go into the office."

Jean's laugh was quiet and filled with seduction. "So what do you want? Sleep or loving?"

Jack turned in his embrace and pressed himself against the other man. "Do I look stupid? Loving."

This time Jean's laugh rang through the house.

~~~~~

Jack handed Jean a cup of coffee and sat down across from him at the table.

"You all right? I shouldn't have kept you up all night," Jean said, half-concern, half-pride.

Jack grinned at him. "I'll sleep tonight. It was worth every moment of brain death that I'll have today."

Jean grinned and fiddled with his hand-held a moment longer. He frowned. At Jack's question he replied, "An e-mail. We're still having random disappearances. It's been nearly four years and demons are still vanishing from time to time. I don't understand it."

"Still no idea who's doing it or why they're being taken?"

Jean shook his head. "Non. And it's driving me crazy. I hate unsolved mysteries."

Jack laughed. "Me, too. That's why I joined F.B.I." He checked his watch. "Which reminds me. I need to leave in fifteen minutes or I'll never make it to my morning meeting."

Jean pocketed his computer. "Oui. I need to head back to the house. Nothing was done yesterday so I am already a day behind. Why doesn't the rest of the world celebrate Mardi Gras? It would make my life much easier, n'est-ce pas?"

Laughing, Jack walked Jean to the back door and onto the steps of the covered portico. Jean turned on the top step and kissed Jack lovingly. "We'll have dinner later in the week, yes?"

"I'd really like that."

With a tender caress to Jack's cheek and a wink, Jean bounded down the steps and into his car. He was gone in an instant. Jack shook his head and turned back into the house. He'd just picked up his coffee mug when his doorbell rang. With a sigh he sat his cup down and answered it.

Three agents, identification properly displayed, stood there. "Mr. Niemczyk? Would come with us, sir? We have a few questions we'd like to ask you."

~~~~~

Jack couldn't believe it. They'd dragged him all the way to the Federal courthouse and taken his badge and gun. They'd read him his Miranda rights. He was so mad he couldn't see straight. He crossed his arms and glared at the mirror across the room. He knew they were on the other side, of course. He knew why they were making him wait and it just pissed him off all the more. He knew every tactic they were using because he'd used them himself. How fucking dare they? He wanted to break something.

Agent Morrison strolled in, massive expandable folder under one arm and a cup of coffee in the opposite hand. "Good morning, Mr. Niemczyk. Shall we get right to this?"

Jack favored the other man with his favorite death glare. "Works for me."

Morrison sat down at the midway point of the table. "Fine. Would you care to tell me how long you've been taking bribes from known syndicate figures?"

"What!" Jack came straight up in his chair. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Morrison pulled his glasses from his breast pocket and put them on. He pulled a folder from his file and spread it open on the table before him. Jack wanted to strangle him for the delaying tactic. "We have irrefutable evidence that as recently as the evening of February 19th, you accepted a substantial sum of cash from a known Mafia leader." He pushed a screen-capture photo across the table to Jack.

Jack glanced at the picture of him and Spike. "Good God," he sighed. He knew when to talk and when to shut up. "I think this conversation is over until my lawyer arrives."

"Very well. Then I must inform you that you are under arrest for accepting bribes. Additionally you are being charged with two counts of conduct unbecoming an officer for your liaisons with one Mrs. William Roxton and one Mr. Jean Claude DuValliere. Since you have already been advised of your rights, we will proceed to Booking. If you'll come with me, sir."

Jack gritted his teeth as he was led away. All during the process of fingerprinting and mug shots he seethed and his heart burned.

~~~~~

Corwin Burns turned to the agents in the observation room with him. "Did you see? He knows we have him."

Michael Brady considered the now-empty interrogation room. "I saw that he was genuinely surprised at the allegations. Most...odd." The profiler seemed worried.

"Nonsense! He clammed up the minute he saw that photo. He knows his ass is ours." Glee emanated from Burns.

Brady sighed. "Overconfidence is never a good trait to cultivate, Mr. Burns," he said severely. "Now, if you'll excuse me, having finally seen Mr. Niemczyk in person, I'd like to review my profile on him. In the meantime, I suggest you continue to pursue questioning of all his associates, business and otherwise. This case is far from over."

~~~~~

"Well?" Brady looked up when Bill Morrison entered their makeshift office.

"Waiting on his lawyer to get here so we can do the arraignment and see if the judge sets bail." Morrison settled into his chair with a sigh. He hated cases like this. While more than glad to take down any dirty agent he could find, he hated finding them. It hurt him personally whenever an agent went bad. One like Niemczyk particularly hurt. The man had a pristine record and a conviction rate that Morrison envied. What the hell could turn a man like that? It had to be more than just the money, surely? Please God, let it be more than just the money. "They're almost finished searching his house."

"Anything interesting?"

"Oh! You can say that!" Morrison shook his head. "None of it makes sense, though. I'm beginning to think our Jack is psycho." The reports from the residence were more than troubling; they were downright weird. "He has bottles of blood, apparently human, in his refrigerator. Get this, it's labeled with date, blood type, and gender!"

Brady wasn't as surprised as Morrison thought he would be. In fact, the profiler looked saddened. "What else?"

"Some pretty odd weapons in a locked cabinet."

"What sort of weapons?" Brady looked out the window at the gray sky. He wished the sun would come out. He'd feel much better if it was sunny.

Morrison took a drink of his coffee. It was his fourth cup of the day and his stomach was already protesting the abuse. "There were lots of handguns, rifles, shotguns, the usual. But there were also a ton of swords, battle axes, and--now get this--wooden stakes, bottles marked 'holy water', all sort of voodoo-looking shit."

"Fuck," Brady whispered to himself. "So they got to him, too."

"What?" Morrison said. "I didn't get all that.

Brady waved it away with muttered "Nothing."

Morrison shrugged. "He also has the biggest collection of S&M toys that any of the agents have ever seen outside a porno store. I'd say Assistant Director Niemczyk is one sick puppy."

Brady sighed and tried not to think about what that statement could really mean. "I'll have to agree, Agent Morrison. And I'm afraid it's our duty to discover just how sick Mr. Niemczyk is."

~~~~~

Jack sat and glowered while the clerk read the charges in "United States Government versus John Patrick Niemczyk". He made a point to glower at Corwin Burns seated beside the U.S. Attorney prosecuting the case. He'd make sure one of the family ate that little motherfucker before the month was out. He had no doubt that Burns was the source of the investigation against him.

"... And further, we believe Mr. Niemczyk to a be a substantial flight risk and therefore request..."

"Flight risk!" Jack exploded. "I'm not running from anything and especially not from a piece of shit like Burns!"

While the judge banged his gavel and demanded order, Anne Osborne-McSwain shushed Jack. The look on the government prosecutor's face when the Chief Prosecuting Attorney for the Investigative Division of the DA's office for the City of New Orleans had stated that she would be acting as legal counsel for the defendant had been the one bright spot in the whole proceeding. Jack was grateful for Anne's presence. She and Remy were quite likely the only human friends he had. He felt better with her at his side. Jack settled back into his chair, mostly ignoring the judge's warning about further outbursts, and returned to glowering at everyone and everything. Since the arraignment was closed to the public, the prosecution team received most of his attention.

U.S. Attorney Roy Young continued. "And since the government does consider Mr. Niemczyk a substantial flight risk, we ask that bail in the amount of two million dollars be set..."

Anne was on her feet. "Objection! Such an amount is totally uncalled for and completely unnecessary. In a case of this nature two million dollars..."

"Two or twenty-five, it doesn't matter. It's taken care of." Baby was well and truly pissed off and her anger radiated throughout the entire room.

Jack grinned. He'd never seen anything quite so appealing as his mistress walking up the courtroom aisle with that I'm-gonna-rip-someone-to-pieces look on her face. Jean was less than two steps behind her and the ever-present Jerrod flanked him. Jack's world suddenly became a much sunnier place.

The bailiff didn't even bat an eye when Baby and Jean crossed the threshold that separated the observer's area from the actual court proceeding. Jean went immediately to Jack and, uncaring of who was looking, hugged him tightly. The court recorder folded her hands in her lap. She was a native of New Orleans and knew that whatever was said from this point on was off the record. Baby stopped 5 feet from the judge's stand. "I want the charges dropped now," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. The judge glanced quickly to the defendant and back to the woman before him. "He's mine," she explained in that same tone.

The judge nodded but before he could say anything Jack was up and moving. "No! I don't want them dropped. Not just because you say so." Baby looked at him, convinced he'd lost his mind. "They think I'm dirty. They think I'm crooked. I won't have it!"

"Jack..." Baby said warningly.

"No. This is my name and my reputation. When the charges are dropped, I want it to be because they fucking know I'm innocent." He set his jaw in a way she was far too familiar with.

Baby snarled at him. "I'm not letting you go to jail! Don't make me hurt you."

"Hurt me all you want. I'm not letting this go." He glared and then grinned at her until she relented. He knew when he'd won. "Besides, I like it when you hurt me."

"Jesus, Jack." She sighed and turned back to the judge. "Set your stupid bail and make it however much you want. It doesn't matter. And regardless of what he says, Jack's not gonna do a second of jail time." She turned and noticed Burns. "What the hell is that piss ant doing here?" she snarled. "This your idea, Junior? You got some weird ways of committing suicide, boy." She grinned when he paled. She planted herself on the first row of seats behind Jack, unbuttoning her blazer as she did so. Jack grinned; she was wearing nothing but a black satin bra under the cashmere suit.

Jean gave Jack a quick kiss and a whispered, "It will be all right, cher," before joining her.

The prosecution tried to object but was quickly silenced by the judge. Anne allowed Mr. Young to finish his argument and made her statement very brief, noting Jack's years of exemplary service, his spotless record, and his own assertion that he wanted the investigation to continue. With a wary eye on the two vampires seated in his courtroom, the Honorable Judge Herbert DuPre made his ruling. "As the defense has so eloquently stated, Mr. Niemczyk has no prior record whatsoever. Additionally, he has expressed in the, ahem, strongest terms his support of these proceedings. Therefore, he is released on his own recognizance..." The objections from the Prosecution were ignored and Jack was soon in Processing, gathering his belongings, and heading for Baby's limo.

As they drove away from the courthouse, Jean asked, "We can have these charges disappear, you know. You don't have to go through this." He took his friend's hand. "Are you sure about this, Jacques? This is your freedom you are playing with."

"I know," Jack said. "But it's also my good name. Jean, I can't let them take that. They can take anything but that."

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Wednesday, 7:13 pm
February 26, 2020

Jack had planted himself in his favorite spot for contemplation, directly before the big window that looked out on his garden. "You heard?" he asked without turning.

"We heard," Baby said softly as she and Jean settled on one of Jack's big, puffy, leather couches. They had appeared from the bedroom as soon as Amanda Miller left.

"She risked a lot coming here. I'm sure they told all my people to have no further contact with me." He was silent for a moment. "She has to know the house is bugged, too."

"Yes she would, unless she's a complete idiot." Baby didn't like the feelings coming off her companion.

"She's not. She just wants to help me." Jack was silent again. "She thinks I'm guilty."

"Jacques..." Jean began but Jack held up a hand forestalling him.

"I could tell. She's worked with me closely for over six months now and she thinks I'm guilty." He didn't turn from the window. He could see his whole body reflected darkly in the glass, another Jack considering him even as he was considered. "Damn it! All I ever wanted was to put the bad guys away! You spend your life doing that, give up everything for the job, your marriages, your family, everything, just because you think you're making a difference somehow. And when you finally discover that you can do that and have a life, too, is it so bad to reach out and grab that life?" He felt strong arms wrap around him, though the reflected Jack remained alone. "What is so wrong with taking a little bit of freedom, of grabbing a little bit of comfort when it doesn't hurt anyone?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, sweetheart," Baby whispered as her arms joined Jean's. Jack could feel both of the vampires pressed against him, giving him their support, but the Jack in the night-dark glass remained alone. Jack wondered for an instant which Jack was real.

He shook the mood off and let his lovers comfort him with their presence. He sighed and leaned back into preternaturally strong arms. "You heard that they want me to turn evidence on the family. They want me to betray you all."

Baby nodded. "And I heard you refuse without even letting her finish the sentence." She nuzzled the side of his face. "Jack, after all this time, do you think I still don't trust you? You've been nothing but loyal to me. You know things about me that no one else knows." She met Jean's eyes. "Even Spike." Jean's eyebrows flicked for a moment. He understood the message. She turned Jack's face gently toward her until he was staring into her eyes. "I trust you implicitly."

Jean grinned and copied his mother's actions. Warm brown eyes locked with green ones. "So do I, m' Jacques." He ran a finger over Jack's companion mark. "You don't get that mark unless we trust you. You are family now, Jack."

Jack lost himself in Jean's kiss for long minutes, forgetting the reflected Jack, still alone but now showing a face transformed by ecstasy. "Yes. Family. Finally."

~~~~~

Jack's now ever-present observers listened and frowned as it became obvious that Jack and his two visitors were engaged in activities of a decidedly carnal nature. "Wish we could have gotten that camera hook-up in there," one of the Washington agents commented.

Vinnie Calzonetti paled and clutched the rosary in his pocket tightly. "Oh God. No! You really don't."

Frank Wilson turned rather green at the thought and wondered if he could take early retirement, say in the next five minutes. The snatches of conversation now coming from the speakers in the observation van were not helping the roiling of his stomach one bit.

"Oh God, yes, Jean!" Jack's voice held so much desire Vinnie could nearly see it flowing from the speakers. "Oh please Jean. I want to see your face, your real face. Let me see it."

"Oh God," Vinnie murmured and crossed himself. He tried his damnedest to go instantly deaf.

"What the hell is he talking about?" the younger of the two DC agents in the van muttered. "Real face?"

Wilson had his eyes squeezed shut as though not being able to see would mean he couldn't hear. The snarls and growls that now came over the audio system set him to shivering with a cold he couldn't fight.

"What the hell is that? They got some kind of big cat in there?" the DC agent continued.

Vinnie whimpered.

Jack's voice broke out over the snarls. "Oh Baby, yes! God, yes! You're so beautiful like that. Oh God, your teeth! I love your teeth. Yes! I want..." The next sound was somewhere between a moan and a scream and Vinnie had the tangential thought that the transcriber was going to have a hell of a time describing it. "Jean! Oh, bite! Yes, bite me. Please! Yes. Yes. Oh God, so good! Your fangs, so good. Oh God. Harder! Bite harder! OH! Baby! Yes. Oh honey, yes! Bite! Bite!"

Baby's laugh was low and guttural. "Shh, my Jack. Here, pumpkin. Drink. Drink from me."

Wilson's stomach couldn't take it anymore. He fell from the van and knelt in the gutter, retching. Vinnie fell to his knees inside the vehicle, rosary tightly clenched in his fist, as he repeated his Hail Mary over and over again as Jack screamed out his orgasm.

~~~~~

Jack lay content and spent between his lovers. He knew his house was bugged but he didn't care. He hoped they had enjoyed the show, damn them.

Baby lifted her head from his chest; she'd felt his bitterness through their link. "Honey? You know the best answer to all this."

He stroked her hair. "I do?"

She nodded and he felt her head move though he couldn't really see it in the darkness. "Let me turn you. Now, tonight. If you're dead, they can't do anything."

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "God, I want that. I want that so much. But I can't. Not yet." He felt Jean stir and knew he was listening as well. "I have to see this through. I can't stand the thought of being remembered as a... traitor. I just can't." He accepted Jean's caress. "Please understand. I want to be your son more than anything in this world. Except clearing my name. I can't die with this hanging over me. I just can't."

She kissed his chest. "I understand. Just know that whenever you want it, it's waiting for you."

Jean kissed his lips. "I look forward to the day you can call me uncle, Jacques du Coeurs." Jack could feel Jean's smile; he didn't need to see it. "We will waltz on your grave, yes?"

Jack felt desire bloom inside him. "Yes, we will. We'll dance for days. We'll dance forever."

~~~~~

"What the hell does that mean?" one of the DC agents asked.

Vinnie Calzonetti shook his head. He was incapable of speech. He had heard more than he ever wanted to know about things in which he had no interest.

Frank Wilson shuddered. "God help us all. It means you might as well pack up and go back to Washington. You've already lost this case." He stared toward Jack's house, its windows dark and lifeless. "And we've lost him." Another shudder racked his body. "God help us all."

Chapter 2 - "They're Out to Get Me"
By Ebony Silvers and Merzibelle

Been hiding' out and laying' low. It's nothing new to me.
Well you can always find a place to go,
If you can keep your sanity.
They break down the doors.
And they rape my rights but...
They won't touch me.
They scream and yell and fight all night.
You can't tell me.
I lose my head. I close my eyes
They won't touch me
'Cause I got something I been building' up inside
For so fucking long

They're out to get me. They won't catch me.
I'm fucking innocent. They won't break me.

Sometimes it's easy to forget where you're going.
Sometimes it's harder to leave.
And every time you think you know just what you are doing',
That's when your troubles exceed.
They push me in a corner. Just to get me to fight but...
They won't touch me.
They preach and yell and fight all night.
You can't tell me.
I lose my head. I close my eyes.
They won't touch me.
'Cause I got something I been building' up inside.
I'm already gone.

Some people got a chip on their shoulder.
And some would say it was I.
But I didn't buy that fifth of whiskey,
That you gave me.
So I'd be quick to disagree.

They out to get me. They won't catch me.
'Cause I'm innocent. So you can suck me.
Take that one to heart.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Thursday, 8:12 am
February 27, 2020

Special Agent Michael Brady clicked the PC remote control and a much-more-than-life-size picture appeared on the projection screen. "John Patrick Niemczyk. Mr. Niemczyk is the product of a traditional lower middle class home. His parents, first generation Americans, one Irish, one Polish, are a teacher and a grocer. The eldest of four children, he is the only one to have escaped the poverty of his Chicago upbringing. Research has shown that he at least partially supports his parents and siblings as well as providing substantial alimony and child support to his former spouses and his children. Both children attend Ivy League schools with full tuition paid for by their father, as well as receiving healthy allowances." He paused for a moment to let the assembled agents consider where all that money could be coming from. The task force included agents from both the D.C. headquarters of the F.B.I. and the local field office in New Orleans. The two groups had silently and voluntarily segregated themselves, the locals eyeing the newcomers with barely concealed hostility.

"Mr. Niemczyk put himself through school on scholarships and by working odd jobs. Attending the Academy at Quantico on federal grant monies, Mr. Niemczyk became an agent immediately after graduating with a pre-law degree from the University of Chicago." Brady clicked another picture onto the screen. Jack's arrest/conviction record appeared. "Mr. Niemczyk rose quickly through the ranks at F.B.I., gaining particular attention as a profiler specializing in serial killers. It was Mr. Niemczyk's apprehension of John Marcus, the only known agent turned mass killer, that led to his elevation to head of the New Orleans field office. Until his arrest this week, Mr. Niemczyk held the post of Assistant Director in Charge of the Southeast Region. Brilliant, observant, patriotic, Mr. Niemczyk was to all appearances the perfect agent.

"However, in recent years, it has become apparent that this merely was appearances only and that Mr. Niemczyk has turned his back on his integrity as an agent of the F.B.I. For the last four years he has been deeply involved with organized crime, specifically the Roxton Syndicate, headed by this man." A somewhat fuzzy shot of Spike appeared on the screen. "William Roxton, a.k.a. William the Bloody, a.k.a. Spike, a.k.a. the Master." A second shot of Spike, no better than the first appeared. "Mr. Roxton and his 'family' run organized crime in the state of Louisiana and along a fair portion of the Gulf Coast. Be it smuggling, illegal gambling, protection rackets, or the sale of controlled substances, the Roxtons have a hand in it. Nothing illegal occurs in their territory without their permission. It has been extremely difficult for the Bureau to get close to any of the family. The Roxtons are notoriously insular and extremely suspicious of outsiders. One informant went so far as to state that you had to die to join the family."

One of the local agents choked on his coffee.

Brady ignored the interruption. "Very little is known about William Roxton. All paper trails end in mid-to-early 2000. There is no hint that he existed prior to that date. There are indications based on not entirely reliable sources that Roxton is a native of the United Kingdom, but so far New Scotland Yard and Interpol have been unable to supply any information on his origins. Agent Munimoto, your task is to find out everything you can about William Roxton and his wife."

Brady clicked again. "Mrs. William Roxton." Baby appeared in all her hooker-clad glory. "A.k.a. Baby Roxton, a.k.a. the Queen of New Orleans." He sighed to himself. "If possible, we know even less about Mrs. Roxton than we do about her husband. We don't even know her proper name. She's listed as Baby Roxton on her marriage certificate. Like her husband, she does not seem to have existed prior to the year 2000. Evidence more than suggests that she is the source of Agent Niemczyk's change of heart. Mr. Niemczyk, in blatant contradiction of Bureau standards, has been conducting an open affair with Mrs. Roxton. In addition to offering her sexual favors, Mrs. Roxton is the purchaser on record of both Mr. Niemczyk's house and his Bentley Azure."

"She bought him a freaking Rolls Royce?" someone muttered.

"Yes, she did, as well as designer clothes, exotic vacations, and very expensive jewelry," Brady continued. "We estimate that Mrs. Roxton has spent in excess of three million dollars on Mr. Niemczyk since their affair began in 2016. And that's just what we've been able to track."

"Jesus! What has he been doing for her?" one of the D.C. agents asked.

The local agents, huddled together in the back of the room as far from the interlopers from Washington as they could manage to be, gave a collective shudder. "Oh God, you don't want to know," Vinnie Calzonetti muttered to himself.

"We have no doubts that Mrs. Roxton is both the initiator of Mr. Niemczyk's corruption and his main contact with organized crime," Brady said. At the push of a button, Jack's voice filled the room.

"Don't worry about it, honey. You know I'm completely loyal to you. I don't care about Spike or any of the others. I belong to you. Just you, Baby."

"In dealing with Mr. Niemczyk, I believe we would benefit from concentrating our interview tactics on threats to Mrs. Roxton, up to and including potentially 'fatal' situations. One never knows where a stray bullet may go, etc. We will more than likely get a full confession in exchange for sureties of her safety." Brady didn't see the terror that gripped the local contingent at his words. "Additionally, threats against this man would also be effective against Mr. Niemczyk." A rather flattering picture of Jean appeared on the screen. "Jean Claude DuValliere, a.k.a. Jean Roxton, a.k.a. John Williamson, a.k.a. Prince Jean, a.k.a. Saint Jean. The self-styled Prince of New Orleans. Mr. DuValliere is also engaged in an open love affair with Mr. Niemczyk."

There were grumbles around the room and several sounds of disgust.

"Mr. DuValliere is quite... interesting." A picture of a slightly younger and very innocent-looking Jean appeared on the screen. "Dr. Jean DuValliere, Professor of Philosophy at Tulane University." Brady waited a second for that to sink in. "This photo was taken in 1994. Dr. DuValliere died August 20, 2000."

Vinnie crossed himself.

"Autopsy records indicate Dr. DuValliere died of stab wounds inflicted during a robbery. The murderer's body was found only a few feet from Dr. DuValliere's. His murder case is still unsolved."

One of the Washington agents frowned. "Okay, that doesn't make any sense."

Morrison resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Obviously, the syndicate noted the resemblance between the dead man and one of their own who, for whatever reason, needed a new identity. That criminal assumed the dead Jean DuValliere's identity." He didn't notice the head shakes among the locals. "It seems to be a common practice with this organization."

Brady resumed control of the briefing. "The individual currently calling himself Jean DuValliere is a notorious philanderer noted for his amazing number of affairs and one night stands. He is also without doubt the number two man in the Roxton syndicate. Many believe he may actually be the brains of the organization. When questioning Mr. DuValliere, it would be best to appeal to his ego, especially his reputation as a lover. Though openly bi-sexual, he is particularly susceptible to female beauty. Therefore, I would suggest that Agent Harrison handle his questioning." He nodded toward a particularly pretty female agent in the second row.

Bowles leaned over and whispered in Wilson's ear. "The Prince will have her panties around her ankles in less than five minutes."

Wilson nodded and grinned wickedly. "Hell, he'd have Brady's panties around his ankles in less than that." Bowles' resulting guffaw earned him hard looks and a reprimand. He didn't care. He just hoped the boys and girls from out of town didn't piss off the family too much. Bowles had no wish to see F.B.I. New Orleans in flames.

Brady continued. He was getting tired and really wanted to get this over with. "Another tactic that might be useful against both Mrs. Roxton and Mr. DuValliere are threats against this man."

As a new picture flashed onto the screen Agent Harrison let out a startled "Whoa!"

"Yes, he seems to have that effect on a great many people." He sighed. "René Devereau Beaumont." In the photo, the Cajun lounged shirtless against a balcony support with a beaming smile on his face. The photo was crystal clear and the camera, like every female agent and three male agents in the room, was in love with him. "A.k.a. René Roxton, a.k.a. René Williamson, a.k.a. the Master of Mobile, a.k.a. René the Beautiful."

"That's no lie," a woman's voice said from somewhere in the back of the room.

"Mr. Beaumont has a criminal record stretching back to his pre-teen years, including convictions for possession of drugs and weapons, assault, solicitation, and prostitution. Mr. Beaumont was a career criminal until his death on May 12, 2001."

"Not another one!" someone snarked.

"Yes, apparently so. However, in this case rather than assuming an innocent person's identify, Mr. Beaumont's death was faked for reasons unknown." Brady glanced at his notes, though he didn't need them. He just hated thinking of René Beaumont. "There have been no arrests or convictions following Mr. Beaumont's 'death;' however, his admission into the family is directly responsible for the rise of the Beaumont family's prominence as a criminal force in Louisiana. Mr. Beaumont is the acknowledged number three man in the organization. He is also their major 'muscle,' providing the physical intimidation necessary for the smooth running of the syndicate."

"Why would threats against him work on DuValliere?" someone asked.

"Because Jean loves him," Wilson muttered. It came out much louder than he intended.

"Precisely, Agent Wilson," Brady said. "DuValliere has publicly acknowledged multiple times that he is in love with Mr. Beaumont. There is no doubt that they are lovers. Any threats to Mr. Beaumont will be particularly effective against Mr. DuValliere."

Wilson got a very nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah, effective at getting their heads ripped off," he whispered to Vinnie.

"Likewise, threats against Mr. DuValliere will prove effective against Mr. Beaumont. Additionally, threats against Mrs. Roxton will be extremely effective if used with Mr. Beaumont."

Vinnie shook his head. "Aw, no! You don't want to do that. That's the best way I know to get killed." Bowles shushed him.

"Do you have some information you'd like to share, Agent Calzonetti?"

Vinnie shook off Bowles' hand. "Look, you come down here and you don't know anything. You're messing with something you can't understand. All you're doing is asking to get yourself killed." Wilson shushed him softly but Vinnie ignored him. "I'm just telling you, you threaten Lady Roxton to Prince René's face and you're gonna die. It's that simple. He takes threats to her real serious and he ain't the forgiving type. None of the family is very forgiving."

"Thank you for that confirmation of my theory, Agent," Brady said. "Each interrogation team will find specific interviewing strategies for their subjects in the folders passed out at the beginning of this briefing." He sighed. He very much wanted this over with. "Now go bring them in."

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Thursday, 9:52 pm
February 27, 2020

It hadn't been difficult to locate or pick up four of the five suspects Agent Morrison wanted questioned. They had been unable to get close to William Roxton but they had found his wife, René Beaumont, Jean DuValliere, and Jack Niemczyk leaving the Chart House restaurant as if they were visiting royalty rather than miscreants under investigation by the U.S. government. There had been a tense moment when it looked as though Mrs. Roxton's bodyguard would cause problems but she had waved him away and voluntarily come in, stating that the questioning "might be fun." They now occupied four separate interrogation rooms at the Federal courthouse.

SAC Morrison entered Interrogation Room 3 to find the infamous Baby Roxton comfortably seated with her feet propped on the corner of the table and a steaming cup of coffee at her elbow. There was a suspicious smell of liquor on the air. "What the hell?" He picked up the coffee, sniffed it, and immediately dumped it in the trash.

Baby sighed. "Now why'd you go and do that? The boys are just gonna have to fix me another."

Agent Bowles nodded and pushed one of his subordinates toward the door. "You heard the lady," he said quietly.

The younger agent was gone before Morrison could stop him. "Are you nuts? She's a criminal. What the hell are you doing?"

Baby grinned and held out her hand. Agent Bowles handed her his flask without hesitation. She took a sip and handed it back. "Let's just face it, Agent. New Orleans men know how to treat a lady."

Morrison frowned. "I know exactly how to treat a lady and as soon as I see one, I'll act accordingly."

Baby's grin broadened. "I was right. This is gonna be fun."

"I seriously doubt that," Morrison said and sat down diagonally from her. He pushed her cowboy boots off the table. He opened his file. "It is my duty to inform you that this interrogation is being recorded. You have the right to have your attorney present. If you cannot afford an attorney...

She cut him off. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I don't need a lawyer."

Morrison sighed. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "Could you state your name for the record and your titles if any?"

Baby grinned proudly. "I am Consort to William the Bloody." She put her feet back on the table.

"Don't be flip with me. Full and proper name..." He pushed her boots again and was surprised when they didn't budge. He decided not to engage in an undignified shoving match with her feet.

"I am Consort to William the Bloody, Consort to René the Beautiful." She thought for a moment. "Ex-Consort to Angelus the Cruel."

"So you screw around a lot. That doesn't answer the question."

"Queen of New Orleans," she said as though he hadn't spoken. Gary Bowles closed his eyes and wondered what sort of flowers he should send to Morrison's funeral.

"And there are no queens in New Orleans except for the drag queens down on Bourbon."

Baby nearly died laughing. "I have better clothes," she said. "Or at least flashier ones." She smiled at him. "You're quick. I like that in a man."

Morrison felt an ulcer coming on. "Madam... unless you wish to spend the rest of the night in a holding cell downtown you will answer the questions put to you. Now, state your full name, occupation and current residence for the record."

Baby's tone changed and Morrison was somewhat surprised to hear her accent nearly disappear. "I reside at La Maison du Rouge s'Elevé, 1125 Royal Street, New Orleans." There was no amusement in her eyes as she continued. "I am Consort to William the Bloody and Queen of New Orleans." Some of the severity in her countenance lessened. "But you can call me Baby. Everyone does."

Morrison bristled. "Baby is not a name. We need the name on your birth certificate. You can give it to us. Or we can print you and find it."

"It's the only name I got, sugar." The accent was back, stronger than before. "But since you don't like it, you can address me as Lady Roxton." There was a definite edge to her voice now.

The tone of her last statement sent fingers of ice into Bowles' heart. "Ma'am, please. He doesn't mean any disrespect. Agent Morrison, that really is Lady Roxton's name."

"I seriously doubt that, Agent Bowles. We'll find out your real name, madam. I'm sure someone like you...." He favored her with a disgusted look. "Has a record somewhere. If nothing else, we'll find that birth certificate."

Baby giggled. "I wasn't born, darling. I appeared like Athena from Zeus' forehead." Her eyes glowed and yellow sprang from their golden depths. "I don't exist. I'm not real."

Agent Bowles gave into temptation and crossed himself.

"Everyone exists, madam," Morrison contended. "And we will find you."

There was a maniacal tint to Baby's laughter that chilled Agent Bowles and brought a frown of concern to Morrison's face. "Ask your colleagues. They'll tell you. I don't exist."

"Let it go, Agent. Please just let it go," Bowles said.

Morrison wondered why Brady hadn't told him Baby Roxton was insane. He decided to change tracks. "Did you or did you not purchase a house and give it to one John Patrick Niemczyk?"

Baby grinned again. "I did. And before you even bother to ask, I gave him a car. A very nice car. And some lovely clothes. And some lovely presents." She winked at Bowles. "I take good care of my men."

Morrison sighed. At least he'd gotten a straight answer on that. "And what is your relationship to Mr. Niemczyk that you would be so generous?"

Baby accepted her cup of coffee from the returning agent and held it out expectantly. Completely ignoring Morrison's frown, Bowles added a generous dollop of liquor from his own hip flask to the milky mix. "Thank you, darlin'," she said before turning her attention to Morrison. "Originally Jack was my Pet. He is now my properly marked Companion." Bowles and the other two local agents shivered. "I took good care of him when he was my Pet and I take better care of him now that he is my Companion. I've been quite happy with Jack's... performance." Innuendo dripped from the word.

"And what duties precisely does Mr. Niemczyk perform for you?" Morrison asked.

"Oh God, no," Bowles muttered.

"Jack." Baby bit her lower lip and Bowles could have sworn her canines looked a tad too sharp. The glee on her face was more than he could stand. "Jack is very pretty. I like pretty men. He looks really good on my arm when we go out. He's very smart, too, and can keep me amused with witty conversation." She laughed and Bowles turned cold at the sound. If he'd ever doubted she was a demon, he no longer did so. Her boots hit the floor with a loud thunk and she leaned forward, invading Morrison's personal space. "But mostly Jack screams better than any man I've ever seen. He bleeds so good it makes my insides warm." The smile was gone from her face; the near-sneer that replaced it sent terror shooting through Bowles. "He bruises like fine art. The way he begs me to stop hurting him makes my heart want to beat." Yellow swirled through her eyes again. She snarled through clenched teeth. "Jack's got a fucking big dick and he... Makes. Me. Come."

"Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am. You're free to go," Bowles said in a rush.

"What! You have no authority to..."

Bowles cut Morrison off. "Until Jack's replaced, I'm acting ADC for the Region. That gives me the authority. This interview is over."

"You may be used to catering to the criminal element but I'm not," Morrison spat. "What the hell are you so afraid of? They are nothing. We are here to conduct an investigation. If you can't be non-biased, then maybe we should have you suspended until this is over."

"Fine. I'll be alive. I'd sooner be suspended than dead." Bowles turned to Baby. "Miss Baby, ma'am, you remember that we showed you no disrespect. You tell the Master... Please ma'am."

Baby nodded. The smile had returned to her face. "I'll remember, Gary. I remember everything." She stood and picked up her cup. "Thanks for the coffee, sugar." She took a sip. "Mmm, just the way I like it." She patted his cheek as she passed him. As she reached the door she paused. Without turning back to him, she said, "Agent Morrison, Jack's mine. You may not understand what that means but I'm sure someone will explain it to you. I will not have him railroaded for something he hasn't done. Jack Niemczyk is the best agent your Bureau ever had. The sooner you get that through your head, the better. For all of you."

Chapter 3 - "Rocket Queen"
By Ebony Silvers & Merzibelle

If I say I don't need anyone, I can say these things to you.
'Cause I can turn on any one Just like I turned on you.
I've got a tongue like a razor, A sweet switchblade knife.
And I can do you favors, but then you'll do whatever I like.

Here I am. And you're a Rocket Queen.
I might be a little young But honey I ain't naive.
Here I am and you're a Rocket Queen oh yeah.
I might be too much But honey you're a bit obscene.

I've seen everything imaginable Pass before these eyes.
I've had everything that's tangible Honey you'd be surprised.
I'm a sexual innuendo in this burned out paradise.
If you turn me on to anything, You better turn me on tonight.

I see you standing, standing on your own.
It's such a lonely place for you for you to be.
If you need a shoulder or if you need a friend.
I'll bee here standing until the bitter end.
No one needs the sorrow No one needs the pain.
I hate to see you Walking out there Out in the rain.
So don't chastise me Or think I, I mean you harm.
Of those that take you, leave you strung out,
Much too far Baby-yeah.

Don't ever leave me Say you'll always be there.
All I ever wanted was for you to know that I care.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Thursday, 10:09 pm
February 27, 2020

"There's a problem, sir."

Not exactly the first words Michael Brady wanted to hear as he entered Interrogation Room 1. "And that is?"

"He won't speak English."

Brady sighed. He wasn't surprised. "So he's refusing to answer any questions."

"Oh no, sir. He's answering them all. He's just doing it in French. Cajun French. Agent Murphy speaks French but it's French French, sir, and she's only getting about every third word."

"Good lord. This is New Orleans, surely there is someone in law enforcement that speaks Cajun and can translate!" Brady wanted to scream and he hadn't even asked his first question yet.

"Yes, sir. We've already sent for him. He's on his way. Maybe ten minutes or so."

Michael took a seat next to Vinnie Calzonetti, who if anything looked even less pleased to be there than Brady was. Brady took the time to carefully observe the subject.

He had to admit that René Beaumont was beautiful. As much as he hated the man, as much as he wanted to put a bullet between those famous teal eyes, he had to admit René was beautiful. Maybe that was how he had corrupted Rebekah. Maybe that incredible physical beauty had seduced his young cousin away from her family. It was the only thing he could think of. Surely, she had not been impressed with this trashily dressed punk. From his too-long black hair to the flashy silver tips of his boots, René Beaumont was obviously nothing but a petty street-walking criminal.

Before Brady was too tempted to pull his gun and just shoot the bastard, his interpreter arrived. Brady raised an eyebrow when the two men not only shook hands but also embraced briefly.

"Captain Remy McSwain, NOPD," the newcomer introduced himself. "I hear y'all can't understand a word René's saying."

"You assistance is appreciated, Captain," Brady said and sat back down. He didn't see Remy mocking him but René did and grinned broadly at his cousin. "Shall we get started then?" Brady opened his case file. He informed René of his rights and that the session was being recorded. He was surprised when Remy didn't translate.

"Oh, René understands English. He just doesn't want to speak it. He's a militant Francophone some days," Remy explained. "A card carrying member of CODOFIL."

Brady shook his head and decided it wasn't worth the effort to argue or even ask. "Please state your name for the record and any titles you might have."

"René Devereau Beaumont, le deuxième fils de William le Sanglant, le Maître d'Alabama et Floride du nord. Le fils du Roi de Nouveau Orleans." René said without the least hesitation.

"René Devereau Beaumont, second son of William the Bloody, Master of Alabama and north Florida. Son of the King of New Orleans," Remy dutifully translated.

"I beg your pardon?" Brady said.

"Le prince René Devereau Beaumont, le deuxième fils de William le Sanglant, le Maître d'Alabama et Floride du nord. Le fils du Roi de Nouveau Orleans. S'associer à la Reine de Nouvelle-orléans et le Prince héritier Jean Claude DuValliere. L'Amant réclamé au Maître de Louisiane." René added a few things just to annoy the agent.

"Prince René Devereau Beaumont, second son of William the Bloody, Master of Alabama and north Florida. Son of the King of New Orleans. Consort to the Queen of New Orleans and the Crown Prince Jean Claude DuValliere. Claimed Lover to the Master of Louisiana." Remy looked up in surprise at that last bit. "Really? The Master."

René grinned. "Mais oui."

"Well, I'll be damned!" Remy said. "Shit, why didn't you tell me? Shouldn't we have had a party or something? Hell, I didn't even know you and Jean had gotten married. Damn! After all these years! Congratulations, son!" He thought for a moment. "Mama's gonna be upset with you. You know how she is about weddings. She's gonna want to throw a shower for Jean."

"Captain McSwain!"

"Huh? Oh sorry. Family stuff, you know how it is," Remy said with the self-deprecating smile that turned Anne's knees weak and had no effect whatsoever on Brady.

"Might we continue?" Brady asked with a glare. At Remy's assertion of "Oh sure," he asked. "Mr. Beaumont, what is your occupation?"

René smirked and Remy got that tingle that he only got when he and his brother or cousins were messing with someone. René was in an evil mood tonight and nothing was more fun than that. "Le général de l'armée du Maître, Warlord du Racheté, Conquerer pour l'Empire de la Lance. Le seigneur de clan de Aurelius de Maison." René thought for a moment and smiled. "J'épargne le monde un lotissement."

Remy nearly spit his coffee. "Good God, René!"

"Captain McSwain!" Brady protested.

"Sorry. Ah... he said, General of the Master's army, Warlord of the Redeemed, Conquerer for Spike's Empire. Clan lord of House Aurelius." Remy was trying very hard not to giggle. "I save the world a lot."

"Save the world?"

"Mais oui," René said with some pride.

"By corrupting Federal agents?"

René quirked an eyebrow at his questioner and Brady moved on.

"What is your relationship to John Patrick Niemczyk?"

René snarled. "I have no relationship to Niemczyk," Remy translated. "And I don't want one."

"So you know nothing about any moneys Mr. Niemczyk might have taken to perform duties for your... family?"

René's sneer was nearly comical. "I try not to know anything about Niemczyk. I try not to hear about him and I try not to think about him," Remy said as René finished speaking.

"Really? That's odd, considering the reputation your family has for sharing everything. You don't have any sort of relationship with Mr. Niemczyk? Considering your own record, I find it hard to believe you haven't joined Mrs. Roxton and Mr. DuValliere in sharing Agent Niemczyk's favors." Brady paused. "Perhaps I phrased that badly. Considering your record, I find it hard to believe that Agent Niemczyk hasn't sampled your..." He looked René over like the whore the Cajun had once been. "Favors."

René came straight off his chair faster than Brady had believed any man could move. He found himself pressed against a wall with a vice-like grip around his throat and fiery eyes glaring into his.

Remy managed to insert an arm between the two men. "René, please. I know you don't kill the innocent. He may be a pain in the ass, but he's an innocent."

René growled deep and low, a feline, animalistic sound. Vinnie Calzonetti crossed himself and began to pray softly.

With a final squeeze, René released the FBI agent. "You want to know what I think of your Agent Niemczyk, heh? I tell you," he grated in his heavily accent English. "I think he's an egotistical, obnoxious son of a bitch who's sleeping with my wife and my husband. I don't like him!" He slammed his fist into the wall beside Brady's head. "The only reason the motherfucking bastard is still alive is because Maman won't let me kill him. The thought of him joining the family makes my skin crawl."

Vinnie prayed harder, his rosary held tightly in his hand. René whirled on him. "I'm getting real tired of people waving crosses in my face!" With the same speed that had so shocked Brady, he swooped down on Calzonetti and snatched the rosary from him. "You see! Look!" René brought the crucifix to his lips and with a muttered prayer of his own, kissed it. "Stop looking at me like I'm a monster. God damn it!" He glared at the Italian with yellow-rimmed eyes. "I am Redeemed. That Heaven you keep calling on? Well I been there! And it's..." The anger melted away for his face and something akin to longing bloomed in his eyes. "It's more wonderful than you can imagine. You do everything you can to find your way there, heh?" He took Vinnie's hand and dropped the rosary into his palm. René closed the human's fingers around the holy object. "All you got to do is try, 'cause God, He forgives a lot as long as you try. You know? If He can forgive me?" René didn't finish that thought. Vinnie stared into the eyes of a demon and saw salvation. He nodded. René smiled a touch sadly. "That good then. Maybe I meet you there one day and call you brother."

Vinnie swallowed. "I'd like that," he whispered.

René nodded. "I got nothing else to say," he advised the other agents and strode from the room. None of them offered even token objection.

Vinnie watched him go with a new heart. When in the coming years he received his ordination for the priesthood, René Beaumont was an invited and welcome guest.

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Thursday, 10:33 pm
February 27, 2020

Agent Harrison straightened her skirt and looked at the subject across from her. He certainly looked unconcerned with the prospect of being interrogated. One cashmere-clothed leg crossed over the other, an arm dangling over the back of his chair, he was the picture of ease and refinement. "Please state your name for the record."

"Jean Claude DuValliere," he said in a soft voice. She could understand how he gained his reputation. That faint accent and rich voice were very appealing.

"For the record, could you please state your current occupation?" she continued.

"Crown Prince of the Master's Empire," Jean said with a faint smile.

"Oookay. Anything else... any fancy titles?" she said. "Mr. Beaumont seems to have had a few.... we think."

Jean smiled. "Mais oui, cher. But they mean nothing."

He was charming; she'd have to give him that. "We still need them for the record, sir."

He shrugged. Maman was right. This was fun. "What are titles? Silly words." He sighed. "But since you ask...Very well." He smiled engagingly. "Do you perfer French or English? I prefer French. It's such a beautiful language. It should always be used when speaking to such a belle as yourself."

Agent Harrison felt her face grow warm. "Whatever is best for carrying them across. We can always translate later."

Jean's smile deepened. He appreciated that delicate blush. "As you will, cher belle. Je suis Jean Claude DuValliere, le fils aîné de William le Sanglant, le Prince héritier de Nouvelle-Orléans, le Conjoint à René le Beau, Amant Reconnu de la Reine de Nouvelle-Orléans, l'Amant Réclamé du Roi, l'Héritier au Maître de Louisiane." He bowed his head humbly and translated for her. "I am Jean Claude DuValliere, eldest son of William the Bloody, Crown Prince of New Orleans, Consort to René the Beautiful, Acknowledged Lover of the Queen of New Orleans, Claimed Lover of the King, Heir to the Master of Louisiana. They call me Jean de saint l'Amant. Saint Jean the Lover."

"Interesting titles." This group seemed preoccupied with who was bedding whom. "And your current residence?"

He gave the address while observing her with a gleam in his dark eyes. Frank Wilson and the other local agents exchanged glances. "Five to one says he has her legs spread in a hotel room before the week's over," Agent Johnson whispered.

Wilson shook his head. "Twenty-four hours. I figure he'll have her begging for it tomorrow night."

Smithfield considered the D.C. agent. "Sunrise. Twenty bucks says he does her by sun up."

Agent Harrison was unaware of the bets being placed on her virtue. "Thank you, sir. Now we'd like to discuss a few matters concerning former Special Agent John Niemczyk."

"Ah, Jacques." There was affection, seduction, and respect somehow mingled in the way Jean said the other man's name.

"Specifically your relationship to him, business or otherwise. If you could clarify that relationship, sir."

"Jacques? Jack is one of my lovers." There was no hesitation, no shame. It simply was.

"I see. We have documentation that supports a more nefarious connection. Your response?" She was pleased with his cooperation so far.

"Nefarious? Jacques? Cher belle, when Jack is with me he is only thinking of one thing and it has nothing to do with anything nefarious. Amorous, oh yes. Nefarious, non." That charming smile was firmly in place, so was a hint of a leer.

Mindful of Brady's instructions, she began pacing, considering Jean and his responses. "Hmm...." She perched on the edge of the table, giving Jean ample opportunity to check out her legs. "And your personal opinion of Mr. Niemczyk?"

Jean's smile was electric. "MMmmmm, Jack is delicious. He's very pretty. And I do like my lovers, both male and... female to be pretty. He's very adventuresome. You know? Adventuresome? Are you adventuresome, cher? Or are you romantique? I like romantique." He brought his arm around from behind the chair, rolling his shoulder, the play of muscles smooth and inviting. "I like to send them roses. Take them to nice dinners, the theatre." He grinned. "See they have multiple orgasms." He waited while she blinked and Wilson recovered from a coughing attack. "If a woman spends the night with me she should come at least a dozen times. One for each rose."

Agent Harrison swallowed. Good God! No wonder this man had the reputation he did. If he could back up even a quarter of his boasts he'd have women lined up for blocks for a chance to date him. "Nice dinners? It's those dinners that have come into question. Are you certain that no... underhanded dealings went on? Perhaps, one-time payments and the like?" Jean was focused on her knees and she decided to try another Brady tactic. "Please, sir." She had to lean back a bit. He was too close, too immediate. "I am on a case. If I can get anything to please the boss... perhaps you can 'show' me what went on at these dinners with Mr. Niemczyk. It would go a long way toward clearing up any... misunderstandings."

"Ah. I can show you exactly what went on at those dinners." Jean slid his hand to her nylon-clad leg. "Mmmm, maybe I send you two dozen roses, cher."

Her eyes went big. She lifted his hand and returned it to the table. "Not here. I'm not going down like he did. You may be the hottest thing in the South, but you've already ruined his career. You aren't taking mine," she whispered. Jean wondered who she was trying to convince. She slid from the table and resumed her pacing. In a more normal tone she continued, "So you have no information concerning the transactions that we've seen between you and the former ADA?"

Jean ignored the question. "Mmmm, they tell you my reputation, m' belle? I'm the best lover in Louisiana. I make men beg for it. I make women cry for it. When I have dinner with my lover, the only thing he... or she is thinking of is how quickly they can get me alone and naked. They're not thinking of plots or transactions, petite. They're thinking of pleasure. Because there is no one can give pleasure like Jean DuValliere. Jacques is no exception."

She took defense in anger. "And you're just full of yourself tonight, aren't you? Get that from her.... the madam. She started his downfall. We're finishing it. The records are there. Now, one last time. You have no business dealings with Mr. Niemczyk?"

Jean grinned. "Jacques is family. There are no business dealings inside the family. There is only love."

She blinked again. That was not the answer she'd anticipated. "Very well." She knew when she was defeated. "It's been a... pleasure talking with you. You are free to go, but please don't leave town. That would be undesirable. Should you change your mind and wish to speak with us, I can be reached here." She handed him her business card and said in a voice too low for the microphones to pick up, "And if you want to impress me, pink ones. I don't like red."

Jean's grin was huge as he walked toward the door. "Yeah, I'm thinking two dozen roses at the very least," he told himself aloud.

Chapter 4 - "Hangman Jury"
By Ebony Silvers & Merzibelle

Me and my old lady sittin' in the shade,
Talkin' about the money that I ain't made.
Singin' o boy dontcha line the track a lack a.
O boy dontcha line the track,
O boy dontcha line the track a lack a,
O boy dontcha line the track.

If I could I surely would,
Stand on the rock that Moses stood.
Singin' o boy dontcha line the track a lack a.
O boy dontcha line the track.
O boy dontcha line the track a lack a.
O boy dontcha line the track.

Drank so much hooch it made my eyes be gettin' blurry.
They say I nailed her to the wall.
A stitch in time don't mean a thing. No hangman jury...
Could make me crawl.
Cause I'm a poor boy. Dontcha line the track a lack a
O boy dontcha line the track a lack a
O boy dontcha line the track. Oh...

Whacha do with a gun that's loaded?
Shot her dead and her heart exploded.
Tell me, baby, now d-dontcha worry,
Like lying to a hangman jury.

I swear I didn't know that 45 was loaded.
In fact my memory ain't too clear.
That's not to say she didn't get what she deserved.
Least that's the way it looked from here.
Boy when you line the track a lack a.
Hey boy when you line the track a lack a.
Hey boy when you line the tack.

Oh, my love came tumblin' down.
Oh, love come tumblin' down.
Oh, (let's get outta here).
When love come tumblin'.

And every night she take her thing into the city.
And in the mornin' make me beg.
Cause if I'd taken all her real titty gritty.
I'd smack her right upside the head.
Boy dontcha line the track a lack a.
Hey boy dontcha line the track.
Hey boy dontcha line the tack.

Oh, my love came tumblin' down.
Oh, love come tumblin' down.
Oh, love come tumblin'.

Poor boy sweatin' in the hot summer night.
Hangman waitin' for the early mornin' light.
Singin' Hey boy dontcha line the track a lack a.
Hey boy dontcha line the track.
Hey boy dontcha line the track a lack a.
Hey boy dontcha line the track.

If I could I surely would,
Stand on the rock that Moses done stood.
Singin' Hey boy dontcha line the track a lack a.
Hey boy dontcha line the track.
Hey boy dontcha line the track a lack a.
Hey boy dontcha line the track.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Thursday, 10:53 pm
February 27, 2020

Jack knew exactly what to expect when U.S. Attorney Roy Young entered the interrogation room with a couple of unfamiliar agents in tow. He wasn't disappointed.

"Mr. Niemczyk, on behalf of the government and to prevent a long drawn-out trial, I have been authorized to offer you the following: If you will plead guilty to conduct unbecoming to an officer, retire from the FBI, and provide evidence against the Roxton syndicate, all other charges against you will be dropped. In return for your cooperation, you would, of course, be placed in protective custody until their trials end. At which time, we will arrange for you to disappear."

Jack smiled. It wasn't even that good an offer. "No, thank you. I'm willing to face a jury. I'm innocent, after all."

Young smiled back, not unpleasantly. "You realize that if you face all the charges, your entire life will be dragged though both the press and the courts. You won't have any secrets left. Every aspect of your personal life will be held up for scrutiny." Mr. Young managed to look sympathetic. "You've been a fine agent for your entire adult life, Jack. You have, or rather had, a reputation I envy. Why let these people destroy that? We can drop the public charges. Conduct unbecoming is an internal charge; the public will never know about that. In fact, we'll drop that one, too. You retire with a clean record, still an agent that others can look up to. We can even arrange it so it looks like you were working for us the whole time you were in the Roxton syndicate. We'll make it look like you gave up everything to take them down. Hell, you'll be a legend in the Bureau."

Jack shook his head in wonder. "You're good. I could have used you on a case or two."

Mr. Young smiled at him. "Precisely. Look, Jack, you and I have been around and we both know how this works. An organization the size and scope of the Roxtons'? I can get you almost anything you want if you'll help us take them down. You won't suffer from the deal. You'll have your retirement and I can arrange a generous stipend as well."

Jack restrained his laughter. He almost liked Roy Young. "Not as generous as hers. I seriously doubt if the U.S. government is willing to keep me in the style to which I've become accustomed."

Roy's eyes turned hard. "Then the government will keep you in a cell in a Federal penitentiary for a fair portion of the rest of your life." He faced Jack squarely. "I won't let this go. I will prosecute this case to my fullest ability. I'll see every aspect of your personal and professional life dragged through the court and the press. Every segment of your affair with a married woman of dubious reputation, every detail of your affair with a man as notorious as she is, I'll see they are exposed to the light of day." He sat down near Jack. "Let's face it, you have some sick and kinky tastes, Jack. Do you really want those all over the front page of the papers for your family to read? Think of your kids. Think of your parents. You aren't the only one affected by this."

Jack felt the chains he'd fought so hard to escape reaching for him again, twining around his chest, squeezing the air and life from him. It was suffocating. He felt claustrophobic, breathless. He'd forgotten how horrible it was, that feeling of being tied down, of having no control over what he did, of living his life based on what others thought and wanted. "No! I won't go back to that! I can't live like that again!"

Young blinked in shock. That was not a reaction he's anticipated and he'd anticipated several different reactions. Blind panic was not one of them.

Jack clenched his jaw. "No. Never again. I'm finally free. I finally got out. I'm finally me! I won't bury myself that way again." He glared at Young. "She gave me my life. She gave me freedom. And you expect me to turn on her for the sake of your government. I'll risk my reputation. It's mine to risk." He grinned and Young wondered if Jack was completely sane. "You don't get it. This is about me being innocent. It's not about my family. It's not about my kids. It's about me." Jack took a deep breath. Jack was through living his life for other people. "Thank you for your kind offer, but I'm afraid I have to decline. I'm innocent and I'll prove it." He grinned. "And just so you know, I'm not ashamed of a damn thing I've done. I'm not ashamed of sleeping with Baby or Jean. Hell, I'm proud of it. I'm Companion to the Queen of New Orleans. I'm acknowledged lover to the Crown Prince. Fuck. Half the city envies me."

Young looked at Brady, who shrugged. The prosecutor was not happy with his profiler. It seemed he'd missed the important fact that their suspect was a raving madman. "Suit yourself. The offer stands should you change your mind." Young stood. "Mr. Brady, he's all yours," he said as he gathered his papers and prepared to leave. "Mr. Niemczyk, have no doubts. We will convict you... and those you consort with."

Jack nearly fell off his chair laughing. Brady, Morrison, and Young all stared at him. Only the locals seemed to get the joke. Frank Wilson's lips twitched in a smile. "I'm not a Consort. I'm a Companion. But thanks for the upgrade," Jack managed to gasp.

Wilson gave a tiny snort of amusement. Young glared. "Whatever," he snarled as he closed the door behind him.

Brady and Morrison sat down at the table while the other agents arranged themselves around the edges of the room. Brady put on his most sincere expression. "You know we have more than enough evidence to convict you. We have photos, videos, audio recordings. We have more than ample proof that you've been taking large sums of money and goods from the Roxtons. You're going down hard, Jack. There's no way around that. You're going down and you're going to pull heavy time for it. You know what happens to agents in prison, even federal prisons. It's gonna be ugly. It doesn't have to be that way. Just cooperate. That's all we're asking. Do what you you've spent your whole life doing; help us put the bad guys in jail."

Jack shook his head. "You still just don't get it."

"Come on, Jack. Do you want to make this easy for us by confessing or not?"

"Why the hell should I make anything easy for you?" Jack settled back in his chair. So this was Brady. He really was an idiot after all.

"Fine. We'll do this the hard way." Brady opened his file. "Explain the structure of the family."

"Good lord!" Jack laughed and decided to play along. It would be fun to yank Brady's chain. "You have no idea how convoluted that is! Once you get below Angelus, it goes to hell pretty quick. Just look at Wesley. He's Dru's husband. Fine. Good spot to be in. Consort to the Prophet. But he's also Baby's son. And Dru is Baby's sister. But she's also her mother-in-law. Oh, and her grandmother. I nearly forgot Dru's Spike's sire. So that make's Wes Baby's father-in-law but her grandfather-in-law, too. And her brother-in-law." Jack frowned. The permutations were starting to confuse him. "Now, when I become his brother...she'll be my aunt but also my great-grandmother and then there's Wes and Dru's child...Who'd be my niece but also my great-aunt... Remind me to never date her." He quickly shook his head. "I'm getting a headache. The family structure can't be explained. It's like quantum mathematics."

Wilson nodded. He seemed to be considering this insanity seriously. Brady glared at him and went back to his notes. Maybe Jack really was crazy. "What do they deal in? How do they expect to run New Orleans like it's their personal kingdom?"

Jack grinned at Wilson. He knew the other man was as amused by these questions as he was. "They don't expect to. They do. Spike defeated the old Master in personal combat. He became Master. It's that simple. The same way it's been done for a thousand years."

Wilson nodded. "Yeah, I remember. They say he waltzed into town with nothing. A year later he was undisputed ruler."

Jack smiled. "It's a fine bloodline. Aurelius. Noted for beauty, brains, and viciousness. I'll be a prince. Forever."

Wilson shook his head. "It's not worth your life. It's not worth your soul."

The lopsided smile Jack gave him chilled Wilson to the bone. "Yes, it is."

"Don't do this, Jack," Wilson pled. "You're a good man. I've seen it. Don't let them turn you into one of them! My God! Do you know what they have to do to live? Do you know what they are? Have you ever really seen them?"

Brady let Wilson speak. Maybe he could get through to Niemczyk when a stranger couldn't.

The glitter in Jack's eye's frightened Wilson. "Oh, I know. I've hunted with them, Frank."

Wilson's hand flew to his mouth and he shook his head in denial. "Oh God, no."

Jack ignored him. "I've seen them chasing their prey. I've watch them hunt it down." Jack's eye's glowed. "I've watched them feed."

"Oh God, Jack. Please," Wilson begged.

"I've held her while she's been latched onto the throat of her kill. I've held her while she did it." The intensity of his feelings radiated from Jack.

The locals drew together, seeking comfort from each other, faced with the darkness they knew and feared. Brady and Morrison looked at each other in confusion. They didn't understand a word Jack was saying. It was all insane gibberish.

"Oh, I've seen them, Frank. They're beautiful. They're dark angels. They're glorious beyond my ability to describe." He stared at his terrified compatriots. "And one day, I'll be one of them."

Wilson drew himself up. "Then God save you, Jack. Because no one else can." Without a further word, he stalked from the room.

Jack settled back in his chair. "I don't want to be saved. I'm perfectly content to be damned." He looked at the two agents from Washington. "You don't have a clue about what we're all about down here. This isn't about syndicates and organized crime. This is about Good and Evil and saving the fucking world when we need to. This is about Heaven and Hell and a direct pipeline to the Powers That Be. Ask your God damned questions. I'll answer them, but you're not equipped to understand the answers I'll give you."

Morrison looked at Brady. "They're a fucking cult. They're some sort of warped religious cult. No wonder we've never been able to crack them. They're a fucking cult."

Brady nodded. It would explain so many things. Things about the case and things about his cousin. "Yes." They needed to regroup. He straightened. "I believe we have no further questions for you tonight, Mr. Niemczyk. We will have others in the future, I'm sure."

Jack laughed. "I'm sure you will." He turned to Morrison. "That's one piss-poor excuse for a profiler you've got yourself." He grinned evilly. "Of course, I've seen his work before so I'm not surprised that your information is flawed and your lines of questioning have been completely ineffectual. He's a damned idiot."

Morrison held Brady back when the profiler dived across the table. Anne McSwain opened the door in time to see Brady reach for Jack. "Harassing my client? Go ahead. I'm sure the U.S. Attorney would love to hear you explain why all charges have to be dropped due to police brutality."

Brady settled back in his chair snarling. Anne tsked a bit. "Gentlemen, this interview is over. My client has nothing further to say to you. Jack, honey, let's go."

"God damned crooked bastard," Brady muttered loudly. "You're nothing but a motherfucking dirty cop."

Jack grinned viciously as he reached for the doorknob. "Yeah, maybe so, but I can push your buttons. Because unlike you, I'm a hell of a good profiler. So why don't you just suck me."

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Thursday, 11:40 pm
February 27, 2020

As soon as Jack walked out of the interview, Brady grabbed his files and left. He seethed with bootless anger. He wanted to take a gun butt to that traitor Niemczyk. He wanted take a horsewhip to René Beaumont. He mostly just wanted to hurt someone. He waited impatiently while the elevator took him to the garage. He stepped out of the doors and right into Jack Niemczyk. There was no one he wanted to see more. He pulled his fist back and swung.

"Hey!" Jack said as he easily ducked the punch. "You're a hot-head, aren't you?" Jack hadn't spent three years hunting with the top predators in the city without picking up a move or two. He soon had Brady's face pressed against a wall. "Calm down." He released the other agent and stepped back. "What the hell is your problem? Damn, I really did push your buttons. I think you're over-reacting to what I said earlier."

"You're disgusting. I wish I could kill you. You and that bastard Beaumont." Brady straightened his jacket. "How can you live with yourself? You don't just associate with those... people; you actively support them! You help them ruin lives, break up families..."

"Whoa! Hang on. Break up families?" Jack looked at Brady in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about? The Pride doesn't break up families."

"The hell they don't! My cousin won't even talk to us anymore. That bastard Beaumont did something to her, seduced her, coerced her, brainwashed her. I don't know. But now my Becca won't even talk to us!"

Jack made the connection. "Becca Beaumont? Your cousin is Becca Beaumont?" He felt a huge urge to laugh. "Good lord."

"Yeah. So I know all about your 'family.' I know what they do to people, how they change them. So you watch that little bitch of yours. She and that 'son' of hers ruined my cousin. She was a sweet kid until she met up with them. I will take them down for every single thing they did to her."

"So you've got a personal vendetta against the Pride." Jack stared at the other man. "Well, that's one way to commit suicide." He thought for a moment. "Look, I'm gonna cut you some slack. Leave the Pride alone. You don't have the slightest idea who they are or what they're about. They don't take kindly to outsiders messing with them. The number one rule we all learn first: No one fucks with the family. Get that through your head." Jack was trying to be nice. At least Brady had a decent reason for going after the family, even if he was fucked in the head.

"They destroyed her. And I'm taking them out," Brady snarled. He could almost feel Beaumont in his gun sights. "And you can tell them as much. I've been looking for a justfible excuse to at least take out that slimy bastard who made her turn her back on us. He fucked her over. I won't have it."

"René ?" Jack shook his head. "Beaumont'll rip you open before you even know he's there. He's the Master of Alabama for God's sake!"

Brady spit. "I don't care if he's God himself. He's not going to get away with what he did to her."

Jack looked at him knowingly. "The way I heard, he saved her. Now don't get me wrong; I don't like Beaumont. I never have and I never will. I think he's a punk, but he hasn't hurt your cousin."

"That's what she claims. He saved her. He's some sort of god in her eyes. The Roxtons are damned good at covering for themselves. Even their victims believe they're saviors. But then they have the local FBI in their pockets so that's no wonder." Michael stepped back and glared. "Get him to tell you the story. She was a damned good kid, a great coroner. Then she got involved with him. And look what it got her. Nothing."

Jack laughed. "I hear she rules Maryland."

"She does what!"

"I hear she's Master of Maryland in everything but name. Hell, she may have that by now. She does take after her daddy. She's got René's urge to conquer."

Brady stared at him, stunned. "You're as crazy as they are. It doesn't matter. I've made up my mind. I'm gonna find the punk and I'm gonna shoot him. And if your bitch gets in the way, I'll shoot her, too."

Jack laughed again. "If you shoot her, you'll find out really quick what you're dealing with but you won't live five minutes. She'll tear you apart."

Brady gave Jack an incredulous look. "Like the corpse is going to get up and attack me. Now you're talking as crazy as Becca does."

Jack collapsed against the wall laughing. "That's exactly what will happen. She'll stand there laughing at you with a bullet in her chest. It's the most glorious thing you'll ever see." His eyes glowed at the thought. "By God, she's magnificent. And mine." He pushed passed Brady. "In fact, she's waiting for me. I'm going home. I have better things to do than argue with an imbecile." He thought for a moment. "Like making her scream for me." He thought for another moment. "I kinda hope you do shoot her. I love digging bullets out of her."

Brady blinked and stared. "I'd say you're crazy, but I have a feeling you're serious." Michael stepped back a bit further. "Fine. But I want to know the real story."

Jack considered the other man. It wouldn't hurt to have an insider on the investigation. If this one knew the truth, he could be useful. And if he didn't want to cooperate, Baby could always eat him. "All right. I'll tell you. In fact, I'll do better than that; I'll show you." He grinned. "Right now."

Brady looked about them. "Not your car. It'll be bugged. I don't want anyone to know I'm talking to you."

Jack smirked. "No. My lady's limo. It's in the garage. So is she."

Brady blinked again. He took a deep breath. "Fine... I'm coming."

Jean looked curious, René snarled, and Baby raised an eyebrow when Brady climbed into the limo. That eyebrow shot higher when Jack introduced him. "Brady? The idiot?"

"Why does everyone call me an idiot?" Micheal muttered. "Even Rebekah does it."

"Rebekah?" René said as warning bells went off in his head.

"Turns out he's Becca's cousin," Jack explained.

"Becca? My daughter Becca?"

"Only one I know. Short, blonde, too smart for her own good. Becca Beaumont." Jack liked confusing René. It was one of his favorite games. "Seems she's his youngest cousin."

René growled. He didn't like any of Becca's family on general principles.

"Good lord," Baby muttered. "Why's he here Jack?"

"To find out the truth." Jack thought for a moment. "Show him your face. Your real face. The one I like best." Baby looked at him incredulously. It was a mark of how deep her trust for him went when she shrugged and complied.

Michael Brady looked between the two of them, feeling more than a bit clueless. "I think I'm missing something.... shit!"

Jack leaned over and kissed Baby. "Isn't she glorious."

"Um..." Brady couldn't seem to get his mouth to work. René couldn't help grinning. "I need a drink."

Jack grinned at him. "So do I. Right out of her veins." Jack kissed her again. "I've never seen anything more beautiful."

"Is this why you said they'd kill me within five minutes? And why Becca laughed every time I asked her how she could believe anything Beaumont told her when he's been pretending to be been dead for the last nineteen years!" His head whipped around as he stared at René and then Jean. "Shit. You're dead aren't you? You really did die all those years ago. And you really are Jean DuValliere." He swallowed and collapsed against the soft leather of the seats.

Jack laughed. "Yes. They're vampires. The whole family. They rule the demon world. My girlfriend is Queen of New Orleans." Baby grinned, her fangs showing long and white. "If not for them, this city would be a complete cesspool. They keep the killing under control. They keep the predators and monsters to a minimum."

Michael stared... blinked...and put a few pieces together: the way no one in local law enforcement seemed interested in pursuing a case against the Roxtons, the political pull the family had, the fear-tinged respect everyone showed them. Niemczyk had been telling the truth. They'd all been telling the truth.

Baby could see the gears turning in his head. "You better realize that we're the right side of the law," Baby said. "Jack hasn't done anything wrong. Hell, he's stopped more crime than any ADC they've ever had here. You better do what you can to see he stays a free man."

Michael's agile mind was already flipping pages. He wasn't quite the idiot everyone called him, just uninformed. "What do you need?" It was a logic puzzle. It had been a while since he'd done one. "And I'd appreciate getting the whole story."

"It's probably best you talk to Jean, then. He's better at not scaring people." Baby thumbed the intercom. "Jerrod? Drop me at Jack's and take Mr. Brady home with Prince Jean and Master René." She turned back to the agent. "So, if you're on our side now, do you have a story for us?"

"Very well." Michael turned to Jack. "The request for the investigation came from outside the agency. I think it might have military connections. I saw a couple of uniforms at the earliest briefings. Once suggested, it wasn't hard to get approval to investigate you. There were those within the Bureau that were more than willing to pursue it. You were too blatent with your connection to the Roxtons. You've made too many enemies over the years. There are too many people who'll be happy to see you take a fall." He took a deep breath. "It'll be hard to get out of. Too many people want to take you down. And with the evidence we have, it's going to be nearly impossible to prove you're innocent."

Baby smiled, long teeth exposed. "Jack wants to do this all legal and nice but I'm telling you both now. Jack is not going to jail. I won't have it." She smiled and Brady's heart froze. "I will not let him be taken from me."

Brady recognized the look of a woman protecting what was hers. "Understood."

She shifted back to her human face and smiled. "Good. And Mr. Brady, the family never forgets those who do us a good turn." She opened the door as the car stopped under the portico to Jack's house. "We also never forget those who betray us. Jean will explain it all."

Chapter 5 - "Badlands"

Girl, lights out tonight, trouble in the heartland.
Got a head-on collision, smashing in my guts, man.
I'm caught in a crossfire that I don't understand.
But there's one thing I know for sure, girl.
I don't give a damn for the same old played out scenes.
Baby, I don't give a damn for just the in betweens.
Honey, I want the heart. I want the soul. I want control right now.
You better listen to me, baby. Talk about a dream. Try to make it real.
You wake up in the night with a fear so real.
You spend your life waiting for a moment that just don't come.
Well, don't waste your time waiting.

Badlands, you gotta live it everyday.
Let the broken hearts stand.
As the price you've gotta pay.
We'll keep pushing till it's understood.
And these badlands start treating us good.

Working in the fields till you get your back burned.
Working' `neath the wheel till you get your facts learned.
Baby, I got my facts learned real good right now.
You better get it straight darling.
Poor man wanna be rich, rich man wanna be king,
And a king ain't satisfied till he rules everything.
I wanna go out tonight, I wanna find out what I got.

Well, I believe in the love that you gave me.
I believe in the faith that could save me.
I believe in the hope and I pray that some day,
It may raise me above these...

Badlands, you gotta live it everyday.
Let the broken hearts stand.
As the price you've gotta pay.
We'll keep pushing till it's understood.
And these badlands start treating us good.

For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside,
That it ain't no sin to be glad you're alive.
I wanna find one face that ain't looking through me.
I wanna find one place, I wanna spit in the face of these...

Badlands, you gotta live it everyday.
Let the broken hearts stand.
As the price you've gotta pay.
We'll keep pushing till it's understood.
And these badlands start treating us good.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Tuesday, 10:03 pm
March 10, 2020

Baby watched the light from the full moon flood Jack's garden. She snuggled him closely and licked a tiny laceration she'd made earlier. He sighed in pleasure. He wasn't sure which felt better, the pain when she made those tiny claw marks or the feel of her tongue when she soothed them later. Both sensations filled him with pleasure. She'd been particularly attentive ever since his arrest. He couldn't say that she, Jean, and indeed the whole family hadn't been supportive. He never went out alone. One of the family was with him at all times. If he needed to go out in the sun, the somewhat intimidating Jerrod was with him. They'd closed ranks around him as though he was one of their own. Maybe he was. He'd never really felt so. Hers, he'd felt he was hers from the beginning, but he'd never really felt a part of the family. Not until now.

"Oh that feels good," he sighed. "I like it when you do that."

She chuckled softly. "I like the way you taste." She urged him to roll onto his back and proceeded to show him that his blood wasn't the only part of him she liked to taste.

He arched his back and groaned in bliss at the feel of her mouth around him. She seldom did this. Sex with Baby was usually hard and intense and hit like a burst floodgate. This soft, lingering sex filled with gentle touches and deep concern for his pleasure was rare and nearly overpowering. It had happened a few times when they were on the road alone, when she'd left Spike and René, when Jack had thought they might be alone together forever. They usually went out of their way to stress the fact that there was affection but no love in their relationship. Neither one wanted that sort of entanglement. But sometimes, just sometimes, it was okay for them to admit that they might just like each other a little bit. This was one of those times.

Heedless of auditory voyeurs, he moaned and sighed and told her exactly how much he appreciated her attentions. She laughed and with kind fingers and cool lips led him to a long, slow, and powerful orgasm. When it was over, he pulled her up and kissed her, tasting himself on her lips. "When the time comes, kill me like that."

She returned his kiss. "I will. Just like that."

~~~~~

"Jack?"

"Hm?" He was drawing lazy circles on her back with his middle finger as he contemplated whether he had the energy for anything more or if he should just drift off into sleep.

"Please let me take care of all these charges. I don't like seeing you this stressed." She caressed his chest. "You're letting it get to you, honey. You don't sleep well." She kissed him where her head rested on his shoulder. "I can make it all go away."

"I know." He moved his hand to her hair and stroked it, petting her. "I appreciate it, babe. I really do. But I can't. I have to see this through."

He felt her nod. In a voice so soft and serious it made his mark tingle she said, "All right then. I've given you a lot of free will but you still belong to me. I will not let them take you away from me, Jack. I'll kill you first."

He smiled and rolled atop her. "I'll let you. I don't intend to go to prison." He kissed her moon-washed lips and placed her fingers over his mark. "I'm yours," he said and proceeded to show her that she wasn't the only one who knew how to love slow and easy and deep.

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Wednesday, 8:43 am
March 11, 2020

Jack's listeners had shaken their heads and packed the tape away for later analysis. They had given up trying to decipher any of the conversations in Jack Niemczyk's house. After the first three days of surveillance, no local agent would monitor the house. They flatly refused and threats of suspension and disciplinary action had not effect. Eventually, rather than suspend nearly the entire field office, the bugs on Jack's house were monitored only by agents from outside the NOLA division.

As Morrison read the latest transcript and listened to his copy of the tape, that feeling that he had in the pit of his stomach that Niemczyk might be innocent grew. Oh, Bill had no doubts that the ADC had taken gifts and money in huge dollar amounts from Baby Roxton but he was wondering now if maybe they simply were that: gifts from his lover. It the money wasn't in exchange for anything other than sex, then Jack Niemczyk was guilty of nothing more nefarious than being a kept man. Morrison sighed. He'd checked all the cases Jack had been involved in since Jack had taken over the New Orleans office and could find nothing damning. He was surprised more progress hadn't been made on a case or two, particularly the NOLA Ripper case, but he couldn't get that worked up over a vigilante who took out the worst scum in the city either. There were too many other cases that deserved the attention. On paper, Jack looked clean.

And in the papers, he looked better than clean. The Times-Picayune was making him out to be a local hero who was being unjustly persecuted by an inattentive, absentee government. His exemplary record was made much of, as well as his arrest of John Marcus. Additionally, the newspaper had taken offence at the F.B.I.'s contention that the Roxtons were involved in organized crime. They were touted as flamboyant, eccentric, and unconventional but pillars of the community for all that. Their support of popular charities and causes was reviewed. Their status as one of the wealthiest families in the area was heralded. And, in a paragraph that struck Morrison as odd, their "protection and defense of innocent citizens against the night" was mentioned. It was all damned confusing. If this kept up, they'd have picketers outside the courthouse during the trial.

He tossed the transcript onto his desk. It was obvious Jack didn't want to go to jail. In fact, it sounded like he'd just made some sort of suicide pact with his girlfriend to end his life if he was convicted. So why the hell didn't he take the plea bargain? What was so damned important about proving himself innocent? Morrison sighed again. He knew the answer to that question and he'd feel the same way if he were the one facing charges of corruption. He was really starting to wonder about the whole investigation.

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Wednesday, 4:43 pm
March 11, 2020

Jack stretched and returned his attention to the computer monitor. He was finally becoming comfortable in the office he'd been given at Rue Royale. It had felt odd to have a place of his own in Spike's house. To find out that he'd been give Rex Larson's office was nearly shocking. Baby had stated that since Rex was off running L.A. for Angel and was probably gone permanently, it only made sense for Jack to have the office. It was next to Jean's and that made even more sense. If he was going to help Jean figure out what was happening to the demons and vampires that were disappearing, he needed to be close by.

He read an e-mail and was suddenly glad the Prince was close by and an early riser. "Jean, could you come in here? You need to see this."

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Thursday, 6:53 pm
March 12, 2020

Spike settled back in his chair and cuddled Baby closely. "That's good work, Jack," he said. "Charles? Did you get all that?" he said.

Senator Comeaux's voice came over the speakerphone. "Yes, I did, Master. It jibes with what I've been able to find out since you called me last night." The vampires and even Jack could hear papers rustling over the secure line. "Jack, I'd say your informant is correct and the military is involved in this."

"The Initiative," Baby snarled.

"That group was disbanded following the tips we received from some, ahem, concerned citizens and a raid by 'hostile' forces on that base. Luckily it was caught in the very early days and no civilian lives were lost." Charles sounded a tad unsure, though, and his next words confirmed it. "However, the scientists from that project are still employed by the government. And I know of at least three groups outside the military that are interested in ... observing the otherworldly citizens of this country, not to mention controlling those demons that are a direct threat to the populace. I'm certain each branch of the military has their own ops to deal with just such threats." They could hear more paper shuffling. "Here it is. There is some concern about a black ops going on in the delta region. I couldn't find out if it was related to the supernatural or not but it falls under the budget for an area typically involved with that. Hmm, JAG has put a man inside to monitor it. Looks like they think the op has gone bad and it's under investigation. That's good, at least. However, because there is a man inside, I couldn't get any particulars. They don't want to risk his cover or his life. Damn, this has got to be the same op. How many could we be running in Louisiana?"

Spike grinned. "I don't know, Charles. You tell me. You seem to find very creative ways to waste the tax money I pay you."

Charles laughed. "Of course I do. I'm a career politician."

Spike shook his head. "Yeah, you lot frighten me. Look, let me know if you find out anything else. We'll do what we can. If it is an op, Charles, I want it shut down." Spike's voice turned hard. "I don't appreciate the government playing with my people and I have a personal dislike for military experiments. Make sure whoever needs to know that, knows it. I don't want to declare a war."

"It won't come to that, Master," Charles advised him. "I'll see to it. Our relationship with you and with Lord Angelus in Los Angeles has been very beneficial to the government. We have no wish to jeopardize that."

"Yeah? Well, you just keep feeling that way, Charles," Spike said and reached to cut of the connection, but the Senator's voice stopped him.

"Jack? Who did you piss off at the Pentagon?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "No one that I know of, sir."

"Well, I've been looking into the request for the investigation against you. Seems it came from the U.S. Army. I was just wondering if you'd arrested a general's son or something equally stupid."

Jack frowned. "I might have, but I don't remember one off the top of my head."

"Well, that's all I have. I don't know if it's helpful or not. I'll be in touch if I find out anything more." With a few words of goodbye and an unspoken acknowledgement that a large campaign contribution would be forthcoming, Spike hung up the phone.

Spike was silent for several minutes. "If it's the Initiative or anyone like them I want it shut down." His consort and lovers nodded. "I don't want anyone out by themselves. Everyone travels in pairs from now on and larger groups are better." There was a contained rage on his face that frightened Jack and concerned his sons. Only Baby truly understood the reason behind it. Her own feelings echoed his. "I don't want any of the family taken."

Baby took his hand. "We won't let that happen. We'll find them and we'll flush them out. We'll kill every last one of them if we have to."

"Damn right we will," he said in a soft distant voice. After a moment, he looked up into her concerned face. "I'm all right, dove. Just bad memories." He kissed her. She was the only one who knew, the only one who could possibly understand what he was feeling. He turned to the other men in the room. "Jack, you did good. Damn good. But I don't want you going back to that house of yours alone. From now on, someone goes with you or you stay here. You might as well move in. Tara will find you a room. And I want you here, in the main house, not in one of the annexes. Jean, René, you two be very careful when you go out. I don't want anything to happen to either of you and you could be prime targets. I'll be damned if they're going to chip any of my children," he snarled. "I'll see them all burn first."

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Friday, 10:41 pm
March 13, 2020

"T-Boz, Lady T," Baby said in acknowledgement of the gangsta girls.

"Lady," T-Boz said in much the same tone. "Didn't expect you to come over the river yourself." She was pleased. The Master's consort didn't handle penny-ante shit. It was a high mark of respect for the Lady to show up herself. T-Boz would make sure every gang in Greater New Orleans knew it before the sun set again. It didn't occur to her that the information she had might be more important than she was.

"The Master got your message. He's very glad you contacted him," Baby said and reached out through her link to make sure Jack was comfortable with this meeting. She noted that he was standing in such a way that he looked completely at ease but could reach his new sidearm in less than a second. She grinned. He really was a treasure. She'd have to do something very nice for him when this madness settled down. She wondered if he'd like a new diamond ring, or maybe an emerald to match his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is," T-Boz said with a swagger in her tone. "One of my people see something that you need to know about, one of your people see something I need to know about..." She grinned. "You know how it is."

Baby nodded. "I know exactly how it is. Jack?"

Her companion nodded. "The Scorpions..." He tried not to roll his eyes at the name. "Lost three major hitters in a battle in Mobile a week ago. They don't have anyone that can hold Marrero."

The gang queen grinned. "That's real good to know." She signaled, and a young girl stepped forward. She was practically draped in gang insignia. "G-Pick, you tell the Master's lady what you see."

The child nodded. Jack figured she was twelve at the most. He doubted she'd see sixteen. "I seed one o' your folks get snatched last night. Right on the street. They's crossing the no-man's land on the boulevard about three in the mornin' and a black van pulled up aside 'em. These men all dressed in black, like soldiers in a movie, jump out and shoot 'em with a 'lectric gun. Taser, I guess. Anyhow, they grab 'em and toss 'em in the van and roar out o' there."

Baby nodded. She got a fair description of the van but the girl didn't remember the license or anything unique about it. The men wore stocking masks. Typical Initiative type gear. She got the address of the kidnapping and decided to investigate there. Maybe there would be a scent or something that would give the Pride a clue where the demons were being taken.

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Saturday, 1:01 am
March 14, 2020

Jack laughed. "I bet the agents assigned to me are having a fit. This is what? The eighth time in less than two weeks that we've completely lost them and they've had no idea where I was for hours and hours?"

"Yeah, something like that." Baby smiled and continued checking the grass of the median, trying to locate exactly where G-Pick had seen the demon taken. "The children have been playing with them, too. They like to watch your tails, get close enough that the agents know they're there and then just disappear. They caught a pair out of their car in an alley last week and nearly scared the shit out of them. Did that whole running-just-outside-their-vision, laughing-in-the-shadows thing. The younger children and grandchildren particularly enjoy it."

"Good lord!" Jack couldn't help wishing he could have seen that. "I'll bet that was a hoot."

"Have you no sympathy for your fellow officers, Jack?" Baby said in mock severity.

"Not one bit," he responded. He stopped when her whole attitude changed. "What?"

"Here. He was taken here."

Jack joined her and watched as she sniffed and searched the small patch of grass. "Anything?"

"Not really. I'll recognize the kidnappers' scent if I ever bump into them but there's nothing distinctive. Maybe if I could have been here this morning, but it's too old, too many other scents." She glanced up as automobile lights turned the corner. She could see just enough through the glare to tell the van was black. "Run, Jack!" she ordered and grabbed his hand. She headed across the street, away from the approaching vehicle. It jumped the median and headed after them. She took a side street that would lead them back to Jack's car. The warehouses and businesses here were tall and she'd never be able to jump to one of the roofs without leaving Jack behind. She wasn't willing to do that. So far, there'd been no fire escapes in their path. They were less than a block from the car when a second van cut them off and dark-clad soldiers poured from its doors.

"This way," Jack yelled. He'd spotted a fire escape and sped for the ladder. He knew they'd be safe if they ever got to the rooftops. He started up the ladder, taking quick glances back to check their pursuit. Baby reached the bottom rung and was about to leap when a blot of electric blue hit her. With a cry, she fell back to the pavement. Jack fired at the shooter, spinning him around and taking the soldier out of action. Jack dropped down beside his mistress. He didn't know what these men did with the vampires they took, but none of them had ever come back. They weren't taking his vampire without a fight. He grabbed Baby's arm and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, honey, don't pass out on me now," he ordered. She staggered but headed for the ladder. "Go on, get to roof. Go," he told her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw another shooter draw a bead on Jack. She knew he'd never be able to take the force of that charge. It would kill him. She threw herself between him and the bolt of energy. She managed two steps after it hit before falling into her companion's arms. The last thing she saw was Jack's face staring at her with wonder and concern as the soldiers closed in around them.

Chapter 6 - "Jumping Jack Flash"

I was born in a crossfire hurricane
And I howled at my ma in the driving rain
But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas
But it's all right
I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a gas! Gas! Gas!

I was raised by a toothless, bearded hag
I was schooled with a strap right across my back
But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas
But it's all right
I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a gas! Gas! Gas!

I was drowned I was washed up and left for dead
I fell down to my feet and I saw they bled
I frowned at the crumbs of a crust of bread
I was crowned with a spike right through my head
But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas
But it's all right
I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a gas! Gas! Gas!

New Orleans, Louisiana
Saturday, 4:18 am
March 14, 2020

"Well, this is amazingly interesting. I've heard of them but I've never seen one before."

"What? What is it?

"A pet. A human pet."

"Not a Pet," Jack said groggily.

"What?"

"I'm not a fucking Pet," he repeated. "I'm a Companion. That's levels up from a God damned Pet." He opened his eyes and immediately closed them again against the glare. Wherever he was, it was too bright. The last thing he remembered was a boot to the head. Fucking soldiers. He never had liked the military.

"Really? That's fascinating." The woman's voice held just a touch too much glee for Jack's comfort. Not that he felt comfortable at all, of course. He was sore and his head hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Glad to oblige," he snarled. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I was about to ask you that question," the woman said. "You weren't carrying any identification."

Jack grinned, though it hurt to do so. He made a habit of leaving his wallet in the car when he went hunting with Baby for this very reason. The less they knew, the better off he was.

"My name's John Patrick," he said. It wasn't a lie after all. He managed to open his eyes and keep them open this time. He was in some sort of examining room. A quick check confirmed that his ankles and wrists were in restraints. It didn't take much for a man of Jack's intelligence to figure out that he was being held by the government operation that so disturbed Spike. That wasn't a reassuring feeling at all. "Care to tell me where I am?" he asked.

The woman who had been speaking to him moved into his field of vision. She was a small woman in her late fifties to mid-sixties dressed in a white lab coat. Her gray hair was cut in a no-nonsense style and the expression on her face was rather severe. In fact, everything about her was severe. Jack decided that circumstances aside, he still would have disliked her on sight. "Mr. Patrick, you're being held in a government facility."

"Held?" Jack said, playing along. "Why?"

"Yes." She reached out and tilted his head so his companion mark was clearly visible. "It appears you have been fraternizing with elements hostile to the safety of the citizens of this country."

"You're nuts," Jack said pleasantly.

"Hardly," she answered. "I've been studying creatures such as the one you were apprehended with for over twenty years. I know just how great a threat they can be to the nation." She ran her hand over his scar. "Absolutely fascinating." She thought for a moment. "You willingly associate with HSTs. How have you managed to stay alive long enough for this to scar?"

"HSTs? What is it with the government and three-letter acronyms? Do you mean vampires?" he said.

"There are no such things as vampires, Mr. Patrick," she said in professorial tones. "Vampires are figures from folklore and Hollywood. There are, however, several species of Hostile Sub-Terrestrials that a layman might mistakenly believe fit that description. So, yes, Mr. Patrick, I mean those HSTs which you would call vampires."

"Good Lord," Jack muttered in horror. "And Baby accused me of willful denial. Lady, you didn't just visit that river in Egypt, you're swimming in it."

He hadn't thought it possible but her expression hardened. "Not at all. I am well aware that some HSTs like to play with their prey, convince them that they are the equivalent of the fictional vampire, even promise to make the victim into such a creature themselves. It's all a ploy, of course. Simply a way to get an easy meal." She examined his mark more closely. "Hmm, I'd say you've provided several meals."

Jack grinned. "I'm a Companion, not a food source. Sorry you don't understand the difference."

She actually smiled and Jack found he liked that less than her frown. "No, I don't understand the difference, but I'm sure you'll be instrumental in enlightening me. So what is a Companion, exactly? I've seen no evidence of any sort of group or pack behavior among the vampirish HST. In general, they are solitary hunters, occasionally working in pairs or groups of no more than three."

Jack didn't bother to tell her she'd just repeated herself. He decided the less he said the better. She was in lecture mode anyway and he could tell she liked to hear herself talk. He listened to her drone on for a bit, describing the more feral sorts of vampires, the lowest classes of minions, those barely capable of sentient thought. The kind Spike didn't allow inside the city limits. If she'd only ever 'examined' those, no wonder her conclusions were flawed. He took in every aspect of her dress, her mannerisms, her speech patterns as she spoke. He wasn't the top profiler in the Bureau for nothing. He knew he'd be able to snow her and feed her ego enough to get himself at least untied from this mutant dentist's chair. He'd be able to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear.

She was finally winding down. "Now, Mr. Patrick, if you would care to explain exactly what the term 'Companion' means?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer and was hit by a pain so searing he screamed. It flowed unabated from his link to Baby. He shut down on it as much as he could, the way she'd taught him, but the agony was still there, nearly crippling. He realized in that portion of his brain that could still think that she had been blocking their link, keeping this from him. The torment had finally reached such a level that she had lost control and her pain now radiated out to him. He realized that the good point was that he wasn't the only one linked to her. Spike, René, and Wesley would be feeling this full force, Jean and her other brothers and sisters, her sire, all of them. Her torture would emanate up and down the bloodline. And there wasn't a force on Earth, in Heaven, or in Hell that would keep Spike and René from her. If these idiots didn't kill her first.

His own instinct to go to her was nearly overpowering. He fought the restraints as her pain grew. He yelled and cursed her tormentors, promising them gruesome deaths if they didn't leave his mistress alone. He didn't have the mental abilities to continue blocking that sort of agony and eventually the full brunt of it washed over him and he surrendered to sharing her torture. All he could do was try to reach out to her, to let her know she wasn't alone. Deep in that scorching pain, he found himself joined to those men he'd just been thinking of: Spike and René were there and Jean as well. He couldn't speak to them in words but he joined them in offering what support he could. He felt their blistering anger and bottomless concern for her. He was surprised to find that some of the concern was for him. Jean especially was worried about him. A warmth spread through Jack that had nothing to do with the struggles and hurt that was making him sweat.

His captors looked on in shock. "Dr. Walsh? What's happening?" one of the technicians asked.

"Amazing," she muttered and then spoke with more authority. "It would appear there is some sort of telepathic connection between this man and Hostile 154. Fascinating, just fascinating." She leaned forward. "Mr. Patrick? Can you hear me? How are you able to communicate with Hostile 154?"

Jack's arm burst free and his fingers closed around her throat. "Let her go!" he ordered. He began to squeeze. "Let her go, you fucking whore, or I'll kill you," he grated. She had no doubts he meant it. Her death glowed from his eyes. He didn't feel the prick of the needle or the burn of the sedative as it raced into his veins, he was concentrated on freeing Baby even if it meant strangling this bitch. He was surprised when his body stopped responding to his commands and she was able to pry his hand loose. "No!" he breathed. "No, I've got to... she needs me... I have to..."

As reality began to fade around him, he heard Walsh say angrily, "He's obviously not as human as he looks. Put him in the Pit with the other HST until we figure out what he is."

~~~~~

Jack came straight off the floor as a cold, slimy tongue licked the side of his face. Cold tongues he was used to but slimy was a different matter. "Hey! Back off," he ordered the small hunched-back demon that had been licking him. He glared at the creature and had flashbacks to his mother reading him The Hobbit. "If he calls me 'Precious,' I swear I'll throw up," he muttered.

"Mmm," the creature said in a deep voice completely at odds with its appearance. "You taste good." Long claws, cat-like and far too sharp for Jack's liking, unsheathed from its bony fingers. Jack pressed his back against the wall and tried to scramble to his feet. His body was still fighting the sedative and was responding slowly and shakily at best. The Gollum-like thing reached for him.

"I don't think so," Baby snarled as she picked the demon up and tossed it into the wall headfirst. She caught it as it rebounded. "I told you what would happen to any of you that touched him!" She bent back one of its fingers, causing its claw to extend. With very little effort, she ripped the claw from his anchoring flesh. The small demon squealed and writhed in her clutches. One by one, she extracted its claws until all eight of them littered the floor around her feet. She tossed it away, ignoring the creature where it lay gibbering on the hard tile cradling its ruined hands. "I hate it when people don't listen to me." She squatted in front of Jack. "You doing all right, baby?"

He smiled at her. "Been better." He looked at the sobbing demon. "Could have been worse."

She smiled and moved to sit beside him. She could sense how shaky he was. She pulled him against her. He let her hold him. The drugs they had given him were making him nauseous and he felt more than a little faint. Still he grinned weakly. "You got to love a woman that will mutilate demons for you." Baby's arms felt so good around him. He was tempted to just close his eyes and drift back into soft unconsciousness. But he knew that they were in terrible danger and forced himself to concentrate. "Where are we?"

"A big cell. Some sort of huge holding pen." She looked out over a motley collection of demons and vampires. "I'm told it's called the Pit."

"Lovely," he muttered. There were bruises and what looked like tiny cuts and punctures on her face and hands. He imagined the rest of her body was worse. He felt her tense and looked up to see a group of vampires approaching. She released him and he forced himself to his feet as she rose.

"You're making an awfully big noise for a girl," a blond vampire said. He had a classically Teutonic cast to his features and was obviously the leader of the group. Jack wondered if he was top demon in what amounted to the cellblock they were in.

"I make an awfully big noise, period," she responded with a smile. If Jack had felt less like throwing up, he'd have grinned.

"You got a name, Noise?" the blond asked.

"No," Baby said pleasantly and grinned. Mindful of listening devices she added quietly, "I'm Consort to William the Bloody."

Three of the vamps with the blond immediately stepped back. One knelt and said, "Lady. I had no idea."

She waved it away, letting them know she felt no insult. Two of the three simply melted away into the crowd to spread the word that the undisputed Queen of New Orleans was in their midst. One remained and began to whisper frantically in the blond's ear. He snarled. "So I'm supposed to be afraid of her because her old man is kick-ass? Well he isn't here."

Jack growled. He didn't feel any fear coming off his mistress. She looked almost pleased. "I'll pinch your head off, boy," she said with a grin.

The blond lunged for her and true to her word she soon had him in a headlock. She twisted in the way René had taught her until the vampire's head separated from his shoulders. "Jumped-up minion," she snarled. If Jack hadn't been on the verge of hurling, he'd have applauded. He leaned against the wall and concentrated on staying upright. He heard a scuffle and was surprised to see the vampire that had been kneeling fighting with one that had accompanied the now-dusted blond. There was a crack and the blond's man lay still, knocked out by the other vampire. The victor knelt before Baby again. "Lady, I'm Aurelius though not of your bloodline. I do accept Lord Angelus as head of the House." He grinned up at her. "I may not understand or agree with your philosophies but your clan has brought our House back to prominence and we're feared and respected again. I'm yours if you'll have me."

Baby nodded. "Are you prepared to swear yourself to my service?"

He slashed his wrist with a sharp fang and held it out to her. "I am," he said.

She drank briefly. "Fine, blood is blood and it's best we stick together. Betray me and I'll see you hurt for years."

He smiled, quite pleased. "I had heard that the Lady of Orleans followed the old, old ways. It's good to see the House strong again. My name is Paul," he added.

"Very well, Paul. I need you to tell me..." She stopped short and grabbed Jack as he slid down the wall. She quickly checked him. His skin felt clammy and he was having trouble focusing. "Oh honey! I think they gave you too much of whatever that drug was," she said.

Jack nodded. "I think so, too. And if it had any opiates in it, I'm in big trouble." He gave in and laid his head on her shoulder. "I'm allergic."

She brought his wrist to her mouth and slid a fang into a barely closed wound. It took but a sip to know what flowed through his veins was killing him. "Oh, Jack," she said with a pain in her chest. "How allergic are you?"

He looked up at her. He already knew. "Very."

"Paul, call a guard!" she ordered.

The vampire shook his head. "They won't come."

"Call them anyway!" she spat.

He left but returned after a few minutes. He looked down at his feet. "They won't come," he said again.

Jack reached up with a hand that trembled slightly and touched her cheek. "It's time," he said. He felt her sadness and reluctance. "It's okay. It's what I want. Do it just like we planned?"

She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm, holding it tightly to her lips with her hands. "Yes. Just like we planned, Jack." She looked up at Paul. "You'll stand guard. No one comes near us." The threat in her eyes more than convinced him that his own existence was in jeopardy if he didn't obey. He quickly complied.

She lifted Jack and carried him to a corner. With snarls and growls and a few well-placed injuries, she cleared an area for them. She knelt beside her companion. "I'd planned to take you some place nice, somewhere exotic, just the two of us. I was gonna surprise you."

Jack smiled wanly. "It couldn't be any more exotic than this, could it?" he quipped. He reached for her hand. "It really is okay. And it's my only hope."

There was a softness in his green eyes that she seldom saw. She nodded and kissed his warm lips. "I'll make it good for you," she swore.

He nodded. "I know you will. I trust you." He reached for her and pulled her close. He opened himself to her completely, letting everything he was feeling flow through their bond. He had accepted what was happening and she needed to know that. And he wanted to share these last moments with her. He knew there was no guarantee that he would awaken, that the soldiers wouldn't take his body and destroy it, autopsy it. He knew he might actually die forever but at least he wouldn't die alone and friendless. Whatever else they had, somewhere deep inside, he did think of her with affection and friendship. And he knew that deep inside she felt the same way about him. He could feel it flowing back to him. He also felt her extreme sadness that his turning was occurring this way. He'd never thought she cared that much. It soothed him at his core. "Hold me, sweetheart," he said. "I feel cold."

She wrapped her arms around him tightly and tried not to cry. Then as she had promised him only days earlier, Baby gently led Jack's dying body to one final burst of pleasure. With soft touches and softer kisses, she brought him one last time to orgasm and as he lay gasping in the afterglow, she pressed her bleeding wrist to his lips. "Drink, precious. Drink as much as you can," she whispered. "Drink and be mine forever," she said. She felt him growing weaker as the opium derivatives destroyed his body. She sank her teeth gently into his companion mark and drank. Jack slipped peacefully into death with her arms about him and her fangs in his throat.

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Sunday, 6:57 pm
March 15, 2020

Baby looked up when the guard prodded her. "What the hell happened here," he said. "You get hungry enough to eat him?"

She recognized the blue eyes that stared down at her but gave no hint of it. The guard also pretended that he didn't know her. "He was allergic to the fucking sedative! It killed him," she snarled.

A second guard ordered her to step away from the body. She flashed sharp teeth at him and growled. It took a cattle prod to finally separate her from Jack's corpse. The first guard flipped through the log. "Hm, they did report that the man was sick yesterday." He signaled a white-coated man forward, who looked the body over quickly but thoroughly.

"He wasn't drained. There's evident settling of the blood where the body's been lying. There are puncture wounds all over him but he came in that way. I don't see any new slashes and his throat hasn't been torn out. Looks like the creature may be telling the truth." He stepped back and pulled off the latex gloves he'd worn to examine Jack. "No sign he died violently."

The blue-eyed guard snorted. "No need to autopsy the body then."

The medic agreed. "No, I'd say it's a simple overdose. Nothing for us to learn. It would just be a waste of time."

The second guard nodded. "Finn, get rid of the body."

"Yes, sir," Riley Finn said. He stared directly into Baby's eyes where she lay on the floor and confirmed, "I'll see he's taken care of properly."

Chapter 7 - "Back in Black"

Back in black, I hit the sack.
I've been too long. I'm glad to be back.
Yes, I'm let loose from the noose,
That's kept me hanging about.
I've been looking at the sky 'cause it's getting me high.
Forget the hearse 'cause I never die.
I got nine lives, cat's eyes.
Abusing every one of them and running wild.

'Cause I'm back. Yes, I'm back. Well, I'm back. Yes, I'm back.
Well, I'm back, back. (Well) I'm back in black. Yes, I'm back in black.

Back in the back of a Cadillac.
Number one with a bullet, I'm a power pack.
Yes, I'm in a bang with a gang.
They've got to catch me if they want me to hang.
'Cause I'm back on the track. And I'm beating the flack.
Nobody's gonna get me on another rap.
So look at me now. I'm just making my play.
Don't try to push your luck, just get out of my way.

Well, I'm back, Yes I'm back. Well, I'm back, Yes I'm back.
Well, I'm back, back. Well I'm back in black. Yes I'm back in black.
Yes I am. Back in black. Yes, I'm back in black. Out of the sight.

New Orleans, Louisiana
Sunday, 9:21 pm
March 15, 2020

Riley Finn carefully deposited Jack's body on the ground next to an abandoned building. "I hope you wake up soon. I wish I could stay and help you but I can't delay any longer. I can't risk them getting suspicious and I can't go anywhere near Spike," he told the dead man. He tucked an envelope into Jack's waistband. "I hope you're as... odd as the rest of them and can understand what this is. Just get it to Spike." He covered Jack with a large sheet of cardboard. "Good luck, whoever you are," he said before he climbed into the black van and drove away.

~~~~~

New Orleans, Louisiana
Monday, 10:08 pm
March 16, 2020

Jack struggled to his feet and looked about him. "Damn," he muttered. "She was telling the truth; it does sparkle." He was distracted for some time just looking at the glory of the night. Finally he moved and something crinkled against his stomach. He pulled the thick stack of papers from the envelope. It didn't seem odd to him that he could read the print clearly in the dark alley. After just a page or two, panic and memories of the Pit returned full force. He reached out for his sire and felt her intense relief that he was awake. He also felt an edge of pain and knew they were "examining" her again. The panic grew and he clenched the envelope tightly. "Have to get to Spike," he told himself and staggered from the alley.

Dazed from his awakening and the sensory assault he was experiencing, he tried to identify where he was but wasn't able to. He was having trouble thinking clearly. He knew he was outside one of the city's many necropoli but wasn't sure which one. After a block, he stumbled across a human. "Which way to Royal Street?" he demanded. The raggedly dressed black man shook his head and backed away. Jack grabbed him. "Which way to Royal Street!" he growled, unaware that his face had changed and his eyes were glowing yellow. The man screamed and tried to break away. Jack slammed him against the cemetery wall. "Royal Street!" he demanded. The man raised a shaking hand and pointed. Jack released him and, using the wall for support, headed in the direction indicated.

Slowly, almost painfully, Jack made his way down Rampart Street, flinching from the sounds of cars passing on the highway overhead. They were too loud and hurt his ears. The brightness of the night hurt his eyes and the many-layered smell of the city was nearly more than he could tolerate. He fell a couple of times but rose each time to continue on, his clothes coated with the dry dust from under the elevated expressway. He crossed the street and headed into the Vieux Carré. The night around him glistened and sparkled and tried to distract him from his quest. He forced himself to focused completely on reaching Rue Royale. He had to get to the family. In the back of his mind, his sire's pain throbbed and that urged him on. He fought through crowds of tourists, unmindful of who he jostled, uncaring who he collided with. He had to reach his grandsire. He had to get the papers he carried to the Master.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of wandering the broken sidewalks of the Quarter, he leaned against the wall of La Maison du Rouge s'Elevé and stared at the keypad, trying to remember his code. He punched it in and stumbled through the doorway and directly into René Beaumont's arms. He pushed the papers into René's hand. "Spike. Give these to Spike," he gasped before collapsing against the other man.

~~~~~

"Jacques?" Jean said softly. He had pulled his chair directly in front of the one Jack was resting in. "Jacques, can you tell me where you left the bodies?" he asked gently.

Jack looked at him without comprehension. "Huh?"

Jean patted his hand. "We know how hard it is to first wake up. And to do it the way you did: alone! Well... it must have been awful. Papa, René, we all understand that you can't be held responsible for anything you did in the last couple of hours. It's all right. You aren't in any trouble. We just want to make sure the bodies are taken care of properly," Jean explained.

Jack blinked. "What bodies? I don't understand, Jean."

Jean took a deep breath. He knew Jack was in bad shape. Spike said that like René, he had woken a bit too soon and was very weak. It was amazing he'd made his way to the house alone. It was quite an accomplishment for a fledgling only hours old. "The bodies of the people you fed from, Jack," Jean said very gently, trying to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice.

Jack frowned. "I didn't feed on anyone," he said. "I came straight here."

Jean looked at Spike, his eyes large and shocked. Spike came and tilted Jack's face up. "Are you telling me you haven't eaten at all since you woke up?"

Jack shook his head. "No, sir. I had to get those papers to you. We have to get Baby out of that place."

"Bloody hell," Spike whispered.

René looked at his sire and then at his new nephew. "You telling me you walked all the way across a French Quarter full of people, alone, just up from your grave..."

"And didn't touch a breathing soul," Spike said in amazement. He knew Jack was telling the truth; there was no scent of new blood on him.

"Mon Dieu." Jean sat back and stared at his once-human lover. "Weren't you hungry, Jack?"

Jack thought for a second and he stared back at Jean in shock. "I'm starving! I just... I didn't notice." He looked at his grandsire. "Does that mean something's wrong with me?"

Spike smiled. "No, it just means you're the most single-minded bastard ever turned." He laughed. "Good lord, Jack, when you set your mind on something there's nothing that gets in your way, is there?"

Jack crossed his arms and a glimmer of the Jack they were all familiar with appeared. "Not one damned thing. What's the problem with that? It gets results."

René snorted. "You don't need to worry about him anymore, m' Jean. He ain't changed a bit."

Jack grinned. "Yeah, I'm still annoying as hell."

Jean lifted his eyes to Heaven and murmured something too quietly for anyone to hear. He took a large mug from one of the servants and motioned him to set the accompanying carafe on a table. "Jacques, it's no wonder you feel weak, cher. Drink this." He watched with pleasure as the first scent of the warm blood reached his friend. Jack's eyes glittered then turned yellow as his face changed.

Spike smiled indulgently. "He looks like your mother."

Jean nodded. "Oui, it looks like Maman's line is breeding true. All her children and grandchildren look like she does."

Jack ran his tongue over his new fangs, enjoying the length and sharpness of them. "Damn, I wish I could see what I look like," he said. He held out the mug. "Could I have more?" Jean's laughter sounded richer than it ever had before. Jack liked the music of it. "What? It tastes great."

"Yes, it does, bon ami. It does indeed." He couldn't help the amusement that tinted his words. "And you look very handsome, cher beau."

Jack smirked. He liked it when Jean was playful. René curled his lip.

Spike grabbed his cell as it rang. "Yeah? Well that's new." He frowned. "I won't go alone.... What? You're having me on...." He laughed. "That really is new.... All right. We'll be there.... And Charles? Thank you." He returned the instrument to his pocket and turned to his sons and new grandson. "It seems these papers were what JAG was waiting on. They're moving in on that base in two hours. We've been invited to join the party."

Jean raised an eyebrow and Spike explained. "They're bringing in the Rangers, no less. They can take over from the soldiers on duty. They think if we're there, we can sort out the demons. They don't want bloodshed if they can avoid it."

Jack didn't like it. "It sounds like it could be a trap, Master."

Spike agreed. "That's why there are going to be two of us for every Ranger. They're sending in a platoon. So I need about forty of us."

René stood. "I see to it right now." Jean advised that he would help and followed his husband from the room.

Spike settled himself in the chair Jean had vacated. Jack wasn't sure he was comfortable under Spike's intense scrutiny. Those electric blue eyes were far too perceptive. "Want to tell me how it is that you already have your soul?"

Jack looked down at the thick red liquid in his cup. "We knew there was a very good chance that Wesley wouldn't be available when it was time for me to be turned either because he was busy or it was an emergency. We got Wes to do a spell that anchored my soul to my body permanently. When I died, it never left. As long as this body exists, it won't." He looked up at his grandsire. "You don't have to worry about me going all... demon on you."

"I wasn't concerned about that," Spike advised. "Seems my dove has been very busy. That woman does know how to plan ahead." He thought for a moment. "No wonder you woke up a tad early." He encouraged Jack to drink some more, even refilling his grandson's cup himself. "What you did, Jack, I don't think you have any idea how incredible that was. You have amazing control over yourself. That's good." He considered the fledgling for a moment. "I know we don't always mesh well. But you take good care of my rose and you make her happy. You're respectful to me and you don't overstep you bounds. I don't have a problem with you being part of the family."

Jack relaxed slightly. He knew Spike could declare him anything from exiled to executed. "Thank you, Master."

Spike nodded. "It's alright. I'm your grandfather now. You're part of my blood. I won't pretend to love you. Hell, I won't even claim to like you excessively, Jack. But I respect you. Take proper care of your mother and never show me any disrespect and we'll get along just fine."

Jack met Spike's eyes without flinching. "I understand."

"I know you do."

~~~~~

"Papa, everything's ready," René advised his sire. A small fleet of SUVs and pickups lined Royal Street. Spike placed René, Jean, and Jack in the lead vehicle and climbed into the front passenger seat. A glowering Jerrod drove. He was extremely displeased that his charge had been taken and was being held against her will. He took it as a personal affront.

As they headed for the western shore of Lake Pontchartrain, Spike explained what he'd found out. "Looks like this crew was set up to observe demons and see how they could handle any rogues. That's probably all they did for the first year. Somewhere down the line though, they started to do more than observe."

"Experiments," Jack snarled.

"Yeah," Spike curled his lip. "And they knew enough to stay out of our way. Someone in that group knows too much about us. I want to find out who it is." He grinned. "They won't live long. All sorts of accidents can happen in a situation like this."

His sons nodded their agreement and stared out at the waning night. René growled. "They're still hurting her." His eyes glowed. "I want whoever's hurting her. They're mine."

Jack stared at the reflection-free window glass. "Not if I get to them first," he said softly.

They turned onto a barricaded exit ramp. Jerrod drove around the "Road Closed" sign and eased down the overgrown road. He turned off the headlights. A dying moon, a bit over half full, was rising high into the sky and provided enough light for him to see the pale ribbon of concrete as it wound through the marsh. The entrance to an abandoned subdivision appeared and he eased off onto the shoulder, careful to keep two wheels on the pavement. He wasn't going to let his vehicle become mired in the soft, perpetually-wet ground.

The vampires eased out in near silence, only the soft click of doors closing revealing their presence. Wordlessly, Jean and René assembled their siblings, children, grandchildren, nephews, and nieces. A quarter of them split off and disappeared into the tall cane and willows. The remaining force split, half remaining near the vehicles and the other half following Spike as he approached a small group of HumVs.

They didn't try to conceal their approach, walking boldly up the center of the road. Still, they moved soundlessly. The perimeter guard saw them in plenty of time to alert his superior. Spike stopped just before he reached the first of the military vehicles. His family spread out, silent, deadly wings. Jean, René, and Jack remained at his side.

An older man in camouflage with stars revealing his rank approached. "I'm General Carmichael. I'm in charge of this assault," he said simply.

Spike nodded. He wondered how much the general knew about what he really was. "I'm William the Bloody. I'm here to see my people are treated fairly and don't kill any of your people." He looked toward the invisible installation. "They took my wife. I want her back."

The general raised an eyebrow but nodded. He glanced at the men and women he could vaguely make out in the moonlight. Spike could hear his heart rate pick up. Yes, he knew what his new allies really were. Or he had some mighty strong suspicions. Spike smiled. That was good. He'd be more likely to stay out of Spike's way.

"If you'd step this way, I'll show you the plans for this mission." Spike, his sons, and grandson followed the general a few steps to where maps and blueprints were spread on the hood of a car. The general began to explain almost immediately. "The complex is about two miles from this location. They're in a series of buildings that from the outside appear to be abandoned houses. This area was devastated in a hurricane and the government took over this land. The old community center houses most of the laboratories. We suspect that's where most of the prisoners are being held. These houses are set up as dormitories and living quarters. These are mostly offices. You'll need to have your people in position to move in as soon as our recon teams get back. And... what?"

Jean smiled. "They should be here in five minutes. Sarah says they just passed her."

The general blinked. Spike nodded. "Yeah, looks like Aliya and Nicole are pacing them. Get the first team moving toward that installation."

Jean thought for a moment, wordlessly directing his father's army. René reached out to those he was once more in contact with and reinforced Jean's thoughts. "They on their way, Papa," he advised Spike. "You probably should send the second group, too." Spike thought for a moment and then nodded. His sons quickly conveyed his wishes to the family.

Spike smiled at the general. "My family will be in position by the time we get there." The human tried to contain his shock and waited for his own men to appear.

Fifteen minutes later, Spike stared at the seemingly abandoned houses of Lakeside Bend. He sent his assurances out to his troops and turned to his son. "Let's go get our wife, René." They moved noiselessly into the night.

Jack stood for a moment more, reaching out for his sire, letting her know it was all going to be all right. "I'll find you," he told her silently.

Chapter 8 - "Hell's Bells"

I'm a rolling thunder, a pouring rain.
I'm coming on like a hurricane.
My lightning's flashing across the sky.
You're only young but you're gonna die.

I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives.
Nobody's putting up a fight.
I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell.
I'm gonna get you, Satan get you.

Hell's Bells.
Yeah, Hell's Bells.
You got me ringing Hell's Bells.
My temperature's high, Hell's Bells.

I'll give you black sensations up and down your spine.
If you're into evil you're a friend of mine.
See my white light flashing as I split the night.
'Cause if good's on the left, then I'm stickin' to the right.

I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives.
Nobody's puttin' up a fight.
I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell.
I'm gonna get you, Satan get you.

Hell's Bells, Satan's comin' to you.
Hell's Bells, he's ringing them now.
Hell's Bells, the temperature's high.
Hell's Bells, across the sky.
Hell's Bells, they're takin' you down.
Hell's Bells, they're draggin' you around.
Hell's Bells, gonna split the night.
Hell's Bells, there's no way to fight, yeah.

The west shore of Lake Pontchartrain, Louisiana
Tuesday, 3:48 am
March 17, 2020

Jack stood with his grandfather as the U.S. Rangers moved toward the supposedly abandoned community center of the defunct Lakeside Bend sub-division. A strong breeze rattled the tall cane about him, the leaves hissing and slapping each other. Thunder rumbled in the distance as a storm swept up the lake. The moon was caught by the edges of the scurrying clouds and Jack could see lightning playing red and white in the depths of the thunderhead. The fire in the sky struck him as a reflection of the fire inside him. Anger rumbled through him like the thunder with rage playing through it like the lightning. Spike laid a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder. "How can you be so calm?" Jack demanded.

Spike smiled darkly. "I'm not," he said and allowed his grandson to feel the storm that rolled through his own heart. "I want to rip every man and woman in there apart."

Jack agreed. "They killed me. They took away my choice on how and when I'd die."

Spike nodded. "They'd take more than that if they could. But we'll do this the right way." He stepped out on the cracked street. "Don't worry. I intend to take care of this once and for all."

Jack followed him into the gathering darkness. From all around them, Spike's progeny emerged from the wind-tossed undergrowth. Night-dark and lethal, they swept toward the building on the wings of the storm.

The guard who was attempting to question the general's authority to enter the building was tossed aside by one of Spike's daughters as though he was weightless. Spike stared at the closed portal. "Open it or we'll break it in," he hissed at the remaining guard.

The general signaled and three Rangers leveled their weapons at the hapless guard. "Stand down, soldier," he said. The private nodded and handed over his weapon. He used his passkey to open the door.

Spike turned to General Carmichael. "I'm tired of waiting. Finish this now or I will," he ordered. The general didn't argue but motioned his men forward.

The vampires followed in the Rangers' wake. Any soldier that questioned a Ranger's authority was rendered unconscious by one of the family before they could ask a second question. Each vampire had to a greater or lesser extent felt their matriarch's pain, and anger gripped even those that resented and disliked her. Personal feelings aside, the rule still held: No one fucks with family.

In the majority of cases, the operation's soldiers quietly stood down, following the Rangers' orders. Confused scientists and technicians huddled together, eyeing the heavily armed Rangers with trepidation and outright fear. Across the complex, an orderly transition of power took place.

Spike strode into the Pit flanked by fifteen of his eldest of children and five U.S. Rangers. Even the most feral vampire, the most animalistic demon, felt the power that radiated from him. The demons began backing away. "I'm William the Bloody," Spike announced softly. To the wondering eyes of the scientists and soldiers outside the thick observation glass, the hellspawn fell to their knees.

"Save us, lord," one of the demons called out.

"Yes, you're the king. Save us," another said. There was a mocking tone to his voice that Aliya took exception to. She and Nicole pulled the demon from the crowd and threw him at their father's feet.

Spike lifted the creature with one hand. "Yes, I am the king. And I'll save those that respect that." He squeezed and the demon kicked and gagged and died. Spike tossed the corpse aside. "I'll take no insolence from any of you. Is that understood?" A murmur of ascent went through the Pit. "Good. Where's my wife?"

A lone vampire came forward and knelt before Spike. "They took her, lord. Hours ago. The soldiers took her." Paul lifted his face. There was a fresh burn across his cheek. "I am sworn to her ladyship, lord, and I tried to stop them but they took her."

Spike growled, long and low. Every demon in the Pit shivered. "Spread out, find her," Spike ordered his family. "Bring him," he said and Nicole plucked Paul from the floor and followed behind her father. Spike faced the general squarely. "Understand this, deal or no deal, if something happens to my wife not a one of these bloody bastards will walk out of here alive." René snarled his agreement before sweeping out in search of his wife. Jean smiled and the general shuddered.

"Jean, Jack, with me," Spike ordered as he turned to the door. "Jack?" He turned to his eldest son. Jean shook his head. Somewhere in the midst of the confrontation, Jack had slipped away.

~~~~~

Jack flew through the halls and corridors of the building. He kicked in doors that were locked against him, tossed aside any person that tried to hinder him. He was filled with the need to find his sire. And nothing was going to stand in his way.

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a soldier. He snarled and drew back his fist.

"Whoa," the solder said and put up his hands. Recognition dawned in blue eyes. "You made it after all."

Jack froze and stared at him for three long seconds. "You smell like the papers I had," he said. "You the one that gave them to me? Got me out of here in one piece?"

The soldier nodded. "Yeah, that was me." The soldier grinned. "Colonel Riley Finn, U.S. Army, on detachment to JAG."

Jack stuck out his hand. "Jack Niemczyk, Assistant Director in Charge for the F.B.I." he said. Riley's eyebrows shot up. "I'm looking for my mother. My sire," Jack continued.

"I haven't seen her," Riley said. "This place is a warren. There are labs and holding cells scattered all over. She could be almost anywhere."

Jack could feel her plainly. "Wherever it is, it's very hot. So hot it hurts."

Riley nodded. "The heat room! This way." He led Jack through the maze of hallways and cubbyholes. "It's used to test the heat tolerance of subjects," he explained as they hurried down an empty hall. "It's also used to eliminated bodies. It can get hot enough to set a vampire alight."

Jack cursed.

~~~~~

Baby lifted her head and growled. She launched herself against the door again.

"Keep trying, bitch," Corwin Burns muttered. "I love watching you."

Maggie Walsh sighed. "Just burn her and get it over with."

Burns shook his head. "Oh no. I owe her. And I owe that son of a bitch she's married to." He turned up the temperature control another notch. "She's gonna die slow." He grinned. "God, you have no idea how happy I was to see her in the Pit." He tapped the heatproof glass. "How does it feel, bitch? You ready to beg yet?"

Baby's curses were inventive and hotter than the scorching air that circulated around her. Burns laughed. "You with Spike when he took down the Initiative, Baby?" He turned her name into a sneer. "Were you there, too?" He turned the heat up some more. "Were you there when you ruined my father's career? My career? I'd be senator now if it wasn't for you!"

"Corwin, hurry up. This is stupid. Kill her. If she's nothing but dust they can't do anything, but if the soldiers find you like this, they'll arrest you," Walsh advised. "I know you want some sort of revenge but this is idiotic. What if one of the vampires find you?"

"Yeah, what about that?" Jack snarled from the end of the corridor and ran for Burns.

"Do it and she dies right now." Burns put his hand over the keyboard.

"Jack! Stop!" Riley shouted. "He hits the right button and that room fills with fire instantly."

Burns smiled. "Well ADC, you're just in time to watch the bitch fry. Too bad you'll never get a chance to fuck her again. I bet she was one fast little piece of ass." He glanced at the vampiress pressed against the glass. He thought he could see her clothes beginning to smolder. "You're just a little too slow to stop me."

Burns never saw Jack move. It simply seemed as though the glass slammed into him. Jack pounded Burns' head against the smooth surface and dropped him. A smear of blood tinted the glass a very pretty crimson. "Am I now?" Jack turned to the scientist. "Shut it off and open that God damned door," he snarled. When she hesitated, he grabbed her and slung her toward the keyboard. "Open the God damned fucking door!"

He heard the slide-click of a gun being cocked and whirled to find Riley's gun pressed to the temple of soldier with a wooden bayonet attached to his rifle. The bayonet was less than a foot from Jack. "Drop it," Finn ordered.

Jack grinned and turned back to Walsh before the rifle had clattered to the floor. She was still staring at him. "You... you died!" she said.

Jack's smiled turned sharp and he grabbed a handful of her hair. "Yeah I did. You killed me, bitch. Now open the God damned door before I rip your head off." He held tightly to that fistful of hair as she punched buttons. He leaned close and hissed in her ear. "Hit the wrong one, let anything happen to her, and I'll tie you down and play with you for about a week before I hurt you enough that you beg me to kill you."

As soon as the door slid open, he flung her to the floor and, wiping a few gray hairs from his hand, hurried to his sire. Baby stumbled into his arms. He pulled her out into the cool of the corridor. She breathed deeply, drawing in the fresh air to help cool her body. She reached out and smoothed her son's hair from his face. "Jack," she said softly with a glow in her golden eyes that he'd never seen before. "My Jack."

He'd never heard a more beautiful sound than his sire's voice. He looked into those golden eyes and fell just a tiny bit in love.

"Get him up and on his feet," Riley told the soldier, pointing to Burns. "You, too, Dr. Walsh. On your feet." She didn't bother to argue. With the soldier supporting Burns, he marched them back the way he and Jack had come.

Jack gathered his sire into his arms. He gave her a lingering kiss before he stood and followed the humans.

~~~~~

René grabbed his father's arm. "Papa!" Spike turned to see his grandson striding toward them, Baby safe in his arms. Both vampires raced to them.

Jack smiled slightly before placing his sire in his grandfather's arms. "I told you I'd take care of her, sir."

Spike didn't respond. He was too busy kissing his wife. René ran loving hands over her hair and back, assuring himself that she was all right. Spike pulled back. "Pet? You're hot?"

Baby laughed softly. "I'd have been a lot hotter if not for Jack. I'd be a little pile of ash by now. He saved my life. They were gonna burn me alive."

Spike looked at his newest relative in amazement. He couldn't say anything. He held her tightly and buried his face in her hair. With a roar, René grabbed Jack in a bone-crushing hug.

Jack pushed him away. "You even think about kissing me and I'll knock the shit out of you!" he warned.

René grinned broadly. "I'd sooner kiss an alligator." He quirked an eyebrow. "They better looking and better tempered." He clapped Jack on the shoulder. "I still hate you but I owe you for this one."

Spike laughed. Baby laid her head on his shoulder and smiled. "Boys, behave."

René leaned over and kissed her. Spike felt his son's need and transferred Baby to René's arms. Gratitude shone for an instant on his son's face before René bent to kiss her again. "Now, you tell me who do this thing to you. Who hurt you? I gonna kill them," René said softly.

Jack grabbed Burns from the soldier supporting him and tossed him at Spike's feet. "This piece of shit." He snarled and his eyes glowed yellow. "And I get first dibs."

Spike grinned and shook his head. "Sorry, I pull rank on both of you. He tried to hurt my rose; he's mine." Jack and René both saw the fairness of that. Besides, they knew Spike would let them help.

Burns spotted the general. "No! You can't let them hurt me," he shouted. "You have to protect me from them."

The general looked at Burns as the human pulled himself to his feet. He glanced at the woman in the Master's arms. "Ma'am, did I hear you correctly? This man tried to kill you by burning you alive."

"He sure as hell did," Jack growled. "Motherfucking little bastard had her in a oven."

Riley Finn nodded. "I have to confirm that, sir," he said. "This man and Dr. Walsh were engaged in the intentional torture of Lady Roxton with murderous intent."

"She's a fucking vampire!" Burns shouted. "A damned HST. She's not human!"

General Carmichael nodded. His grandfather had fought against the Nazis in World War II. He'd told his grandson stories of the torture and atrocities that had been inflicted on a people labeled less than human. He'd told how he'd helped liberate the camps and met the most wonderful woman on earth, a woman who'd lost her entire family to the ovens. And evidence of his name to the contrary, Sean Carmichael was Jewish.

He turned to Spike. "Sir, I have been given authority to immediately extradite into your custody any person or persons found to have perpetrated crimes against your immediate family."

Spike smiled. He saw Charles' not-so-subtle hand in this. It seemed the senator had taken his threat about declaring war seriously. And so had the State Department.

Burns shook off Riley's hand. "What do you mean 'extradite'?" he demanded. "They're not a foreign government! They're fucking demons. You should just kill them all."

The general's already straight bearing went ramrod stiff. "I have orders from my superiors, from the State Department, and the U.S. Senate that William the Bloody is to be treated as the head of a foreign nation friendly to this country. I've seen nothing to convince me otherwise. In fact, so far all I have seen is a leader who handles his troops with remarkable competency. I've seen a family worried about their own. All I've seen is a man who's been nearly frantic about the safety of his wife. If he's a demon, I could stand to know a few more."

Spike looked at him in surprise. He hadn't expected the old soldier to support him. "So Burns and Walsh?"

Jack nodded. "She's the one that killed me. Shot me full of drugs I was allergic to." He thought for a moment and sighed. "I don't care. Do whatever you want to with her. Leave her with the soldiers." He turned to Walsh. "You might want to know that probably eighty-five percent of your theory on vampires is wrong." He grinned. "For one thing, we really are vampires, not Hostile Sub-Terrestrials. And you've never seen a real one until now. You've been studying the homeless, the mentally impaired, the lowest rungs on the evolutionary ladder. You don't have the slightest idea what we are." He leaned close and whispered, "And you're never going to find out. I'll see to that. Your career is over. I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life in a Federal penitentiary."

As he turned away, Walsh whipped a small gun from her pocket. Riley immediately recognized it. Instead of bullets, the little air gun fired a slim shaft of wood. His instincts took over and he fired before he even realized the pistol was in his hand. She spun halfway around and the long wooden dart embedded itself in Jack's shoulder rather than his heart. Walsh fell to the floor and lay still.

Jack never fell but surprisingly René was beside him instantly, supporting him and pulling the projectile from Jack's back. Baby fought from Spike's embrace and went to her childe but she was weak from the experiments and lack of food and could barely stand. Spike quickly lifted her again. Jean and a company of the children appeared, their sweep of the building complete. Spike handed Baby off to the crown prince. "Jean, René, take these two home. I'll see to everything here. The twins can handle most it." His sons nodded and Spike watched as the foursome left, René supporting his nephew and Jean carrying his mother. Baby's new minion Paul followed. Spike had a feeling that somehow, their world had been subtly altered this night.

"Thank you, Riley," he said.

The other man was staring at the woman on the floor. "I... I was sent here to spy on her, you know. Even after what happened in Sunnydale, she wanted me here. She had some sort of... I don't know. She just wanted me here. But she was worse than ever. Controlling, unfeeling. I wanted to stop her but I didn't want to kill her."

Spike laid a hand on his arm. "I doubt if it will make you feel any better, but Jack's a good man. He's like you; he's spent his whole life fighting for his country. I doubt if anything about that will change just because he's dead."

Riley nodded. He didn't say anything. A softly spoken command from the general and a Ranger led him away for debriefing. Spike watched him go and decided it was tragic Finn's marriage to Buffy hadn't worked out. Despite the way he felt about the other Riley, Finn was a good man.

Spike sighed and called his daughters to him. He had a lot to do. All the demons had to be sorted out and those that weren't a threat to the general populace released. The others would have to be put down. He'd have to figure out how much the scientists had discovered and what of it was a danger to his family.

It took him all day.

As the last colors of the sunset were fading from the sky, he followed the final few freed vampires from the building. He turned to his nearest child. "No one left in any of the houses? Everthing's cleared?"

"Yes, sire," Nicole said. "All the discs, all the files, all the computers are still inside. We made sure the Army hasn't taken any yet. They're all taking supper now. We're 'guarding' everything for them. It's all set. Just like you wanted."

Spike nodded. "Burn it. Burn it all to the ground. I don't want anything left here but ashes." As he walked away, the community center erupted into a fireball that rivaled the just-faded sunset.

Epilogue - "Bounce!"

I been knocked down so many times.
Counted out 6, 7, 8, 9.
Written off like some bad deal,
If you're breathing, you know how it feels.
Call it karma; call it luck.
Me, I just don't give a ....

Bounce, Bounce. Nothing's gonna keep me down.
Bounce, Bounce. Stand up, shout it out.
Bounce, Bounce. I play hard, I play to win.
Count me out; count me in.
I'll be bouncing back again.

This ain't no game; I play it hard.
Kicked around, cut, stitched and scarred.
I'll take the hit but not the fall.
I know no fear, still standing tall.
You can call it karma; call it luck.
Me, I just don't give a ....

Bounce, Bounce. Nothing's gonna keep me down.
Bounce, Bounce. Stand up, shout it out.
Bounce, Bounce. I play hard, I play to win.
Count me out; count me in.
I'll be bouncing back again.

Bounce!

Bring it on, I like it rough.
In your face, I'll call your bluff.
It ain't karma; it ain't luck.
Me, I just don't give a ....

Bounce, Bounce. Nothing's gonna keep me down.
Bounce, Bounce. Stand up, shout it out.
Bounce, Bounce. I play hard, I play to win.
Count me out; count me in.
I'll be bouncing back again.

Bounce!

New Orleans, Louisiana
Thursday, 11:14 pm
March 19, 2020

Jack let the body of the rapist fall to the rank grass of the unpaved alley. He leaned against the clapboards of the old building, gasping, his head resting against the graying wood as his face shifted to its human aspect. He felt his sire pressed against him, her tongue cool as it licked from the hollow of his throat upward to his chin. She pulled his head down so she could kiss him, tasting the blood of his first kill from his lips. "My Jack," she whispered, her pleasure in him evident in her tone. He hummed against her lips, wanting more, always wanting more. She pulled away, denying him those lips he wanted, that body he needed.

But her lips and body were replaced by Jean's. "Magnifique, Jacques," he murmured. "Simply magnifique." Even better. Jack kissed Jean deeply, his tongue tasting and questing, searching for the essence of this man he found so very appealing. He needed this, too. He thought that it was possible he'd wanted Jean since the moment he'd first seen the Cajun. Jean was glorious and soothed something deep inside Jack. Jean laughed and withdrew. Jack reached for him but he moved away.

Before Jack could truly regret Jean's absence, he felt the Master's hands roaming across him. Spike traced Jack's lips with his thumb. "Jean's right. You were magnificent. A fine kill, Jack."

"It feels... it feels so..." Jack couldn't find the words for the sensations surging through his mind and body.

"Shhhh," Spike shushed him. "I know. It's earth-shattering. It's bloody incredible. There's nothing like it." Jack nodded and Spike's lips followed the path his thumb had just laid down. "The only thing better is this." Spike's mouth descended on Jack's. Spike kissed Jack as deeply as Jack had kissed Jean. William the Bloody claimed every cell in his grandson's body with that kiss. There was no part of Jack that Spike didn't touch with that one kiss. "Let me show you the world, Jack," Spike growled softly and Jack gasped again as the full impact of the family rushed in on him. He could feel them all...he was a part of them all. This was what Baby had meant when she said the family was connected, that they were all bound together. He'd had the tiniest taste of it through his Companion bond but he'd had no idea how vast it really was. He was swept away by it, flowing with the currents of thought and feeling from his blood kin. He didn't know how much time passed as he lost himself in that connection. Spike was his anchor; the Master's lips keeping him for losing himself in the swirling maelstrom of emotions and sensations. Spike's hands kept Jack from floating away on that sea of multiple awareness. Jack suddenly understood what he'd seen when he'd watched the Pride hunt. He understood them now. He knew the fire that burned in their eyes. It was the same as the one that burned inside him. The flame was need and it was slightly different for each member of the Pride but it was there, a part of them all. It flowed through him. It was part of him... He surrendered to that need. He let Spike lead him into that which he'd dreamed about, that he'd wanted for so long. The feel of the Master's lips and hands brought him deeper and deeper into the family.

"Jack." He felt his sire's breath, cool against his skin as she spoke his name. He wanted her. He wanted them all. This time she didn't draw away. Her hands were as cool as her breath, touching him, caressing him. Spike's laughter was deep and low and resonated with the power of the family. It vibrated in Jack's heart, sending the flame inside him leaping ever higher. The blood inside him, fresh and hot, was part of that flame. It was fire running through him, warming him, setting his senses alight. Each touch of his sire's delicate fingers, each pass of the Master's hands, was felt more intensely than anything he'd ever felt before. The night around him sang with a thousand-thousand voices and he could hear them all. It glowed with eldritch fire and burned with a glory that he'd never imagined. He threw his head back and roared from the sheer beauty of it. And across the city, across the open miles that separated them, from the smog-bound barrios of Los Angeles to the white sand beaches of Pensacola, his family answered him. Vampire tongues raised in exultation, the Pride roared their welcome of a new brother into the family.

~~~~~

Washington, District of Columbia
Thursday, 7:48 pm
April 23, 2020

Baby grinned as Charles Comeaux read the pertinent section of the Senate Judiciary Committee's findings. "Mr. Niemczyk, at great risk to himself, personally pursued the investigation of a terrorist group based in New Orleans. During the course of the investigation, it was necessary for Mr. Niemczyk to appear to take bribes, impede other investigations, and engage in activities that would lead the terrorists to believe him to be a 'bad' agent. It is the opinion of this committee that Mr. Niemczyk has been instrumental in stopping a terrorist ring that threatened the national security of this country."

There was the proper amount of noise from the assembled press and public. This was the first public session of this particular investigation. The majority, and the pertinent portions of the Committee's investigation, had been held behind locked doors. It wouldn't do for the general public to know that the use of their tax money by a government group dedicated to studying demons was the real subject under discussion. They didn't need to know that said group had gone from studying demons to planning the eradication of all demons, including those that made up a portion of the voting constituency, from the face of the planet. It was better they believe yet another terrorist group had been discovered and eliminated by the combined forces of the F.B.I., the National Security Commission, and the Department of Homeland Security.

"William Morrison, Special Agent In Charge of the investigation into Mr. Niemczyk's activities, behaved with the utmost propriety and his request that the circumstances of that investigation be examined reflect well on the F.B.I.'s new policy of self-monitoring. Special Agent Morrison is to be commended for his insight and investigative skills," Charles continued. "It has been proven beyond the doubt of any member of this committee that the request to investigate Assistant Director in Charge Niemczyk was a ploy to end his investigation when certain factions of the terrorist cell became suspicious of him."

"And to keep the family busy until it was too late," Baby muttered to herself. She watched as her son was exonerated of all suspicions against him. She could feel his joy. She'd had little doubt that Charles would come up with something to clear Jack once Baby had talked to him and explained how much Jack's innocence meant to her personally. Charles and Baby had long ago reached an understanding that nearly amounted to friendship. Charles, of course, was predisposed to like the vampiress. A very human Baby, her husband, and eldest sons had saved the Senator's only grandchildren long ago. Charles might be a career politician with all the ruthlessness that profession required but he loved his granddaughters beyond reason. She'd had no idea that Charles was going to make Jack a national hero, though.

She was glad when the session wound to a close and she and Jack could escape into the gathering dusk. Jerrod met them at the door and handed a newspaper to Jack. "Paul just flew that in." Jack laughed. The front page of the Times Picayune was full of praises for itself in recognizing the innocence of their local F.B.I. director and wishful that the rest of the country would stop thinking of the Crescent City as a center of corruption. Anne McSwain shook her head and led her client through the press of reporters. Jack simply smiled and responded to all questions that he was happy to be returning to New Orleans and had simply done his duty. It was all BS, of course, but it was BS that made the boys at Headquarters happy.

Outside, finally free from the media, Jack grinned at Bill Morrison. "I was surprised to hear you thought I was innocent, Agent."

Bill shrugged. "It didn't add up. It still doesn't, but the powers that be have said you're squeaky clean so who am I to argue?"

Baby and Jack both chuckled at his choice of words. "Don't worry about it, Bill," Jack said. "F.B.I. New Orleans will be in good hands."

"Even I agree with that," Gary Bowles said as he walked up to them. "Congratulation, sir. Glad to have you back," he said and shook Jack's hand. When Jack asked if Gary wasn't sad to be handing over the power, Bowles laughed. "Hell no. You do too much paperwork, Jack. I'd rather be actually investigating cases." Even Morrison laughed.

"Why don't you come down and join us," Jack said. "I can always use a man with integrity. I have an opening since Vinnie's decided to go off and join the priesthood."

Morrison shook his head. "It's tempting. There's some of the best food I've ever eaten down there. Maybe I'll think about it."

Bowles grinned. "You should do that. I hear Agent Harrison has already put in for a transfer." His grin turned just a tad evil. "Seems the eating was something like she'd never run across before."

"Gary!" Baby sputtered. Jean had been more than pleased to pass on the bets the local agents had been making about his prowess with the ladies. He had, of course, heard every word they'd said.

Bowles didn't look one bit apologetic. "The men of the city are right proud of our Prince, ma'am," he explained. "He makes us all look good."

Jack nearly doubled over laughing. "I can vouch for that!"

Gary smiled. "Anyway, just wanted to say congratulations and glad to have you back, boss. I'll see you back in NOLA." With a brisk handshake, he was gone.

"Yes, I suppose congratulations on your reinstatement are in order," Morrison said. "I guess you're happy to be headed back to your own city." He thought for a moment. "And I may take you up on that offer. I'd dearly love to find out what's really going on down there. I'd really love to get my teeth into that."

"You're right, I'll be really happy to get back to New Orleans," he said. He reached for his sire's hand and brought it to his lips. "It is our city. And I'm the son of the Queen."

Morrison stared at him.

Jack laughed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Bill," he said, headed down the steps. "And don't you worry about it. I already got my teeth into it." For just an instant Morrison could have sworn Jack's eyes flashed with yellow fire. Jack looked out into the gathering night. Nothing had ever looked so good to him. He could stare at the glow of the night for hours. He felt a tingle in his fangs as the myriad scents of life and death swirled around him, a perfume like no other. He could hear the heartbeats of the people around him, hear the blood rushing through their veins. It blended into the music of the night. He could practically see the breeze that ruffled Baby's hair and set it dancing. Like her hair, it felt soft against his cheek. He took a deep breath just because it felt good to do so. He had never felt so much a part of life. He grinned. "Come on, Baby. Let's go home."

~Fin~

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Author's Notes:

"Hell's Bells" and "Back in Black" as performed by AC/DC, "Jumping Jack Flash" as performed by The Rolling Stones, "Badlands" as performed by Bruce Springsteen, "Hangman Jury" and "Same Old Song and Dance" as performed by AeroSmith, "Bounce" as performed by Bon Jovi, and "Rocket Queen", "They're Out to Get Me", and "Welcome to the Jungle" as performed by Guns N Roses used without permission but with great love and respect for the talents of the musicians and writers.

Information on the Federal Bureau of Investigation provided by the official F.B.I. web site at www.fbi.gov and the official FBI New Orleans Division site at http://neworleans.fbi.gov .

Information on the Cajun French dialect provided by Louisiana State University and their web site at http://www.artsci.lsu.edu/fai/Cajun/glossary.html .

Thanks MB