Fic: 'Tis The Season
Title: 'Tis The Season
Characters: Vicki Nelson, Henry Fitzroy
Rating: FRE
Spoilers: Blood Ties TV Series, Blood books by Tanya Huff
Summary: After the events of the TV series and the books, Vicki and Henry find an unusual way to visit one another - a yearly house swap.
Author Notes: SPOILER FOR THE BOOK SERIES (highlight to read)
As in canon, Vamp-Vicki and Henry can't physically be in the same place without causing major bloodshed, so they use a little creative house-swapping to stay in touch. This is set slightly in the future and after Mike Celluci has died a mortal death but not a natural one. I played fast and loose with her choice of territory, but I hope you enjoy this anyway! Thanks for reading!
Toronto, January 2015
It hurts less every time she comes back. She still won’t patronize the coffee shop where she finally guessed Mike’s middle name, winning the dinner bet that turned into their first almost-date. She won’t set foot in the hotel where she first watched him die.
But this isn’t Mike’s city anymore. He protected Portland for a decade after she finally agreed to let him settle there, just far enough from the edge of the Seattle territory to keep its vampire out of her business. Things had been good until a stupid standoff with a meth lab courier turned into an explosion and put Mike beyond her reach in a blink, made Portland somewhere she didn’t care to see, ever again.
Instead she prowls New Orleans bars and tourist traps, scooping up bail skippers for money and the city’s displaced generation for everything else she needs. Well, almost everything. She looks out Henry’s heavily-insulated picture window at Toronto in its glittering nightgown and remembers the club where Henry tracked her with gleeful eyes after she resisted his power, the skate park where he first tasted her blood. He’s taken in strays since they parted, from the knots of homeless teenagers who hang around outside the comic shop to the sleek gray cat grooming her paws on the windowsill. The tag on her collar says “Queen Victoria.”
NOLA, January 2015
He’s long past fashionably late, but The Krewe of Rex Masquerade Ball is no place for hunting, feeding - there’s plenty of privacy, but New Orleans' old money is far too incestuously small to risk the faintest whiff of rumor. So, he invited someone interesting to come up, knowing Vicki will be furious when she picks up the scent. He opens her liquor cabinet, looking for something to offer his “guest.” he pours a generous portion of sugarcane rum for Tracey and slides his fingers into her long auburn hair.
She purrs. “Won’t you join me, hon? It’s no fun drinking alone.”
“You aren’t,” he murmurs, matching her sultry tone even as he tips her head to the side. “I promise.”
His phone vibrates in the triplet pattern assigned to Vicki and he lets it sit, pushing Tracey back across the wide white bed. Her luscious curves might have entranced him, if not for the lingering scent of Vicki’s lean, tawny body rising faintly from the pillows to taunt him.
Toronto
Dropping her phone back into her bag, she eschews the red silk dressing gown he’s left draped invitingly over a corner of the bed, pulling on a pair of jeans and hoodie from her own luggage. Sitting on the bed to pull on her boots, she remembers promising herself she’d pack bedding, or buy some, the last time they swapped territories for the season. The feline scent of Henry sleeping floods her senses, driving her away from the sumptuous bed to a leather chaise in the corner he keeps for posing models on.
NOLA
He sends Tracey away smiling with a few words and a night-black stare, before showering and dressing carefully in his white tuxedo and sleek snow leopard mask. They’ll tease him for his tardiness, but as long as he does arrive with a fat donation he’ll be forgiven.
He picks up the phone to pocket it, only belatedly remembering to check the message. It rings in his hand and he rushes out, letting the noise of traffic and tourists give him an excuse to hang up before he folds himself into the dark envelope of the hired car. He doesn’t wish to move in this rarefied circle anymore; he’d rather walk Vicki’s hunting ground, both predator and protector of the wards and their denizens. As the car moves silkily over the bustling streets he opens her text message and smiles ruefully at the blank lines he finds there.
Toronto
She resists the temptation of turning her earlier trip down memory lane into an actual tour of past haunts. Her instincts, always beyond sharp now, are a razor's edge against her skin while she hunts - a chill, deadly potential that steers her away from Henry’s clubs and restaurants. She winds up in a newish sports bar (she’s surprised to see that it’s aimed at fantasy football instead of hockey) and finds herself trading banter with a pair of painfully young beat cops, both sandy-haired boys with aggressively repaired teeth: Andy and Pete. The blonde bartender they’d been chatting up before sloshes beer over the rim of Vicki’s glass. The boys are jovially competitive until she chooses Pete, just so Andy can stop trying so hard; he’s a little bit too puppy-dog for her taste.
NOLA
This much white is a little blinding after the winter dark streets of Marigny, but he puts on a charming smile and picks up a flute of champagne.
“Henry, you cad,” chides his hostess as she leans in to air kiss, her rich floral perfume an effervescent mask over the scent of her skin, the icy snow queen costume an elegant counterpoint to the hot song of her blood. “Half the court’s convinced you’re a figment of my imagination.”
“I could be, Suzanne,” he teases, letting his cheek press hers just long enough to make her heart rate leap, “but my check is very real.”
She shoves at him in consternation, but the gauche mention of money is as much part of his disguise as his mask, and he lets her sail around the ballroom introducing him, playing the scandalous comic-book millionaire for all her stuffy relatives. It’s the least he can do for this formidable woman, whose contacts helped him wrest Vicki’s apartment/office building from both probate and an oily developer’s clutches. He enjoys the game of verbal cat and mouse, even enjoys appearing to freeze and stumble a bit, speared by the sugar coated icepick of her wit, before recovering admirably.
Toronto
She makes her way back to the penthouse well before dawn, and pulls on soft boxers and a tank - not her ratty gray set but black rayon with just a hint of sheen. She tests the touchscreen TV in the corner - she could answer from the bed if Henry calls.
She slips between his sheets, feeling the sun threaten and hum from behind the horizon. She doesn’t look at the screen.
The cat deigns to join her on the bed, and she could almost be lulled to sleep by her warm velvet paws and steady purring.
The screen chimes. “Homesick already?” She looks up through her hair to find him toeing off slick white shoes, his tie and shirt studs already loose.
“Two Victorias for the price of one, what a bargain.”
“You would have a bargain penthouse instead of a basement.”
He gestures at her spare but spacious apartment with it’s own view “You don’t live on the ground floor yourself these days, Ms. Nelson.”
“Touché,” she allows herself to toy with the collar of the dressing gown. “Good party?”
“Good enough. Everything there okay?”
She watches his hands loose the rest of the studs. “Okay enough.”
“Vicki?”
She finally lets herself meet his eyes. “Okay enough.”
“Talk to me until you fall asleep?” he asks, his eyes soft and serious.
“Sure,” She finds the dressing gown has made its way to her lap and shakes it out, lets it settle around her shoulders light as a breath. “So I met these two puppy cops tonight…”
Characters: Vicki Nelson, Henry Fitzroy
Rating: FRE
Spoilers: Blood Ties TV Series, Blood books by Tanya Huff
Summary: After the events of the TV series and the books, Vicki and Henry find an unusual way to visit one another - a yearly house swap.
Author Notes: SPOILER FOR THE BOOK SERIES (highlight to read)
As in canon, Vamp-Vicki and Henry can't physically be in the same place without causing major bloodshed, so they use a little creative house-swapping to stay in touch. This is set slightly in the future and after Mike Celluci has died a mortal death but not a natural one. I played fast and loose with her choice of territory, but I hope you enjoy this anyway! Thanks for reading!
Toronto, January 2015
It hurts less every time she comes back. She still won’t patronize the coffee shop where she finally guessed Mike’s middle name, winning the dinner bet that turned into their first almost-date. She won’t set foot in the hotel where she first watched him die.
But this isn’t Mike’s city anymore. He protected Portland for a decade after she finally agreed to let him settle there, just far enough from the edge of the Seattle territory to keep its vampire out of her business. Things had been good until a stupid standoff with a meth lab courier turned into an explosion and put Mike beyond her reach in a blink, made Portland somewhere she didn’t care to see, ever again.
Instead she prowls New Orleans bars and tourist traps, scooping up bail skippers for money and the city’s displaced generation for everything else she needs. Well, almost everything. She looks out Henry’s heavily-insulated picture window at Toronto in its glittering nightgown and remembers the club where Henry tracked her with gleeful eyes after she resisted his power, the skate park where he first tasted her blood. He’s taken in strays since they parted, from the knots of homeless teenagers who hang around outside the comic shop to the sleek gray cat grooming her paws on the windowsill. The tag on her collar says “Queen Victoria.”
NOLA, January 2015
He’s long past fashionably late, but The Krewe of Rex Masquerade Ball is no place for hunting, feeding - there’s plenty of privacy, but New Orleans' old money is far too incestuously small to risk the faintest whiff of rumor. So, he invited someone interesting to come up, knowing Vicki will be furious when she picks up the scent. He opens her liquor cabinet, looking for something to offer his “guest.” he pours a generous portion of sugarcane rum for Tracey and slides his fingers into her long auburn hair.
She purrs. “Won’t you join me, hon? It’s no fun drinking alone.”
“You aren’t,” he murmurs, matching her sultry tone even as he tips her head to the side. “I promise.”
His phone vibrates in the triplet pattern assigned to Vicki and he lets it sit, pushing Tracey back across the wide white bed. Her luscious curves might have entranced him, if not for the lingering scent of Vicki’s lean, tawny body rising faintly from the pillows to taunt him.
Toronto
Dropping her phone back into her bag, she eschews the red silk dressing gown he’s left draped invitingly over a corner of the bed, pulling on a pair of jeans and hoodie from her own luggage. Sitting on the bed to pull on her boots, she remembers promising herself she’d pack bedding, or buy some, the last time they swapped territories for the season. The feline scent of Henry sleeping floods her senses, driving her away from the sumptuous bed to a leather chaise in the corner he keeps for posing models on.
NOLA
He sends Tracey away smiling with a few words and a night-black stare, before showering and dressing carefully in his white tuxedo and sleek snow leopard mask. They’ll tease him for his tardiness, but as long as he does arrive with a fat donation he’ll be forgiven.
He picks up the phone to pocket it, only belatedly remembering to check the message. It rings in his hand and he rushes out, letting the noise of traffic and tourists give him an excuse to hang up before he folds himself into the dark envelope of the hired car. He doesn’t wish to move in this rarefied circle anymore; he’d rather walk Vicki’s hunting ground, both predator and protector of the wards and their denizens. As the car moves silkily over the bustling streets he opens her text message and smiles ruefully at the blank lines he finds there.
Toronto
She resists the temptation of turning her earlier trip down memory lane into an actual tour of past haunts. Her instincts, always beyond sharp now, are a razor's edge against her skin while she hunts - a chill, deadly potential that steers her away from Henry’s clubs and restaurants. She winds up in a newish sports bar (she’s surprised to see that it’s aimed at fantasy football instead of hockey) and finds herself trading banter with a pair of painfully young beat cops, both sandy-haired boys with aggressively repaired teeth: Andy and Pete. The blonde bartender they’d been chatting up before sloshes beer over the rim of Vicki’s glass. The boys are jovially competitive until she chooses Pete, just so Andy can stop trying so hard; he’s a little bit too puppy-dog for her taste.
NOLA
This much white is a little blinding after the winter dark streets of Marigny, but he puts on a charming smile and picks up a flute of champagne.
“Henry, you cad,” chides his hostess as she leans in to air kiss, her rich floral perfume an effervescent mask over the scent of her skin, the icy snow queen costume an elegant counterpoint to the hot song of her blood. “Half the court’s convinced you’re a figment of my imagination.”
“I could be, Suzanne,” he teases, letting his cheek press hers just long enough to make her heart rate leap, “but my check is very real.”
She shoves at him in consternation, but the gauche mention of money is as much part of his disguise as his mask, and he lets her sail around the ballroom introducing him, playing the scandalous comic-book millionaire for all her stuffy relatives. It’s the least he can do for this formidable woman, whose contacts helped him wrest Vicki’s apartment/office building from both probate and an oily developer’s clutches. He enjoys the game of verbal cat and mouse, even enjoys appearing to freeze and stumble a bit, speared by the sugar coated icepick of her wit, before recovering admirably.
Toronto
She makes her way back to the penthouse well before dawn, and pulls on soft boxers and a tank - not her ratty gray set but black rayon with just a hint of sheen. She tests the touchscreen TV in the corner - she could answer from the bed if Henry calls.
She slips between his sheets, feeling the sun threaten and hum from behind the horizon. She doesn’t look at the screen.
The cat deigns to join her on the bed, and she could almost be lulled to sleep by her warm velvet paws and steady purring.
The screen chimes. “Homesick already?” She looks up through her hair to find him toeing off slick white shoes, his tie and shirt studs already loose.
“Two Victorias for the price of one, what a bargain.”
“You would have a bargain penthouse instead of a basement.”
He gestures at her spare but spacious apartment with it’s own view “You don’t live on the ground floor yourself these days, Ms. Nelson.”
“Touché,” she allows herself to toy with the collar of the dressing gown. “Good party?”
“Good enough. Everything there okay?”
She watches his hands loose the rest of the studs. “Okay enough.”
“Vicki?”
She finally lets herself meet his eyes. “Okay enough.”
“Talk to me until you fall asleep?” he asks, his eyes soft and serious.
“Sure,” She finds the dressing gown has made its way to her lap and shakes it out, lets it settle around her shoulders light as a breath. “So I met these two puppy cops tonight…”