LOVE BITES Page 0,8

of the crowded theater.

"It was supposed to be a comedy," his mother Marguerite said apologetically. "It was advertised as a comedy."

"Well, it missed that boat by a mile at least." He clapped Bastien on the back. "Still, happy birthday, brother."

"Thank you."

Bastien sounded less than enthused, but Etienne couldn't blame him. After four hundred years, celebrating birthdays was probably a bit of a drag. Hell, after only three hundred, Etienne would gladly let his own pass without notice, but he knew he would be no more fortunate than Bastien at avoiding some sort of celebration. Their mother would insist on marking their births every single year, no matter how many accrued. Marguerite Argeneau loved her children. She was glad they had been born and believed life was to be celebrated. Etienne supposed he should be glad she bothered. It was good to have family.

"Oh, dear. It's raining," Marguerite said as they joined the milling throng under the building's awning. The theatergoers were obviously reluctant to brave the downpour.

"Hmm." Etienne glanced out into it. His gaze flickered with disinterest over the autos moving slowly by, but halted rather abruptly on a car parked across the street. Recognition struck him like a bolt of lightning. It looked very like the car with which Pudge had run him down. That incident had occurred a couple of weeks before the shooting, but Etienne had walked away from it. His body had repaired in a few moments the broken femur and fractured skull he'd suffered. Fortunately, no one had witnessed the attack or his spontaneous healing.

As he watched, Pudge's vehicle's engine started, the driving lights came on, and it pulled into traffic. Etienne had just relaxed when his mother asked, "Was that him?" He immediately tensed again.

His mother knew everything. She had been fretting over the situation since the shooting. After being asked several times what he intended to do about his assailant, Etienne had been forced to admit that he didn't know. He had tried to reassure his mother by promising he would be more careful and that it was all really amusing, but she hadn't taken the comment well at all. Now, here was Pudge making his life more difficult.

"No. I'm sure it wasn't," he reassured her, then attempted to head off another lecture. "You two wait here, and I'll bring the car around."

He left before they could debate the matter. The theater had no valet parking, but Etienne had been fortunate enough to find a spot a bare half a block away. He was grateful for that now, escaping as he was any chance of a lecture by rushing off through the rain. He nodded at the lot attendant as he passed the booth, then rushed to his car, pushing the button on his keychain to unlock the doors. He then pushed the second button to start the vehicle for him, a nifty little gadget he'd had installed just the week before in preparation for the coming winter. Winters in Canada could be bitterly cold, and there was nothing as nasty as getting into an icy vehicle.

He was only a few feet away when he started the car this night. He was reaching for the door handle when it revved to life, and that's what saved him. Had he been inside the vehicle, the explosion might very well have finished him. As it was, he was caught by the blast, a red hot wave that picked him up and threw him back several feet. Etienne smelled burnt flesh, pain radiated through him, then he felt and knew nothing.

"Hey, you're back!"

Rachel glanced up from her overdue paperwork and smiled at Fred and Dale, who wheeled in a covered gurney. It was her first day back since the night she'd been so sick she'd fainted on the job. She'd woken some time later to find Tony kneeling over her, weak, pale, and claiming he'd caught her flu bug because he didn't feel well, either.

Rachel didn't recall much about fainting. She had a vague dreamlike memory of Dale and Fred bringing someone in, but didn't recall anything more than that, and there had been no new bodies about when she regained consciousness. Positive that it had all been part of some fever-induced hallucination, Rachel had decided bed was the place for her and called in a replacement. She'd asked if Tony wanted a replacement as well, but he'd felt better after a couple of moments and insisted he would be fine.

Rachel had been sick as a