Lorne imagined himself with fangs, super strength and endurance, and virtual immortality.At age 300 he could still be singing the greatest hits from the 1980s up on stage at Caritas.Maybe he could be of more use to Angel Investigations.And of course, he and Darla would have a lot more in common.But therein lies the problem.Those things in common would include a perpetual blood lust, lack of any sense of right or wrong - or maybe just not caring, a propensity to ignite into a conflagration in the sunlight, and a fear of wooden pointy things and vampire slayers.He�d probably be more of a hindrance to Angel Investigations than help.As a matter of fact, he might be a target of Angel and the gang, because he�d be sans a soul.Just another evil vampire.He wondered briefly if since they were in Louisiana if Louisiana vampire rules applied.In other words, would Darla have to remain buried in the ground with his corpse until he arose?If he was staked, would he implode into a pile of red goo?Messy.
�Lover, on the whole I think being Pylean is enough of a curse.A Pylean vampire might be a little over the top.�That reminded him of what happened to Angel when he vamped out in Pylea. He went all demonic. Maybe something like that would happen to Lorne here if he was turned.�Not that I have a problem with being over the top, but I�d like to do it in other more entertaining ways.So what about that morning love fest followed by an exploration of wondrous Bon Temps?That is if the gang doesn�t require our assistance somehow?�
Had the good Padre Eusebio Cabeza de Vacuosa of whatever his name had been really say for better or for worser?Maybe it had been for bitter or for Worchester.Lorne couldn�t recall. It seemed so long ago - 2009.But again, it was a matter of perspective.Probably seemed like yesterday to Darla.
But Darla was on the bed and removing her dress.So Lorne joined her there and began removing his clothes, too.�No Seabreezes left in the world to drink?Ever?�That sounded too much like Pylea.Which sadly made him think of his mom.Damn that Carlotta!Carlotta and her evil sisters!
�If there weren�t any Seabreezes, then I�d have to drink Pi�a Coladas.�That made him think of that silly Pi�a Colada song.And once you think of that, its gonna go round in your head for hours, if not days.�Or maybe I�d switch to Martinis.That�s the nice thing about this world, lover � variety.You can always move on to the next alternative, because this is a world of alternatives.�He took Darla into his arms.�But I would never move on from you, sweet knees.�
Although he would still call Raoul about that antidote.
Past, present, and future.Round and round it goes, the carousel ponies gliding up and down, round and round, where it stops nobody knows. Or does it ever stop, really?Darla�s perspective was so much longer than Lorne�s, it was sometimes difficult for him to understand her.To her, a hundred years was like eight or ten for Lorne.It was like an entire novel had been assigned as homework, Lorne only read chapter 8, but Darla read all 900 pages.Twice. And Lorne had been into his eighth Seabreeze while reading (Pyleans have a strong constitution).
�No, I never complained. Much.Even when you slaughtered the Red Hat Society in the lobby of the Hyperion.Even when you and Illyria would slip out for night when you thought I was asleep.Out you�d go, the both of you for a little mayhem and blood letting.�Illyria was a bad influence on Darla.Or maybe it was the other way around.He wasn�t sure.�So do you wanna go for that ride to beatific Bon Temps, or maybe spend some quality time right here at the motel?�He patted the bed and raised an eyebrow while grinning wantingly.
She misses Angelus.�Angelus.Now there was a firecracker if there ever was one.�Lorne took Darla into his arms.�What did that bloodsucker have that I don�t?�He pondered that question.�Except for the fangs, an ego that would make Kim Kardashian blush, and a ferocious viciousness that hasn�t been seen since Attila the Hun laid waste to northern Italy and slaughtered every male over age 10 in particularly creative and painful ways.�He shrugged, �What�s there not to like about Angelus?�
�I could bring the Lornemobile around, load you into the passenger seat � quickly and with one of these blankets that the motel won�t miss too much � and then head for the bright lights and splendor of fabulous downtown Bon Temps!�It was daytime, but the Lornemobile was equipped with special glass that filtered out the lethal rays of the sun.It was inconvenient that Darla could no longer go outside during the day, but it was a problem they had dealt with before.
Lorne watched as Darla paced back and forth in their diminutive motel room.She looked like a tigress pacing in her cage.�Wesley?Wes is ok.Just wound a little tight.Nothing that a good solid release wouldn�t fix.�He thought of Illyria who had once been Fred and wondered if there would ever be a true release for Wesley Wyndam Price again.Then Darla said they should get another motel.�Another motel?�They had already transferred all their stuff from the Amenable Alligator in Shreveport, which had been a pretty nice place, to this antiquated roadside throw back to the 1960s.�Sure, sweetness and light.We could go right now.Drive the strip in Bon Temps.Must be someplace with style and class there.Maybe a bed and breakfast in one of those restored civil war era homes with the white columns and black and white pictures on the walls of slaves and battlefields littered with dismembered bodies.�He smiled brilliantly.
Lorne also figured he might be able to score some vampire antidote in Bon Temps.He just might call Raoul from that blue bar in Shreveport.Raoul would know where to purchase some of the stuff.
Wesley sat cross-legged in a chair by the bed, well away from the notorious vampire, Nan Flanagan.She was watching him though.Perhaps she thought she could glamour him with her eyes, although from everything Wes could determine from his research, Louisiana vampires had to speak to their victims, as well as lock gazes with them, to conduct a proper glamour.The shades on the window were drawn tightly closed to prevent a casual passerby from spotting a woman tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth. Discovery of what and who they had here would be a very bad thing, indeed. That would not do at all.
Lorin had gone to the motel caf�, Faith had wandered away as well, and then while Wes was in the bathroom, Dylan had slipped out the door too, leaving him alone with the vampire. Wes stabbed at the television remote, surfing through channels.But this was a Friday morning in Winslow.Not much on except local news, Judge Judy, a few spectacularly lame soap operas, and a movie or two.Wesley stopped surfing as an old Clint Eastwood Western appeared on the 20-inch screen.He recognized it as High Plains Drifter, which was filmed far from Louisiana in some wide open high desert landscape � Wyoming, Montana, maybe the Dakotas.Wes found the open, arid vistas comforting after the cloying, forested and damp countryside around Shreveport and Bon Temps.And the theme of the movie � that the bad guys always get what�s coming to them � even if the good guy that does the getting is a guy from beyond the grave.Wes glanced over at Nan Flanagan, who was still staring at him � no, she was glaring � shooting daggers from the depths of her dead blue eyes.Would their current case turn out as well as High Plains Drifter?Would the good guys win the day?
The ice cream truck did, indeed, make it to the Hunter motel.After belching blue smoke for a piece, it seemed to gather a second wind, like pushing that �57 Plymouth Fury named Christine a little ways, pushing it back across the years.That�ll teach those doubting shitters.
Lorin chewed on a toothpick, and periodically rolled it from one side of his mouth to the other. The speakers in this thing didn�t spew tunes from the 1960s like the stoner hippie van.It didn�t spew anything �cause the radio, the speakers, and whatever other sound system gadgets it once had had been rudely ripped from the dashboard and door sidepanels.It looked like vandals had done it.Vandals had violated the old truck.Lorin shrugged and rolled that toothpick back across his lips again as Nan Flanagan thrashed in the back.
The Hunter�s motel was on a sideroad off the sideroad, but it had the appearance of a route that might have been the main highway through these parts before they put the interstate in.The asphalt had been patched so many times it looked like it had acquired a network of varicose veins.The motel was called the Slumber Inn.It was just down the road from the Stagger Inn � a local bar.And the associated motel restaurant was called the Semicircle Inn, perhaps for the configuration of the building , which was in a half circle.But from the looks of the zombie-like people coming and going from the place, Lorin thought the Semi-conscious Inn was a more appropriate label.Somewhere along the way the sun had come up. It was morning.
They got a room around back in a corner.No view of the pool, just a window on a scummy swamp beyond the parking lot.But it was perfect because they didn�t want to be spotted hauling Flanagan inside.Not that Lorin was really concerned.When you kidnap or stab or bludgeon someone, you�re always taking them out of a motel room and tossing them into the trunk of a black sedan.You�re never moving someone into a room, and certainly not from an Ice Cream truck.So when one of those zombie people spotted him and Faith with a struggling bundle wrapped in a blanket, the walking dead didn�t even shrug or grunt or comment.
They got Nan installed in a straight back chair, and because they didn�t want her to be bored, they turned on the television.It was Judge Judy, who was even scarier than Nan Flanagan.�Hey, I�m going to head over to the restaurant.I thought I saw Kat through the window.You guys stay and watch the�goods.�
Wesley was not all too happy that they had recklessly captured the spokeswoman for the American Vampire League.They were supposed to have taken a discreet approach, simply acting as concerned or interested citizens who happened to be at the scene of a fire.They would ask questions of Miss Flanagan, just as anyone would do in such a situation.But now they were on the run with Flanagan tied up in the back of an ice cream truck that had long since seen better days.This was foolishness.
Wesley brought forth his cell phone and called Angel.However, it went immediately to voice mail, suggesting the brooding vampire either had it turned off or had programmed it so as not to be disturbed.Given Angel�s lack of expertise with electronic devices, the former was more likely than the latter.Nonetheless, Wes left a message for Angel, explaining what had happened.He suspected Angel wouldn�t be particularly thrilled with what Lorin had done, either.
After slipping his phone back into his pocket, Wes offered the following suggestion, �May I recommend that we proceed at once to a secure location.Given the level of law enforcement presence at the burning house, it is very likely that we were monitored.With modern face-recognition technology, the authorities could already have our names.If they have that, then they will rapidly discern that we have rooms at the Amenable Alligator.Lorne, Darla, and Katarina are staying at the motel on the outskirts of town, where the hunters are.I suggest we go there and use one of their rooms to hide and question Miss Flanagan.I have left a voice mail for Angel, informing him of the situation.�He just hoped the ice cream truck would hold up long enough to get them to that motel.
It didn�t take long for Faith to realize that Lorin was sans a plan. He saw a problem then hopped in. She couldn�t blame him. It sounded just like something she would have done. It had been known to get her in trouble, causing her to learn to mull things over before acting upon occassion. She glanced over her shoulder at the squirming vampire. �Can�t you shut her up,� she glanced at Dylan. The hostage was almost louder than the spurting vehicle. She didn�t want anything to pick up on the sound. There was no telling what was lurking in the woods that enveloped the road way. �Chick has to be loaded with information. I bet we could make her spill about that fire among other things given the right form of persuasion,� she looked at her companions with a raised eyebrow. Faith knew how to make people talk. She was no stranger to torture. Nan would be singing like a song bird by the time she was through with her.
