Forgot to mention: Permission granted to archive at fkfanfic and fkfanfic2, and the FTP site. Others please ask. * Disclaimer: The Forever Knight characters are registered trademarks of whoever owns them now. No copyright infringement intended. * Partly inspired by Cyndi Bayless Overstreet's masterpiece story "Hunger" and a fleeting episode of "Day of Discovery" about victims of abuse. * Warning: It is very *very* angsty. If you are in a sad mood and looking for something cheerful, or a light cousin who likes a warm and fluffy LaCroix, skip this one. * Many thanks to Jean Graham for her kind and detailed last-minute beta reading. I owe her a lot. Please send all comments to sunny_lacountess@yahoo.com ------------------------------------- Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (1/9) (1431 AD) by: Sunny LaCountess I remember the sun, shining mercilessly on the sandy fields. I remember the scent of blood, carried by the wind to the farthest vicinities of the land. The Holy Land. Bodies everywhere, lying on the heated ground, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness with a silent disdain that felt like a scream. I remember their cries. Before they fell, fighting to the last drop of their blood in a desperate attempt to save what was left of their dignity and their land. They looked at me and howled, killer, murderer. I remember, precisely, how many I killed, the exact number, the exact faces. Faces that lay on the ground now, life taken away by the blade of my very own sword. How many fathers, brothers, sons? How many husbands and beloveds? I don't know. I don't care. It's all ash and dust now, all death and ruins. And we cry out, "God has willed it. The Cross has won!" On a barren hill I stand, looking over what is left of the battlefield below. I can smell the blood thick on the wind as it blows into my face. I can recall it, again, the hope I witnessed in those eyes when steel met steel: perhaps, it is not my turn to die yet. Perhaps I will see my mother, my sister, one more time. Maybe death is still too far from me, and my breath will last till the end of this day. I said those words a thousand times in the past when I went into battles, when I came so close to death I thought I was looking straight into the gates of hereafter, into fire and light. But I never stepped in. And as I stand here now, looking at what came out of the war, I cannot help but ask myself: What did we gain in this slaughter? What godly justice did we bring to these dunes and deserts by spilling the natives' blood on their ground? How will we be judged for this? How will I be judged for this after I pass onto the afterlife? I, a knight of the cross, sworn to uphold God's will upon earth, sworn to protect the weak from the cruel, killed men I didn't even know today. Killed and never asked about their crime. With their blood on my hands, am I truly guaranteed passage to heaven? Will the Roman Church speak in my defense in front of the divine court when it's time for my verdict to be passed? How can I ever amend for what I've done? "They were heretics, my son. Do not bewail their loss, for the devil has their souls now." The priest's voice reaches me from behind. I don't turn to look at him, it seems as if my eyes are glued to the scene ahead. "And what of our souls, Father? Who owns ours?" I feel the weight of his hand resting on my shoulder, his words are a whisper in my ear, "Your soul belongs to God. The cross is the only guiding light. And those who do not believe in its divinity," he stretches his arm wide, pointing at the corpses below, his ringed, bony fingers opening slowly like those of the angel of death, "shall die and burn in the fires of hell." ************** Nicholas thought about fire as he watched the small flame dance in front of his eyes. The room in which he lay was dark and bare of furniture save for the bed he lay on and the small table on which a wax candle burned. The single window was shuttered and solidly sealed, with heavy oak wood shutters that kept the sun's deadly rays away from the occupant inside. All the light that illuminated the room, however slightly, came from the lone candle standing on the table, pouring its generous offering, charitably, into the darkness all around. "The only light in my dark day! It too will soon die and perish, just like her," he whispered to himself, his eyes blinking at the light that seemed to reflect memories from the past. Times when he had told his sorrow to someone else, wounded by the answers he received... ... "Stop this ludicrous grumbling, Nicholas. I will hear no more of it. It was only a wretched mortal, barely sufficient for a midday snack." "I won't have you talk about her in such vile language," Nicholas all but sneered at his sire. "She was a saint." "A heretic," LaCroix growled. "As your own beloved holy church called her in the end. Wasn't that why they burned her at the stake? Or have we forgotten so soon, my dear foolish child?" "I don't care what those rusty old bishops charged her with. She was unjustly accused; they killed a messenger from God. They are cold-blooded murderers." "Ah, are they now? And here I thought it was you who so fondly believed in their Holy See and sacred Magisterium. Did you not once fight under their banner and kill for their cause, hmm? Or was it someone else I knew?" Nicholas bowed his head and closed his eyes, not sure if he did so to shut out the sardonic grin on LaCroix's face or to conceal his own burning shame. Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (2/9) by: Sunny LaCountess ... The candlelight flickered, shifting the haunting shadows cast on the wall. Nicholas raised his head from the pillow he lay on, and saw a moth--no, it was a white butterfly--fluttering around the flame. The insect flew a few rounds before leaping forward to approach the light. An audible fizz was heard and a desperate flapping of white wings as it fell on the hard surface of the wooden table, obviously hurt by the flame. The wings continued their frantic fluttering, causing the bug to spin on its back a few times before its tiny legs found purchase on the wood and allowed it to flip itself over. The butterfly quivered for another minute or two before it finally managed to gather its wings and slowly crawl away like a beaten beast, shaken by the experience. Nicholas sighed and laid his head back on the pillow, still watching as his new companion slowly pulled its wings along on the table until it reached the base of the candlestick and huddled there. "You are trapped here too, aren't you little one? I wish I could open the shutters and let you go, but I can't. You see, the fire that burns me is waiting outside and if I even attempt to open the window, it will hurt me very badly, worse than the flame has hurt you. I guess we both have to suffer through the day until the night arrives." He reached over and brushed the shimmering wings with the back of his fingers as if to console the quivering insect. The flame flickered again and a single waxen tear ran down the side of the candle. He remembered: candles, a cross... ... "And so you'll die a martyr...and I'm sure that will please you very much." She turned and faced him. The light from the altar shone at her back, giving her an otherworldly appearance, like a true angel. "What would please me very much is to be back in Doremy with my family." "So you _are_ afraid of dying. Life isn't so everlasting now." He leaned close, parted his lips slightly just to reveal the tip of his fangs. "But I can give it to you.... A life that never ends.... A power beyond your imagination..." He caught the wild pulsing of her vein as he moved down toward her neck. "*Don't.*" A simple word, yet so unexpectedly different from what he was used to hearing in these situations. He was confused, infuriated. How could someone be so naïve, so ignorant, to reject the gift of everlasting life offered so freely, for a cause that had brought her nothing but abject misery and was now even claiming her petty mortal life? "Why throw your life away for the church? For some pious old men who would lie to you? How can you do that?" She remained untouched by his revulsion. "If my death is necessary to keep the church strong, so be it. I will live on in the hereafter." "How can you be so sure your God will be waiting for you on the other side?" He would have never guessed the reply. "Faith. Pure, simple faith." ... Faith. A strange notion indeed, and so foreign to the immortal Nicholas, though he still could faintly remember what it had meant to him in his living days. He remembered the hours he spent in the old family chapel, down on his knees repeating the familiar verses of the never-ending prayers, listening to the sometimes incoherent chanting of the priest. He remembered long masses, when he called upon God and all the angels to keep them safe from evil, to protect their faith from getting lost. As a child he sometimes raised his eyes during the prayers to look at the oversized manifestations of Mary and the saints on the wall behind the altar and believed that they could hear his pleas for safety and would guard him against all that was sinful in the world. That had been his faith, his trust in God and the divine powers. Something he had lost even before he met LaCroix. In the dusty hills and bloody fields of Jerusalem. "But I wasn't evil yet, my little friend. Not even when he brought me across. I only felt betrayed. The church, all those priests who had given me promises of righteousness and everlasting goodness in the world, had deceived me, forced me to do the most unforgivable of sins. They had condemned me for a crime I never committed, and instead of cleansing my soul, had sent me to kill more, in a war that had neither a meaning nor an end. It was just one massacre after another, all in the name of Christ, the church and the Holy Spirit." He lifted the butterfly's wings with his fingers and watched the candlelight reflect on their powdered surface. The insect fluttered and took a few small steps to walk out of his reach. "I couldn't believe in their saints and angels anymore. It was all a lie. Just like the stories my mother used to tell me when I was a child, about dragons that protected treasures in magical castles and fairies that lived in harmony with them. Just as I grew up to learn that there were no such things in any of those castles, only old rotting lords, I learned that there were no angels, no holy bodies and no divine powers supporting the pillars of our church. Only a bunch of greedy old priests waiting to slit anyone's throat who dared to stand in their way or whose death in some way served their purpose." Nicholas took a deep breath and turned to lie on his back. Putting his arms under his head and staring at the ceiling, he continued to talk to his strange little guest. "But you see, I still wasn't evil yet. True I had lost most of my faith, had killed innocent men due to the necessity of war. But I still believed in the ultimate good. I still thought 'thou shall not kill,' even as I became a vampire. I thought you could drink blood and still be decent. Mainly because, in those early days, it was LaCroix who always fed me. I never had to worry about where the blood came from. It was either his own or the blood of victims who were in a strangely induced sleep. To me, they were no different than already dead, served on a platter to quench my insistent thirst. I never had to look in their eyes, never had to know their names." He turned to his side to look at the butterfly again, his head resting on his right arm. The light shone on his face, revealing the sadness that suddenly clouded his eyes. "Not until the night he took me out for the first time. The night I learned about the hunt." Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (3/9) by: Sunny LaCountess ************** Nicholas liked the house they were visiting that night. It was simple, yet elegant. The owners, an elderly couple of noble descent, had greeted them kindly and for the first time since his conversion, he had felt like a real gentleman. LaCroix had kept close watch over him for over two weeks since he became a vampire, telling him to stay indoors and teaching him about the new dangers he had to ward off in his new existence. Tonight, he had allowed his son to accompany him to the place he was visiting, to see the outside world for the first time through the vampire's eyes. It was beautiful. The lights were brighter, the colors sharper, he could see every detail of a woman's dress even when she was hiding in the dark, hear every word they spoke even when they whispered. And there was much more: the sound of the fireflies buzzing in the garden, the night birds singing in far woods, the slow formation of dew on brittle leaves. The world was alive around him and he was at the center of it, wanting to taste, touch and feel it all. The party had been interesting too. It was the first time he could tell so much about a person simply by looking at them, or more precisely, by listening to their heartbeats. It sped up on different occasions, making it easy to read their minds through their facial expressions. If they blushed, it was either from shame or lust. If they blanched, it meant fear. And if the heart rate accelerated while they were avidly trying to make a point, it usually meant it was a lie. Quite easy to figure out, and as LaCroix would say, 'quite fun.' Until he found his match. Her name was Angelique, a young woman from the region by the sea. Intelligent and beautiful, she came from a family that dated back to Charlemagne. She had read many books, seen many places, and knew how to say 'pleasure' in four different languages. They were drawn to each other instantly, and the end of the night found them walking together, hand in hand along the fragrant gardens under bright, moonlit sky. "You are fascinating, Angelique." "As are you, my brave crusader." They reached a small marble bench at the joining of two sandy roads, and sat down together. She stared up at the moon and smiled. "I used to think I'd seen it all. Yet here I sit with a man who has been to Jerusalem and the desert of Judea, and has fought with Saracens under hot blazing sun." Nicholas lowered his eyes. "It's not something I am proud of," he said softly. She reached for his hands where they lay clasped in his lap and held onto them. "It's not just the crusader that I admire in you Sir Nicholas. It's you and all that is you. Your kindness, your gallantry, your gentle heart." She leaned close, her lips brushing against his ear. "And your kiss that I desire most." She pulled back only slightly and looked at him again with her sparkling blue eyes. They froze in place for a fraction of time before melting into the kiss. Nicholas felt breathless, his senses so heightened they threatened to overwhelm him. Millions of brilliant images started dancing in his mind before the world around him turned into a shade of gold. He broke the kiss, panting, and held the woman in his arms. She was pliant, almost passive and Nicholas easily reached for her collar and pulled it aside as a new sensation came over him, extending his fangs. The pulse was there, just under the skin that looked rosy and covered with a faint sheen of sweat. It excited him immensely and he bent over her throat, teeth bared and tingling with the anticipation of the bite. Just then she let out a sigh and whispered his name, and he stopped. Confused, he looked down at his captive, one like many others he had feasted upon in the past weeks. But something was wrong here, something he hadn't felt with the others. This woman had a name, and it was one that he knew. "Angelique!" he cried. "Angelique, no!" He let the body drop. She fell onto the bench and let out a soft moan. Her eyes flickered open and she looked up at him in bemusement, her hand reflexively going to her neck. He staggered back, staring in horror, then turned and ran down the road they'd come from, heedless to her cries and her calling of his name. He ran, faster and faster, away from her and away from what he had almost done. A tall dark form blocked his path as he rounded a corner. He bumped into it unexpectedly and looked up, breathless, to stare into the calm eyes of his master. "Well, well, Nicholas. Where are we going so fast now?" LaCroix chuckled as he closed his arms around his distraught son to hold him in place. Nicholas wiggled out of LaCroix's embrace, looking back a few times anxiously, ready to dash away at any second. LaCroix held him by his shoulders again and forced him to look him in the eyes. "Tell me what happened, mon fils," he ordered, more firmly this time. "I...I almost killed her. I thought she was dinner. I almost sucked her blood." "And...?" "She said my name and I saw that it was Angelique. >From the party, the woman who said she admired all of me, and I was just about to kill her." He looked at his master with anguished eyes, beseeching him to understand. The face remained stoic. "And...?" "What do you mean? I had to get away from her. It was all a mistake. I should've fed before we came here." LaCroix's sudden laughter startled him. As did his words. "My dear boy, how entertaining," he said gleefully as he looked down at his son and snickered. "Oh, the way you always get it so wrong Nicholas. You are truly an amusing pupil." He leaned forward until they were both at eye level. His voice was jovial yet composed, making a point. "We *are* here to feed, mon cher. And she *was* your dinner, in case you wonder." Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (4/9) by: Sunny LaCountess Nicholas' eyes widened, but he barely had time to say anything before he was roughly grabbed and pulled into the shadow of a large nearby tree. He felt LaCroix's muscular chest against his back as the elder held him tightly only seconds before he heard a soft feminine voice coming from the bend of the trail. "Sir Nicholas, Sir Nicholas, are you there, Sir Nicholas?" He saw Angelique step into the small circle of moonlight he and LaCroix had occupied before. She took a few hesitant steps and looked around nervously. LaCroix bent over his shoulder from behind and spoke impishly into his ear. "Now that is an intriguing prospect. I commend you on your choice, Nicholas. The only thing left now is for you to go forth and take it." Nicholas squirmed and tried looking over his shoulder at the man behind. "LaCroix, are you crazy?" he said in a hushed tone. "She is my friend and a very respected woman. I can't think of her like that." "Yes you can," LaCroix prodded. "What did I tell you about your guilt? Let it fester and it will destroy you. You must remember that no matter who they are, to us, they are just food. It is our nature and our only way to survive. Now walk over there and grab her before she has a chance to escape." Their activity in the darkness attracted the young woman's attention. She took another couple of steps in their direction and called quietly, "Sir Nicholas, is that you?" Nicholas was still deciding what to do when he saw LaCroix jump like a panther from behind and drain the shocked girl in an eye blink. His mouth gaped open at the hideous sight and he felt his stomach churn. LaCroix let the body drop and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now all that's left is to slash her throat and take away her jewelry so that the others think she has been slain by a highwayman. I think we had best move the body to the street. It will not be found too soon and will be more convincing. What do you think, Nicholas?" He looked at his stunned protégé, still staring at the body as if in a dream. "Oh, come now, Nicholas. Don't be such a bad sport. We will find you another one, I am sure there are lots of beautiful women left at the party. Lets take care of this first." "Why did you kill her, LaCroix?" His voice strained to come out. It quivered. "Why, she was about to find out where we were hiding. I couldn't let her win this little game now, could I?" He beamed mischievously. "This is not a joke, LaCroix, don't you see? She's dead. You killed her." He looked up at his master with pain in his eyes. LaCroix's smile disappeared. "I fed on her, Nicholas. Surely you are smart enough to understand the difference." Nicholas looked at the body, holding back a sob. "But...but she wasn't just any mortal. How could you...?" With a few quick strides LaCroix was beside him, his cheery mood completely gone. "Then what was she, if I may ask? Angelique? The blessed virgin from above? Why do you care who she was, Nicholas? What does it matter?" Nicholas turned from him in disgust. "You make me sick, LaCroix. I wish I'd never come here." He started to walk away but LaCroix's iron grip on his shoulder held him in place. "And where would you prefer to be, Nicholas? Do you think there is any place in the world where you can find blood running freely down streams? Do you think the women I brought you to feed on in the past were born that way?" he hissed in his ear. "You are truly naïve, my boy. You think you've just started killing innocent mortals. But it started long before, the day you became what you are. You have been sucking their sweet innocent blood from the moment you became a vampire." Nicholas shrugged himself out of his grasp and started walking down the path toward the house, keeping a tight lid over his anger and revulsion. LaCroix's voice echoed at his back. "There will be no more free food, Nicholas. From this night on you will have to learn to find your own. And accept the reality that feeding requires killing and that there is no other choice. Like I told you before, banish this guilt soon or starve until you learn the lesson." *************** "I starved. That night and the night after and the night after. LaCroix stopped feeding me altogether and instead, took me to a different place every night. Sometimes a nobleman's house, sometimes a dirty tavern. He asked me to pick a prey, and made it clear that that would be my ration for the night." Nicholas propped on his side, looking at his tiny audience now sitting quietly at the base of the candle and moving its little antennae as if asking him to continue. "It was hard at first. After all, they all were humans. Living, breathing, humans with distinct personalities, different backgrounds, most of them had families, people who would most likely miss them if they were gone. It never bothered LaCroix, and he did his best to make sure it didn't trouble me either. Only, it was a hard thing to learn." He took a deep breath and looked down, all at once feeling like he had lost his voice. "I...have always been a rather emotional person. I liked people. I used to talk to them, try to know them, to understand their lives, their feelings, their characters." He looked up, this time at a point far away. "Killing them, after I knew so much about them, and decided to care about them, was the hardest thing I ever did." Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (5/9) by: Sunny LaCountess There was silence in the room for a long time, only occasionally disturbed by the tiny sputters of the candle and faint noises from outside. It was still day. Nicholas' family, LaCroix, and Janette, were fast asleep somewhere within the maze of rooms and corridors in the large house, probably dead to the world. He closed his eyes but knew that sleep would not come to him today. So he opened them again and looked at the butterfly. It was still on the table, sitting patiently, waiting for the rest of his story. "The incident with Angelique left me deeply shaken and I vowed never to commit anything as cruel and savage as that. But the hunger was gnawing at me inside, and every night, it became harder to ignore. I became weaker and weaker, hoping that LaCroix would notice and take pity on me. But he was very harsh in his teaching. He made it fully clear that if I wanted to feed, I had to do it his way, and not to expect to be fed by him again." He sighed and shook his head. "It was very hard. And finally, after almost starving myself to death, I gave in. One night we stalked two drunken men as they walked out of a tavern. It was quite an easy catch; they were too drunk to even stand on their feet. I kept telling myself that I would try to rescue one of them while LaCroix was finishing the other, even though I myself was exhausted from lack of nourishment. "We cornered them in a dark roofed passage. LaCroix immediately sank his teeth in the poor man's neck and started feeding. Although the tang of blood assaulted me, I did my best to pull the other out of darkness and into the safety of a public street. It was harder than I expected. The man was almost unconscious from the alcohol he had consumed and couldn't even stay upright. I tried to hold him as tight as I could and carry him away before LaCroix realized what I was doing, but my own strength was giving out. Before I knew, we had both crumbled to the ground, and my face was right against his neck. I could virtually feel his blood running under his skin and my fangs descended of their own accord. I was extremely hungry and food was so close. It blinded me, the hunger, and took away all of my resolve. I bit him hard and drank as much as I could in one single draught. It was heavenly, so delicious I felt overjoyed, his blood laced with the ale he had just had dancing on my tongue. I didn't stop draining him until there was nothing left, he was completely dry." He took a deep breath and paused for another moment, his eyes getting the familiar distant look. "LaCroix was very happy with me that night. Told me he always knew that I would eventually come around and accept what I was, and that he was glad I finally learned not to wallow in senseless guilt. I was beyond care. All I could think of was how good it had felt, after the nights of starvation, to drink warm human blood and feel the man die in my arms. I couldn't deny it anymore even though I still couldn't accept it. My conscience kept screaming at me to stop, that I didn't want to be a killer, but I couldn't see a way out. Finally, out of exhaustion and because I had no other choice, I turned away from the voice inside me and became what LaCroix wanted me to be, a real vampire. It was easier that way. Much easier." He turned sad eyes to the butterfly, and saw it was no longer sitting on the table. It had climbed a distance up the side of the candle and was still moving higher at a slow but steady pace. Nicholas turned and rested on his back again, too deeply drowned in his own story to pay it any more attention. "That was the end of my righteousness and the beginning of my damnation. All that came after was one sin after another. LaCroix became my guiding voice and together, we broke every single one of the commandments, committed all possible transgressions. We lied, deceived, stole, debauched, fornicated, killed and fed on lives we destroyed. It was despicable, disgusting and it was all that my life was about." Scarlet tears started to appear in his eyes. His voice became slurred and raspy as he recollected a portion of his life he'd rather forget. It was intense, the images that played in his mind, the lives he had extinguished to feed his incessant thirst for blood and the crimes that preceded those final acts of murder. LaCroix's voice was always in his head, encouraging him to carry on, cajoling him to kill more. More lives, more blood. "I was numb by then. Didn't care what was right or wrong. There were no laws, no morals among our kind, so said LaCroix. He said I could do whatever I liked, whatever the vampire desired, and somehow that always coincided with what he wanted me to do. I accepted things my mortal soul would have recoiled to even think about, things even my vampire self couldn't easily go along with. It just kept getting more and more depraved." His memory wound back. Voices echoing in the dark, reminding him of conversations in the past... ... < You love him, Janette, don't you? What you feel for him is no different than what you claim to feel for me, or anyone else. Only I have been a fool to believe otherwise. > < I don't even pretend to explain how I feel about you or him. Our feeling for each other, Nicola, is something beyond description. You, I, he, we are all part of a body. We are from the same blood, the same heart. I love him as he loves you as you love me. All three the same, we are one... > One... The same... *His* < I...yes, no. But you don't understand. It was a sin, LaCroix. I have to go to a priest for this. I shall confess my sins. > A slight arching of an eyebrow, a well-hidden smile... Tears, silence, a gentle hand touching his face... ... But he didn't laugh. He wept that day, at his own descent, and accepted it. "And then, I met her" Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (6/9) by: Sunny LaCountess ************ "You've been following me" "Yes I couldn't help myself." "I could feel someone...something... "Were you frightened? Is that why you stopped to hide?" " I am not _hiding_. I stopped to pray for a safe journey. I'm going to meet with the Dauphin in Vaucouleur." "It's a shame. I don't think you'll ever arrive." The girl was not much of a prize, not of a noble breed, those who ate and drank heavily and enjoyed life to the fullest. Her blood wouldn't be as delicious or even rich enough to satisfy his hunger. But something about her intrigued him. Perhaps her stance, the way she held her head high and walked like a queen in peasant's clothes. Nicholas was tempted to taste her, even though he had already fed. He was intrigued to know her better, know the secret behind her courage to walk alone, this hour of the night, in empty dark streets where thugs and demons loitered. But most of all, he wanted to watch her tremble in fright and see her confidence crushed. Perhaps he wouldn't kill her; it would be a waste anyway. But to make her kneel in front of him in fear, beg for her piteous life to be spared, and to watch her renounce her ludicrous courage, now that was something to behold. "I have no fear of you" He smiled at her menacingly; the challenge was getting more and more exciting. Just slightly baring his fangs, he breathed, "You should." Her contained poise and serenity still surprised him. "My grandmother used to tell me of the ancient creatures cursed to spend eternity in darkness. You are Nicholas of Brabant. The man of the night." Suddenly, he was confused. He wasn't used to mortals being so cool and composed in front of him, especially after he had revealed himself to them. Even more disturbing was the way she looked at him, as if feeling...pity? Was she commiserating over him? The poor peasant girl was feeling sorry _for him_? It was very disconcerting. "You think I'm cursed? I who'll live forever." "Oh, yes, very, because you are afraid of salvation. You, who choose to live forever, live in constant fear of death. I do not. I will pray for you, Nicholas." She looked up, the same compassion in her eyes this time more prominent. "I will pray for us both." She turned to leave. Salvation... Was there a salvation for one such as him? What was she talking about? As she started to walk away he called her back one more time. "Courage, what is your other name?" "Joan." After that she was gone. He felt something break inside him, like a chick hatching out of an egg that had been its prison for a long time. He turned around to look at the cross that was looming over him at the altar. And suddenly he remembered. Everything he had stashed into the deep parts of his soul in an effort to forsake: his faith, his beliefs, his trust that God and his angels would take him under their wings and keep him safe from hell. Things that were reduced to transparent memories over the years he'd spent in darkness kept pouring back at him in a torrent of feelings and emotions. All at once he knew what had drawn him to her. It was faith, his yearning to have it back, his desire to touch the cross again. To be, once more, one of God's blessed creations. But the cross burned his hand when he tried to touch it and his illusion was shattered. *********** "Yet the sensation of hope remained. I dared to let myself feel again, however little. The ice that had covered my heart since the day I became the ravenous vampire LaCroix wanted me to be, began to melt under the light of her faith. She became my savior with those few simple words." His own words left a bitter taste in his mouth as he spoke, "But God had a different mission planned for her. Her voices, as she used to call them, told her to go to the king and offer herself as a soldier and commander of the army of France to help him re-conquer his kingdom. She did what she was told, fought like no other warrior I'd seen before even though she was just a peasant girl, and gave France its freedom back. As a repayment, the king sent her to more wars, to capture more regions and provide him with more power. She accepted the new challenges too. But when she was captured by the Burgundians and sold to the English to be tried, he did nothing to save her." Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (7/9) by: Sunny LaCountess Sorrow clouded the beautiful blue eyes and he gave out a sigh. " I met her a few days before her trial, in a chapel, again, ironically. I knew what she was up against and offered her immortality, told her not to throw away her life for a church that had already abandoned her. She refused to accept it. Instead, she offered me the strength of her faith, and her unembellished wooden cross." He watched as the reflection of the candlelight flickered on the wall, like a nod in acknowledgement or awe." By then my resolve had already crumbled. With a few simple words she had stripped off the dark mask I had worn since the day I surrendered to the beast. I knew I couldn't go on being what I had forced myself to be, this ugly terrible monster that sucked on human lives and mocked or feared everything sacred. With her courage and her incredible faith she showed me something I never thought would exist. Another side of spirituality, a side vastly different from what the teachings of the church had imposed on me for my entire mortal life and had me turn away in disgust when I discovered that it was all a lie. It was clear to me that what I had shunned and lost my conviction in was never true faith. It was the trust in the men who taught and owned those impressions, the priest and bishops who thought they owned the people's minds. It was in the so-called holy Catholic Church that I had lost my faith, all the commitment I had built up since my childhood days and over the many years of strict religious upbringing. She on the other hand showed me that even as a vampire, your faith could be regained, and that you could be forgiven of your sins if you chose to turn back to the light." He closed his eyes, squeezing the lids tightly to fight off the tears that were threatening to flow. His voice lost its strength upon remembering what had happened afterward. "And then...they came and took her away; charged her with heresy, treachery, witchery and God knows what other slander they came up with simply because they didn't want to believe that God would find a simple farm girl worthy of his message. They burned her at the stake. When she was dying, she asked me to hold up her cross for her, to give her strength. I turned and looked at it, hanging on the wall behind me, but didn't have the courage to touch it. My salvation had not yet come about, and would not ever now that she was going away. I cried bitterly while she burnt in those flames." The tears escaped the confines of the tightly shut lids and traced dark red streaks on his cheeks. "My only hope of ever being saved was lost, forever." His eyes flew open at the sizzling sound that suddenly came from the table. He raised his head and looked in the direction of the sound, blinking in surprise and trying to shed away the tears that were blurring his vision. What he saw was the dead body of the butterfly lying on the table next to the base of the candle that was still sputtering. The room spun. He scrambled out of the bed in a frenzy, nearly striking his head on the side of the table, and gathered the small body in his palm. The tips of its wings were scorched and blackened; its legs trembled slightly. Nicholas turned sad eyes toward the candle and realized what had happened. The little thing had tried to touch the flame again, this time with deadly consequences. He closed his fist lightly over the nearly translucent body of the dying insect and all at once, a massive blast of grief exploded in his chest. He bowed his head and let his red tears fall on his hands, staining his fingers. Pain and a great sadness overwhelmed him, a deep mourning for all the good he lad lost in the world, and the embers of his hope that were slowly turning into ash. He sat on the bed, holding the butterfly to his chest, and cried. Until voices reached him from beyond the door. "LaCroix, please! At least calm yourself down a bit." "No. I have tolerated this long enough already. Now he doesn't even let us sleep during the day. I will find out what is wrong with that boy, right now." His master's angry shouts came from down the corridor, shaking him out of his haze. His footfalls followed, heralding his heated approach, and a few seconds later, the door to his room burst open with a loud crash, and LaCroix stepped inside. He stood at the door for a moment, looking at his progeny with blazing eyes. Nicholas' head shot up at the sound of the opening door and he blinked at the sight of his fuming master. Drenched in his profound misery, he hadn't noticed how his intense feelings and emotions had been projected through the link to reach his master and sibling, awaking them from their slumber without warning and distressing them with their harsh intensity. Now LaCroix was angry, and that always meant bad news. Janette's disheveled form appeared in the hallway behind him, her puffy eyes still not free from her curtly interrupted sleep. She held onto LaCroix's sleeve and pleaded again, "Please! I'm sure it was another bad dream. He had no intention to upset us." Her eyes shifted toward her brother, giving off a mixture of irritation and inquiry. Nicholas just sat there looking at them. LaCroix stepped into the room, advancing on his son with the early frown still firmly in place. But his steaming interior was once again shielded by the familiar deceptive coolness. He stopped in front of Nicholas, who was still sitting on the bed and sniffing, and folded his arms over his chest. "All right then! Let us hear about it. What was the reason for your sudden jolt of agony this time, Nicholas?" he regarded him with cold eyes. Nicholas swallowed. He was still holding the dead body of the butterfly lightly in his right hand, which he cradled with his left against his chest. He didn't feel like talking, but with LaCroix's rigid form towering callously over him, he knew he had no choice. With a voice that was barely over a whisper he said, "The reason was... I realized that I am completely damned, beyond any hope, and that there is no chance for me to ever go back to the light." He lowered his head and became silent. LaCroix rolled his eyes, his carefully buried anger threatening to overflow. "You _just_ realized that?" he snarled. "You just found that out? Well, congratulations, Nicholas. I am surely glad that at last, after two hundred years of living as a vampire, you have finally figured out something I have been trying to beat into your head since the beginning of time. Impressive indeed." Nicholas turned his head away but LaCroix reached down and held his jaw in his grip, forcing him to maintain eye contact. "But I demand a better explanation," he stated firmly. Nicholas looked over at Janette, who was still leaning against the doorframe, then turned back to his sire, swallowing hard. "I know that I lost my light long before this day, precisely when I met you in that tavern in Paris over two centuries ago." He stole another look at Janette, who bit her lip. "But no matter how much you try to convince me, that is not when I lost my soul. My soul, or what is left of it, could still be saved." The lump in his throat made him stop a beat before he finally looked up and said. "If she were alive." Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (8/9) by: Sunny LaCountess LaCroix's hand that was holding his chin suddenly went back and struck him squarely in the face. Nicholas fell onto the bed, gasping for breath, while Janette's scream came from where she stood at the door. She yelled something but her words were drowned in the master vampire's angry shouts. "Her again? Didn't I already tell you to forget her? How many times do we have to go through this until I manage to beat some sense into you? She is gone, Nicholas, do you understand? Gone. And if you think such a poor ragged witch of a peasant girl was the key to your long awaited salvation, then I must sourly admit I have failed in raising you even as a sane vampire." Nicholas looked at him with livid yellow eyes, his body trembling. Taking quick, heavy breaths, he hissed at his sire, "Why won't you leave me alone, LaCroix? What are you trying to get out of this?" His voice raised and quivered as he spat, "What does it matter to you if I grieve her death or not?" LaCroix bent down and put both hands on the bed on either side of him, effectively trapping him under his powerful gaze. "It matters to me, Nicholas," he said pointedly, "because I am your master. I have a responsibility for you. I own you and everything that is about you; you and whatever is a part of you belongs. to. me." He punctuated the last few words, his gray-gold eyes piercing his son's. Nicholas bore his gaze defiantly. When he spoke, his voice was rough and determined. "Only till the day I find my way back to the light. You might own my body or my fate, but you will never own my soul." His remark broke the last string of LaCroix's forbearance. With a snarl he grabbed the lapel of Nicholas' shirt and hoisted him out of the bed in one heave. Holding him in a tight grip that was impossible for the young vampire to break, he growled menacingly, "The light? You want to see the light? All right, I will show you the light, and we will all see how much you like it." Without breaking his gaze, he addressed his other child. "Janette. Open the shutters." The command sent a jolt of lightning through her body. Wide frightened eyes first regarded her brother, then her master, who was holding him by the front of his shirt like a rag doll ready to be thrown out. She didn't move a muscle to obey the order. "I said _open _the _shutters_ Janette. Did you not hear me?" She started backing away, shaking her head in denial. Her voice cracked with fear and disbelief when she finally found it, "No...LaCr...You cannot...be serious." She retreated until her back fully touched the hallway's wall across from the door, her large eyes still fixed on the two of them inside the room. LaCroix shot another angry glance her way and was about to yell again when he caught something in her eyes that made him change his mind. With a frustrated growl, he yanked Nicholas from where they stood by the bed and dragged him along. He approached the shuttered window. Nicholas didn't fight him, not even when he removed one hand from his lapel to open the latch between the two slabs. The two heavy wooden screens banged against the wall as the elder vampire opened them roughly and sunlight poured into the dark room. It was late in the afternoon but the sun's rays were still shining brightly despite their slight tinge of gold. A gentle breeze wafted through the window and blew the candle out. Nicholas jerked back, trying to avoid the burning touch of the light, but it was already too late. Firmly grabbing his upper arm, LaCroix twisted and threw him right into the shaft of sunlight that was streaming from the open window. Nicholas shrieked and tried to roll away, but found LaCroix's foot firmly planted on his chest, holding him right there in the center of the blazing light. "Now you can have as much of the light as you want. I let you have it, freely," he heard his master sneer. Failing in his attempts to turn, he desperately reached up and put his arms over his face to shield his skin from the burning that had already started. Janette's shrill voice came from somewhere beyond the edge of the inferno: "LaCroix, stop! Let him go, please! You will kill him." "Be quiet, impudent child. If this is the only way to end his madness, then so be it." He felt more than saw her wrestle to get LaCroix off of him, and then a sharp thud as the stronger, older vampire flung her to one side, tipping furniture as she fell. Then nothing, just the all consuming, burning heat. "Tell me when you have had enough, Nicholas. I might let you go." His skin had started blistering. He could feel the effect of the rays on the unprotected parts of his face. His hands were hurting too, but he couldn't find a coherent thought to form into words that might save him from the painful situation. He simply moaned. A faint call, from somewhere unknown. He didn't dare open his eyes; he knew it would make him blind. But he could tell the voice wasn't LaCroix's. *Joan* Butterfly, a leap into fire and light (9/9) by: Sunny LaCountess She was there, standing splendidly in front of him. A shimmering white gown covered her light body, its ends floating all around her like a heavenly mantle. She was smiling, her arms open and outstretched, slicing through the beams of light that shone from behind her. < Have you come to regain your faith? Do you seek salvation, Nicholas? > He could smell the scorching of his flesh, but his attention was robbed by the manifestation of the heroine before him. "How can I find salvation when I'm dying in despair, when I'm already dead?" he asked. Her smile deepened. "But... is there still any hope? After all that's happened?" The vision floated closer, one hand reached out to touch him softly on the check. It was almost weightless. He smiled in genuine joy. He raised his hands to touch her, to hold on to her beacon of safety and pull himself away from what he wanted so desperately to leave behind. But his hands didn't find a purchase; they flailed haphazardly in the air. Then, in a moment of total gullibility, he opened his eyes and looked up, straight into the light. His pupils burned. "For God's sake, LaCroix! He's opened his eyes. He's going to blind himself. Do something, please!" The weight of LaCroix's heavy boot that had been holding him in place immediately lifted. No other action was taken, but the message was clear, or so was the master's intention. He was free to roll away, to save himself from the burning light. Instead, he continued to stare ahead. And then, he saw it. It was just a flicker at first, he wasn't even sure he was really seeing anything. But as he strained to focus his eyes it became clearer and more visible. It was the white butterfly. Nicholas didn't know when it had fallen out of his hand. But as he lay there in the bright enveloping light, he saw its glistening white wings, still a little burnt at the ends, fluttering now in the beautiful golden rays, carrying it toward the open window and the world outside. Toward freedom. *The butterfly is alive. And now at last, it is free.* The smile that had spread across his face earlier broadened. Her voice, powerful and smooth, echoed in his ears once again: "I understand." Strong arms grabbed him by the shoulder and lifted him from the floor, pulling him swiftly out of the slowly fading column of light. He heard their voices, confused, frightened, frustrated. He heard LaCroix speak the words 'madness' and 'suicide' a couple of times. It amused him. Despite his burns, the pain, and the fact that he was practically blind, his heart was filled with a light joy that had him basking in pleasure, and a certainty that was born of faith. He knew the answer now, or at least part of it. Soon, he would find it all, and the path too. Never mind what had happened. The important thing was, he was finally alive. ************* And that's how it ended. And started. He healed quickly, Janette saw to that. He never spoke of Joan again, kept it deep inside his heart, a heart that was blissfully free. He knew he still had a long way to go, and that the road would be rough and rugged, possibly covered with the bodies of his victims still, the ones he would have to feed upon to keep himself alive. But he also knew that there was a way to atone for all his sins, or even undo all the evil that had been scarring his life. He just had to search for it. There would always be a ray of hope, and faith for him to hold onto. Everyone could be saved from their own private darkness, their sins, if they could bear to stand the flames of redemption. Everyone, even LaCroix. Perhaps one day, he would tell him about it. THE END Author's Note: This story is my take on when Nicholas first started to change from being a ruthless bloodsucker-which he proclaimed about his past numerous times during the show-to an outcast vampire yearning to find his way back to the light. His journey as we all very well know, led to his complete renunciation of feeding on human blood and his quest to become mortal once again. There are a lot of religious suggestions and hypothetical beliefs about faith, redemption and the holy church in this story. None of it is mine. I wrote this story strictly from Nicholas' point of view and tried to center it as much as possible on his ideas and his feelings at that time. How I, myself, think about faith and the belief in God, is a different story. ===== Countess -- Twilight Knightie,IB,DT,UF,Cotk "Trudging through enternity, hauling my homemade horrors, do you think THAT was my dream when I was young and evil?"