Warning: this is satire and intended *only* in jest!  
Passion's Savage Fire 

By Molly  Schneider 
Copyright  1999 
Chestnut curls framed  the heart-shaped face of the lovely medical examiner 
and her sapphire eyes  sparkled with tears as she lifted the necklace from its 
box of Tiffany  blue. A golden heart, studded with diamonds, dangled from a 
wide gold  chain. "Oh, Nick," she gasped, "It's gorgeous. Will you put it on 
me, 
 please?" 
With trembling hands he  carefully arranged the necklace so that its 
centerpiece--the symbol of a  love he'd never known before--nestled between the 
creamy 
swells of her  breasts. He dropped to his knees beside her, clasping her hand 
in both of  his and raising his eyes to hers; eyes filled with the pure 
passion of a  knight pledging his troth to his lady, a Crusader pledging his 
faith 
to  his Cross. 
"Natalie," he said  brokenly. "I love you. I love you more than any woman 
I've known in 800  years. Say you'll be mine!" 
"I am yours, Nick," she  swore fervently. "I just want us to be together." 
"We are  together." 
"No, Nick--I mean  together!" 
He frowned  thoughtfully. "You mean," he said cautiously, "together?" Making 
a  circle from the thumb and forefinger of one hand he pushed his other  
forefinger through it. "Like that?" 
Feeling somewhat  affronted, she stood up and looked down on him. "Well, I 
wouldn't have put  it that way, but yes: together." 
He got to his feet  also, carefully brushing carpet lint from the knees of 
his expensive  trousers. "I've told you: that's not possible. I'd kill you." 
"How, exactly? I mean,  you've never really explained this to me. Do you have 
to drink my blood in  order to have sex with me, or is it just something 
you're likely to do in  the heat of passion? And do vampires actually have 
intercourse, or do you  just get off on drinking blood?" 
He looked like an  adolescent virgin when he was shocked. "Nat! Don't talk 
like  that!" 
"Like what?" 
"Like a, a ...  floozy." 
"Floozy?! Why you--you  800-year-old man. How dare you! Get out of my 
office!" 
"Um, yeah. I'll, uh,  call you." He beat a hasty retreat, blond head shining 
like a beacon as he  went out the door. 
***** 
LaCroix was in his  office going through the ledgers--not that he needed to, 
but the Raven's  "Industrial Night" never failed to grate on his nerves. Like 
a toothache,  he rather imagined, though he couldn't quite remember what a 
toothache was  like. A firm rapping on the door promised a welcome distraction 
and he  said "Come in," without asking who it was first. A heavy sigh rose in 
his  chest as that damned annoying coroner walked in, businesslike in a red  
suit that clashed terribly with her hair. 
"Doctor Lambert," he  said, rising automatically. "I presume you'd only come 
here if there was  something you thought I could do for you." 
She took a seat without  asking; he dropped back in his chair and tried not 
to glare at her. "I  need information, LaCroix." 
"Indeed?" 
"Vampires. Sex. What  about it?" 
Despite himself his  eyes widened. "Are you making me an offer, Doctor? 
I'm... flattered, but I  really must decline--" 
"Don't be ridiculous.  Nick clams up with embarrassment every time I ask him, 
so I'm asking you:  how do vampires have sex? I mean, is there actual 
intercourse involved, or  just bite-and-suck?" 
Importunate woman! What  on earth his son saw in her, he would never imagine. 
Oh, well, if he just  told her the facts maybe she'd be out of his office 
that much faster.  "Since all that is required for arousal is stimulated nerve 
endings and  blood-filled erectile tissue, of course we can have intercourse. 
Our  stamina being what it is, we can have intercourse, of various kinds, for  
hours, even days on end if we so wish. Sexual lust, though, is inevitably  
accompanied with bloodlust; so much so that 'bite-and-suck', as you put  it, is 
the trigger to our climaxes. Does that....satisfy you,  Doctor?" 
"So Nick would kill  me." 
"Not necessarily.  Unfortunately, self-control is but one of the many lessons 
I've failed to  drum into my son's head, despite my best efforts. I'm afraid 
that  Nicholas, despite his many charms, is a bit of a dolt, really." 
"You ain't whistling  Dixie," she muttered. 
"Pardon?" 
"Never mind. If you do  wind up killing your partner, isn't that rather 
uncomfortable? I mean,  just having had sex with your meal?" 
"Mortals are not my  'partners', Doctor, and no--I've never found it 
uncomfortable at all." He  smiled at her. It wasn't a pleasant smile.  
She stood up hastily,  clearing her throat. "Thank you, LaCroix, you've been 
most  helpful." 
He ignored her  proffered hand. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out,  
Doctor." 
***** 
Ring. Ring.  Click. 
"Nick, it's Nat. If  you're there, pick up." 
He started guiltily.  He'd said he'd call her and he hadn't, but that last 
conversation of  theirs had been a little unsettling. By firmly focusing on her 
kindness  and compassion and reminding himself over and over that she was a  
scientist he'd managed to keep his inner vision of her firmly on its  pedestal, 
but just barely. 
"Nick?" 
"Hi, Nat. What's  up?" 
"I know how we can be  together. I know you have to bite me to make love with 
me, and I'm willing  to take the risk." 
"Nat, I won't let you  take that chance. I've told you over and over: I might 
kill  you." 
"It's my decision,  Nick. If you kill me, then I have faith that we'll be 
together in the  afterlife." 
"You do?" He sank down  on the couch and said gently, "What is it? What have 
you done? You can  tell me." 
"Huh? What are you  talking about?" 
"I mean, I've always  figured that you'd do a few years in Purgatory--you 
know, fornication,  drunkenness, stuff like that--but what have you done that's 
so serious  you'll wind up in Hell with me?" 
Natalie held the phone  away from her ear and stared at it for a moment. She 
hadn't exactly  forgotten that Nick was a Catholic, she'd just never taken it 
in account  that he was for all purposes a medieval Catholic. Furthermore, his 
last  religious encounter had been with the martyred Joan of Arc... "Nick,  
listen to me. I'm not going to Hell and neither are you." 
"Yes I am, Nat.  Remember when I was shot and had that near-death experience? 
Trust me, I'm  going to Hell." 
"No, you're not.  I have faith, Nick. I'm hoping we won't have to find out 
yet, but if it  comes to that, I know we'll be together. Forever. Now, I'll be 
over  tomorrow night, just after sunset." 
"Well. OK. I  guess." 
***** 
The handsome blond in  the leather jacket looked surreptitiously up and down 
the aisle, a rather  furtive gesture for a library. Drawing a pair of heavy 
gloves from his  pocket he slipped them on and took a heavy book from the 
shelf, 
flipping  rapidly through the tissue-thin pages. The line of concern between 
his  brows deepened, and he paged rapidly back and forth several times before  
returning the book through the shelf and glaring at it as if it were  hiding 
something from him. 
No answer there. That  meant he'd have to try Plan B. As he left the library 
he wished they  manufactured seasickness pills for vampires. 
The voice from the  other side of the grill was a trifle strained as it ran 
rapid-fire through  the familiar opening phrase: 
"BlessmefatherforIhavesinned..." 
Father Bosley went  through his own part of the routine rather mechanically, 
stifling a sigh  went the man told him reluctantly that he'd rather not say 
when the last  time he'd been to confession was. No, they never did, did they? 
At last  they got to the heart of the matter. 
"Father, the Bible says  that in heaven there is neither marriage nor giving 
in  marriage." 
"That is true, my  son." 
"What about, um,  uh...fornication?" 
"I beg your  pardon?" 
"The woman I love, you  see--she says we'll be, you know, together in Heaven. 
What do you  think, Father?" 
"Together?" 
"Um, yeah.  Together." 
Father Bosley rubbed  his hands over his face. Where did people come up with 
these notions? "No,  my son, I'm afraid not. If you and your girlfriend wish 
to be 'together,'  as you put it, my best advice is to marry and enjoy your 
life here on  earth." 
"Thank you, Father.  You've been a big help to me." 
***** 
The aroma of popcorn  (Theater Style Extra Butter Flavor!) struck Natalie as 
the elevator door  slid open. Nick greeted her with a wide smile and an armful 
of videos.  "Hi, Nat." 
"Nick? I am not dressed  for a night of videos." 
"Don't worry about it,  you look fine." 
Fine? Fine? She'd spent  a hefty sum on the pale peach dress and on the new 
hairstyle. She'd even  had her nails done, in "Passion's Promise." 
"This wasn't what we  had planned for tonight." 
He explained as he led  her over to the couch. "Look, Nat, I went to the 
library and read the  Bible again--" 
"The Bible?" 
"Yeah. It's OK, I wore  heavy gloves--" 
"You read it? The whole  thing?" 
"Well, I just skimmed  all the 'begat' parts. Anyway, all it said was that in 
Heaven there is  neither marriage nor giving in marriage. So I went to St.  
Agnes--" 
"St. Agnes?" 
"It was the closest  church." 
"You went to a  church?" 
"Nat, if you keep  interrupting me your popcorn will get cold. Anyway, I went 
to St. Agnes  and talked to the priest there. He said there was no way to be  
together in Heaven and the best thing to do was to get  married." 
"Married?" 
He looked deep into her  eyes. "Marry me, Natalie. Please?" 
Marriage. Children. A  split-level in the suburbs. Not exactly what she had 
in mind, but... he  had the most beautiful little-boy eyes. That soft, sexy 
mouth. "Do you  think we can find a Justice of the Peace at this time of  
night?" 
"Nat, I want our  wedding to be perfect. A Justice of the Peace won't do. 
Father Bosley said  we could have the ceremony in six weeks." 
"Six  weeks?!" 
"We have to go through  pre-marital counseling now; it's required by the 
Church. And there's the  reception to plan, the invitations to send out, your 
dress to be  made..." 
"All that," she said,  "and you might kill me anyway?" 
"Well, yes, but at  least we'd be married." He beamed at her. 
She stood up,  unfastening the Tiffany necklace, and threw it at him. 
"Nat?" 
"Forget it, Nick. Just  forget it. My knight in shining armor, huh? You've 
got as much romance and  passion in you as, as--one of my patients!" 
"Nat!" 
"I want to be swept off  my feet, not have them bound. Welcome to the 
twentieth century, Nick  Knight!" She turned sharply on her heel and marched 
out of 
the door,  humming "I Am Woman" as she went. 
After a moment Nick  picked up the phone. When she answered, he asked, 
"Janette? Do you think  I'm romantic? Capable of sweeping a woman off her 
feet?" 
There was a rather long  pause before she carefully said, "Well, I know that 
you've often made me  want to take to my bed." 
He beamed. "That's what  I thought. Wanna come over and watch movies?" 
"No." 
Oh, well. He dumped the  popcorn in the trash and sprayed the air with a 
neutralizer, then popped  the director's cut of "Lawrence of Arabia" in the VCR 
and settled  comfortably on the couch. 
FIN  







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