Subj: Consequences of Falling ch. 39
Date: 7/31/01 7:49:28 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Nicole

Meanwhile

"You can't believe how surprised I am to see you!" said Constance.

Constance could recognize this man anywhere, even in this form. Anyone with a shoulder length lion's mane is hard to forget. His face had a definite charms, beautiful in an androgynous, sly way. His eyes were the same dark brown that characterized their kind as his body was also the same svelte build as every incubus/succubus she had known. Unlike most, she had a grudging respect for Avery, one of the few of their kind who existed easily as either an incubus or a succubus. She thought he made a better woman than man but Constance would not argue. They did not always get along, but she had a grudging respect for Avery. "Why are you with Angelique?"

"Am I not good enough for Avery?"

"I didn't mean it that way! I was thinking about..."

"Don't," warned Angelique. "We'll talk about that later."

Constance nodded as she finished her glass of wine. If Angelique was not willing to talk about Josef, she was not willing to push the subject. She glanced back to Avery and asked, "What's brought you here?"

"I'm not quite," he murmured, his raspy voice raising the hair on the back of her neck. He glanced to Angelique and then back to Constance, the twinkle flickering back into his eyes. "I've seen the oddest thing."

"And this interests me because...?"

"Well, it has to deal with that little bit of mischief you and Arianne inflicted on the gypsies a few years back."

"You mean about 'the hand?'"

"Yes, 'the hand,'" mimed Avery, his face neither serious nor amused.

Constance leaned in quickly, meeting him nose to nose. "What have you seen?"

"Well, you know that it was reattached to the Count in 1897 and that he died soon after in a fire."

"That's the story I've always heard."

"It turns out that he's not deal," whispered Avery.

Constance glanced quickly between Avery and Angelique. "That's ridiculous!" Both Avery and Angelique shook their heads. Constance sank back into the chair, her face buried in her hands. She wanted to cry but would not, unwilling to look foolish in public. She shifted back to the front of her seat and asked, "How do you know?"

"I've seen him. I was in Milan and I noticed him...or at least I noticed the hand." Avery moved closer to Constance, meeting her eye-to-eye to calm her. "What am I missing, Constance? I mean, you like playing with the damn thing but you didn't really care about the ugly thing. What's brought about the change?"

"Quentin Collins."

"Why? Your husband will be so...oh, so I see. I take it the man we all thought was dead and your beloved are one in the same."

"Nothing gets past you, does it?" asked Angelique.

"He's in so much trouble," mumbled Constance.

"Then explain it to me. You can't mope like this without letting me know the story."

Constance explained the story to Avery, carefully whispering every detail with as little emotion as possible. With an incubus, it was best to stick to the facts and save the subjectivity for a mortal. Gross displays of emotion tended to disturb incubi, scattering their thoughts and leaving them unable to comprehend the story. Avery was better than most, though, and he understood Constance in spite of her frequent vocal ticks. He fell back into his chair, his face stunned and nervous. "As you see, I'm more than a little worried."

"I don't know what to tell you. Normally, I'd run down all known lycanthropy cures and we'd see what worked."

"Does Petofi change you plan?" asked Angelique.

"He's a wild card," murmured Avery. "If he wants Quentin to revert, he'll be furry on the full moon."

"This is so unfair!" Constance slunk back into her chair, hoping the shadows hid the growing crimson in her face. She hated to feel that she could not control a situation, especially when it came to Quentin. "Speak of the devil," she murmured, her eyes following Quentin as he walked to their table. She took him in her arms the moment he reached her, kissing him deeply in spite of the people who began to stare at them. She could taste the alcohol. She wanted to ask where he had been but she did not. Constance sat close to Quentin throughout the dinner, both of them throwing up a false front of contentment. At the moment, it seemed all they had.

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.