by Henry Wyckoff
An FK Fanfic and Ethereal Romance
Valentine's Day 1996
(1) Let's save some bandwidth and just say FK isn't mine.
(2) Let's assume the story is mine.
This short story includes Janette in a secondary manner. The two main characters are not from the TV series, so don't expect to find them everywhere else.
Let me know what you think, and you might find a more expanded story in the future.
I was drinking alone; smoking alone. Pretty ironic, isn't it? A world of over five billion plus people, a bar full of several dozen people, and here I am, drinking alone.
It wasn't my looks -- I've been told I look good, even though I don't believe them. I think it must have been my inner-self shining through and scaring everyone away.
Even the bartender didn't talk to me.
Maybe the Raven was that kind of place -- at least the bartenders would talk to me everywhere else, but not here.
I lit another cigar and puffed it, letting the resin kick get me good.
I was alone, but I didn't mind. I'm used to it. I don't like people -- I like the freedom to do whatever the hell I want whenever I want to.
Someone sits down next to me. I sense it, even though I wasn't even looking. I turn and see it's a beautiful woman. She's heart-stopping. It wasn't her body I was looking at, though that wasn't bad either -- it was her blue eyes -- the mirror of her soul -- contrasting with her black, long hair that flowed down her shoulders. I looked through and saw something compelling me.
They prevented my own eyes from moving away and going back to my beer.
"You're an unusual type for a place like this."
Not your usual line. But her words rang true. That's what mattered. Every word she said came straight from her very soul.
"So are you," I said. I surprised myself. My words were firm and smooth -- not shaking at all, like I'm sure I was inside. My pulse raced and I found myself clamping down on my urges with an iron fist.
We were silent for a moment. We needed no words.
"Janette thought I should meet you."
Janette... The owner of this place. A very opinionated woman, but a very knowledgeable one. She claims to have had no education, and I believe her. Her mind is too sharp. We get along well -- always have since I saved her from getting a bullet from some religious wacko's gun. Called her a demon. Can't have that, can we? I gave her quite a shock, strangling the guy's neck with his own arm. I hear the coroner concluded the guy strangled himself in a fit of rage.
It also shocked her that I shrugged off the bullet to my shoulder. The bullet wasn't all that big. It takes a better caliber to actually destroy flesh -- good thing the wacko didn't have a brain. All I needed was some scotch on the wound and some in my stomach, and all was well. It was as if she suspected me of being something or someone. Not much I can do about that.
"Are you from around here?"
"Is this a western?" I joked.
"No," she laughed softly. "I'm just curious. I can't place your accent."
"I did a lot of traveling. It's a touch of Arizona... a touch of Scotland... a touch of Washington..."
"Scotland?" she sounded intrigued.
I was so focused on her eyes that her other features didn't register to me. Now they did. She looked like an Old Worlder, like a good Scottish lass should look like -- not like they are over here: the kind with a Scottish last names and the looks of a German. Her accent was genuinely Scottish, but it was so familiar to me it didn't sound like an accent, and so it didn't register.
"I've been there a few times. I had the urge to travel, and so I picked up my bags and went."
She didn't accept my offer of a Guinness, but she did accept a glass of red wine. I expanded my horizons and tried some as well. I'm a Guinness drinker myself, but I liked the wine.
"So, what do you do now?" she asked me.
"I ride the wind," I smiled. "I'm a free soul, learning and playing my hand of cards."
She liked that. "That's very poetic."
Time passed, and the drink flowed. We were both pleasantly affected, but not drunk. We were both giggling a lot and talking with animation. I think it was she who suggested that we step upstairs. I was glad enough to agree.
I let her take the lead, pulling me up the stairs, and into a random room. I don't think she cared if we were allowed up here -- or in this room. I didn't care either. Rules were meant to be broken.
She took me into her arms -- savagely -- her kisses melting me and turning me on fire. She could have asked me to do anything, and I would have done it.
Her kisses moved lower, and I felt the bite on my neck. The blood began to shoot out, and she hungrily sucked every drop. Like I said, I would have done anything she asked, and I wouldn't have said no. I didn't say no now.
She pulled away her face, her eyes turned to cat's eyes, and two fangs protruding where there were none before. I felt no fear -- I saw the soul that I knew must be there. I sighed, "Finish it."
She continued to feed her hunger, drinking the blood that kept on coming out. I felt my vision begin to fade, and she stopped.
I believed I saw her look at me with concern... and regret. I smiled. I think that must have shocked her.
"You don't have to die," she whispered. "Come with me... ride the wind forever." She bit into her own wrist and gave it to me. "Drink it, and live."
"Even if you lose your mirror?" I asked...
...My eyes opened up. I was alone in the room, and stood up. My strength came slowly, but it did come after a few moments. I felt renewed. Younger.
A mirror hung in the room, and when gazing on it I found nothing -- I wasn't concerned.
I had my own mirror.