Forever Knight, Obsessed Celebrity Stalker Style

The inadvertent creepiness of this series is so memorable after more than ten years that I had to GAFF it and repost it here. I present "NightRisk" and "LifeRisk" by Gayle McCreedy.

McCreedy's style is good. When we meet the OC, Shelly, in the opening scene, she is tied up in a warehouse and a man named Eric is ranting and sliding the barrel of a gun over her skin. We learn their backstory later--he stalked her for years--but McCreedy begins simply and vividly: protagonist, wacko, warehouse, impending death.

Almost immediately, however, my Mary Sue alarm rings:

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To her surprise, the person in the shadows shifted suddenly so that Shelly could see him in the dingy light thrown by the bare bulb hanging over the bed. It was a man. A tall man dressed in a black suit with a black shirt. He was pale, and his white-blond hair was cropped close to his head. His face was long and oval, with a wide, sensual mouth. Shelly allowed her gaze to linger on that mouth for a moment DINGDINGDINGDING! before meeting his eyes. And what was in those clear blue eyes made her shiver, just as she had known it would, for they held not empathy or anger or indignation, but only a vague interest. Interest and something else, something Shelly was certain she didn't want to define further. It was distaste. Lucien LaCroix turned away. His vampiric senses had led him to the warehouse, but there was nothing here for him; anyway, judging from the woman's flash of desire even as the man prepared to kill her, they were both warped. He abandoned Shelly to her doom.

Nick Knight's struggle to deny his vampiric urges and live as a mortal is the central theme of the series, but in Fanon Toronto, anything a vampire does is cool. This causes Suethors to give Nick one of two treatments. Either he's an idiot who must be reminded how lucky he is to be trapped in his own personal Hell, or he's superbad like a fanged and pasty Shaft. In this fic, it's Option B:

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The stranger looked down, almost casually, to survey the damage the three shots had wrought. Then he looked again at Eric, his face a twisted mask of disgust, his eyes a focused beam of hatred. Cat's eyes. Shelly realized with numb abstraction that the eyes of the stranger had turned to a sickly shade of yellow-green, the color of an angry alleycat's. In her abstraction she noted that Eric screamed in a sound not entirely human as the stranger drew his lips back over a pair of very large canines. The stranger paused for a moment, his gaze meeting Shelly's as he looked over Eric's shoulder, then sunk those teeth deeply into Eric's neck. She only had to endure the nasty slurping sound for a few moments, then Canon!Nick yanked Pod!Nick away from his victim.

"LaCroix!" Nick barked. "Help me stake this pod person."

"Gladly," LaCroix replied. "As much as I prefer his attitude to yours, he is too sloppy to be permitted to live."

As LaCroix disposed of Pod!Nick and Eric, Canon!Nick put the whammy on Shelly and it was over.

Tracy runs in to back up her partner as LaCroix silently vanishes. Shelly decides that Nick did the right thing, so she covers for him. I am willing to believe that she is letting the whole "I just saw a bloodsucking fiend of the night" thing slide, considering that Nick saved her from a very bad death, but of course, it doesn't stop there. Nick completely forgetting that he has a sidearm is a sign of more character warping to come.

Nick takes her home. In the car, she asks a page of extremely personal questions and he responds as if dosed with sodium pentothal (DINGDINGDINGDING!). He stays with her as she inventories her trashed, pissed-on apartment. She cries on his chest--which causes him to take her to his loft, make breakfast for her, drink blood in front of her, answer another page of personal questions, and let her sleep on his couch.

She wakes up to hear Nick and LaCroix arguing. She immediately attacks LaCroix, "knocking him back a step." (DINGDINGDINGDING!) This causes Nick and LaCroix to answer three more pages of personal questions. Oh, and:

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"And as for admiration," LaCroix continued as he moved past Nick to face Shelly, "my admiration was for you. It is not every woman who can face death and remain coherent."
Shelly shivered as Canon!LaCroix and Canon!Nick swooped in through the skylight so quickly they created a draft. Canon!LaCroix grabbed Pod!LaCroix by the scruff of the neck and flew away again. Meanwhile, Canon!Nick staked Pod!Nick and stuffed his corpse into the fireplace. LaCroix ran one cold finger down the side of her face. "It is," he concluded, "an attractive characteristic."

Nick hasn't used the whammy on Shelly because

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"I think it is because I have enjoyed talking with you. You are so stalkerishly inquisitive, so the kind of weirdo who would open my window and crawl into bed with me. My being a vampire to you is a point of curiosity, not one of terror," Nick said weakly as Mary Sue sucked greedily at his brains.

Natalie being so much chopped liver.

They discuss three ways to keep the Enforcers from killing Shelly: have her fall in love with a vampire, use the whammy, or do a "blood oath."

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you could be bitten without sacrificing your life. The trick is in the mind of the victim, I have been told, and in the ability of the vampire to stop feeding before too much has been taken."
Shelly felt a shiver slide down her back as she returned the intense gaze of the older man.

"That is too dangerous," Nick exclaimed. "She would probably become a Hunter. You might as well open the blinds right now and be killed."

"Not necessarily," LaCroix said. "It does require considerable control on behalf of the one feeding. And it requires a certain kind of human, one who can look into the face of death and get distracted by a sexy pair of lips not lose herself to it."

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"What is accomplished if this succeeds?" She asked.

"The community is no longer threatened, because the knowledge that passes between the two will bind them together in a bond that is strong enough to protect them both. The human could no more endanger that vampire than survive the flame of the pyre," LaCroix replied.

"What sort of knowledge is passed between them?" Shelly wondered aloud.

"All knowledge," LaCroix responded.

The only way to protect the secrecy of the vampire community is to reveal everything about the vampire community. Okay!

Shelly chooses the blood oath. Nick(!) administers it by biting her wrist. Shelly uses LaCroix as her anchor, staring into his eyes to keep herself grounded among the wash of sensations from Nick's bite. I can't believe I just wrote that.

Natalie walks in as Nick finishes. She is furious and jealous(!!). Shelly is now incapable of harming Nick, so she babbles his secrets as Natalie stitches her up. In particular, she blurts out Nick's love for Natalie in front of LaCroix--you know, the guy who has sworn to murder anyone Nick loves. Nobody blinks at this. Nick and Natalie go to work and LaCroix goes to The Raven, leaving Shelly alone in Nick's loft. LaCroix returns to find her poking around. They have another personal conversation.

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"It is just . . ," Shelly grappled to find words to express her mixed emotions. "You are so calm and matter-of-fact about it. But I have Nicholas' memories and emotions still swimming about in me, and he is not calm about it at all."

"Nicholas suffers," LaCroix agreed with a sigh. "He was happy enough at the start, but of late has engulfed himself in this pointless guilt over that which he cannot change."

"So you do not mind killing."

"I am not ashamed of my immortality."

LaCroix nearly spat the words at Shelly. She thought better of continuing this line of questioning. Instead, she crossed the room and slid silently onto the couch. After a moment, LaCroix joined her. Shelly became instantly wary, but when she turned to face LaCroix, she found him staring deeply into the fire. A long silence passed before either spoke.

"It is the struggle of any parent," LaCroix said, a deep weariness in his voice, "that their children do not accept their ways."

Poor, poor, pitiful LaCroix. Might as well write a romance starring Ted Bundy.

Then Shelly goes to visit her sister in Seattle. Before Natalie drives her to the airport:

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"Thanks. And listen," Shelly said, turning so that she could see all three of them lined up like so many deer in her headlights. "I really want to thank all of you. It's been an amazing couple of days, and I owe each of you a lot. Natalie, for doing such a good job sewing me up."
"You won't thank me for it when you see the scar," Nat muttered, looking pleased nonetheless at this crumb of recognition from the goddess Mary Sue.

"Nonsense," Shelly assured her. "That scar will help me to remember these days. Sort of a mark to prove that I can be a stalker myself now that Eric is really gone.

"And you, LaCroix - I know that without your help I would have been a midnight snack. Thank you for taking the watch."

"Ever at your service."

LaCroix intoned the words sarcastically, but his eyes carried an undercurrent of emotion. It was baffled rage simmering beneath the Suvian spell of compulsion.

"And Nicholas Knight." Shelly crossed to stand in front of Nick, who rose to meet her. "What *does* one say to someone who saves your life especially after mortally insulting him with that crack about the midnight snack?"

Shelly wrapped Nicholas in a long embrace with her clammy, boneless, octopoid arms, kissing his shuddering cheek as she released him.

"I'll keep our memories safe," she promised, touching the bandage on her wrist.

"I know you will," Nick said softly in a low voice. "Because Natalie has been working on more than one cure. She gave me a shot of Anti-Sue while you were still flying high on my most personal memories. Natalie is going to enjoy dissecting you. As will I."

"So, what about that plane?" Natalie interjected forcefully after a moment.

Shelly stepped back, feeling scattered. She ducked her head and swiftly set herself to the task of gathering her few possessions together. Shelly reached for a stray sock peeking out from under the couch when she felt LaCroix's hand close around her arm. Shelly straightened, facing him. For a split second, as Shelly looked into the seemingly endless blue eyes, she could feel the weight of her heart in her chest and heard her pulse roaring in her ears.

"I thought we had this discussion already," Shelly said evenly through her anger. "If there's something you want from me, I would prefer that you *ask.*"

LaCroix immediately released her arm, looking away, and Shelly felt her pulse return to normal. After a moment, he turned back toward her, seeming a little awkward. Her request was making him so OOC that his brain was about to ooze from his nostrils. "I hope that you will find your trip most pleasurable," LaCroix said. "And know you will always have a safe haven with Nicholas. And myself, of course." Because all hot vampires are the rightful property of Mary Sue.

Shelly felt that there was more, much more below the words. Muffled screaming, perhaps. She couldn't help but blush under the heat of his gaze.

"Thank you," Shelly stammered.

"All set?" Natalie asked as she picked up the small bag, making a point of walking between Shelly and LaCroix to do so. Because the strongest female canon character must always want what Mary Sue has, even a man she loathes and fears.

On to "LifeRisk." Again, we start with a bait-and-switch:

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The young woman struggled with the large canvas bag, thankful for the deep shadows at the end of the parking lot. Finally, she managed to maneuver the parcel over the window sill and it dropped to the floor with a squishy thud. Easily lifting herself over the sill, she adroitly avoided stepping on the package as she landed.

"Phew! This place *stinks!*" she exclaimed, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. "And I thought *you* smelled bad." She gave the bag a kick as she spoke. "Alright. Let's go."

Grabbing one end of the canvas, she slowly dragged the bag into the walk-in closet. Shrugging the bag open, she slipped the canvas casually back to reveal a decomposing corpse. Propping it in the closet corner, she worked to approximate the position of someone sitting casually cross-legged.
"There," she said with satisfaction, sitting back on her heels to survey her work. She cocked the head of the corpse back into the corner so that it appeared to be looking upwards. Standing, she found she liked the effect.

Gently she touched the upturned nose of the corpse with the tip of one gloved finger. "Why, my dear, I do believe you never looked better."

We go straight from this false promise of a mystery to Shelly at The Raven, making it clear to the first vampire she meets--naturally, Javier Vachon--that she knows what and who he is. She survives the next five minutes because:

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"Listen, Vachon, let's cut to the chase here. Concentrate on me for a moment. Don't you sense something odd?"

Vachon paused for a moment, once again perusing her form.

"I said concentrate - not leer, Vachon."

Lazily he met her gaze, then moving closer, pinched a section of hair and rolled it between his fingers. Slowly, he lowered his head, moving in close to her neck. He inhaled deeply. Vachon pulled his head back suddenly, taking a full step backward. He realized to his horror that he was standing in the presence of a cleverly disguised Mary Sue. If he simply drained her and fled, her Suvian essence might poison him and cause him to fangst.

"You see, I'm just not like other girls," Shelly said coyly. She ran one hand through her hair as she considered her options. Which did she prefer more: patrician towheads, blue-eyed parfit gentil knights, or shaggy biker types? But why not keep them all?

"I don't understand," Vachon said, a look of vague unease crossing his face.

"It's alright, Vachon, there's no danger to you unless you're actually stupid enough to make me an appetizer."

"Oh, right! Thanks for reminding me," Vachon said with a smile as he snapped her neck.

So Shelly walks into LaCroix's office, where he is fuming over paperwork.

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In the instant that he saw Shelly the scowl disappeared, replaced by a small smile. Setting aside the clipboard, LaCroix rose to meet her.

"Hello, Shelly," LaCroix said warmly, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. "Forgive me. I thought you were one of my sniveling staff. But since you obligingly stepped into my office," he went on, the warmth dropping from his voice like a discarded mask, "I'll just have a little snack." Half an hour later, her corpse was in the furnace in The Raven's basement. Since the good Doctor Lambert had made Anti-Sue widely available, LaCroix had been able to heat The Raven entirely with Sue corpses. The exhaust smelled of pepper jack cheese, but the fuel was abundant and easily attracted.

They agree that even though Nick is her protector, it would be awkward for Shelly to stay with Nick because poor Natalie would be jealous. Besides:

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all he could see was Shelly. Shelly as he had first seen her in that abandoned warehouse, her creamy skin rosy even under the glaring light of the exposed bulb over the bed, her sweet-smelling blood running down her legs in tiny, almost delicate rivulets. And her eyes. Shelly's eyes, flaring up like those of a game cat as she sought him out in the shadows. Eyes so full of life that he felt compelled to show himself, compelled to meet her gaze. LaCroix could smell her blood in his nostrils again, could feel the blood lust rise inside as he thought of her in that place.

LaCroix and Vachon ogle Shelly:

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the reshifting of the shoulder bag had hitched up her jacket on one side, leaving it tantalizingly short as she crossed the club. They have a shirt fetish?

We get a tour of LaCroix's living quarters, which he has renovated to look like his villa in Pompeii, except for the guest room, which resembles an expensive hotel suite. LaCroix points out the bathroom and kitchen and makes the bed, but leaves without a tip.

Meanwhile, the nameless villain leaves The Raven with a tipsy guy named Eric, to whom she purrs, "I've always liked the name Eric." BUM BUM BUMMMM!

Next morning, Shelly wanders into LaCroix's study, where she has a rush of brains to the head:

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"Is there something the matter?" he inquired.

"No,...well, perhaps," Shelly stammered. "It's just that I feel as though I have invaded your privacy here, and I don't quite know how to extricate myself."

Perhaps through the door?

Shelly says that someone gave her a hypnotic suggestion before she left for Seattle. Even though her blood oath is supposed to prevent her from revealing the vampire community, she discussed it with three hypnotherapists. To convince LaCroix that he did it subconsciously, she details his solitary vigil over Divia's corpse. He does not kill her for somehow knowing his private anguish; instead, they talk like two people in a group therapy session. I never liked Canon!LaCroix and I certainly never thought I'd miss him, much less feel sorry for him.

Back to the A plot. Our nameless villain has killed her date and dumped his corpse, leaving a matchbook from The Raven in his pocket so that Nick and Tracy--well, of course they're called to the crime scene; they're the only two homicide detectives in Toronto!--can show up while Shelly is dancing. Tracy is pretty, smart, and capable, so she doesn't like Shelly, although they are on a first-name basis. Nick greets her with a delighted hug.

The next day, Shelly wants to clean her apartment. LaCroix thinks it might be therapeutic for her. He reads her some poetry and she absentmindedly kisses him on the way out. Did I say "group therapy session?" I meant "Marriage Encounter."

Nick shows up at The Raven to see Shelly and is worried about her fragile emotional state, so he and LaCroix go to her apartment like a pair of undead Merry Maids. She mentions a stench in the back room that Nick doesn't recall from his first visit; he opens the walk-in closet to find--BUM BUM BUMMM!--the A plot.

Cut to our nameless villain, who is playing BDSM with yet another Eric until she decides to stab him. So far, she's well written; too bad she's stuck in this crappy fic.

Conveniently, Nick is also investigating the Case of the Corpse in the Closet. Shelly and LaCroix are interrogated at the precinct and I get REALLY MAD.

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"Shelly is staying with LaCroix?" Nat exclaimed. "Is that wise?"

Nick fixed his gaze solidly on Natalie's face. "It is not my choice," he snapped. "She went to LaCroix. She told LaCroix that she thought you would be jealous if she stayed with me. LaCroix took her in."

Natalie's mouth fell open as she digested the import of Nick's words and tone. She looked from Nick to Shelly and back again.

"Nick, I..," she began.

"Okay people, tell me what we've got." Reese interrupted their conversation as he entered the room.

I don't think we have anything," Nick said, moving decisively away from Natalie. "I don't think she knows anything about the body."

Natalie watched his movement, frustration visible on her face. She focused on Reese. "On the up side, she was right about the stiff. One Eric Connor, a little worse for wear than the last time he was through here, but one and the same."

"Did you get anything from the scene?"

"Yeah," Natalie consulted the file she carried. "We've got a partial footprint on the rug near the bedroom window. Looks to be female, roughly the same shoe size as Shelly, but not a match to anything in the apartment. The crew is still going through the dumpster. Judging from the disturbance in the dirt outside the window, it appears that someone entered the apartment with the body through the window. Whether that person was Shelly, I can't tell."

"Thanks, Nat," Reese said dismissively as he turned to Nick. Natalie hesitated for a moment, then exited the room.

And also:

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"That guy [LaCroix] gives me the creeps." Tracy said with a shudder. "I don't know what she sees in him." Tracy turned away, her attention already buried in a file she took from under one arm.

"I do," Nick said quietly, turning away.

LaCroix likes watching Shelly sleep because she reminds him of the Gaelic whores of his mortal life, "determined to stake out their space in the Empire." This is supposed to be a compliment to Shelly. She wakes from a nightmare and:

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he gathered her into his arms as he would a child, rocking with her slowly as she cried out her fear and her pain. Her cries lessened as exhaustion overcame her, and eventually she pulled away.

Shelly's reddened eyes searched his face. "You've been so kind to me," she said, touching his cheek with the back of her fingers. "It is becoming difficult for me to remember to fear you."
LaCroix caught her wrist with his hand, startling her. Shelly let out a small gasp as he turned her wrist to his mouth, but did not pull away.

LaCroix looked deeply into her eyes as he lowered his lips to her hand. He kissed her palm gently, tenderly, then gently folded her hand into a tight ball. "Then don't," he said simply, holding her hand close to his heart.

Thankfully, they don't have sex. Yet.

Nick, Nat, and Tracy find BDSM!Eric accessorized with police handcuffs stolen from the precinct the previous night, a fake vampire bite, and a matchbook from The Raven. Back to the nameless villainess, who is thinking about an Eric who threw away her love. She is getting ready to kill yet another Eric, this time in the warehouse in question, but he escapes.

The next day, Shelly walks into The Raven to discover a walkout. Luckily, she used to be a bartender. In a scene bizarrely reminiscent of Jimmy Stewart saving the day, she and LaCroix get things running again. Even though she orders a discount on drinks, the bar ends up making money. Vachon does dishes.

Here's what Nick is thinking as he drives up:

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Although some of the images had faded, Nick found that he could still recall many of her memories even now. He felt the bloodlust rise as he thought about the clarity of her blood, the strong pulsing life spirit there. He had found Shelly's spirit compelling. Almost fatally so. Had LaCroix not stopped him...

And pure. That's what Nick remembered most. Shelly's spirit was, at its most base point, the pure love of life. Not just of her own, but of all those she encountered. He had felt the devastation Eric had caused that night, but he had also felt the strength of that underlying spirit.

If Shelly were the murderer, it must be *his* fault.

Nick wondered if, in transferring his memories, he had transferred his bloodlust. The killer within. Nick knew just how close to the surface the dark side remained. He thought briefly of Marion Blackwing, of how his murderous spirit had infected her soul. If Shelly were killing those men, it was certainly because she had absorbed his damaged spirit. His guilt devoured him.

But LaCroix is so happy--

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"I mean that watching Shelly tonight was like watching one of my best lieutenants in the field. She came in, gathered the information she needed, evaluated the situation, and then moved on. She marshalled Vachon to wash dishes. She even ordered me about. It was quite a splendid display, actually."

--that Nick doesn't have the heart to say anything. Instead, he helps Vachon do dishes. Then Vachon rubs Shelly's feet. Shelly refers to the bar as hers and LaCroix does not correct her. After she goes to bed, he asks Nick if it would be OK if he and Shelly got together.

Cut to Nick driving and thinking. Maybe he should have let LaCroix bring Fleur across. Maybe she wouldn't have changed that much. Maybe he hasn't changed that much from the mortal he used to be. Because, really, having killed too many people to count isn't all that bad. God knows how much I hate this Sue.

Escapee!Eric, BTW, is sitting down with a police artist. Guess who the composite looks like?

Shelly and LaCroix are discussing her living situation. She can't find an apartment where she feels safe. She tells LaCroix that she feels safe at The Raven. Nick finds them cuddling in a chair. Off to the interrogation room again, where Shelly explains the basics of investigation to Tracy and kindly reassures her that even though Vachon is living with her at The Raven, he isn't living with her at The Raven. Vachon gives Shelly a ride, leaving Tracy "hugging herself as though suddenly chilled."

Shelly and Vachon stop in a park to discuss having Vachon bring her across. She wants Vachon to do it so she doesn't get a second dose of the Nick-LaCroix dynamic. But here comes Shelly's sister Jamie! Jamie, it's great to see you! But why did you just stab Vachon? Oh, no! Eric--no, no, the first Eric--was your boyfriend before he met me? He used to play BDSM with you, but he dumped you for me because he could mess with my head? And you speak like a British movie villain even though you're from Seattle? Oh, no, say it ain't so! Now I must try to save Vachon, who has just gotten up, so you can shoot me and he can kill you and bring me across! But we have to let Lucien think I'm dead for a few minutes!

And here's the payoff for those who have followed pure, brave, creamy-yet-rosy Shelly through her adventures:

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"Hello, Lucien," Shelly said, emerging into the soft light of the office. Her eyes glowed a soft yellow. Her lips were stained with fresh blood, and as they watched, she slowly licked a spatter of blood from one hand. "Relax, Natalie, your assistant is fine. I do have *some* manners, after all. But I would have to admit that your supply of whole blood is a bit low now. Oh, and Nat, you might want to have a conversation with Grace about how a body could disappear from the morgue right under her nose. Very inefficient," Shelly chided sarcastically.

Shelly paused next to Vachon, who slid off the end of the couch to stand next to her. "Thanks," she said softly, sliding into a casual embrace. Pulling back after a moment, she planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Thanks for taking me at my word." Vachon wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand as Shelly ruffled his hair with a soft laugh. "We'll need to talk later." Vachon silently nodded. "Oh, and Nick, we'd better come up with some story about my miraculous recovery. I think I've taken care of Grace, but others will have questions."

Shelly crossed to LaCroix, cleaning the last bit of blood from her lips daintily with one finger. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. Leaning against his chest, she looked into his blue eyes with her newly-returned brown ones, looking every bit the innocent. "There is one problem, though, Lucien. I'm afraid I've made a bit of a mess with a cabby in the alley. I forgot I didn't have any money to pay the fare things became ever so disagreeable. Do you suppose you could give me a hand with it? I'm kind of new at this."

LaCroix's face broke into a soft smile as he contemplated his companion's changes.

"As you wish," he said amicably.

Awww. :bang:

Stick a fork in me; I'm done.