Jezika Does Toronto
Kathy Walsh

The Usual Disclaimers Apply--I-ay on't-day own-ay Ar-stay Ek-tray or-ay
Orever-Fay Ight-knay.

Archive permission is granted to fkfanfic, the ftp site, Lisa, whomever
else to whom I've granted permission in the past, and the site
archiving in the interim for fkfanfic is hereby granted permission to
archive all my stuff. Hey, I'm a sucker for fame.  If you want to
archive, just tell me where.

Jezika  (Jeh-ZEE-kuh) is my own character, and I'm amenable to letting
people use her in their stories if they ask nicely.

I noticed that a part in the story might be interpreted as being anti-
religion or anti-some specific religion.  This is NOT my intent!  I am
a religionphile (and a makingupwordophile) and am only relating
Jezika's experiences and her (probably biased) opinion.

Oh, and I havenít had this story betaed.  I'm just too impatient to
wait any longer after writing.

So, without further doodoo--I mean, of course, ado, here is

Jezika Does Toronto Kathy Walsh

Jezika sat in front of her computer terminal, shocked.  After a few
minutes of stunned silence, she started to cry quietly.

"Ms. Jezika," the message read, "Starfleet Command regrets to inform
you of the death of your sister, Jadzia Dax."  It continued with a
description of the circumstances surrounding her death, a lengthy list
of commendations and personal messages from former crewmates, and,
finally, a transportation pass to attend Jadziaís memorial service.

Jezika knew Dax would continue in another host with the memories and
some of the personality of her sister.  Still, the hurt inside of
Jezika was so strong she decided she couldn't bear it any longer.

"That's it," she screamed hoarsely, jumping from her chair.  "Hey,
Goddess, I QUIT!"

Almost as if by supernatural means, Jezika found herself on a cool
street in the middle of the night.  She relaxed her posture slightly as
a bracing breeze blew by her.

"What is this?" she whispered quietly to herself.

Amazingly, Jezika had already begun to enjoy the adventure.  She loved
mysteries, and this was shaping up to be most diverting.  As the
surroundings sunk in, she realized she was in a place resembling Earth
in the late twentieth or early twenty-first centuries.  This discovery
was clinched when a long land vehicle pulled up right in front of her. 
A scowling man heaved himself out of the automobile and stalked moodily
towards a building behind Jezika.  When she stood staring at him
instead of moving out of his way, the man realized her presence, and
his face immediately brightened.

"Hello, there!  I apologize for almost bowling you over.  What's your
name, miss?  You shouldn't be standing out here in the cold without
even a jacket."  The man conveniently did not notice his own

All during his guilty speech, Jezika had scrutinized him closely.  She
slowly started to laugh.  This was almost a scene from the new
childrenís book series she'd been proofreading: "Dixon Hill
Investigates through Time." This particular scene came from a story
where the detective found himself in the middle of a Canadian enclave
of vampires.  Jezika, being the geographobe she was, had no idea what
or, most likely, where Canadia was, except that it was on Earth.

The blonde man gave her a funny look.  "My name is Nick," he said
slowly. "Do you speak English?"

Before he could repeat his message in several other languages, Jezika
stopped laughing and started speaking.  "My name is Jezika--er,
Jessica. And this isn't cold!  The planet--city I worked in before I
got here was about 277 Kelvin in the summer.  It's sure nice to be
somewhere where it's warm!"

The person who called himself Nick was smitten by this petite female
and completely forgot why he had been fuming.  She just seemed to ooze
intelligence, and he absolutely loved her literary background, although
he'd never heard of Dixon Hill.  He gave her a big, stupid grin.

"Come on in," he said as he put his arm around her and led her towards
the building he'd been stalking towards.  "It's much warmer inside."

Jezika looked at the sign on the building.  "The Raven," it read.
"Awk, awk, nevermore!" she croaked in a ghastly bird voice as they
entered. Immediately she came face to torso with a stern-looking

"I am the proprietor of this club," the aforementioned gentleman
(although the 'gentle' part seemed to be a matter of opinion) began,
"and such quotations, however appropriate, are not appropriate," he
trailed off incoherently as he caught a glimpse of the young woman.
"I'm sorry, my dear," he gushed.  "I had no idea it was you.  I thought
perhaps Nicholas here was mocking me again."

The two men glared witheringly at each other over Jezika's head.  It
was a little disconcerting to her.  The situation became more
uncomfortable, however, when a scruffy-looking biker type sauntered
through the door.  As he caught sight of Jezika, he let out a low
whistle and brushed back his hair.

To avoid excessive repetition, let it be here said that Jezika was
appealing to the male vampire population of Toronto.  By one-thirty,
she was surrounded by a crowd of approximately thirty vampires, most
notably Nicholas Knight, Lacroix, Vachon, Aristotle, Feliks Twist,
Miklos, Bourbon, Screed, Don Constantine, Rasputin, a gentlemanly
fellow named Thomas, and the former chief administrator in charge of
driver's license renewal.  When a brawl between the thirty-some started
over who would buy Jezika drinks (the bartender was one of the group),
she sneaked out and searched for a quiet place where she could solve
the mystery.

After wandering around the city for quite some time, Jezika found a
tiny New Age bookstore.  Not knowing what the New Age was, and hoping
it was neither an appliance company, a gerontology clinic, or some sort
of apocalyptic religious group meeting house where she would be
expected to join in praise of some odd god or another and sing
dreadfully boring hymns (having tried that once when she was on Earth
before), she focused on the comforting word "bookstore" and decided to
go inside.  As Jezika tried to figure out whether to push, pull, or
turn the lever on the door, the said door flung out and smacked her.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry!" gasped a young blonde lady.  "I totally did
not mean to hurt you!  Here," she said, reaching down a hand to help
Jezika up, "my name is Tracy Vetter."

"Jessica," Jezika moaned, taking the proffered hand and levering
herself to a standing position.  "Donít worry about it; I don't think
I'll suffer permanent brain damage."

"Oh, wow," the woman named Tracy breathed, "you have bruises all down
your face.  Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, they're supposed to be there," Jezika was quick to reassure.

"Oh, my God!  That is so interesting!  Did you know," the blonde said,
hair swaying violently as she brandished a book, "that I just read that
male vampires, no matter what their sexual orientation, just
absolutely, totally cannot resist spots?  That is so awesome, and they
look so natural on you! Where can I get them done?"

Jezika plopped her face into her petite hands and rolled her eyes.
"This is ridiculous," she moaned, muffled by her hands, "I quit again
already, Goddess!"

Suddenly she was standing outside another drinking establishment....

* * * * * Next time: Jezika meets Methos.  Will it be a Forever Knight
story too? Only time will tell.

Got any fandoms YOUíD like Jezika to visit?  Pop a suggestion on over
to   Feedback, positive ("Oh, Kathy, you are
so clever!") or negative ("Gee, Kathy, why did you write the characters
all funny?") to moi at the aforementioned email address.

Kathy Walsh: For All Your Unnatural Needs (In fiction!  In fiction!
And only some of them!  I refuse to murder people with facial or toilet
tissues because you crave such an occurrence.  So it's not truth in
advertising.  Sheesh.)