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The conference had ended after noon lunch. Eliza had strolled
back to her room, enjoying the brisk September air. It as
uncommonly warm, today, which for Denver in September, was not all that
warm, a mere very low humidity day of 70 degrees. Coupled with
Denver's “big sky”, it would hard to imagine a nicer afternoon.
She took her time on the walk back to the hotel. It was still a
little early to be trolling on IRC, so she took the time to enjoy her
walk. oOo
She used both dalnet and effnet, but dalnet connected first, this
evening. She “joined” TheRoom as VampEl. As usual,
the name was available and she was the channel op. She set to topic to
a bland “Vamp waiting” and settled down to see what would happen.
TheRoom was known on the net, not as popular as some, but still, an
attraction to some of the goth and kink set. She encouraged that,
but would kick anyone who was making others miserable. She'd
allow almost anything except threats or personal attacks. It wasn't long before sweetbloodsucker logged in, saw there was only one other on the channel and left. KinkDude was next and he started hitting on VampEl, AKA Eliza, almost immediately. Since she needed channel activity to get things going, she played along as a sexy vampire, goth wannabe, acting very innocent and curious. KinkDude was eating it up when leatherman logged in and joined the fun. She cooled their ardor with a short entry of: PIR – parents in room, giving the impression that she was very underage. She'd used this ruse, before, to set up pedophiles as a good meal, but it was also a way to cool of a conversation that was getting too intrusive for her liking, as it did this time. She had a cooling cup of ginger tea next to her and she'd just taken a sip when InPJs logged in and typed: “Is there life here” Eliza grinned and typed: Life is what you make it. It's here, there, everywhere. Then she PMd him: "I'd rather talk here. The other two will just try to hit on me and I'm not in the mood right now." InPJs typed, "You could just kick them. You are the channel op." "Yes, but they add to channel population to make the room look busy. It's early and I'm not in the mood for them. Later, there'll be a lot more people, then I might." InPJs responded, "What sort of people normally visit your channel?" "Goths, kinks, vampire wanna-bes," she typed back. "The Vamp in you name is for vampire?" "No! It is the other vamp, as in sexy. A friend once called me a vamp and my name begins with El, hence VampEl." "So, you are sexy (pant, drool)" he responded. He received a "[G]" followed by a URL. The URL she sent him contained three pictures. One was of a rather good looking, prim lady, wearing glasses and standing behind the desk in a library. The second one was a rather sexy lady, wearing riding leathers, straddling a Harley. She was smiling and seemed very comfortable on the machine. In the background, there were three other bikes, populated by some rather scary biker dudes. The third picture seemed professionally done and showed the same lady wearing almost knee high black leather boots, a tight black, leather, skirt that came to mid thigh, a semi-translucent white silk blouse and a black leather cape, casually swept back over her shoulders. She had jet black hair and a very pale complexion. The were all Eliza and she liked the contrast that the three showed. Vampire or not, she did have a streak of feminine vanity. InPJs's breath caught as he viewed the third picture, full screen. It was incredibly sexy, not for what it showed, but for what it didn't show and what it hinted at. His hands were poised, motionless, over the keyboard. "you still there?" showed in his talk window. "Yes, I'm trying to catch my breath. Ok, I'll admit it. You are sexy!" "LOL. Thank you, sir..... I do know how to take an honest complement." "If that is really her, she is a knock out! Why would a woman like that be on the computer on a Friday evening?" He rubbed the side of his nose, deep in thought. "How come you're not out on the town on this evening?" he typed. "[G] Why aren't you?" appeared almost instantly. "Ok, I'll play this game.,” he thought. He sighed and typed, "I'm a poor hard working guy who just needed a little down time. How about you?" "[G] No date, huh? " He felt a flash if irritation. Damn it, she was right. A second message followed the first. "Me too. Believe it or not, I do have a problem getting dates." Somehow that seemed to take the sting out of the previous message, and for some reason, he believed her. "I hear you, but I really do find that hard to understand. My guess would be that you'd have guys lined up to keep you company." He pressed enter, realizing that sounded lame. "LOL. I don't, so if you want get in line, you'd be next." He could visualize a wry grin on her face. "Ok, since I'm next, what's a good time for you?" Text appear in the talk window. "Did I really type that," he wondered. "Am I being played, here? This is really weird." "I'd say within the next hour, but the odds are against us being in the same state, let alone the same city!" Right! He'd been so caught up in the conversation that he'd forgotten the nature of IRC. What the hell.... "I'm in Denver," he typed. He waited for her response. Some moments passed and he wondered if she'd disconnected. So far, she'd been really quick on the responses. "Me too." He replied, "Look, you don't have to. We just went with the flow and we both know that a young lady should not be meeting strangers on IRC. Not a problem." It seemed as if he felt genuine disappointment. "You're right, we did go with the flow. Let's meet. How about in front of the library in an hour?" The loud gulp in the room was him. "Ok, I'll be wearing gray suit and vest. I'll be the one looking very nervous." "I'll be wearing what I was wearing in the third picture. So I know for sure it's you, when you see me, just say that you have your pjs" He grinned at the allusion to his screen name. She was quick. Patrick Jane, sitting in his hotel room saw VampEl vanish from the channel so he disconnected. It was only a short walk to the library from his room. He had a rental car, but if they needed it, they could walk back to get it our she might drive. He decided to walk. "I hope I don't regret this," he mused. oOo
Eliza accessed her IRC log files and got the IP of the person she'd
been chatting with. Since she'd done this sort of search so many
times before, it was fairly quick to identify the hotel, room,and
finally patron. Once she had his name, his entire history was
available to her from some of the databases she subscribed to.Reading about the exploits of Patrick Jane, con man, charlatan and CBI consultant was a fascinating journey. She smile. “This could be fun,” she thought. “I'll even try to play nice. He sounds like someone I could enjoy knowing.” oOo
Eliza approached the meeting area with caution. She could sense
that there was someone there, and she had the distinct impression of
waiting anticipation. She grinned. He really did want
to meet her, and there was no hint of any malicious intent. That
was always a relief. She'd only misread a meeting once, but with
her abilities, that had not worked out well for the one who tried to
take “advantage” of her. It was actually fatal, but she was sure
tonight was going to be a lot more pleasant. She casually flitted from one dark area to another, ever reducing the distance between them. Finally she was only a few feet behind him so she tapped him on the shoulder and called his name. “Patrick?” He spun around, nearly tripping over his own feet and was face to face with the lady in the third picture. She smiled a totally disarming smile. "I'm Eliza. That's the El in VampEl." He was quite nonplussed that she knew his name. She told him that she'd done a computer search on him, which was true, and that a girl need to be safe when meeting someone from the internet. Which is also true. He'd readily accepted that and even agreed to accompany her for some good drinks and good music. She found him quite attractive, moderately tall, well dressed in a three piece suit that looked natural on him, with curly blond hair. His smile appeared open and infectious. She could fully understand why he'd been so successful as a con-man. If anyone was born to the profession, it was Patrick Jane! Eliza was doing what Duk had told her not to do. She was playing with civilians, again. She was not looking at Patrick as a meal, but as a friend. Briefly remembering that conversation, she wondered if she was going to regret this, but the conversation was pleasant as was the night, so she ignored any misgivings. She hooked her arm in his and they strolled in the direction she indicated. They'd been walking and chatting for about twenty minutes when Jane realized that the area was beginning to look a little seedy and much less well lit. Eliza seemed as at ease and vivacious as before. He didn't want to "wimp" out, but his experience with the CBI had taught him to be aware of such signs and he was distinctly uncomfortable. He was trying to think of a way to tactfully express his concern when the sound behind them, the cocking of a revolver, removed any need. "Freeze, you two," Both of them stopped in their tracks. "Turn around." They turned to face a tall man holding what appeared to be an ancient revolver. "Just give him what he wants, Eliza. Right now we just want to be able to walk away," Jane whispered. "Good advice, Blondie. Play nice and you might live. Now, hands up" As Eliza raised her hands, she raised one much faster than the other. With blinding speed, the laggard hand swept the gun way from both of them and a vicious kick landed in his groin. He doubled over, gasping. Eliza kneed him in the face. He crumpled to the pavement, limp. Eliza bent and picked up his gun. "Here you go,” she said to Patrick. “Add this to your collection. Now, as I was saying...." She took him by the arm and continued the conversation like nothing had happened. “When in doubt, fake it,” she thought. “What a way to start a date. At least, I didn't kill him and have to clean up the mess.” As they silently approached their destination, that confrontation seemed to have stifled conversation, Eliza said, “Here we go. Good music, good drink and good company. Could some wandering waifs want more?" Jane realize that he was sort of feeling like a wandering waif, now. Eliza had a very keen way of observing and presenting things. "This particular waif would really like something to drink, right about now. I hope this is as good as you've billed it" Eliza grinned and stuck her tongue out. "Have I steered you wrong, yet?" Before he could say anything, she continued. "No, I have not. So let's enter and make light of the rest of the evening." "An odd turn of phrase," he mused as they walked into the dim recesses of Bur Bur's Den. Their booth was rather private and it's padding muted the music to a moderate level where they could comfortably talk. There was a lot of leather in the crowd, though he, in his suit, was not totally out of place. For the first time, since meeting Eliza, Jane felt like he could relax. The anonymity of a crowd! The bottle on the table was Palinca, a plum brandy that he'd only heard of, and an experience that was breath taking. At 151 proof, it had an authority that demanded a chaser, but a demand that Eliza seemed to ignore. "Liquid fire," he'd gasped after his first sip. Eliza had smiled and tossed a straight shot. "Oh yes," she'd responded in a hoarse voice. "But oh so good!" The warmth of the liquor, the progressive music from the four piece band and Eliza's company was finally relaxing him. He studied her as intently and as unobtrusively as he could. She seemed to be in no rush to start a conversation. She was leaning back, sipping her drink, eyes partially closed, listening to the music. The pose pulled the thin silk fabric of her white blouse tight against her breasts, possibly more revealing that a nude shot, and certainly more erotic. He leaned back and nosily exhaled. Smiling and slightly shaking his head, he was in full observation mode, now. Yes, 115 pounds, totally self-assured, but he could not really figure her age. It could be anywhere from eighteen to early forties. No one could be that self confident and be under thirty, he guessed. OK, thirty to a very well preserved forty. Eliza stretched, totally captivating Jane for those few moments. She leaned forward. "I only weigh 112." Jane felt like he'd been hit by a taser, but he was a pro at covering. Putting a confused look on his face, "I'm sorry, I don't understand. We...." Eliza giggled, making him wonder about her age, again. When you catalog me, sometimes you sub-vocalize and your lips move. I read your lips." Her smile was sweetness, light and innocence. "Ah... Ah..." Jane was momentarily at a loss for words. He smiled. "I guess I'd better watch that in the future. Thank you." His smile, for the first time tonight, was actually genuine. He had learned something very useful about himself. He realized he was enjoying himself. Eliza leaned forward and put her hand on his. "Your CBI work seems fascinating. Tell me how you approach what you do." Her hand was surprisingly cool on his. He would have expected it to be much warmer. He started describing a normal day at CBI and was amazed at her understanding and the perceptiveness of her questions, of which there were many. He finally hesitated. What guy does not love to talk about his work. "Your turn, Eliza. Tell me about what you do." "Oh I'm a Librarian on vacation. I live in the North East and thought Denver would be fun. From my pictures, you know I love bikes, and since I chose this place, you have an idea of the sort of music I like." She rattled on for several minutes, but despite several oblique questions, she never actually revealed exactly where she lived, though he did learn far more than he needed to know about how a library works. He decided that she really was a librarian. Her hand was still on his when a large beer mug slammed onto their table. "Why don't you lose the skinny dude, here, and join me and my mates at our table?" Jane remembered that he had a very illegal gun in his belt and was wondering if that's what it would take to back up the mountain of flesh that was standing next to their booth. He looked up, figuring how to approach the problem. "Sir...." Eliza reached up and grabbed the large man's pinky finger, twisting it back, forcing him down, hard and fast. His chin was on the edge of their table. She leaned forward and seemingly whispered something into his hear. His eyes widened and he sat down and rocked back, falling on his back. He scurried away on all fours, attracting the attention of a very large, even larger than their nemesis, bouncer. Eliza reached for a napkin and wiped blood from her mouth and chin. Jane grinned. "You bit his ear!" He suppressed the urge to laugh. "The finger thing was amazing. I've got to remember that." He smiled a genuine smile, again. "And don't forget what I whispered into his dainty little ear before I bit most of it off. If I told you what I told him, you'd probably be running too." This time, Eliza's grin was not sweet or innocent! "And don't ask. I will NOT tell you that. I don't want you running from me. The night is young and there is fun to be had, yes?" "Yes," he responded, again wondering at her slightly odd speech patterns. "I have it," he exalted to himself. "You were adopted, weren't you?" Eliza bit her lower lip. "Not exactly, but really close." "Come on," Jane prodded. "Give." "After my father nearly killed me, the family that rescued me never really adopted me. I just took the place of their daughter that had died. How did you pick up on that?" Jane nosily exhaled. "Did it this time, didn't you," he asked himself. Trying to act like he'd not ripped the scab off of a bleeding wound, he said, "It was a combination of factors. Your independence, your self assurance, like someone who has had to rely on themselves a lot; but mostly your odd use of words every now and then. You speak English like someone born to it, but every now and then, you'll come up with something that seems almost foreign." He paused. "That's most of it, I guess." Eliza nodded. "Clever and lucky, would be my call, but you were right. You have good instincts. Jane took a deep breath, "What do you say we get out of here and go back to my room. We'll get another bottle of your liquid fire, just in case of need, and I'll put on some of the music I enjoy." Eliza was already standing up and tucking the bottle of Palinca under her arm. He followed her to the door, wondering if he'd gotten lucky or gotten himself into trouble. oOo
The hotel room was hotter than expected. Eliza had quickly shed her
cape and boots Jane grinned. "Make yourself
comfortable," he said as she plopped on the bed and her boots thumped
to the floor."Don't mind if if I do." She pointed to the two bottles of Palinca she'd put on the table. "Why don't you round us up some glasses. I have a strong throat, but I'm not inclined to drink Palinca out of the bottle. I like being able to breathe." Jane smiled his award winning smile and Eliza felt her heart melt. “Oh my,” she thought. “I gotta be careful with this one." Out loud, she replied, “Good idea. Breathing is good, and I cannot imagine drinking this stuff straight out of the bottle." Jane rummaged around and finally found two wine glasses that seemed suitable. He opened his lap top and took it out of sleep mode. Pointing two small but solid speakers towards them, he loaded a play list into winamp and smiled. The tiny powered Bose speakers filled the room with quality sound as he handed her a filled glass. "Oh! Leonard Cohen. You are good." She raised her glass to him in toast and took a long pull. He did the same and shuddered as the fiery liquid burned its way to his stomach. "He is so depressive that he gives you hope," Eliza observed. "It's weird, really." They chatted about the music for a few minutes and then fell silent. Finally, "Eliza, do you feel comfortable talking about your past?" Eliza grimaced. "Probably more at ease than you. You're curious about my 'adoption', aren't you." She held up a hand in the stop position. "Wait." She chugged the wine glass of 151 Palinca. Her face turned red and her eyes watered, but she calmly took deep breaths through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. "Give me a couple of minutes and I'll answer your questions. Nothing like a little liquid lubricant to help, right?" Jane nodded. He was convinced she wasn't covering or masking, now. He wondered what her story was. He took a sip of his drink, a lot less that Eliza had taken. He was feeling quite tipsy and he'd probably had less than half of what she'd consumed. "She must have a hollow leg," he mused. "OK!” Eliza took a deep breath. “My trauma was being abused by my birth parents, raped by my father, beaten and thrown into a pond to drown. I crawled out, into the middle of a road and passed out. When I awoke I was in a bed being tended to by a sweet Romanian couple." She smiled. "That's where I get my speech oddities." Jane gave a low whistle of amazement, realizing that was probably not the best response. He realized this was not the time for a "Oh, you poor baby" hug. Just bore on in. This was too fascinating. "How do you cope with this? Doesn't it eat you?" He shook his head, thinking "I sound clueless. This not me. Maybe that Palinca is stronger than I realize." He took another sip. "I coped by hunting him down, many years later and killing him. You have no idea how much better than made me feel." Eliza held out her glass. "More, please?" He quickly refilled her glass. "Ah, I am an officer of the law, you know." Eliza chuckled. "No, you aren't. You're a consultant. Even if you were, I wouldn't hesitate to tell you. It cannot be proved. I simply took over the place of my foster parents dead daughter and have lived her identity. There is nothing to link me to the old family." Jane leaned back. Lifting the ruby glass of plum brandy, he stared at her through it, coloring her a blood red. "And I'm supposed to believe this?" Eliza shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I just want you to know it really helps. When you get Red John, just enjoy the moment and do it right. Know that it can never bring back what is lost, but that this particular scum bag will never take anything from anyone ever again." She paused. "That'll be your gift to yourself and the world." His heart literally hurt. He felt like he'd been punched in the chest and he choked and coughed. She knew. How did she know? What did she know? He slammed the glass down on the table and stood, towering over her. She stared up at him, completely un-intimidated. She stood and put her arms around him. "I'm not the bad guy," she whispered into his ear. I just hurt too." His arms went reflexively around her. There was a moment on tension, then the firm body he was holding became very female and very tiny. "I'm sorry, Eliza," he whispered into her hair. "No one should have to hurt like that." She sniffed and he felt dampness on his cheek. For a brief timeless moment, Jane was simply Jane, holding, being held, comforting and being comforted by another human being. They seemed to realize that they were holding members of the opposite sex at the same moment. He looked down as she looked up. Her face was tear streaked and she looked so vulnerable. He bent down and kissed her. The kiss was violently and passionately returned. There was an almost frightening ferocity to her kiss. She spun him around and pushed him back onto the bed. She stood looking down at him. He held out his arms and she nodded. Her blouse seem to vanish and he discovered that her skirt was a wrap around and that she did not wear underwear. He found himself with an arm full of very desirable, very willing, female. His head happily buzzed with Palinca as Eliza reached over turned the lights off oOOOo
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