I'm listening carefully to the soft chatter around me, trying to gauge the mood of the crowd, when I feel something pulling on my skirt hem.

"Edward?"

"Yeah, it's me. I can't find Clovis."

That's probably just as well. "We'll find him later. First, we need to get this guy elected." I bend down and pick her up. "He's got to win- that's the only way we can truly defeat him."

"Surely there needs to be some debate?"

"I think they're happening other places. How about we try and get this lot started on a riot? He isn't appearing, and we need to cut to the paper chase. Get the actual voting over with."

Edward grins. Starting a riot is just to her taste. "Aesh-ma! Aesh-ma!"

The chant is quickly picked up, and the crowd begins to surge forward. In Blood, such a chant has the power of a summoning spell. We'll get this bastard. Oh, we'll get him.

"Hey, boss! The debate's coming on."

Phred points the remote at the TV, and switches the channel from the Billy and the Boingers episode of Behind the Music to the mayoral debate. The penguin is sitting in a chair wolfing down popcorn as he watches. I glance at the screen. Behind the talking head I can make out Aeshma and his handlers. He's looking pretty confident, as well he should. The polls have him out in front with a comfortable lead.

They start the introductions. "Phred, turn up the volume a little, will you."

"...and the candidate for the Meadow Party..."

"How on god's green earth did he manage to get invited to the debate?" I say to no one in particular.

"Well, he is a candidate, boss"

"But he's a penguin. In fact, he's an evil penguin."

"Still a candidate. I wonder why he's got that cat with him? Mangy looking critter, ain't it."

"He came out of a mirror. He's not real..."

Phred fixes me with a look. "You're beginning to sound awfully speciesist, boss. It's not just humans who live in this town."

"My head hurts..." I go behind the bar and draw a Yeungling. The Elder Cookie candidate is making his opening remarks. Something about free gingerbread cookies for all. Now it's mirror!bird's turn. This is going to be a watch from the hall moment for sure.

I'm wrong. He's good. Very good. We listen as he ticks off the points of his platform one by one. "Jeez. That was, er..., unexpected." His tax policy is very sound, and I like his proposal for preservation of historic buildings. "You know, I'm half inclined to vote for him. It's a shame we need for Aeshma to win this thing."

"Me, too. I really liked his position on health insurance for non-humans. He's kicking Aeshma's ass in this thing. Oh, now it's Aeshma's turn."

Aeshma's handler looked very worried during the penguin's remarks, but Aeshma appears confident as he strides to the podium and goes into his spiel. Law and order, who'da guessed. He begins a rant about the evil facing the city. I'll give him credit, he's got a good speech writer. Kind of one note, though, and it doesn't seem like it going to be a short speech.

"C'mon, just ascend already," mutters Phred.

"There are evil beings among us. Surely you've seen them, mirror images of all that is good and pure. They have come here through their evil mirror access points to wreak havoc on our fair city with their anti-alliterative terrorism and their hideous penguin lust. We need to take back our city from these minions of the access of evil, and make the city a safer place for puppies and other cute, fuzzy creatures.

Do you want to know what evil looks like?" He turns, and points a bony finger at the penguin. "That's what it looks like. My esteemed opponent is one of them. Is that the kind of being you want to run our fair city?"

With that, he pulls out a huge broadsword, and swiftly swings it, lopping off the mirror!penguin's head in a flurry of feathers and penguin gore.

"I thought not!"

The debate has gone well. The articulate bird is no more and the Elder Cookies will find that a horde of cookie-eating monsters I've summoned is awaiting them backstage. In one swift stoke of action I have ensured my victory.

My campaign consultant seems upset as he meets me backstage. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

"I am tired of your useless advice, I took matters into my own hand."

"But...but..." stammers my consultant.

I hate stammering, I slice him in two with my annhilation sword.

"Boss! Boss!" yells my trusty minion Deimos over the sound of a cookie-monster feeding frenzy and the general chaos that ensues once one starts slicing things in two.

Deimos shapechanges into something skinny and works his way through the crowd to give me my cell phone. "It's somebody named Ashcroft. Says he heard your law and order speech and needs to talk to you."

I take the phone and manage to carry on a conversation above the din. I hang up and hand the phone back to Deimos. "I've been called to a higher cause Deimos. We're moving to a place called 'Washington'".

"What about the election?" Asks Deimos.

"I'll have to withdraw. I'll have my media consultant explain to the press."

"You killed him last week."

I look around and spot one my zombies shambling around with a box of buttons. "You. Address the press, tell them I'm withdrawing from the race."

Some reporters overhear me and begin swarming around my zombie media consultant as I explain that all questions must be routed through him.

"Can you confirm that Aeshma has withdrawn from the mayoral race?"

"Braaaaaiiiiiiins."

"Was the beheading of his opponent during the debate a planned move?"

"Braaaaiiiiiiiins."

I turn away from the press conference and head for the back door with my minion.

"What about Miracleman?" Asks my minion.

"I just cast a curse that will doom him." I explain as I walk by one of many 'Miracleman for Mayor' posters that have suddenly appeared. We climb into my shiny new black Hummer H2 with Deimos taking the driver's seat.

As we pass the 'Now leaving Sang Sacre' sign my minion speaks up. "You going to miss this place boss?"

"Nah. I never liked this place."

"C'mon, just ascend already," mutters Phred.

snerk

"Well," I say, watching the feathers fly. "This is new. Old-fashioned politics."

"I knew I loved this city!" Bob yells. "Fried chicken tonight. Let's go collect the corpse! Corpses, you like gingerbread."

"Bob, I really think etiquette frowns on cooking and eating the bodies of defeated political candidates."

"Yeah, sure, in this country, but, come on, be cosmopolitan. Get Miss Manners on the line, either of them, I'm sure they'll agree."

Knut and I exchange glances.

"Well," he says, finally. "That was quick."

"Yeah. I guess we don't have to disguise ourselves as our own evil twins and infiltrate Aeshma's campaign, or anything.

"You speak the truth. No need for any derring-do."

"Yeah, great. I guess we can return the black hair dye to the store."

"Oh? Oh, yes. Absolutely." Knut looks a little nonplussed. "I suppose there is nought left but to retire and prepare for another day."

"Or we could get a drink and play some darts."

"Or that."

I watch the kitchen TV as I clean the counters and put away the mixer. Normally I'm not one to be interested in politics...but I have cookies running for office.

Aeshma's new press secretary is introduced to the waiting throng. Something seems a little off about the guy. People are waving their hands at the air in front of them when he passes. He must be French.

I listen as the fellow takes questions.

"Can you confirm that Aeshma has withdrawn from the mayoral race?"

"Braaaaaiiiiiiins."

"Was the beheading of his opponent during the debate a planned move?"

"Braaaaiiiiiiiins."

Something distracts me from the one-track press secretary. Behind him, the curtain is moving about violently. I watch as dozens of Elder cookies slip under the curtain. All sport viscious bite wounds. My latest creation, Ginger-Cthulhu waves its tentacles around in fear whilst a furry, blue paw grabs him and pulls him back behind the curtain.

Hrmmph.

I call out to my wife, who at this very moment, is upstairs being beaten and massaged by group of Russian Gypsy women.

"Honey! Do we have any more ectoplasm left?"

Between grunts and groans of pleasure, her reply is negative.

Damn! With no chance of winning the election, I turn off the TV in disgust.

Knut has managed to hoist the lab table and other effects above his head with no ill-effects. Being made of rock must be great at times.

"Thanks for helping me move, Knut."

"Glad to, Penny. If I can't fight evil, I can at least assist the good - or a friend. Why Dalrymple?"

"I just fell in love with the neighborhood - British roots and all that."

"The Instagolems (TM) must be doing well."

"Let's just say I'll have no problem making the mortage. Did I mention the garden? And the greenhouse? And the river? It's really cool. I'm going to have a housewarming in a week or so."

"You'll have to invite Aimee and Miracleman. Come to think of it, a lot of people have dropped out of sight recently."

We walk in silence for a bit.

"Post-election malaise?"

"That's probably it." Knut doesn't sound convinced. "Say, you did mention our arrangement to Mrs. Thorne?"

"Absolutely. The rent is paid up for the next two months. It will be your own Fortress of Virtue, or whatever you want to call it. I'm sure you'll come up with something good."

It takes Knut all of five minutes to arrange my stuff. I am definitely going to have to go shopping soom. I'll need flower seeds, bedding plants, lab supplies, furniture. Ugh. I'll think about it later.

"Do you want to hang out for a while, Knut?"

"Some other time. I think I'll go patrol a bit."

"Patrol?"

Knut shrugs modestly.

"It's what we Do-Gooders do."

Nothing is worse than a 180-something-year-old vampire pouting. Big overgrown toddler. "But I want to!"

"Bob, it's cold outside."

"Of course it's cold, you daft woman, it snowed today! Do you know how often it snows in Sang Sacre?"

"As often as the weather spells want it to."

Bob banged his head against the wall. "You have no romance in your soul. You get Achmed to write the mushy parts, and you just write the blood and guts and sex parts, right?"

"Do not! I like mush as much as the next person--other than you, of course. You would know mushiness if you stood in a bowl of it."

Oh ... crap. He's giving me the grin and the lowered-eyes-through-the-hair-falling-over-the-forehead. Yep, there goes the accent. "Not what you said the night I found you down by the river, and I gave you that yellow rose and asked if I could dance with you."

I close my eyes. "Valentine's Day was last week, Bob. And, much to my chagrin, you don't need to go the poetry route anymore with me."

"Is that why you're blushing?"

Must be calm. Must not dissolve in a puddle of sighing, eyelash-batting goo. "Anyway, that's not the point. It's cold out, and I'd only fall on my butt and get wet and colder--"

And now there are fingers on my chin and I can't help myself, I open my eyes. And the snarky grin has turned into a sweet smile. "I won't let you fall."

Bugger. Looks like we're going ice skating.