High Stakes

By

Cincoflex@aol.com

It was a dark and stormy night. MacGyver looked out into the rain, grateful that he was home and dry, with no urgent errand to take him out into the wet darkness. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and the sweet comfort of the TV beckoned.

Throwing himself on the sofa in a lazy flop, he clicked the set on, settling down as the screen filled with a strong black and white image. He grinned settling back and getting comfortable.

"All right! Perfect for a night like this--go get'em Bela!"

Lazily he watched the elegant Transylvanian count work his way from Carpathia towards England, only to be foiled by Van Helsing and his band at the very last minute. As the movie wound down and Mac drifted off, his final coherent thought was:

'You know, *I* could do better than that--'

He awoke in total darkness.

"Great--power must have gone off--"

With a heave of his shoulders, he realized he wasn't on the sofa anymore. Freezing, he listened very carefully, his mind racing. A trap--Murdoc? Mac took stock of himself in the dark. No ties, no wounds--no knife. Fumbling his realized his pockets were not only empty, but also there were more of them--

He reached up, touching something over his body. A lid. He was in a box with a lid--

"Coffin--ah geez!" Mac pushed. It didn't take much; the lid slid and clattered off to the side, the heavy dark wood making a hollow sound as it hit a marble floor. Sitting up quickly, MacGyver took in a few deep breaths and looked around.

The room was bare, dark and full of dusty cobwebs. He could see the marks on the floor that indicated the coffin had been dragged here by hand. On the far side of the room, an open window indicated it was night, and moonlight was spilling in. Shakily Mac started to climb out but when he caught sight of his sleeve he stopped.

The last time he'd looked, he'd been wearing a green plaid flannel shirt over a t-shirt, faded jeans and Nikes. At the moment, none of those were in place. Instead, he could see a long fitted cuff and a blousy sleeve of some fine linen. Glancing down at himself, he noted a massive signet ring of white gold and black onyx on his index finger, dark fitted trousers, short boots and most unnerving, a thick sable cape of some sort half draped over his shoulder.

"Oh-kay, this is getting pretty damned weird. Creepy as Murdoc is, I don't think he's into dress up--at least with other people--I don't think--" Mac amended as he quickly climbed out. He bit his lip.

Literally.

"Ow!" Running his tongue over his teeth, he nearly pierced himself again on the sharp canines of his upper jaw. Mac felt his teeth, tugged on the fangs to see if they'd been glued into place and failing that, shook his head.

"No--Nononoooo--Murdoc! If this is your idea of a stupid joke, I am *not* laughing!" he yelled at the room. It remained utterly silent, and Mac sighed heavily. He began to pace.

"Think, think . . . Murdoc obviously saw what I was watching, and decided to run with the theme, so I've got to be up in the tower room--wait a minute--that should be LA down there--"

He rushed to the window and looked out. Dark foreboding forests met his eye. In the distance he could see the small lights of a village, and beyond that, another castle. The air was clear of pollutants and the stars shone with an intensity that told him he was at a higher altitude than usual.

"Talk about pulling out all the stops--" he grumbled in admiration. His stomach rumbled, and Mac let his gaze scan the drop below him.

"Oooohhh. Not good. Still don't like heights--and if I really *was* a vampire, I'd just do the bat thing--"

A poof of white smoke appeared and Mac suddenly found his eyesight as bad as Pete's. Panicking, he thrashed, flopping this way and that until he crashed into the window frame and another poof happened.

He rubbed his head.

"Oh for Pete's sake I did *not* just turn into a bat! Forget it, it doesn't happen!" he tried to convince himself. With an oath, he strode back into the room, cape rippling behind him. A quick circuit of the place showed each door to be locked, and the window the only open means of escape. Frowning, he stepped out to the window balcony again.

"Okay. The givens are that I'm decked out as a vampire. I'm also stuck about seventeen stories up in a room with locked doors and no keys, no knife, no nothing for a quick escape," he lectured himself. "Just the sort of natural setting for a good horror story, haha--" he thought back to his last words before falling asleep and shook his head, blonde hair glinting in the moonlight.

"Perfect. I get a chance to redo Bela and not screw up--sure, right, happens all the time--MURDOC!!!!"

Receiving no answer to this yell, Mac pursed his mouth, (being careful of the fangs this time) and closed his eyes. He concentrated, and gradually felt the metamorphosis take place throughout his system. When he dared to open them again, he was a little more prepared for the blurry vision of the night.

<Fine--you wanna make me a vampire, I'll be the best *damned* vampire this little Transylvanian trailer park's ever seen! That is--assuming I can get down there in one piece. . > He set off towards the village below, quite possibly the only bat in history fighting acrophobia.

Down below in the charming village of St. Gretzky, the bright lights of the local pub shone out through the lead windows. Many of the locals liked to pass the time at the Flaming Phoenix to drink potent beer, play darts, gossip about the two castles and ogle the barmaid, pretty Penny Parker. The Flaming Phoenix was the place to go if you wanted information, advice, somewhat decent food and companionship.

At the moment, Herr Thornton, the town's mayor, and Jackgor, semi-faithful hunchbacked servant to Doctor Victor Murdocstein were moodily sharing a drink.

"He's talking about harnessing lightning again--" Jackgor was saying. "I don't like lightning--it makes my ears squeak."

"And what's worse, the owner of Castle De'ath is back," Herr Thornton muttered as he downed the last of his lager. "He arrived by black coach late last night and took up residence without even stopping in here. Damned peculiar."

"Oh those touchy Minnesota Magyars are the worst--" Jackgor agreed. "Always think anything in a long white nightie is free for the taking--"

"I've got a long white nightie," Penny chirped up, setting down more beer. Both men glanced at her, cleared their throats and crossed their legs.

"Actually I do too, but it's not something I want getting around--" Jackgor admitted. "Hey!" he protested when Herr Thornton began to edge away," Nights get kinda cold up in Castle Messerman!"

"Surrrrrrre," Herr Thornton scoffed. Anything more he wanted to say was lost as the doors banged open and a furious young woman stormed in only to be followed by Murdocstein.

"No, no, no!" she shouted. "I came out here at your request, Victor, I brought the ichor and spirits of plasma, I even wore that tiny scrap you call a nightgown, but I positively draw the line at letting you hang around inside my wardrobe. You want to catch a vampire, find another girl!"

"Rosabeth my sweet, try to understand! I'm *this* close to developing the serum for immortality! It's essential that I capture a vampire, expose him to sunlight and use his desiccated remains as the final ingredient!"

"Can't you substitute something? Powdered werewolf?"

"Darling, it's not the same--" the mad scientist protested, "The hairballs clog up the equipment. Please, Rosabeth--"

The two of them were suddenly aware of the audience in the pub; Rosabeth blushed.

On her it looked good. Frankly, on her anything from a tablecloth to a bearskin would look good. She had the curvy robust figure and long red hair of a pre-Raphaelite model, and currently her charms were stuffed into a form-fitting green dress with enough exposed cleavage to make a boy scout sweat.

"Oh excuse us--" she murmured. The crowd turned their gaze to Victor, who gave a sneering shrug.

"As you were, peasants--" he muttered impatiently with a wave of his lace-covered wrist. Most folks shifted back to their business as Penny drifted up to the couple.

"Something to drink? We have beer, lager, ale and diet ale--"

"And who might you be?" Victor turned his attention to her, his dark eyes glittering. Penny dimpled prettily, curtseying.

"Penny Parker of the Flaming Phoenix. And don't tell me--you're Victor Murdocstein, the mad scientist from Castle Messerman, am I right?"

"Absolutely," he beamed, missing Rosabeth's annoyed eye roll. "How lucky this establishment is to have such a charmer on staff--"

"Oh lots of men want me on their staff--" Penny burbled as Victor kissed her hand.

"I'll bet they do--" he replied with a smirk, "Let me introduce Rosabeth Von Clowderbock, my fiancée--"

"Charmed," Penny smiled sunnily, "And you work under Herr doctor?"

"I haven't assumed that position yet--" Rosabeth replied smartly, "--in *any* capacity."

"Not for lack of effort on my part--" Victor muttered. He forced a smile. "Two lager lights--have any Mummy's Curse?"

"Sure!" Penny scurried away as Victor and Rosabeth found a table at which to continue their disagreement.

"Schnitzel lips, I *need* a vampire, and to get one, I have to have bait," he patiently pointed out. Rosabeth crossed her arms, which did interesting things to her bust, and pouted.

"And what makes you think any vampire's gonna come after *me?*"

"Anything with male hormones and a *pulse* comes after you," Victor growled, whipping out a handkerchief and wiping his mouth with it. "Trust me, darling, any vampire worth his fangs will want your neck. All I need is for you to stick it out a little."

"And after that?"

"Then I get the last ingredient! All this reconstructing the dead is amusing, but immortality is where the big bucks are--" He finished dreamily.

"Why don't you just let the vampire bite you? Wouldn't that give you immortality, schatzi-bear?"

"Yes, but I'd be limited to the night and drinking blood," Victor sighed. "Been there, done that--"

Rosabeth shuddered. Penny returned with the beers just as a loud 'thump' hit one of the windows of the pub. Victor looked at Jackgor and waved.

"Think you know what that was?" he asked his servant, who nodded.

"I have a hunch," came the smug reply. The servant headed out the door; head low, trying not to shiver.

"Okay--twinkle, twinkle little bat--" he picked up the stunned lump of blonde fur from the damp cobblestones and examined it.

"You know, usually it's the balls that hit the window, not the bats--"

"No, I think they did this time too--" came a high-pitched squeak from the twitching creature in his hand. Stunned, Jackgor dropped it, and there was another pain-filled yelp. As he watched, the bat shifted into the tall somewhat bent over figure of a man.

"Dang! Looks like Herr Thornton was right! Are you the lord of Castle De'ath?"

"Yah that would be me--" came the slightly strangled voice of the stranger. He straightened up with a grimace and drew the cape around himself. Jackgor nodded.

"Tall, handsome, but you need to brush up on your arrogance, and what's with the blonde hair? Everybody knows vampires are brunettes."

"So who are you, the vampire police?" came the aggrieved response. Jackgor chuckled.

"Good one, Drac! Or what do we call you anyway?"

"MacGyver--"

"MacGyver? What kind of dread and awe is that gonna inspire?" Jackgor complained. "Honestly, you need something that's going to send shivers up the spine, that's going to inspire fear and dread--"

Mac hissed, his fangs glinting in the moonlight, his eyes glowing an eerie shade of red. Jackgor swallowed hard and backed up a few steps.

"--Or I could just call you MacGyver. Count MacGyver, Dark Overlord of Evil, Prince of Lost Souls, Fiend of Darkness--"

"--Keep going--"

"--Slayer of innocent Tofu?" Jackgor squeaked, wrapping his arms over his head. MacGyver sighed.

"You lost me with that last one--okay, I'm count MacGyver and you are--"

"Jackgor, servant to Victor Murdocstein of Castle Messerman and local hunchback," he beamed. "At your service--for a price."

"Sure," Mac scoffed. "And what would I need from you?"

"Got any beer barrels need emptying?"

"No."

"Need any body parts fetched or grave robbing done?"

"No."

"Require any toothsome wenches subdued and retrieved?"

"Okay, I may need something lined up in that category," Mac admitted with a slight frown. Jack flashed his white teeth."

"Having a two for one tonight on redheads and brunettes--" he pointed a thumb at the Flaming Phoenix. "Lemme know which one's the keeper."

Shaking his head, MacGyver stepped into the Flaming Phoenix and several things happened at once: The door creaked open, a long low wolf howled echoed out, peasant women crossed themselves, the fire flared up, and upon seeing him, both Penny and Rosabeth gave little frantic moans.

"Good evening," Mac intoned pausing in the doorway, surveying the pub. No one spoke. The spell broke when Penny eagerly elbowed her way through the patrons to reach him, curtseying low enough to give him a darn good view of her wenchly qualifications.

"Oh gosh, you must be the owner of Castle De'ath, right?"

"Of course. I'm--" Trying manfully not to laugh, he intoned gravely, "Count MacGyver--"

Herr Thornton and Victor Murdocstein looked at each other, shrugging.

"Wow! A real count! This is so exciting!" Penny rambled, "I'm Penny of the Flaming Phoenix--What brings you here to St. Gretsky's?"

"Oh--I've always wanted a lingering visit through your majestic peaks," he managed to look away from her cleavage and scan the assembled company with only the tiniest blush. Herr Thornton stepped forward somewhat suspiciously, extending a thick hand.

"Count, I'm Pieter Thornton, Mayor of this fine village--"

"--And I'm Victor Murdocstein, owner of Castle Messerman, which by the way is *much* bigger than yours--"

"Victor, size isn't everything--" came an annoyed mutter. MacGyver looked at the speaker, the red-haired woman just over Murdocstein's shoulder.

Time froze.

MacGyver locked gazes with the charming creature, and a burning wave of interesting hungers hit his head, his stomach and significant territory just south of his stomach, but north of his knees. He smiled as the tiniest point of his fangs peeked out from his chiseled lips.

"Hi," he managed not to drool. The woman swallowed hard herself and extended her hand.

"Um, I'm Miss Rosaclowder Von Bethanbock . . ." she murmured dazedly. Mac took her warm hand and kissed it, trying desperately not to give into the insane desire to chomp down on it as an appetizer.

Victor sniffed haughtily and broke their hands apart.

"Yes, yes, my fiancee certainly is one spankin' hot Mamacita--we're all aware of that, Count."

"Fiancee?"

"Yes," Rosabeth sighed reluctantly. "One of the hazards of dating the mentally unstable is a tendency to agree to things like marriage to avoid bloodshed."

"I see--" Mac replied, never breaking his gaze from hers. Annoyed, Victor waved a hand in front of Rosabeth's eyes.

"Hel-lo? Rosabeth darling, maybe we ought to call it a night and head back. I have some brains on ice that need thawing, and I want to graft another nose on the poodle--"

"A poodle with two noses?" Herr Thornton asked. Victor shrugged.

"My two scent's worth--makes him smell better."

"You *are* mad!"

"No--a little miffed at the moment, but that's easily remedied. Count, we would love to have you come dine with us tomorrow, wouldn't we, my snickerdoodle?" Victor studied his bride to be.

"Snickerdoodle?" Mac weakly echoed, his eyes glowing crimson for a split second. Rosabeth blushed and nodded.

"Yes do come on up to the castle for a bite--er, of dinner that is. We'll slaughter something in your honor, Count."

"If tonight's experiment backfires, tell the cook to whip up his poodle noodle strudel," Victor hissed to Jackgor, who had just sidled up.

"Hot dog!"

It was beneath Victor's dignity to groan, but he managed a withering stare. Jackgor cringed. Neither MacGyver nor Rosabeth noticed.

"When should I arrive?"

"Oh believe me, I'd love to have you come when it feels right--" aghast at her own words, Rosabeth blushed again, and Mac tried not to think of ripe peaches, warm strawberries, hot rumpled sheets and chocolate syrup--shaking his head to dispel these thoughts, he drew himself up and nodded curtly.

"After sunset then." Turning away, he strode for the door, secretly pleased that his cape was looking pretty cool. Once outside again, he looked to the right and to the left, noting Castle De'ath and Castle Messerman. De'ath was by far the more menacing, and Mac jabbed a quick fist in the air.

"Yes!"

He strode towards the woods, thinking out loud to himself.

"Okay--I'm not going to screw this up. If I want to reign in terror through the night, I have to nab a consort, establish a base in an industrialized nation and wipe out anybody heading my way with sharp pointy things."

As he walked, the faint crackle of creepy noises trailed him through the darkness. He continued to muse out loud.

"Let's see--nab a consort--well Bela blew it by going after someone else's sweetie--oh damn!" Memories of the hot and delectable Rosabeth taunted him and MacGyver sighed as his fangs quivered.

"Well I guess I could always go for the barmaid--" he told himself reluctantly.

"What? And let a perfectly good redhead go to waste?" came Jackgor's amused question. MacGyver spun around to see the hunchback trailing behind him.

"I thought you worked for Murdocstein?"

"I do--just making a quick cemetery run--ladyfingers and hamstrings. Anyway, everybody knows you *have* to go for Von Clowderbock. She's the challenge here pal."

"Is it because of her haughty dignity, pragmatic nature and romantic soul?"

"No, it's because her magnificently hot bod is locked up in a chastity belt. She left the key in Vancouverstein, and it's driving Victor insane. Insaner than usual," Jackgor amended. MacGyver raised an eyebrow at the hunchback.

"A chastity belt?"

"Yep. Just because she got engaged to a nutcase doesn't mean she's completely stupid."

"Well a chastity belt isn't going to stop *me*--"

"This one might--it's made of silver."

"But all I need is her neck--"

Jackgor looked at him keenly for a moment and Mac blushed.

"Boy, if I had a dollar for every vampire that thought that, I'd be as rich as Bill Gatesmann. Get with the litany, MacGyver! A consort means consorting--which is a *little* more involved than necking if you get my drift--"

"Okay, okay--maybe there's more than one appetite at work here," Mac acknowledged swiftly. Jackgor nodded.

"True enough. Gotta be careful though--Victor's determined to catch a vampire, and it would tickle his warped fancy shove you in his tanning booth."

Thanks for the warning," Mac looked around as a wolf howled. Jackgor grinned again.

"I always loved Los Lobos--they did a mean cover of Blue Dress, you know--"

Mac sighed.

*** *** ***

Victor Murdocstein looked around the banquet hall with a sniff of approval. The beautiful tapestries, the softly glowing candles, and the polished instruments of torture--everything was in readiness.

"I love it when a party comes together--Darling he's going to be here at any minute--"

"I'll be down soon--" Rosabeth weakly called from somewhere up the stone steps. Rubbing his hands, Murdocstein smiled like a shark.

"Jackgor?"

"Yes O short, dark and evil one?" came the cheerful reply. Murdocstein gave a huge put upon sigh and spun on his henchman.

"Is everything ready? Garlic, silver, stakes?"

"All soaking in a vat of holy water just outside the kitchen. I've got that big casket ready too. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Oh yes--" Murdocstein smiled happily. "The formula is nearly complete, and with the arrival of MacGyver, I'll have all I need to create--immortality in a bottle!"

Jackgor whistle appreciatively. "Kinda like one of those weird perfume ads, huh? Lots of skinny naked women with glazed looks wandering around--"

Murdocstein paused, staring at Jackgor for a long confused moment and the henchman elaborated.

"You know--Immortality in a bottle--by Calvin Klein,'' he tried to breath in a seductive whisper. Murdocstein shook his head.

"Just stick with the plan--" came his pained request. Jackgor shrugged. Murdocstein headed for the cavernous kitchen, where Penny was putting touches on the first course. She beamed at Murdocstein.

"Come check out my buns!" Murdocstein hurried to her side, slightly disappointed when she waved at a basket of rolls on the table.

"Lots of people tell me I have the greatest buns in town," Penny rambled on happily. Discreetly, Murdocstein gave her backside an approving stare as she busied herself with some of the other dishes.

"You do indeed-"

"And I've got lots more to tempt you and your guest-hot tongue, succulent breasts, and just wait until you get my warm pie under your nose!"

"Oh mommy-" Murdocstein muttered painfully, fighting the urge to pounce on her. Penny hummed happily to herself as she turned to him and dimpled prettily.

"So be honest--what can I tempt you with?"

"Just about everything, Darling-" he replied, gritting his teeth. Penny stepped closer, looking into his wincing expression.

"Oh-not feeling well? You look uncomfortable-is something stiff?"

"And how-" came his honest reply.

"Poor thing-" Gently Penny took his head in her hands and pulled him to her bosom, resting his right cheek on the bar upper curve of her breast as she lightly stroked his hair. "Maybe this will help-"

"Penny, ah, this is . . . not really a good idea, my sweet . . ." he made absolutely no attempt to move away. Penny gave a little sigh; the upward heave of her chest caused Murdocstein to gurgle.

"Let's see if you have a fever-" she lifted his head and tipped it forward to kiss his forehead. This gesture forced him to look straight down her bouncy cleavage.

"P-penny . . ." he stuttered, "D-darling it's not my head that's having a problem . . ."

"You're very warm! You may have a case of Putzsgrossin, Herr Doctor!" She exclaimed, clutching him closer. Murdocstein whimpered, cuddling down onto her chest again.

"Putzsgrossin?"

"Oh yes! It's rampant among the men of the village. Fortunately we're not too late for the cure-" she murmured tenderly. "I'll rub it on you until all the uncomfortable stiffness goes away-"

Murdocstein gulped, faced with a perplexing dilemma. On the one hand, the last ingredient he needed for his immortality potion was about to materialize at the door, ready for capture. On the other hand, a well-upholstered wench was willing to apply a fascinating bit of folk remedy to a problem that stemmed from months of Rosabeth's reluctance to put out.

Choices, choices-

"Just a moment-" He dashed out to the hall and called up the stone stairs.

"Darling, I've got a quick little errand down in the lab. Be a love and get the portcullis when the vampire shows up, would you?"

"Victor!"

But he was gone.

Rosabeth sighed at her reflection, moodily deciding that after tonight, Victor definitely needed a Talking To. Bad enough that he was animating corpses and dabbling in immortality, but the never-ending argument for prenuptial nookie was just annoying as hell.

Not that she didn't want some-to be honest, the flesh was more than willing, but Rosabeth sensed that once the whole business started, Victor would throw himself into it with all the glazed dedication he was currently investing in immortality, and she wanted to be able to eat and breathe occasionally. Maybe after tonight, she'd reconsider moving up the wedding date-

The doorbell rang.

Yes, the doorbell. Sure it's a castle, and normally people pound on the heavy oak doors demanding sanctuary, but Victor Murdocstein's Unhealthy Interest in Science extended to the practical once in a while and this was a perfect example. That and the peephole.

Although for some reason he installed those in several places throughout the castle, mostly around Rosabeth's quarters, and she was forever plugging them up with chunks of wax candle.

With a nervous hitch of her throat, she scurried down the stairs calling,

"Just a min-ute!"

There was no sign of Victor, or the ditzy caterer from the Flaming Phoenix, so Rosabeth yanked on the chain crank for the doors, hoping Victor had remembered to oil them recently. The heavy clank clanking rattled out, and gradually the lattice slid up to allow the doors to open.

There he stood.

The cape-imposing. The glowing eyes-enticing. The Nikes-ehhh.

"Hey."

Not 'good evening' in some weird twisted accent. Rosabeth drew in a breath, smiling as he handed her a bouquet.

"Wolf's bane-how, uh, thoughtful."

"Not a problem-thought it would go well with your décor," MacGyver noted modestly. "Heavy on the Goth side here too I see-"

"Yes, Victor's really into Early Gloom and Ethereal Decay. I tried to get him to look at some Pastel Southwest, or even the Ikea catalog, but he's pretty set into the heavy black Pre-Renaissance. Come in, come in-"

They walked into he main hall, MacGyver looking around with interest. He pointed upward.

"Nice Iron Maiden-who's the, ah---"

"Oh him! Not sure-I think he was an Herbalife salesman who interrupted an experiment. Victor has no patience with door-to-door salesmen," Rosabeth burbled, aware that she was prattling on and trying desperately to stop. "So, how was your flight over?"

"A little turbulent," Mac refused to admit he'd gotten vertigo and trashed into a pine; thus walking most of the way. He shot Rosabeth a glance.

"So you know."

"Um, yes, actually," She admitted with a hint of shyness. "It's pretty standard really, that any stranger showing up as heir to Castle De'ath would be one of the blood-sucking soulless Undead you know."

"I'm not soulless, and I'm not going to suck any blood. I'm a vegetarian," Mac groused. Rosabeth looked perplexed.

"A vegetarian vampire . . ." she mused, "O-kay, that's going to put a bit of a crimp on the evening-"

"Moral choice," Mac felt the need to defend his lifestyle. "I don't eat anything that has a face."

"Boy, that must be rough on your love life-" Shocked, Rosabeth clapped a small hand over her pouting mouth with an 'I-can't-believe-I-said-that-out loud' expression.

MacGyver blushed. Or would have if he'd had anything to blush with. As it was, his dark eyes widened, and he drew in a surprised breath as Rosabeth did all his blushing for him.

"I-I'd better go see about dinner-" Running swiftly, Rosabeth zipped to the kitchen in a time that would have gotten her on the Transylvanian Olympic track team. She looked over the set dishes gratefully, and caught her breath.

"Good move, Von Clowderhead-" she chided herself. "Now he's going to think you're some sort of pervert! Maybe I ought to just get food on the table. Where is Victor?"

The faint sound of giggling echoed up through the dumbwaiter, and Rosabeth sauntered over.

"Victor? Are you coming?" she called down the shaft that led to the Lab.

"Ah! Not quite yet . . ." came the breathless response. Shrugging, his fiancée picked up a tray of canapés and hurried back to the living room.

MacGyver was studying the huge portrait over the enormous fireplace. He gave Rosabeth a smile.

"Who's the guy on black velvet there?"

"Amadeus Elvis Murdocstein-some sort of crazed musician ancestor of Victor's" Rosabeth murmured gratefully. "It's amazing how the hips seem to follow you around the room."

"Yeah-" slightly perturbed, Mac bit into a canapé and immediately turned green. Rosabeth watched him with alarm.

"Oh gosh-I guess the garlic tarts weren't such a good idea, huh? " she pounded him on the back. The coughing fit brought them in rather close proximity, and Mac was suddenly aware that Rosabeth's dress fit the definition of low-cut. Very low-cut. He felt a return of those interesting sensations. Rosabeth looked up at him.

"What a lovely ring-" she breathed. Mac glanced down at the signet ring on his index finger.

"Part of the ensemble I suppose-I can't think of any reason I'd need to seal anything-" With a gallant tug he pulled it off, intending to hand it to her, but distracted by the sight of her décolleté he fumbled-

The ring dropped right down into Rosabeth's warm creamy cleavage.

She squeaked, her mouth a perfect O of surprise. Mac gaped, staring, and wondering how the hell he was going to deal with this.

Okay, this is incredibly embarrassing-" MacGyver muttered in a monotone. Rosabeth had gone a lovely shade of fuchsia and was fumbling with her cleavage, trying to recover the ring and not succeeding. She hopped up and down, clanking with every bounce.

"Oh, I think it dropped down . . ." she reported. "It's not on the balcony anymore, so to speak-"

"Uh . . ."

"Just a few more shakes-" Rosabeth flushed with wretched embarrassment. The ring failed to materialize, and she bit her lip.

"Stuck?" Mac asked. She nodded.

"I think it's caught in my-ah, I think it's caught. I'll tell you what-you go and sit down, and I'll just see if I can retrieve it for you, Count-"

Rosabeth waved to the dining room, then scurried off again, leaving Mac to saunter over to the table.

There were times when it was a real hassle NOT to be able to see your reflection, Mac pondered as he stared deeply into the bowl of a spoon. Not much on the table was of any interest to him even though he felt the rumble of an appetite through his stomach.

"Okay, got your ring out--" Rosabeth scampered back, holding out her hand. Mac took it with as suave a smile as he could manage, given that his fangs were starting to poke through again.

"It's still warm--" he observed. Rosabeth went pink.

"Umm, considering where it got lodged, it would be--hungry?"

"Oh yeah--" he nodded, lifting her chin and bringing her gaze up to his. She quivered, blue eyes going wide and unseeing, and dropped into a trance.

Mac smirked, wondering why he hadn't opted for vampirism fifteen years earlier, when the 'putting a girl into a trance' thing would have REALLY come in handy. He slid his hands up her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"Rosabeth, do you know what I WANT?" he demanded gently.

"Hot spank'n monkey love?" came the dazed yet hopeful reply. Mac's eyes went wide and he smirked again. Damn this Dark Lord of the Night thing had some SWEET perks.

"Uh, we might get around to that, but I was thinking a little more along traditional lines--"

"Oh yeah. You need to quench your evil thirst with the hot and luscious blood of my tender veins," she recited breathlessly. Giving a slow and sensual sigh she tipped her head to the left, exposing the creamy length of her neck in a long graceful line. Mac panted a little. Ooooh baby, Beauty and the Buffet! His fangs were fully distended now, aching to sink into that throat when she added,

"No hickies okay?"

"Promith--" Mac muttered through his fangs. He gently dropped his mouth and bit. She flinched.

A rush of erotic sugar fireballed into Mac's stomach and brain: the searingly sweet taste of Rosabeth's liquid life, hot, vital---

--Snickerdoodle-flavored.

He moaned happily.

Rosabeth gurgled, her hands gripping his to prevent them from wandering.

"Hey, hey! Blood yes, breasts no--" she squeaked firmly. Mac grunted, trying manfully to keep to the task at fang but it was very hard.

And difficult too. After a long moment, Mac pulled away, slightly dizzy. Most of Rosabeth's blood had gone straight from his lips to a point much further south in his body, and he wasn't QUITE prepared for that. Rosabeth swayed, a little stunned herself.

"Woohoo, Do I get orange juice and cookies now?" she whispered drunkenly. Mac blinked a little.

"Let's . . . . lie down a minute--" he suggested, pointedly.

In the lab, Penny looked through her lashes up at Victor Murdocstein and gave a little sigh of playful frustration.

"Herr Doctor you have the worst case I've ever seen! Just when we get the swelling down, up it goes again!"

"A chronic case, my darling--you can't believe how grateful I am for your tender touch--"

"It's all in the wrist--" Penny nodded knowingly. Murdocstein sighed in lascivious agreement.

"God yes--you definitely have me coming to grips, Penny dear--"

"Ooooh, look at that--swollen again! Maybe if I gave it a kiss--"

Murdocstein's wide dark eyes practically glowed. Penny giggled.

"Is that a stake for the vampire, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Vampire? Oh shit!" with a snarl of frustration and annoyance, Murdocstein pulled away from Penny's caresses and drew himself up. He cupped the wench's face and kissed her soundly, lips smacking wetly.

"Penny my petite precious peasant pushover playmate, I have something to attend to and then we can get back to our old world fun. Stay here and wait for me, won't you?"

"Sure," Penny burbled happily, "I love wandering around cold damp scary labs full of rotted corpses and things God never mean us to tamper with!"

"Good girl!"

"For Pete's sake, Why are you such a--?"

“—Good girl?” Rosabeth sighed sadly. She was lying under MacGyver on the dining room table, fending him off with a pair of silver pickle forks held in a cross. He glared down at her.

“Listen, Hon, I hate to break it to you, but you’re supposed to be in my thrall right now, completely pliant to my will?”

“Suuuuure,” Rosabeth huffed, “A little necking and you think you’re king of my Transylvanian Ta-tas. Nice try, but I’ve been fighting off Victor Murdocstein for two years.”

Mac muttered something notably Anglo Saxon; Rosabeth giggled.

“The fangs make your lisp even cuter,” she told him.

“I don’t lisp!”

“Well your sibilants are kind of hissy sometimes—“

“Are NOT!”

“Are too,”

“Are NOT—“

The seesaw of contradiction was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Murdocstein, who posed dramatically in the doorway.

“Aha! Now that I have you, I’ll never let you GO!” he practically sang out. Both MacGyver and Rosabeth looked slightly perplexed.

“Which one of us were you talking to?” Rosabeth demanded suspiciously, “I mean, it’s one thing to ensnare a creature of the night, but entrapment of a reluctant fiancée is against the law and just plain creepy, Victor—“

“That was for the demon lying on top of you, darling—“ he soothed her with a careless wave of his laced covered wrist, “The one with the Nikes and wandering hands—“

Rosabeth brought a knee up; Mac was suddenly grateful for undead reflexes and shifted as Murdocstein laughed.

“A pity, I was hoping to hear a good howl through the night—“

“Hey Murdocstein, pinched any good Pennys lately?” came the retort. The mad scientist blushed, moving closer. He held an enormous silver crucifix.

“Although you might be on top of things at the moment, MacGyver, that won’t last long—“

“Wanna bet?” Mac snarled. The look must have been good, since Murdocstein flinched a tiny bit. Rosabeth gave a loud sigh.

“Victor, your fly is open—“

When the scientist glanced guiltily downward, a cheery voice broke in.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Jackgor chuckled, lugging the vat of holy water towards the table. Annoyed, Murdocstein spun on his heel, hastily zipping himself up.

“Finally here are you? I would have been better off with a one-legged beer swilling ZOMBIE!” he waved the crucifix threateningly.

“Yeah but my sister had the night off, so it was me or no one, Doc—“

“Enough prattling! The hose, please!” Murdocstein hissed. Jackgor it to him and winked at Rosabeth.

She was alone on the table. Murdocstein looked around wildly, his eyes gleaming with the familiar maniacal glitter Rosabeth knew so well. She sat up quickly.

“WHERE DID HE GO?”

“Someplace you never will—“ she fluttered her eyelashes and let one arm swing towards the open window on the far side of the dining room. With a whine of rage, Murdocstein dragged his hose to it, Jackgor following behind him sighing loudly.

“No Fair, MacGyver! You can’t just flap away from one of my deathtraps! It’s not KOSHER of you!” he fumed, peering out into the dark night.

“Hey! You WERE going to kill him and use his desiccated remains in a macabre effort to make yourself immortal—That sort of behavior kinda puts a crimp on the evening, Doc—“ Jackgor murmured, watching as Murdocstein fed the hose out the window.

“Well what did he expect? Charades? A rousing evening of Bridge?”

“I’d say he already got a start on that one with your fiancee’s pontoons—“

“Shut up!”

Rosabeth had quietly slipped out of the dining room and up the mile and a half of stairs to her bedroom. Once there, she locked the door and sighed. One hand plunged deeply into her cleavage, and Rosabeth fished out a damp, dazed blonde bat, dumping him on the thin carpet with a splatting sound. He squeaked and flopped dazedly for a moment.

“Okay buster, that was a cheap way to cop a feel AND get out of Victor’s clutches, but you’re not going to get away with it twice,” she warned him. A puff of orange smoke flared out, and somewhat stunned, MacGyver straightened up, blinking and trying to look nonchalant, but failing badly.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I MEAN that, too—“ Rosabeth rolled her eyes. She put her hands on her hips and looked at him, an amused expression on her face. He licked a fang, thinking.

“What?”

“Just coming to the realization that this is a LITTLE harder than I thought. I haven’t succeeded in seducing you, I haven’t defeated Victor and I’m nowhere NEAR establishing my kingdom of Undead in a semi-industrialized nation.”

“Welllll--it’s only been one night,” she commiserated, reaching up to brush his bangs. He flashed a smile at her, his eyes glowing. Immediately she froze in a trance, swaying slightly as the moonlight flooded in from the window.

“Rosabef?” Damn those fangs got in the way of coherent speech!

“Yes Master?” came her absently seductive reply. Mac circled around her, wondering if she was up to losing another half pint so the evening wouldn’t be a total waste. Her small hands slid up and began to untie the string ends of her bodice. Mac’s hands slid to her small waist, resting on her hips.

Her hard, clanking hips.

“So tell me about thiff belt—“ he managed to hiss in her delicate ear. Rosabeth sighed dreamily.

“It’s a Hansoff 5000 sterling silver NeverNookie with anti removal locks and a lifetime guarantee.”

“Guarantee?” He questioned, trying not to spray her with saliva through his fangs. Rose arched her neck enticingly once more.

“Oh yes—you’ll die a virgin or your money back—“

“Hold on—whish one of uff dies a virgin?” Mac demanded, flushing.

Rosabeth didn’t answer; MacGyver fidgeted a bit more as the silence stretched on between them.

“Welllllll?”

“Sorry, I’m in a trance,” she replied dreamily, “Waiting for nip that keeps on nipping.”

“I want to fee iff belt of yours—“ Mac countered, settling for a light lick on her neck. She shuddered happily.

“Fine—“ Shucking her dress with alacrity, Rosabeth finally revealed the gleaming armored underwear twenty minutes later. Mac drew in a pained breath.

“Wow. It’s got--spikes.”

“Unfortunately, yes. AND a sort of beartrap thingie that prevents any exploration with fingers—“ she admitted with a blush. Mac squatted down and studied her right hip carefully. One hand fished in his pocket for his knife and came up empty.

“Damn—okay, do you have any bobby pins, Swiss cheese and marbles?” he asked softly.

Down at the Flaming Phoenix, Herr Thornton looked over the assembled crowd of unruly peasants and disgruntled townfolk with a critical eye.

“Too many pitchforks, not enough burning torches! People, people we’ve been over this before—we’re not going anywhere until I’m satisfied!”

“What about knitting needles and barbeque forks?” came a voice from the crowd. Herr Thornton pondered this for a moment.

“Those sound all right, but no eggbeaters this time! Need I remind you how the tabloids had a field day with that? I for one don’t want to be on the cover of the Transylvanian Tattler waving a breakfast appliance!”

“Herr Thornton! Um, which castle are we storming exactly?”

The roly poly mayor glanced from Castle De’ath at one end of the valley to Castle Messerman at the other end.

“Good question—anyone got a coin?”

*** *** ***

“Victor, don’t torment yourself so!” Penny pleaded, her chest heaving in distress and practically out of her dress. Up on the ladder, Murdocstein took a moment to appreciate the sheer engineering of the thin fabric before turning back to his latest elaborate deathtrap.

“Oh Darling Penny, trust me, it’s all for the best---I’m a tormented genius with a thirst for unholy knowledge—“

“—and an enormous—“

“—Ego,” Jackgor broke in as he hooked the wires and tubes up to the swinging trestle table. Murdocstein shot him an annoyed glance before smiling down once again at Penny.

“—While you my dear are my sweet and charmingly pygobombe helpmeet.”

“Pygobombe?” she fluttered her doe-like eyelashes at him. Jackgor smirked.

“Means you have nice buns,” he informed her cheekily, scooting around the bank of dials, tubes and switches as she smiled.

“And your bathycolpian state ain’t too shabby either, Woof!”

“That’s cleavage—“ Murdocstein explained with a smirk as he glanced down at the barmaid.

“Oh wow, you have a word for everything, don’t you?” she burbled in awe, “I really love a man with a big dic-tionary.”

“Stick with me, Penny my hybristophiliac beauty and I’ll be more than happy to treat you to my native tongue. Jackgor! Are we ready to have guests drop in?”

“You bet, Doc—trap door just about set. You DO realize we’re talking about a long and painful drop of five floors, right? So MacGyver and Rosabeth, your beloved betrothed are gonna be hurtling down in the dark at breakneck speed to land on this thin little padded table,” Jackgor pointed out.

“Good point—move the padding.”

*** *** ***

“VAMPIRES YAY, EVIL MADMEN BOOO!, VAMPIRES YAY, EVIL MADMEN BOO!” the crowd chanted happily as they trudged along up the road that led to Castle Messerman. Werewolves Anonymous and the International Zombie League, St. Gretsky’s chapter were passing out bottled water and trail mix made with bits of real trail. Near the front of the crowd, Herr Thornton mopped his brow with a hand towel advertising Crypts R Us.

“Alright, we’ve hit the last bend, people! Keep together and watch for that boiling oil!”

“When do we get our free tee-shirts?” someone demanded. Thornton sighed noisily.

“You’ll all get your Mob-Palooza shirts once the castle’s been razed to the ground, all right?”

“What are you doing?” Curious, Rosabeth looked at the vampire kneeling at her hip. He flashed a fanged grin up at her.

“It’s pretty simple—I figure there are about four booby traps on the inner side of this belt, two in the front and two in the back. The chunks of Swiss cheese provide a layer of insulation between the silver and your skin, and the holes will direct the marbles down without breaking the contact. Once the inner traps are sprung, I can pick the outer locks with the bobby pins.”

Rosabeth patted his head.

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing. Here goes—“

So saying, Mac grabbed a handful of marbles and dropped them into the front of her chastity belt. They made a rattling clink for a few seconds, and then a loud snapping sound rang out. Rosabeth jumped.

“Woo!” Smoke wafted up.

“Now for the backside—“ Mac grinned, dropping another fistful along the curve of her spine. More rattling, and a sudden whining grind, like a thousand terrified ducks in a blender. Rosabeth shuddered, her torso sloshing back and forth in the silver corset.

“T-t-t-t-t-t-t-tickles!!!” she gasped. Mac steadied her as the noise died away. Rosabeth gurgled.

“Oh my—I think you broke the vibrator setting.”

“A vibrator set—“

“The NeverNookie was designed by a feminist team, okay?” She chuffed at his look of astonishment.

“Never mind—let’s see about the outer locks—“

He deftly twirled a bent bobby pin in the tiny keyhole as Rose sighed.

“Talk about taking a few pounds off! I mean I haven’t actually SEEN my own hips in two years—almost done?”

“Yep—“ with a musical clink, the lock popped open. Creaking in defeat, the Handsoff 5000 NeverNookie dropped to the floor around Rosabeth’s high-heeled boots, leaving her standing in her eyelet teddy. She shimmied happily.

“Yes! No more clinking in the outhouse! No more side trips through the airport! I can use my hula hoop!”

Arching an eyebrow at her naïve delight, MacGyver slid an arm around her newly freed waist, pulling her close.

“—Among other things—“

“Hey is that a stake, or are you just—“

Rosabeth never had a chance to finish her joke; just as she began to kiss Mr. Tall Blonde and Vampsum, the floor fell away from under their feet.

“Herr Thornton, where do we set up the Portapotties?”

“Herr Thornton, some of the environmentalists are complaining about the smoke from the torches—“

“Herr Thornton, we want to do an impact study on the battering ram.”

“Helen!” Thornton yelled over the voices in the crowd, “Where are those refreshment stands going to go?”

“OWWWWWWW! Came the duet of pain. Rosabeth looked at the crumpled body under her and sighed.

“When you make the earth move for a girl, you don’t mess around, do you MacGyver?”

“Flattering but I can’t really take the credit here—“

“Rosabeth, MacGyver, so nice of you two to drop in—“ Murdocstein drawled. Right on cues, lightning flashed. Rosabeth rolled her eyes. Upstairs, the doorbell rang; Penny brightened.

“I’ll get it!” she sang out, bouncing away before Murdocstein could tell her no. He shrugged.

“Jackgor, get the vampire on the slab—“ he ordered. Mac let his fangs flash, but Murdocstein sighed.

“Delays, delays—all right, let’s go for the cliché then—I will kill Rosabeth if you don’t follow my directions.”

“Victor!”

“Don’t Victor ME, Darling—consider this the cutting bait part of getting down to business, all right?” he smiled maliciously. Rosabeth’s full lower lip pouted.

“Fine! Just for that I’m calling off the engagement you swine!”

“Fair enough—I can cancel that order for the Jaws of Life for our wedding night then,” he sniped back.

Jackgor and MacGyver looked at each other as the couple continued to bicker.

“Breaking up is hard to do—“ the hunchback announced with a playful grin. Mac shrugged.

“Not after a fall of five stories—“ he rubbed his elbow. Jackgor hustled him over to the table and strapped him down on it. Mac grimaced at the sharp odor.

“Garlic saturated cuffs—sorry about that—“ Jackgor shrugged. Murdocstein smirked again; it was always a thrill to have an evil plot come together.

“All right! Rosabeth be a sport and let me handcuff you to the wall—“

“Victor, I’m SO not in the mood for your games right now—“ Rosabeth huffed. MacGyver craned his head to look over at her, his mind racing. A low rumbling noise echoed through the dungeon laboratory; both Murdocstein and Jackgor checked their watches.

“Victor schatzi-doodle, there are a lot of peasants at the door—“ Penny sang down the stairs. Murdocstein gave a huge put-upon sigh.

“They weren’t due for another twenty minutes! Penny, why don’t you . . . “ he paused for a moment, thinking, “ . . . go and cater to their baser natures, Darling.”

“Okay!” she chirped cheerily. Rosabeth sighed as Victor snapped the heavy cuff on her wrist, beaming at her in his ‘Insane but Adorable’ way. She felt him eye her up and down.

“Have you lost weight?” he finally asked, perplexed. She bit her lower lip.

“Oh I’ve taken a little off around the hips—“ she admitted as MacGyver snarled a little.

“Hello? I thought this was supposed to be about ME?” he called in an attempt to draw Victor’s attention from the lovely eyelet undies.

“Hold your plasma MacGyver, I’m getting to you—“ came the annoyed grumble.

“Got a question for you, Doc—“ MacGyver twisted his wrists, feeling a little give in the restraints. Jackgor whistled as he reached for a cable and held it ready.

“—As if I really CARE, but what?” Victor dragged himself away from Rosabeth and glared down at his captive on the slab. Above them came the opening riff of truly atrocious 80’s guitar music leading into the unique sounds of –

Penny Parker attempting to sing.

Everyone paused: the assorted persons in the lab, the appalled peasant mob, the mortally offended Children of the Night out in the forest—

“Oh MAN! Who threw a hyena in a wood chipper?” Jackgor whined, covering his ears. MacGyver winced, and Rosabeth had her face screwed up in pain. Only Victor seemed transported into a paroxysm of delight.

“She has the voice of an angel!”

“--Angel of Death—“ Jackgor muttered darkly, “And her first victims are my inner ears.” Mac gave a rueful nod, but Victor smiled again as the screechy Ode To Pain continued to filter down the stairs towards them.

“Getting back to my POINT here--Murdocstein, just how in the name of Boris Karloff are you going to desiccate me if it’s NIGHT?” Mac shouted above the noise. Murdocstein rolled his dark mischievous eyes.

“Oh that’s not just a slab you’re cuffed to—it’s a TANNING BED!”

“Great—going to ultraviolate me to death,” Mac griped, looking up at the lid dangling over him. Rosabeth gently slipped her hands free of the cuffs—Victor never could remember her size—and began to edge closer to the slab. Murdocstein was torn between goading MacGyver and listening to the cacophony above. He motioned to Jackgor to lower the dangling lid.

“I see a future as MacJerky for you—“ he commented snidely. Upstairs there was a creaking groaning noise overwhelming the music now, thankfully drowning out Penny’s exotic minor key. The sounds of running feet grew louder; alarmed, Murdocstein turned to see a rush of grim and angry townspeople thundering down the stone stairs of the lab.

“The peasants are revolting!” he yelled. Jackgor took immediate offense.

“Hey! You’d be a little ripe and unwashed too if you’d just finished the Raze the Castle 20K!”

With all the natural destructive tendencies of mobs everywhere, the townspeople began pilfering anything not nailed down. Rosabeth threw herself forward and onto the slab just as Jackgor, caught up in a mosh pit of escapees from Penny’s concert let go of the chain holding up the top of the tanning booth.

With a loud clang, the lid dropped down on MacGyver and Rosabeth, effectively sealing them away from the wave of destruction that washed through the lab.

*** *** ***

“Oh it’s a complete loss—“ the thin mournful looking assessor declared, writing something on his clipboard. Around him, the smoking ruins of Castle Messerman’s laboratory were silent and filled with rubble. Herr Thornton looked around thoughtfully, kicking at a chunk of granite with his boot.

“So the crowd got a little out of hand—“

“A little?” The assessor, whose nametag read Milt B’Ozier scoffed loudly, “I’ve seen stampedes of flatulent mammoth that have caused less damage, Herr Thornton! And all this without filing the proper vigilantes permit too—this isn’t looking good. Murdocstein is well within his rights to sue according to the Fair Play rules of Deus Ex Machina.”

“I know, I know,” Herr Thornton grumbled, “But you know how it is when the Mick Jagermeister gets flowing and then that, that-- serenade by Penny—“ He shuddered violently; B’Ozier did too, swiftly adding something to his notes

“That’ll be our loophole--Extreme provocation—any judge would agree—“

An odd sound interrupted them, and both men turned to look at a pile of rubble in the middle of the room. The rocks rattled a little, and slid off. Herr Thornton stepped over to look more closely at it.

“Merciful Magda, it’s a lid!”

He tugged on it hard, and top slowly creaked open; the smell of Pina Colada tanning lotion wafted in the air.

“Finally!” Rosabeth Von Clowderbock sat up, coughing and running a hand through her mussy hair. Both Herr Thornton and B’Ozier stared at her appreciatively.

“Hubba Hubba—if THIS was what Victor was building in the lab—“ B’Ozier mumbled, taking in the eyelet teddy and exposed cleavage with a hard swallow. Rosabeth shot him an annoyed look

“I assure you I have nothing Victor Murdocstein MADE,” came her deadly reply. Both men looked away sheepishly.

“Now can I and my, ah doggie leave?”

“Doggie?”

Sitting next to Rosabeth on the slab was a large panting shaggy wolf.

“He’s overheated. And blond,” Herr Thornton observed lightly. Rosabeth patted the animal’s head.

“Well of course he is, I mean there we were, trapped in a tanning booth for hours and hours—“

“—So naturally you’d bleach out a bit—“ Herr Thornton smirked. The wolf emitted a tiny growl; the mayor stepped back. B’Ozier shivered.

“Point being, I’d like—Oh my God, what happened to the lab?” Rosabeth looked around at the destroyed room, blinking in surprise. Herr Thornton had grace enough to look embarrassed.

“MobaPalooza was a bit more successful than we’d hoped—“ he began to put the positive spin to it, but Rosabeth glanced at the wolf, who cocked his head.

“And Victor?”

“Ah, well he and Mistress Parker are currently up at the Flaming Phoenix, in bed—“ At the look on Rosabeth’s face he added, “--recuperating!”

“I BET,” came the cynical reply. Rosabeth slid off the slab and brushed her pert bottom as B’Ozier gave a strangled whimper and fumbled with his clipboard. She made her way through the rubble as Herr Thornton tried to follow her.

“Lady Von Clowderbock, considering the success of the castle razing, I think you and Herr Doctor ought to consider the proposal put forward by the Rat Haus. I’m sure we can come to an amicable arrangement—once a year, maybe two if the tourist trade picks up—“

“Has Victor changed his mind?”

“Lady, Herr Doctor isn’t currently in any state to make a decision. All he does is cling to Mistress Parker and yowl ‘Music of the Night’ to her.”

Rosabeth sighed.

She and the wolf left the castle. The faint hints of dawn were beginning to light the sky. Rosabeth shivered, since Queen Victoria’s Secret brand eyelet underwear wasn’t exactly the warmest outfit to wear in the chill of early morning. The wolf pressed closer to her leg, directing her towards the higher hills.

“Okay, okay I know you need to find a dark haven for the day, but you don’t need to shove your nose THERE, you know!” she chided the wolf, who seemed to smirk. They passed through the crumbling gate of a deserted cemetery; the wolf headed for a desolate mausoleum in the center.

“In there?” she tried not to whine, but really, it was terribly aggravating to be in love with an undead hottie with no real concept of creature comforts. She planted her fists on her hips and glared at the wolf. His tongue dangled out as he studied her.

“Don’t you give me that look, MacGyver! I know you had to transform into that shape to block the UV rays, but enough’s enough—change back right now!”

A puff of maroon smoke rolled out, and coughing, MacGyver stood in the center of it, waving a hand to clear the air. He grinned at her, chucking her under the chin in an infuriatingly chauvinistic manner.

“Thanks. The dawn is coming, and I need some serious downtime, Rosabeth, so I’m taking the box on the left,” He announced, peering into the mausoleum. She stepped towards him, pressing against the sable cape longingly.

“Can I have your cape?”

“Nope.”

“Ah. Can I get in your box with you?”

“Again? First the tanning booth and now the coffin—are you coming onto me?” he demanded in a playful tone. She sighed snuggling against his side.

“No, not at all.”

“Good. Because I’m not that kind of vampire you know. Let me get in--you can be on top.”

“Ooh!”

“Stop squirming! I’m not going to look impressively foreboding and evil if you keep doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Doing that. With your, um hips. Oooooh, wow—“

“Mac--there’s a part of you here that isn’t Undead.”

“Um, noticed that, did you?”

“*Noticed* it? Good God, it’s poking me in the—“

“—Ah! Rosabeth honey, unless you really want trouble, just lie still,” came the warning growl.

“You know I wondered where all my blood went—“

“Rosabeff!”

*** *** ***

The long fingers of late afternoon sunlight stretched out over the wild mountains, tickling the land. Naturally the land giggled a bit, and gave into night gracefully. In the upper rooms of the Flaming Phoenix, Penny Parker was being vigorously coached into a vocal performance unparalleled in Transylvanian history. Eventually even singing was involved. Down in the ruins of Castle Messerman, Jackgor prowled among the rubble mourning his lost position has henchman, and up in the woods, in the deserted cemetery---

Rosabeth sighed happily, reaching up to push the lid off the coffin. It clattered to the floor and she sat up.

“No wonder Victor wanted this! Niiiiiiiiice!” she purred happily.

“O yeah, feeling’s pretty mutual, Miss O Positive.”

For a moment she gave a happy smile, then sighed.

“Oh well. I guess my reputation’s ruined. Mac, Darling, I need to see Victor. We’ve got to settle the matter of Messerman before I head back to Vancouverstein.”

“You can’t leave—you’re in my thrall, remember?”

“Mac, you’re a vampire, I’m a prissy heiress to a ruined castle—much as I love you, ya big prince of Darkness you, I have to think about the future.”

“Wait a minute—Messerman belongs to YOU?” Mac sat up, Rosabeth on his lap in the coffin. She fingered his collar and nodded absently, wondering if they could work in a quickie before moonrise.

“Oh yeah—my Daddy left it to me along with a few other things—a title, a vast fortune, a few eastern European countries—“ she admitted, dropping a few kisses up his neck. Mac blinked under the dual shock.

“Soooo—Victor was sort of exploiting you—“ he muttered even as his fangs and other body parts extended in response to Rosabeth’s kisses. She made an affirmative sound.

“Yeah. Herr Thornton’s been after me to consider the twice-a-year castle razing gig for the St. Gretsky’s tourism committee—“

“Why” Mac had difficulty stringing words together as saucy Rosabeth began to raise the stake on him yet again. She giggled.

“Oh it’s one of those stupid dowry issues, darling—Victor’s legally the resident, I’m just the owner—something about having to occupy the place for half the year for tax purposes—it’s really rather boring—oohhhh look how rigor mortis has set in!”

A few quick fumbles and gasps later--

“Ever hear of Mac the Impaler?”

“Umm Oooooooo---“

Later that evening, Herr Thornton looked up as something tapped on his study window. A pair of glowing red eyes, and a pair of satisfied blue ones peered in at him; he hurried to open the door.

“Count MacGyver, Lady Von Clowderbock! What can I do for you?” he waved them into the room. Tall and imposing, the vampire turned and flashed a smile at the mayor.

“Oh the question, Herr Thornton, is what can we do for YOU?” MacGyver replied with a knowing smile.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“Oooo look Victor, here they come!” Penny squealed happily, bouncing up and down on her platform. Across from her, Victor Murdocstein nodded, his maniacal stare moving from her cleavage to the approaching crowd of torch-bearing peasants. He sat at the keyboard of his massive organ.

(I’m not saying anything here---)

“Oh yes, Penny my seductive squeaker of suggestively strident songs, let’s give them one to bring down the house!”

Penny nodded, adjusting her skin tight vampirella dress and smoothing back her hair. Victor waved to Jackgor, who flicked on the strobe lights and managed the soundboard tucked away in one of the towers of Castle Messerman. Loud and eerily atrocious music blared out and over the valley.

At Castle De’ath, two figures stood at the high tower window peering down at the procession. Rosabeth smiled dreamily and her sigh made her décolleté heave in a sweet rise and fall. Behind her, Mac tipped his head, running the edge of a fang up her smooth neck.

“It was such a good idea, Mac—Penny and Victor are SO—well, so deserving of each other—“

“Mmmmmmm—he licked a sensitive spot, making her squirm a little; Rosabeth sighed.

“And it was wonderfully sweet of you to invite me to stay at Castle De’ath, even though it’s morally corrupt and everything—“

“Mmmmmmm—“

“--And ohhhhh Mac! Mac!!---

MAC!!

A loud pounding sounded through the houseboat; Disoriented, MacGyver muzzily opened his eyes as a flash of lightning lit the room. Through the glass panels of the houseboat door he could see Rose glaring at him. He stumbled over to let her in.

“Good God, Mac—honestly! You sleep like the dead, honey!” she chided him, peeling off her wet coat. He shook his head as faint images rattled around in it. She hugged him.

“You okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Um, Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re O positive, aren’t you?”

“You watched Bela again, didn’t you—“

He scooped her up easily over one shoulder and lugged her up the spiral stairs as she squealed, “I am NOT wearing the long white nightie again, Mac!”

“Count Mac to YOU, baby!”

END