Subj: Collinsport -- Part 44
Date: 2/5/99 11:20:24 PM Central Standard Time
From: DSRules

After he left Azura's room, he went in to speak to Zoe and tell her that he had to go out of town for a while. "You'll take care of Azura for me, won't you?"

His nine year old daughter nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

"That's my girl!" He scooped her up in his arms for one last hug before he left. He wished he could have taken her with him, but he knew that he was liable to lapse into his old, self-destructive habits, and he couldn't take the chance that she might be injured, or worse, in the process.

* * * * *

"Wow!" David breathed when Sarah finished her story. "So, the 'Jeremiah' that Barnabas killed in the duel was actually your brother, and not your uncle?"

Sarah nodded. "And Father was so angry -- angrier than usual. You'd have to have known him to understand, but Father was always angry with someone. Barnabas, Mother, Jerimiah, me. . . ." By then her throat was thick with tears. She paused to collect herself, then continued. "He was so angry, that he forbid any of us to ever mention Jerimiah again. That wasn't enough, though. He even changed the name on his gravestone to J-E-R-*E*-M-I-A-H, which was Uncle Jeremiah's name."

"And that's where the story started that it was your uncle who'd been married to Josette?"

Sarah nodded. "You have to promise me, David, that you won't tell anyone the truth. Barnabas still takes his promise to Father very seriously, and I don't know what he'd do if he found out that I'd told you."

* * * * *

As soon as he stepped off the plane, he heard a man's voice calling for him. "Mr. Thompson!"

The man looked around for the source of the voice. Then he saw him. "Tony!" The two men shook hands and then exchanged properly masculine hugs. "I'm sorry to drop in on you without any notice like this, but . . ."

"No problem!" Tony replied. "Anything for the man who gave me my start in the art world! You know that!

"So, do you want me to take you to your condo once we've picked up your luggage?"

"No." The last time he'd been to that condo had been ten years ago. Zoe had been conceived there. The last thing he needed was reminders of Louisa. "Just take me to someplace that has a bar, and a bed that I can fall down into when I'm too drunk to stand up."

"It must be worse than I thought. Why don't you come home with me. I'm sure that Lorraine would be happy to . . ."

"No." He stated in a tone that brooked no argument. "Especially not right now," he added, alluding to the fact that his friend's wife was, as they used to say in his youth, in a delicate condition.

"You talkin' about the baby?" Tony asked. "She's in her eighth month, and she can still run rings around me. She'd just love having another person to nag and hassle and keep up after."

The man snorted. "Since you put it that way, I'll not only not come stay with you, I promise not to come anywhere near Arlington Heights."

"Remember to give me a call when you're ready to be picked up, OK?" Tony asked as he dropped his old friend off at the Hyatt closest to the airport. "And someday, you've gotta tell me your secret."

"My secret?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen you in ten years, and you ain't aged a day in that time." With a smile, Tony got back into his car and drove away.

* * * * *

Rosario had just returned from shopping in the Loop, but when she went up to their room, Neil wasn't there. She returned to the second floor and looked in the pool area, but he wasn't there, either. {He can't have vanished into thin air!} She admonished herself. {Actually, he could. But he wouldn't *stay* that way! He'd have to come back sometime!} Finally, even though she knew that he didn't drink . . . wine, she stuck her head into the bar. He wasn't there, either, but a familiar face she saw in there made her walk in and up to the bar.

She surreptitiously stuck her wedding ring into her pocket. He had been Barnabas' best man at their wedding, and would surely recognize it. "Hi!" She said as she slid up onto the barstool. "Buy a girl a drink?"

It never ceased to amaze her how quickly he could go from self-pitying drunk to self-assured ladies' man. "I'd be delighted to. Bartender, give the lady whatever she wants."

Rosario gave her companion a sidelong glance and asked the bartender, "Do you have any brandy?"

Just as she hoped, the man took a deep gulp of his drink, and if it wasn't for the dim lighting in the bar, she would have been sure that he blanched slightly when she said the word 'brandy.' {Same face, same voice, then there's his reaction to that question. It's *got* to be him.}

The bartender looked around, panic-stricken. "It's only my second night on the job. I'm sure we have some around here somewhere."

"Never mind. I'll just take a beer," she indicated one of the bottles on display behind the bar. The bartender reached into the cooler, pulled out a bottle that matched the one she pointed out, and smoothly uncapped it before putting it in front of her.

"What's that you're drinking?" She asked.

"Scotch," was his short reply, then he was suddenly all charm again. "So, what's a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a hotel bar?"

"My -- husband is at the convention. I needed to get out of our room for a while, and well, when I saw you in here, I just couldn't resist." She gave him a charming smile. {And lies that are close to the truth are always more believable. I couldn't resist. Couldn't resist finding out if he really is who I think he is.}

"Oh, really?" His eyes moved down her face to her mouth, and he licked his lips.

She knew that she was playing with fire here. He was not a man who took rejection well. And she knew from experience that he could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

He lunged for her and she ducked, grabbing her bottle of beer, and walked around to the other side of him, sitting down on that bar stool. "I told you that I'm a married woman, Mr. --"

"Thompson. Jeff Thompson."

{Not a very imaginative pseudonym, but he's probably worked his way through the more creative ones already.} "Rosie. Rosie de la Cruz."

"Rosie? You don't look like a Rosie, somehow. More like a . . . oh, I don't know. Angelica, perhaps?"

{He can't possibly recognize me! Can he? He's never shown any sign of psychic talents before!} Then she realized that he was just flirting with her. "Well, sorry, but it's Rosie. Rosario, actually."

"That's a pretty name."

"Thank you." She smiled and leaned forward towards him. "What about you? Are you married?"

He paused for a moment, and she could see the yearning in his eyes, before he snorted dismissively, saying, "Me? Married? No!"

Rosario thought. {Woman problems. Definitely. Then again, when doesn't he have woman problems?}

She suddenly had an idea how to help him. She sat up straighter on her barstool, and said, "Look at me for a second."

When he turned to face her, she pulled down on his lower eyelids in a very professional manner, a concerned expression on her face. "When's the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

He took another sip of his scotch, which Rosario noticed the bartender had been filling surreptitiously all throughout their conversation. "I don't think I know what a good night's sleep is anymore."

"Mmmm," she said in the same tone that doctors always use when they don't want you to know what they're thinking. "You know, I'm something of an herbalist. I might be able to do something about that."

"Really?"

The desperation in his tone touched her. "Really. Why don't you come with me to my room and I can see if I can fix you up with something."

Subj: Collinsport -- 45
Date: 2/10/99 12:15:20 AM Central Standard Time
From: DSRules

In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here

Angel by Sarah McLachlan

* * * * *

When Rosario took him up to her room, Neil still wasn't there. "All right," she said, kneeling on the floor and opening the case of spellcasting supplies she carried with her when she traveled. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Light or dark?"

"Dark. Look, what does this have to do with helping me sleep?"

She smiled up at him. "All in good time, Mr. Thompson."

She pulled a handful of white candles out of the box. Before he could see them, she hastily channeled just enough energy to change their color to royal blue. "Will royal blue do, or would you prefer navy?" She held the candles out so that he could see them.

"Royal blue is fine. How many candles do you have in that thing?"

"Enough." She smiled at him again. "Are there any scents that you object to? Lavender, perhaps?"

He nearly laughed at this idea. {It's not like I'm Jamie Fraser or anything*. Jamie. Outlander. Azura.} His heart cried out her name. "No." He barked. "No lavender."

Rosario's eyes widened at the vehemence in his tone and she reached for a couple of sticks of a different kind of incense and some holders for them. She placed the objects on the bed and levered herself to her feet with her hands. Then, picking up the candles and incense again, she said, "we have to do the rest in your room."

Just as they reached the door, it opened and Neil walked in. As soon as the vampire took one look at the other man, his eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped.

"Where've you *been*, darling?" Rosario asked as she kissed her old friend on the cheek. "Never mind that. This is *Jeff Thompson*." She emphasized the name.

"I'm very pleased to meet you." Neil said, extending a hand to the other man. "Neil Tremont."

Rosario looked at her companion. There was no mistaking the recognition in his eyes. Neil and she hadn't spent nearly as much time together when she was Angelique as they had since she had been reincarnated as Rosario, but it was obvious that the handsome man who went by Jeff Thompson recognized Neil.

"Yes. Nice to meet you," he agreed in a somewhat perplexed tone.

"Well, *darling*, I've got to get Mr. Thompson up to his room. Duty calls." She winked at Neil as she hustled the other man from the room.

* * * * *

After her close encounter with her employer, Azura hadn't been able to get any sleep, so she put on a pair of sweatpants, picked up the book that she had been reading, and walked down the stairs to the living room to read for a while.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw an envelope with her name on it in her employer's familiar handwriting.

As she picked up the envelope with trembling fingers, she wondered, {What does he have to say that he can't say in our book?}

She got her answer. {Azura,} the note began, {I have to go away for a while. Please take care of Zoe for me until I return. CC}

She sank into a chair, staring at the letter, too numb to feel anything for the moment.

Then the self-recriminations started. {He must know how I feel about him. I scared him off. How? How could he know? Why do I have to feel this way about him?}

When the tears started to stream down her face, she knew for certain that she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

* * * * *

Having learned that when one's power isn't derived from the forces of evil, spellcasting is a temperamental procedure at best, every spell being dependent upon the other people involved, Rosario set up and lit the candles in the first five locations that the man's eyes landed on when they entered the room.

She then felt the direction the air currents were going, and set up the incense to get the maximum effect from it.

"All right. Take off your clothes, or get into your pajamas or whatever you do when you normally get ready for bed."

Nonplussed, he replied. "I normally sleep in the nude." He didn't want to get into the fact that he had started wearing pajamas when Zoe came into his life. The idea of his daughter catching him naked on one of the nights when he awoke screaming from the night terrors that he suffered from was not an appealing one.

"All right then," she waited for him to begin disrobing.

"You want me to get undressed? Here? In front of you?" He was used to getting undressed in front of women -- lovers, mistresses, conquests -- but she acted more like a physician than a paramour, and that unsettled him.

"Trust me. You don't have anything that I've never seen. I promise to be completely professional. I won't blush or giggle or take notes or anything."

"Could you just . . . turn your back for a second?"

"All right." She sighed, turning around to face the wall.

She heard him disrobing and then the rustle of the sheets as he climbed into bed. "OK. I'm ready."

Smiling, she turned back around and was stunned by the sight of him wearing only the sheet and blanket on the bed. {If I'd played my hand correctly, I could have married him,} she thought. Then she thought of the fates of the other women in his life. {Or maybe that would have happened if I'd played it incorrectly.}

She knelt down at the foot of his bed. "Lie in the most comfortable position you can, and close your eyes."

Then she channeled just enough energy to make him sleep well and then she left the room. As she exited, she said. "Sleep well, Quentin."

The last thought Quentin Collins had before sleep claimed him was, {I wonder how she knew my real name . . .}

=============================

*Jamie Fraser, the hero of the Outlander series, cannot abide the aroma of lavender, which was used as a perfume by Black Jack Randall, the man who raped Jamie in the first book.