This is my first Forever Knight story, and the first of my brainchildren that actually made it onto paper. Timeline: The events of this story happen immediately after "Close Call". There are hints and references to a number of episodes including: "The Fix", "Queen of Harps", "1966", "Only the Lonely" and "Be my Valentine". Summary: After the events of Close Call, the High Council of the vampire world sends a delegate to Toronto to see if anyone has broken the Code. Nick must do his best to protect his friends and face his own charges against a stern Enforcer with a deep scar, and a history that ties them back to the dark events of a medieval castle in Southeast France round the 14th century. I would like to thank my dear Beta readers Jean Graham and Lucifyra LaCroix for taking the time to correct my spelling and grammar. More thanks to my friends at Softimage Montreal, and to my friend Arash who encouraged me to just do it. Disclaimer: The characters of Forever Knight belong to their respective owners, no copyright infringement intended. Please send all feedback to sunny_lacountess@yahoo.com or countessa2000@yahoo.com Permission to archive on the FTP site, Mel's fan fiction site and the Forever Knight Fan Fic 2 site. Others please ask. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Date: Saturday June 16, 2001 In the Name of the Code A Forever Knight Story By Sunny LaCountess CHAPTER ONE "It's another night worthy of reflections, and tonight's topic gentle listeners, is the ties of blood." "So the question is, what is kin? Is it a conception? Is it legitimacy? Is it simply our heart leaning toward the one and not the other, the one being called our kin?" He flew high over the city, the wind whipping at his face. The light of the stars covering the sky overhead facing up to the millions of artificial lights ornamenting the streets and houses below made him feel like floating between two zodiacs. He was soaring toward the tower. "We call them our family, our bond. Childhood is our time of depending on them. Adulthood rises another primitive need in us, to raise one of our own." He landed on the tower-the tallest freestanding manmade structure in the world- and looked over the city. He had come a long way here. Not the 4000 miles he had crossed on the 8-hour overnight flight in his tailored private jet from London to Toronto. But the six hundred plus years of his un-life spent in dedication to the cause that he was serving even now. "But let me ask you my friends, is it a blessing or a curse, this tie that binds us to the people who have created us, the people whom we create? Do we want them still around when the years of early needs have passed? Do we still ask for their opinion, look for their guidance, their protection, love and support? Or do we simply cut the bonds and go our own way as soon as the initial dependence ends? What is the correct choice, to go or to let go? If we leave are we abandoning our kin? If we don't are we restraining them? I want to hear the answer from you." He thought about his mission, if it was he who intentionally chose it, perhaps subconsciously looked for it, or a magical turn of fate that put it at his feet. Would this be deliverance or a rupture of an old wound that had long since healed but remembered by the scar it had left? Most importantly, would it be achievable without blending with the age-old issue that was part of his existence? "Tell me your thoughts, your yearnings, your wounds. Tell me how you feel about the ones you call your family. I listen, I always have. Because I am the Nightcrawler and sometimes the clandestine relative of your deepest darkest thoughts, in blood or else." He took a deep breath as a gust of wind blew in his cape to flap it around his form. His exhalation bore words that were carried away by the same blast of wind, "It's time to meet again, my family, my blood. And rest assured my dears, this time you _will_ have to answer for your deeds." --------------- Detective Nicholas B. Knight looked at the mountain of files piled up on his desk and let out a feeble sigh. Was this a law of physics? Why was it that whenever a case was over they were immediately buried in a mound of unsolveds and bureaucratic rubbish? And what was up with his partner? Wasn't he to show up at all tonight? He had rehearsed the scene of throwing the bigger half of the pile at his partner many times in his mind tonight, expanding his imagination on the surprised and irritated look his partner would give him each time. To him it was all but fair. If Nick had to do the legwork part of the job, catch perps, break doors, hell even take bullets in his chest, why shouldn't his partner do most of the other part, the paper work? Nick mused with himself as he mindlessly flipped through the document lying in front of him, looking at the door every once in awhile to catch his partner's coming in. Finally the man appeared. Detective Donald G. Schanke of Toronto Metro police, wrapped in what looked like his late grandfather's overcoat and sporting a Sunday morning hairdo, came rushing through the door of the 96th Precinct...and headed straight for the coffee machine. In an effort to stop himself from running after the man, Nick stood up and started to separate the paper pile into two 'unequal' stacks, putting the larger one on his partner's desk. Schanke, holding a cup of the steaming hot coffee in his hand came wobbling toward the desk, his red rimmed eyes screaming to go shut. He slowly sat down, not acknowledging Nick's busy-bee efforts in gauging the piles and adding and subtracting documents from one to the other. All he could think of was how much he needed to sleep. Nick, at last satisfied with his handiwork, looked at his groggy partner for the first time. "My god Schank, something run you over on the way here? You look beat." "Yeah partner, I feel like it too. I guess I didn't get much sleep yesterday." "You're not the type who would skip a good day's snooze for anything. Unless you're about to tell me that we have to add insomnia to the other well-known ailments you always whine about," Nick added with a grin on his face. It was always fun teasing his usually witty partner when he was too tired to respond. Schanke rubbed his eyes and answered with an added yawn, "It's nothing like that. It was just this important thing I had to finish before heading home yesterday, and it took me a while. I dunno, I guess I got too carried away with it," yaaaaawn, "Yeah, it was quite important, had to do it before going home and...hmm sleeping," he half mumbled. Nick looked at him earnestly. What important thing? He didn't remember anything being left from the last case, except the paper work of course. What was it that his partner had to do that was so important he held off going to his favorite Myra and Jenny? A pang of fear churned at the pit of his stomach. Could it have anything to do with...? "What are you talking about, Schank? What important thing?" he asked almost snappishly. Schanke, still trying to clear his head by rubbing the top of his bald scalp, didn't even notice the alarmed tone. He muttered, "I guess...uh let me think, what was it? It had to be done today, otherwise something terrible would have happened. Now, what was it again...?" He looked remote, trying to remember what the important task was that kept him from his precious sleep. Nick watched in anticipation. This should have nothing to do with the recent events. It had better not. He was sure LaCroix had erased his partner's memories as far as the past two days. Schanke couldn't remember anything from what had happened, or at least not >from the parts that had made him suspicious. He held his breath in dread, waiting for his partner to continue. Schanke's eyes suddenly widened. With the happy smile of someone finally finding the answer, he quickly said, "The Caddy!" Nick edged forward to make sure he was hearing right. "The Caddy?" "Yeah, that's it. I had to wash the Caddy!" Schanke's bewildered eyes turned to his partner as if not believing it himself. Nick was stunned for a second or two before he burst into a hysterically loud laughter that made all heads in the precinct turn. He collapsed on his chair, laughing uncontrollably while trying to keep all the paper on his desk from slipping to the floor. His partner's expression and the serious yet bewildered way he had said those words had caused him to forget all about his worries and bend over in amusement. Schanke didn't react to his partner's merriment at all. It was as if he wasn't really paying attention, just looking at Nick's bowed head and shaking shoulders. Nick looked up for a second time, looking at his partner's baffled expression and ducking his head even more as he laughed harder. At last Schanke replied, "Yeah, that's it! I even gave it an extra polish. You know, after you asked me to drive your Caddy home and give it a wash, it sorta felt like that was the only thing on my mind. Heck, I don't even remember what happened after we talked that night!" He shook his head in frustration. Nick finally stopped and looked up from under the desk. God, Schanke could be such a sweetheart, he thought. The bewilderment that was written all over that lovable face and the fact that he wasn't even bothered by Nick's laughter made Nick want to just walk forth and give him a big hug. Nevertheless, he sighed in relief. Apparently LaCroix's little administration had worked well. He longed to tease his partner with the subject but decided to drop it, considering the unwanted flashbacks that it might cause. Schanke didn't seem to pay any heed to the matter either. Instead he had turned to the mountain of paper that his partner had carefully planted on his desk and was exclaiming, "Man-o-man! Look at this stuff. Not those irritating forms again. I'll be damned to spend the entire shift shuffling through these." Nick stole his gaze like a guilty child. He was still enjoying his partner's weary mood, his occasional giggles giving him away. Not able to restrain himself anymore, he finally broke out, "Maybe you should retreat to the parking lot tonight, Schank, and wash some cars, perhaps?" he chuckled. This time Schanke wasn't bemused. He looked at his partner irritably. "It's not funny, partner. Really, do you think it's laughable if you are my friend and I feel like doing something for you? Pass off my sleep to wash your car while you're at home dozing? Huh, partner? Is that funny? No, that's friendship, you get that?" Nick's mood immediately changed from cheerful to guilty as he realized he had gone too far with his last remark and that he had to apologize. After all, it wasn't that fair wiping out Schanke's memories to begin with since his partner had practically lost two days of his mortal life because of it. He looked again, stuttering, "I--I'm sorry, Schank. I didn't mean to be rude. Honestly, I'm very grateful for what you did and I officially declare that I owe you one for it, the car looks sparkling." "Oh, so you admit that you owe me now, don't you Knight? Are you willing to pay your debt any time soon?" "Yes Schank, I am." "Anything I ask for?" "Anything..." He cut his red-eyed partner off before he could say the next word. "Except extra paper work." Schanke didn't seem to be bothered. With a wicked smile, he said, "Sure, next time you go to that club of yours, I'll go in with you. And you have to introduce me to all the gorgeous ladies." Nick shook his head as he countered, "The ladies won't mind that at all and neither do I. But I'm not quite sure how Myra would think about that." Schanke snorted. It was too bad his partner knew so much about his personal life while he practically knew nothing about his. He scratched his head, not really wanting to back off yet. "Ok, then you will join me and Myra for dinner one night. We can both call in sick and book that night off. How does that sound?" Nick's mouth nearly fell open at his partner's counter attack. He never would have thought that Schanke might turn the reimbursement into an invitation. His partner had asked him many times before to come to his house and sample some of his wife's exceptional cooking, but he always had dismissed the idea with an excuse. He knew that if he turned down the invitation this time his friend would feel offended. Suddenly extra paper work didn't sound that terrible at all. "All right, partner. Whatta you say? Is Tuesday ok? I promise there will be no slouvaki on the menu, but I have to make you taste our new garlic sauce." Schanke's voice pulled him out of his musing. Nick looked at him plaintively, thinking how he possibly could get out of this one. It was troubling to have to worry about something as simple as an invitation to a friend's house, yet he knew that somehow it would turn all wrong again and Schanke might end up in the same suspicious turmoil he had been in the past two days. Only this time LaCroix might not be that patient. "Let me think it over, Schank. I'm not really sure what my plans for Tuesday are." "Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. It doesn't matter when you can, partner. You promised you'd do anything for me and this is what I'm asking. You are in some big trouble this time and I won't let you get away." "Knight, Schanke, in my office, now." Cohen's voice cut though their conversation and for once Nick welcomed it with relief. They both stood up and went to the captain's office. As soon as they entered, she handed them a report and sat down at her desk. "They have found a body. Polson Street, close to the harbor. You'd better head down there, now." The two detectives got their coats and hurried out of the precinct. As they got into Nick's car, each fell into his own deliberation and a silence much in contrast to their earlier squabble fell over both. Nick was thinking about how to find a way to dismiss his partner's invitation while Schanke was silently wondering about the strange reason that had made washing his partner's car so fundamental. They arrived at the scene in a mayhem of lights, sirens and uniforms. The entirety of the short street was blocked by the police, and forensics and the city coroner, Dr. Natalie Lambert, were already at the scene. Nick saw Natalie's crouched form beside the bagged body, writing quick notes on a pad, her hair tousled in all directions. Two officers were questioning witnesses and there were a lot of observers standing behind the yellow tape. He went over and leaned down to take a better look. The chestnut haired ME looked up, her round face showing her delight at his arrival although her voice was plain professional as she reported, "Victim is male, Caucasian, about twenty-one. Single shot in the chest, no sign of struggle. TOD yet to be determined." Nick looked at the crowd that had gathered around the scene. "How did they get here?" "The shot attracted the first few. They attracted the others, and suddenly, we have a big audience." She looked down at the body again. " Forensics has found two packs of heroin in his pockets. Looks like a regular case to me." Schanke came forward, rubbing his hands together. "I vote for a drive-by. Like those Hollywood films. He was a dealer; he didn't deal well, bang. Right in the chest." He gestured with his hands, holding an imaginary gun and shooting at Nick. "Is the murder weapon found?" Nick asked. "Negative on that one," Nat answered. "But forensics still searches the area." "Told ya," Schanke put in. "No gun to be found, it is a drive-by, trust me." Nat turned her attention to the babbling detective. "No skid marks either, Schanke. By your theory, they must have done it with a helicopter." "So what. Some perps are rich; they can afford that sort of stuff. Maybe it was the mafia?" "What do the witnesses say?" Nick continued his questioning. Schanke shook his head, "Nothing useful. Most got here after the shot was fired, some even later. No one actually saw it happen, they just saw the body." His last words were lost to Nick, when his highly perceptive senses suddenly became alert. A strange tingly feeling started at the back of his neck, telling him that they were being watched by someone of 'his' kind. He rose up and looked around as the feeling became stronger and stronger. There was at least one vampire close by, but the frightening thing was that he or she didn't seem to care to shield its presence from him, even though he was sure he was sensed by it. This was either someone too young and naïve or someone too old and confident, or perhaps-he shuddered at the thought- someone so powerful it didn't fear exposure. The blond vampire whirled around apprehensively to survey the taped off surroundings. The presence didn't seem to advance or back away. It was one steady vibe coming to him from somewhere behind the darkness of a nearby alley. Finally, he decided to walk towards it and try to discover who it was that dared to challenge him so audaciously. From what he had felt so far, the signature wasn't anyone familiar. Perhaps not even someone from the Community; they all knew how protective he was when he was on the job and never dared to test him. This had to be a stranger, or perhaps a group of strangers. His mind became more restless at the thought and he had to fight the urge to fly toward where the vibration came from in an attempt to hunt the intruder. "...and I bet you didn't even hear a word I just said, did you, partner? Nick! Niiiick! Hello...Houston calling Nick! Anyone there?" Slowly, Nick's attention turned back to his partner. Schanke was staring at him with a discontented look on his face. He shook his head and said, "I'm sorry Schank, what did you say?" "I said I have to go back to the station and give these reports to the captain. You can finish off here and fill me in with the details later. I'm taking off in one of those." Schanke pointed at the several squad cars lighting up the area with their spinning red and blue lights. Nick took a deep breath as if waking out of a dream and nodded to his partner. "Ok, I'll catch up with you later." He watched as Schanke went to a uniformed officer and spoke to him. Soon they were on their way to one of the squad cars before they got in and drove away. Someone patted him on the shoulder just as he turned away. He looked down and saw Natalie looking deeply at him. Just at that moment, he felt it. The presence was gone. The weird buzzing at the back of his head had disappeared as strangely and suddenly as it had come, leaving a flailing uneasiness in its place. He looked at Natalie, who was still watching him worriedly without saying a word. She knew his current condition had something to do with his preternatural senses and didn't want to interrupt or further disturb him. He finally managed to respond to her attention with a reassuring smile. "Nothing, I just felt something." They drove back together and he dropped her off at the morgue. In front of the building, Nick gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and waved goodbye. On his way back to the precinct, he turned the radio on to CERK, hoping to release some of that night's tension by listening to LaCroix's soothing voice, or just slip into the usual old habit of having his voice resonate in the car. There was only music on. He listened for a while until it slowly faded in the clamor of the streets and the signs and the thousands of heartbeats drumming in the heat of the big city's nightlife. His thoughts drifted to another place, a place he always ran to when he needed comfort and escape. He contemplated going there now even though he knew there was a heap of work and a deadbeat partner waiting for him at the precinct. He passed the second light and ended up at the intersection that divided the two paths, still contemplating his choices. Finally, in a flash of raw determination, he turned the steering wheel to the left road that led to the gothic nightclub called The Raven. CHAPTER TWO The Raven-a place that offered the creatures of the night relief from their constant disguise from the measures of the human society, and the creatures of the day a hiding place from those same measures-was unusually packed, its lineup snaking around the corner into the dark alley beyond. Nick walked along the queue, observing some unusual faces he hadn't seen in a long time, vampires considered outcasts in the Community. This in addition to the absence of a Nightcrawler monologue tonight could only mean one thing. LaCroix was not in town He nodded to the bouncer as he entered the club. It was both dark and bright, disco lights flashing from corners and patrons, man and vampire, dancing undauntedly to the beat of the music. He walked toward the bar, where the bartender greeted him with a bottle of 'his' special. He took the glass with an appreciative nod and took his first sip as he turned in the stool to survey the dance floor and the dancers. It always amazed him how the humans tried their everything to look evil, from wearing gothic style shredded clothes to putting on scary looking black makeup while the real demons, the creatures who fed upon them, kept a low profile by dressing like regular humans. But hadn't that always been the way, all through the ages of history and time, the squatting of the silent predator and the flaunting of the credulous prey? Only tonight, the atmosphere seemed to be different among the clients. There was an air of tension in the place, an unspoken dread that ran from one patron to the next through whispers and signs, from the brush through strands of hair to the offering of a drink to the slow sensual movement of the bodies along the floating music. The dread was there and he could clearly sense it. A hand settled on his shoulder. A glass of crimson liquid made from human blood was held in front of his face as a low mesmerizing voice murmured in his ear. "So good to see you mon cher Nicola, I must say I didn't expect you to come here tonight." He brushed the tempting drink away and fully turned into a lustful kiss that seemed to merge his present and past for several long minutes, drowning him in waves of pleasure that still captured his senses after so many centuries. As they broke away, Janette picked up her drink and leaned lazily on the bar, her face mere inches away from her lover's. "I was thinking, now that LaCroix is out of town, perhaps you can provide me with some enjoyment." Nick looked at her beautiful face, her ruby lips calling him like a siren to steal another kiss. He shook the thought away and became serious. "Where is LaCroix? I didn't know he was leaving town." Janette stirred her drink, still as coquettish as before. "I don't know, some urgent business I guess. I think he went to New York to meet some of the elders there. He is still into his odd political and financial games." She took another sip and leaned to kiss him again, lips soaked with the reddish liquor. Nick turned his head away this time, concern marring his brow. "Why is there so much tension in the air tonight? I know you can feel it too, something must have happened in the Community," he said as he looked back into her blue eyes. She leaned back, all charisma suddenly gone from her stance. She kept looking at her drink as she murmured, "We may have some uninvited guests." Her eyes stayed lowered. "What uninvited guests?" Nick inquired. "I don't know if I should upset you, Nicola, but there is a word going around that *they* might be in town" A hint of gold flashed through her eyes as she rose them to meet his. *They...* Nick tried to consume the information. It has been a long time since he had seen one of them. Ever since that fateful night, when he had driven the burning stake into his master's chest, they had been in his thoughts. He had anticipated encounters in the shadows of every abandoned street, for them to rise from the darkness and to corner him at his weakest state. He had flinched at the thought of what such an encounter would entail even in the confines of his own home. They, them, the Enforcers. The Enforcers were an elite force of fearsome fighters sworn to carry out the directives of the vampires' highest ruling body, the High Council. As vampire equivalents of the Third Reich's Gestapo, they spent their entire un-life at their headquarters waiting to be called on missions assigned to them by the Council. Every vampire who had lived more than a few decades knew about their powers and feared their threat. Going through centuries of harsh training and grueling lessons of brutality and ruthlessness, their powers exceeded even those of some of the older vampires. Feared by nearly every individual in the Community, except perhaps the elders, they tended to lead solitary lives aimed at one single goal to which they were eternally vowed, protecting and enforcing the ancient universal canon of their kind called the Code. The book of laws breached so many times by a certain 800 year old vampire called Nicholas de Brabant. He turned back to Janette, "What have you heard?" She hissed, "Je ne connais pas, some rumors perhaps." Nick took her face in his hands and looked intently in her eyes, "Tell me, Janette. You know more about this than you are telling. I felt an unfamiliar aura at a crime scene tonight and it didn't bother to hide. If this has anything to do with me, please tell me so I can watch my back." Janette closed her eyes. Slowly, she released her face from his grasp and turned away, her voice a bare whisper," Oh, Nicola, I'm so scared. I hope it's not you. I think I saw..." She shook her head and turned back to him, her eyes glowing once again as her words came barely audible over the club's pounding music. "Arthur..." she whispered timidly. Nick's breath caught in his throat as he looked at her with disbelieving eyes. She continued. " I saw him last night, here, in the club. He was here with the rest of them for a brief moment. It seemed they where looking for something. I was busy at that time and couldn't check on them, but like everyone else, I felt the dread of their presence. Before I had a chance to do anything, they left." Nick thought about the events of that night, the powerful presence that had left him shaken on the streets. He closed his eyes momentarily, thinking hard before opening them to ask another question. His gaze stayed on the bar table. "Why him?" He looked up at her. "And why now?" Janette's hand came up to caress his face. "I don't know, mon amour! The Council has the choice to pick anyone they like for an assignment, anytime." "Yes, but him? One of our blood?" "I've heard he is an interrogator now." Nick raised his eyebrows in astonishment and praise. Achieving any position in the force was a demanding task considering the hardships their job entailed. He wondered how long it had taken the Enforcer in question to reach that rank. "How did he look, Janette?" Janette looked at him in surprise, "What?" "I asked how he looked. Did he look happy? Proud? Sad? Miserable?" Janette shook her head. "He...um, he looked like...like a...like an Enforcer, of course." Nick nodded and lowered his head. Of course there was no way to describe how they looked. All covered in shapeless clothes, all features drawn to an almost stone-like facade. They were almost never heard to speak, except perhaps during the interrogations. And the way they moved, soundless, indiscernible, like the shadow of death. From the early days of his un-life, while he still had been under LaCroix's tutelage, he had learned about them. He remembered the time when he was a fledgling and trying hard to learn the principles of the Code his master taught him. They were many, but some very important ones were repeated over and over again as he forced his brain to memorize them, which he soon discovered needless due to the vampire's perfect memory. They were for their protection and safety against the mortal world, a world that had no knowledge about them and had to be preserved that way to ensure their survival and the continued existence of their food resources. He was also taught that at any point, if he failed to obey those engraved laws, his punishment would be harsh, and in the hands of no other but the Enforcers. God knew how much he had feared them in all those centuries, like every other vampire prone to slip at some point in their life and afraid to be caught because of it. They were the nightmares of his early years, the bogeyman of his dreams which he knew was an imaginary creature feared by mortal children when they were young and naïve. The difference was these monsters were real, and he was still afraid of them even after eight hundred years. His mind drifted away to a distant time and a faraway place as he remembered his very first encounter with them. It was a time of helplessness and dependence when he was too young to stand on his own and under the fierce protection of his imperious master. LaCroix who made sure nothing of him was ever touched or harmed or possessed by anyone else, anyone other than he himself. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Flashback Southeast France 1368 AD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ His Name was Lord Acheron. The lord of "Guerriers des Ténèbres" or "Guetennes" as they were called in his realm of Charente. His castle towered over acres of fertile land stretching to the far frontiers of Cognac and to the south, all the way to the sea. His might was known throughout the whole kingdom to the lords and nobles who owned the lands and ruled the neighboring territories. The Guetennes were feared and respected warriors throughout the realm and highly skilled in wars, always striking in fierce vigor as if supported by a superior hand from above. He was proud of them, as he was proud of his land, his harvest and his peasants. He was like a god, old, powerful and immortal. Lord Acheron took another sip from the exquisite vintage and reflected. The wine was old, especially selected from his stocks in the west cellar, stored there since the early 1100's. The blood was young and fresh and it was female. A virgin from the village, crowned as the Flower Queen in the last St. Francis celebrations. He reveled in the taste as he thought to himself. Yes, definitely a unique mixture, just as it should be, and a great choice for tonight's occasion. He placed the glass on the offered tray and slightly shook his head in approval to the servant who held it. Dismissing him with a gesture of his hand, he looked out the window and over at the road that snaked toward the castle. Night had settled and the guards had already lit up the high torches on either side of the road, causing it to look like a river of flames and lights. He sighed and turned away. He had lived in this castle for 958 years, a significant portion of his un-life. He cherished the land that belonged to him and had once belonged to his father, grandfather and great- grandfather, as the villagers were made to believe. All men of power and nobility, who had the same categorical prominence over the ages and the same mysterious aura creeping into legends and fairytales passing through generations. He smiled at the thought of those fables, about the imperial lord's immortality and power to twist the minds of those who dared to challenge him, about his ability to fly like a dragon, and one created to scare children into discipline, about his craving for blood. He grinned in amusement; his peasants were intelligent in their insights, considering these were all more or less true. It was good that the stories stayed as they were, in the form of mere fables, and didn't advance any further to give the wretched any particular ideas. He knew he had to move on if it came to that, and he didn't want to leave Charente so soon. He was happy here. He stood up and walked to the window. The servants and guards had finished the preparations for the arriving guests. The castle glowed in vibrant lights emitting from hundreds of torches placed around the walls and battlements. The road sparkled as well and was cleared and cleaned for the coaches to arrive without a hindrance. He could already see the glimmer of the first few coming around the bend of the road. He took a deep breath, he'd been preparing for this night for a long time. His duty as the head commissioner of the Enforcement demanded him to undertake this proceeding for every prominent family of their kind. And to finish the administrative work on a sizeable family such as Lucien LaCroix's had taken him decades. He looked down at the arriving coaches, thinking about his main guest. From what he remembered, Lucien was a very adventurous vampire. Unlike himself who mostly liked to stay in one place, Lucien had already been around the world a few many times. He also liked to put his oar in all sorts of political affairs, taking part and interfering in events that in the passing of the time would be considered historical. His children were plenty and going through the records of their backgrounds had taken him several years, but had also rewarded him with facts about the 1300-year-old Roman general. He had learned that although LaCroix was an audacious master in bringing people across to their side, he was also one with exquisite taste. If what he'd learned from his investigation was correct, he was about to be host to one of the more impressive families amongst their kind. He stepped out of the room and walked down the hall toward the huge staircase that connected the mid-level of the castle to the enormous hall on the main floor, still following his stream of thoughts. No matter how minor or influential a vampire family was, how close together the members stayed, or if they walked apart all over the globe, (regardless of who the master was, male or female, a friend or a foe to the Community), a time would arrive for the family to present itself to the High Council's delegate and show its acknowledgment toward the Enforcement. That was when they had to meet Lord Acheron. LaCroix's family was no exception. He reached the main floor and shouted a few commands to the servants who were running around and attending to the guests who had just arrived. Lord Acheron called to his most trusted subordinate and told him to lead the guests to the throne room until he was ready for reception. He then turned back toward the stairs and ascended them, returning to the special room he had been occupying before, where he continued observing the arriving guests from his obscured position. He didn't want to start the actual reception until LaCroix himself showed up. More coaches arrived in the courtyard, from which beautiful ladies in elegant dresses and gallant looking gentlemen with shiny swords and tender manners descended. The dark lord took a deep breath at the sight of the group that was slowly assembling in the bailey to be led to the castle by the servants. It was true that LaCroix's children were among the most beautiful specimens of their species. They were mostly from superior families, no matter the time and age of their crossing. Of course, that meant not including the ones that the master vampire had brought across accidentally, or for certain circumstantial or political reasons, or simply to avenge an enemy. Those weren't really considered his 'children,' and they weren't invited to the occasion either. Only the ones LaCroix had 'chosen' to be his kin and part of his bloodline, with enough deliberation and personal preference, were called in for this assembly. Lord Acheron's eyes moved >from one arriving guest to the other as he continued with his thoughts. He wondered what it was like for LaCroix to have such a beautiful and patrician family? His own children were far from being part of his household, as all of them joined the Enforcement from a very early age. He had not seen or heard of them since; it was a part of the Code to break all the ties one had with her or his family when they became an Enforcer. Enforcers were to be faceless entities with no alleged relations whatsoever -- they never made any children and never communicated with their masters or their siblings unless it was part of the mission assigned to them by the High Council. The old vampire shook his head in contemplation. Soon, one of these delightful creatures whose laughter was now echoing through the halls of the castle Charente, would be forced to join that same tenacious force that had claimed so many others before, and would be condemned to the same forlorn destiny. The throne room was nearly full of visitors when LaCroix's carriage finally appeared around the bend of the road. It was a very expensive period stagecoach pulled by four powerful steaming horses. Lord Acheron straightened in his position for a better look. He knew that LaCroix had been traveling with his two favorite children through Scandinavia when he had received his invitation. He had to reschedule the meeting to this date to ensure the master had enough time to reach the castle without having to take on the dangers of traveling during the day, especially since one of his two companions was still in his fledgling years according to what he had heard. Acheron stared silently at the approaching coach as it raced through the gates, eliciting alarming shouts from the servants to run and restrain the wheezing horses and attend to the arriving guests. He hid himself further in the shadows of the room as he watched the cart's door open and the tall form of the master vampire appear in the flicker of the torchlights. Lucien LaCroix was shrouded in black as he stepped out, a high-necked shirt with lace edging and black breaches, his long black cloak flapped slightly in the evening wind. Acheron observed him look around the courtyard for a while before his eyes finally rested on the window behind which he was standing. He knew with an intuitive awareness that his guest was able to sense him there regardless of the colossal power he had exercised to shield his presence. LaCroix was very old, almost as old as he was, and he knew all there was to the powers of the mind. He watched as the black clad vampire stepped down from the carriage's rung and raised his hand toward the open door. A slim black-gloved hand appeared and took the proffered hand as a raven-haired woman emerged from the cart. Dressed in shades of black akin to her master, she too had her cloak wrapped around her. Her face was marble white and emphasized by the darkness of her hair and her clothes. Her cloak shifted away to reveal the fur bodice she wore over her velvet black dress that shimmered in the light. Invisible threads of silver ran through the exceptionally expensive fabric to make it look as if it was speckled with genuine diamonds and authentic gems. The same went for the fabulous gleaming tiara that held the mass of her hair in place above her head and for her hauntingly attractive green-blue eyes. She was truly a manifestation of beauty and grace, Acheron admitted to himself. "Janette," he breathed. "The seductress!" He had came upon more than one story about her enchanting powers of beauty and seduction and how they were used by her master time and again to lure victims and prey to the ominous lair of the master vampire. He had achieved so much through her over time that it was no wonder he still had her at his side, although it was also rumored that there was more going on between them than plain master/child relationship, as it was with all vampire masters and their favorite creations. The old lord watched with a tinge of jealousy as the enchantress stepped out of the coach with the grace of a female cat, her hand still holding LaCroix's as they both turned back to look at the cart's open door. Acheron came closer to the window, braving exposure by the castle lights. He knew LaCroix had already discovered him and the next patron about to emerge from the cart was the one he was mainly interested in. He narrowed his eyes for focus and sharpened his acute night vision to manage a better view. A young man stepped out of the coach. His remarkably handsome visage looked a little over thirty in mortal years, although Acheron could sense he was just a child regarding his vampire age. A halo of blond hair framed his incredibly innocent face as he poked his head out of the coach and took a confused look around. He was as stylishly dressed as his companions with the exception of his choice of color; it was a mixture of white and beige for his overall attire, apart from his cape: that was black on the outside and light brown on the inside. Finishing out his outfit was a pair of leather knee-high boots and a carved shielded sword that was hanging loosely from his hip. He too held onto his master's outstretched hand as he descended from the coach, but unlike Janette, he let it fall as soon as his feet touched the ground. So this was he, LaCroix's newest get. Acheron raised his eyebrows in admiration. He had to give it to the old man, if nothing else LaCroix's taste had improved over the centuries; the lad looked like an angel in arms. He didn't have to do much research on him since he was just under a hundred-and-fifty years old. From what he knew, ever since LaCroix had brought this one across, he had spent most of his time teaching the ways of life to his newborn child, and still it carried on, something that was considerably rare after the fledgling was past his or her first century. The young man looked at his surroundings with astonished eyes before he was led by his master to the entrance of the fort and stepped out of the old lord's view. Seeing as these were the last of his guests to arrive, he took a deep breath and left the window and the room. It was time to make an appearance. The great hall was now fallen into complete silence contrary to just a few minutes ago, where all patrons, male and female were indulging themselves in cheerful chitchats and delightful introductions. It was apparent that the master's presence had affected even the most jovial and rebellious in the crowd. As he approached the throne room, Lord Acheron saw the scene being played there through the tall carved twin doors that stood open on each side of the arched entrance. LaCroix was sitting in a mighty chair with the air of an emperor, leaned back, his hands resting on the arms and his legs crossed in front of him. Janette was standing behind him at his right, straight-backed and unmoving. Nicholas, as he recalled the new fledgling's name was, was standing on his left. One by one, the other children came forth to kneel in front of him and kiss the large ring on his hand before he put the hand on their shoulder and called them by their names to acknowledge their presence. The ceremony continued in that fashion even after he entered the room, the only response being LaCroix's silent nod of acknowledgment towards him. He wasn't bothered by it, since certain rules sealed by the Code entailed that when a master met his creation after a long time without any sharing of blood, there had to be a ceremony of some sort to confirm and demonstrate the master's authority and the child's acceptance of it. The host stood silently in one corner, watching the service proceed until all of his younger guests finished paying their heeds to their proud creator and stepped to one side. He looked at LaCroix, who was still sitting in his chair with his hands now in front of him, the fingertips resting against each other. The room was silent for another while before he rose from his chair and took a few steps to greet their noble host. His radiating aura made everyone shrink in the room. "Good evening, my lord. It is a most pleasurable occasion to see you after such a long time. Was it, my friend, five centuries ago?" LaCroix extended both arms in either direction as if to embrace the ancient lord. Acheron slightly bowed in response, making the traditional head-tilt that was customary at the time. "General Lucius! It is always a joy to meet old friends. I am happy I have been given the honors to play host to you and your highly regarded family on this occasion. I must admit it has been a while since Charente has been house to such a beautiful assembly of powerful and aristocratic patrons." LaCroix's nostrils flared at the compliment. He looked around the room in approval. His children were in fact remarkable, he thought as his eyes rested on his two favorites, still standing behind the now unoccupied chair like marble statues. Lord Acheron extended his arm, patting LaCroix on the back as he said, "Let's move to the dining room first and have a little meal. I hope you had the chance to enjoy my so- far served vintages. But like they say, nothing compares to the liquor that comes straight >from the source. You need the body to keep the spirit hot, and the skin to resist the bite." He smiled as he led his guests toward the adjacent room where several tables had been set, a young unconscious maiden resting on top of each of them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @}--`--}--, ----- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER THREE "If you are trying to scare me by sneaking up on me, I must tell you, you're doing a very bad job." Dr. Natalie Lambert spoke without turning. Instead, she continued to examine the vial she was holding in front of the florescent light, shaking it vigorously to keep the particles afloat. Nick was leaning on the doorframe, drawn in complete silence. Even without looking, she knew he must have that little-boy look on his face. The look that always made her knees unwillingly go soft. She had heard him in the corridor talking to her assistant, Grace Balthasar, and knew he was there in spite of his soundless movements. At times she wondered if that, too, was part of their predatory nature, a concept that made her shiver inside. Thinking of Nick as the hunter, inching on his prey step after step, getting closer to that beating source of blood. He would wait mutely in the shadows until the right moment came, then would leap in the air, go straight for the neck, and pierce the vein like a cobra as red-hot blood splashed into his eager mouth.... Vehemently, she pushed the images away from her mind. That wasn't her Nick she insisted to herself; that was Count Dracula. Her Nick was cute and gentle and extremely caring, he was more human than anyone else she knew, never the monster he claimed to be. He was the guy who came to her whenever she needed someone to talk to, the guy who invited her to watch movies together and who got popcorn just to throw at her, and the guy who flashed his fangs to scare her at the emotional ending of King Kong. She silently smiled at the memory. Ok, maybe he wasn't exactly Mr. Perfect, but he was...he was Nick. Who cared about the little oddities? Nick pushed himself away from the doorframe and walked forward to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. She fought the impulse to lean against him, tried to focus on the contents of the vial, which she knew she was shaking a little too violently. Nick laid his chin on her right shoulder, looking at her work with interested eyes. She picked up another vial and dispensed the contents of the first into the second, then moved to attach a label to it, hence moving out of his grasp. Nick crossed his hands in front of his chest and asked, "Anything new on the Polson street victim?" Natalie continued writing on the label and answered without raising her head, "Well, we know the cause of death, there is not much to tell in that field. The shot that was fired went straight through his heart. Definitely fired from a close range, and the blood on the pavement was also identified as his, meaning that he was shot on the spot. No murder weapon found yet." "Anything that can help us identify the perp?" "From what I have found in his blood, the guy was a heavy drug user himself. He could have been waiting for the supplier to get his usual biz. He could also be the dealer waiting for an appointed customer when it all happened." "Or perhaps he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." "That could be true too, but I guess we have to wait for the preliminaries to learn more. Hey, you're off for tonight, aren't you?" Nick nodded in answer. "Yeah, I'm going back to the loft. Got to straighten up some stuff before the big fiery ball comes out and tells me to jump in the hay." Natalie smiled and took both his hands in hers, looking him in the eyes. "Ok, you be a good boy and go now. But would you promise to try that new snack I made for you before going to bed?" Nick grimaced at the suggestion and tore away from her gaze. Nat's eyes continued to follow his with an expectant expression of their own. After a few minutes of silence, he finally said, "Ok Nat, I'll try, but I must tell you they're the worst I ever had. Their taste is so bad I feel like scraping my tongue clean after I have one." "C'mon Nick, that's unfair. You can at least try, can't you? I mean, you're the one who wants to be mortal, not I, but I ask you to do it this time for me, ok?" Nick's sky blue eyes returned to hers with an expression of fortitude as he moved his hand trough her wavy, chestnut hair. "It's always been for you, my little Ms. Frankenstein. What else do I have to go for?" As sweet as that sounded to her, her features turned hurt. Was he implying that he didn't trust her cures? That he took them just to please her? She let go of his hands and stepped away, returning to her experiment left on the desk. Without letting any part of her feelings creep into her voice, she said, "I'm visiting a relative in town tomorrow so I may not be able to drop by. I guess we'll see each other at the next shift." Nick planted a kiss on her right cheek and whispered cheerfully, "That's perfectly fine. I'll see you then, my dear, that is if I survive those snacks of yours." He left without a noise, not noticing her injured look, again. That was her Nick, the joy of her life, who showed up like a waft of smoke and went away like a gust of wind. Who was too naïve to ever know what happened in her heart. ------------- Nick pulled up the Caddy in the garage and shoved the keys in his pocket. Days after his little mess about with Schanke, he still had to smile whenever he looked at his clean polished car. He loved it when the Caddy was in good care. He took the elevator up to the loft, counting in his mind the seconds that were left for him to get to the fridge. Today he would drain at least four bottles and get himself a hangover. He smiled at the mortal phrase; did his kind ever get a hangover if they drank too much? It was hard to tell now that his days of tempestuous drinking were centuries past. He strode toward his fridge and yanked the door open. He looked at the corner of the fridge, where Nat's special new 'snacks' were stored, and scowled. With an approving nod on Natalie's behalf, he reached forward and grabbed the neck the closest bottle. Just then he froze in place. The sense of someone standing behind him hit his awareness like a slap. There was someone else in his loft and he had just decided to reveal himself to the owner. Nick knew there was no point in staying in that position any longer, that it wouldn't change the inevitable. Holding the bottle firmly in his hand, he slowly rose and turned, looking straight into the cold eyes of the Enforcer. "Hello, Arthur!" He looked away, trying his best not to show his fear; a feeling that started to rise and bubble inside him the moment he sensed the other's presence. The power emanating from the bold vampire seeped into his soul like a poisonous mist. For minutes, the Enforcer stayed frozen in place, his eyes piercing Nick like a cornered prey. He must have entered the loft through the skylight, waiting for him to arrive, and shielding his presence from his oblivious host until just the right moment. Of course, he thought, that was their way, to give themselves the edge of catching others off guard and watch them melt at their feet. Nick looked back at the glassy eyes of the dark creature, reading the lines of terror and destruction in their depths. Finally, the figure spoke. "It's been a very long time, Nicholas. I see you've acquainted yourself very well to the changes of time." He scanned the numerous high-tech appliances around the loft before his eyes returned to the other vampire. "Last time I saw you, you were just an oblivious child." Memories came rushing back at Nick. Acheron's throne room formed before his eyes, LaCroix resting in a heavy chair, his diamond-covered hand held in front of him as each of the younger vampires came forth to kneel and place a kiss on his ring. Janette standing on the right side of the chair, watching the scene from behind their master with smooth eyes, mirrored his own tense pose standing on the left. He remembered their names, with crystal clarity, uttered from their master's lips as each lowered their head to that majestic hand, planting the kiss and accepting the caress that followed. He remembered the dark- haired impish-looking vampire with the proud and determined look as he knelt down to kiss the proffered hand. His green eyes gazed at Nick when he raised his head from the kiss, an unreadable expression etched across them and a kind of fire that leaped toward him causing him to wince involuntarily. He didn't know this man, had never seen him before. But there was so much recognition and hate in those eyes that made him want to close his own, just as he heard his master speak the name, "Arthur." Nick stared back at the vampire before him. The glacier in his eyes was gone. If he wasn't a vampire, Nick would've said that time had taken its toll on him. He looked like a statue, they all did, but this one was harder to accept, remembering the passion he had held and the turmoil they both had suffered from those lifetimes ago. Arthur was older than he was, even older than Janette by several decades. Still, he looked somewhat juvenile because he had been in his late twenties when he was brought across. He had a well-groomed appearance, black hair combed back and styled in place, black suit and tie, a Samsonite leather briefcase: he almost looked like the young son of a mighty tycoon dressed up for his first business luncheon. No soul would have believed the power withheld in that youthful body, the wisdom and age hidden behind those green eyes. Nick knew him from before he joined the force, knew about his passionate spirit and the fearsome fire that burned inside him and could burn cities to the ground now that he was one of the fiends. "Please make yourself comfortable." He pointed toward the couch. "Can I get you something to drink?" He really didn't know how to greet an Enforcer. If he weren't trapped in his loft by the impending sunrise, he would've flown away rather than trying to make the other feel at home. Arthur placed his briefcase to one side and sat on the couch. He crossed his legs lazily and continued to study his host. Nick took his silence as a yes and opened a separate compartment of his fridge that contained the 'special' beverages. He took two glasses and filled one with the bovine from the green bottle and the second with the special. Then he walked to the couch, carrying both, while the Enforcer's eyes kept following him all the while. He sat on the chair next to the couch and placed the glass in front of his guest. Arthur picked it up and gazed at the liquid inside before taking a slow sip. His eyes closed at the taste, like a professional wine taster, and opened to stare again at the glass he was holding. " Old and donated," he commented in a flat tone. "Guess you don't have the means to get the good stuff?" His eyes returned to Nick with just the barest amusement evident in them. His fangs were visible through his lips as he spoke. Even retracted, they were a half-centimeter taller than the rest of his teeth, making Nick wonder about their actual size when they extended in the vampiric state. He knew the Enforcers were famous for their extremely long canines. Nick swallowed his own drink and tried to calm his nerves. After long minutes of silence, he replied, "I must say I'm surprised you even accepted my invitation for this drink. Usually, you guys just roar and pounce instead of talking to the victims or asking them any sort of questions." Arthur's eyes became dark. With a voice that was as cold as his drink, he replied, "The ones you are talking about are the agents, also called Destroyers. They are not made to talk, only to act out the will of the Council. I am an interrogator. I ask questions." His last words bared an unspoken threat that wasn't lost to his tense companion. Nick leaned back against his chair, holding his drink with both hands. The cow's blood tasted worse than ever and he felt dizzy drinking it. All he wanted was to be told what this was all about, and if there was a sentence, he wanted it to be carried out as soon as possible so he could go and rest, in peace or else. It really didn't matter to him anymore. Arthur finally broke the lengthy silence. He placed his glass on the coffee table and uttered two words apathetically, "Rosaline Mansfield." Nick looked up in surprise, the name ringing no familiar note in his mind. At his questioning gaze, the interrogator continued. "The High Council of London investigated a series of articles written and published by her in a local tabloid, all in relation to vampires. In them she explains in detail how the secret society of bloodsuckers loiters in dark sectors with unknown embodiments and satisfies its needs by exploiting associate mortals for food and other means. She also illustrates how many of the members tend to live as regular human beings amongst the mortals, carrying lives and jobs like regular people but concealing their secret as part of their ever-so-venerated Code. All articles were signed and endorsed with special thanks to a particular Toronto pen pal by the name of Myra Schanke." He punctuated the name meticulously. Nick's heart sank halfway through its single beat. He looked up in horror, not noticing the shining gold flecks starting to appear in the Enforcer's eyes. Arthur's features remained calm and passive but it was apparent that he was amused by Nick's reaction to the name. When Nick didn't say anything, he simply continued. "London sent me here to contact the board of Toronto Council and see what has been undertaken. Apparently there was no disturbance reported recently, so we prepared the case based on what London had provided us and a quick investigation followed. As it turned out, Myra was in fact a friend of Rosaline and they used to send each other letters for many years with subjects ranging from Martha Stuart to the monster of Loch Ness. But what interested us the most was that this Myra was married to a cop who had been recently seen prowling around the Community's lairs, and whose partner was reportedly a vampire." He finished by fixing him with irises now completely consumed in gold. Nick opened his mouth, but he knew his voice would fail him. A cold sheen of blood sweat started to gather on his brow. Just then, Arthur's eyes returned to normal and he leaned back against the couch, still examining his victim. Nick was reminded of his own interrogation tactics and if he hadn't been so distressed, he might have laughed at the incongruity of his life. But he was too troubled to think about anything other than his partner and the danger that hovered above him and his family. And as always, it was his fault. His mere existence made people suffer and die before they even had a chance to know why, and the truth of it clenched at his heart like a gargoyle's claw. He lowered his head and wished he had died long ago, before he had known what friendship meant and before he had dared to let it into his un- dead heart. "I--" he started, but choked. Arthur immediately held up a hand for silence. "You don't have to answer me anything. Your time to answer questions will come very soon. I'm only here to hand you the summons for your interrogation." He picked up his briefcase and put it on his lap. With a flick of his thumb, he opened the latch and took out a sheet of paper that strangely looked like a regular court order, except for the Council's ornamented seal at the top of the first page. Nick held out an unsteady hand and took it. He turned the first page and looked at the address printed on the second, indicating the location where his questioning would take place. The location seemed unfamiliar, somewhere in the Flemingdon Park area. He looked up, wondering if this was a secret hiding place for these procedures. Arthur looked at him from above his nose, reading the question in his eyes. "It's an abandoned dogfight club. I guess your counterfeit mortal life as a cop does not go back far enough to have encounters with this place. Even if it had, I doubt you would have heard of it. Our committee has a way with choosing appropriate places." He sat up as he finished speaking, putting his glass on the coffee table and picking up his briefcase. Nick was still staring at the sheet of paper when he realized his guest was leaving. With an effort, he finally managed to find a voice. "What about Schanke?" Arthur turned. "Detective Schanke and his wife will be dealt with in a separate practice. For now, their case does not concern you." "He is my partner." "He is a mortal, and will be handled like all mortals." "Which would be going after his hide and ripping his throat out along with his family's." The Enforcer smiled, his authoritative manner still firmly in place as he regarded his host with mocking eyes. "Young man, these aren't the dark ages anymore. Even we have to take precautions in the modern world as it is. It's not easy to go and kill suspecting mortals without taking the risk of more exposure, though it might still be essential in extreme cases. We have to be careful not to produce unnecessary bodies before we are absolutely sure that they are in fact a danger to the Community. Your friends are perfectly safe for now, unless it is proven that they possess information unsuitable for their kind." His smile disappeared and he resumed his serious bearing. "Prepare yourself for the questioning, Nicholas. It will take place at exactly the stated time. If you fail to appear, you will be dealt with accordingly, and I assure you it would be in a much less considerate manner. Make sure you don't forget." Nick looked back defensively. For the first time that night, Arthur's commanding manners got to him. What did they really think he was? A coward? Would they seriously believe he would worsen his partner's condition by failing to appear in their court? Heck, if it weren't for the approaching dawn and his guest's unsolicited presence, he would have flown to Schanke's house in no time. He fumed inside, but didn't let any of it show. The last thing needed right now was the Enforcer's rowdy irritation and the subsequent consequences. He stared at Arthur's back without saying a word, hoping his silence was indication enough of his understanding of the deal. Now the only thing left was for the Enforcer to leave before the imminent sunrise came about to make it all but impossible. He couldn't imagine spending the day with him. Just as Nick thought his guest was about to leave, Arthur's voice reached him with its vibrant edge. His back still turned, he asked softly, "They too are in this city, aren't they?" Nick blinked in surprise and confusion, not completely understanding the question. Arthur tilted his head slightly to one side and looked at him over his shoulder. "Janette, LaCroix? Are they here too?" Nick nodded blandly. "Janette owns the club you and your friends visited the other night, the Raven. LaCroix runs a radio show, but is currently away. I guess he will be back soon, if you want to see him." Arthur turned his head. He stayed unmoving as he continued. "You visit them often?" Nick stared at Arthur's back and answered, "Not that often. I have a job, so do they. I see Janette on and off when I go to the Raven; I'm happy about that. LaCroix... well let's say he's the type of person you are bound to see if he's around, no matter if you want it or not." Arthur finally turned, his green eyes showing something more than his previous jaded demeanor. "You still dislike him, don't you? Still the recalcitrant offspring?" He gazed at him for a while before turning his back again. Nick wasn't sure how to answer that and finally decided not to. He looked down at the papers in his hand. "You could have sent them through the mail, couldn't you? Here or the precinct, I would've gotten them anyway. There were not immediate reasons for you to come here, am I right?" His eyes stayed fixed on the black clad figure's back. "Give my regards to Janette," was the only answer he got before a sudden whoosh of displaced air indicated his uninvited guest's departure. Nick leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes in exhaustion. So many years, so much time passed. And yet it seemed like there was something inside both of them that had remained untouched through all that time. His thoughts drifted to Janette, to LaCroix, Natalie and Schanke and all his pals at the ninety-sixth. Suddenly his life didn't seem that miserable anymore, as he had always imagined it to be. He had so many friends and something that resembled a family in its own weird and twisted way. Arthur, on the other hand... "Your life, too, will be a shattered image if you don't do something about it soon," a voice sounded in his head. He picked up the bottle and the glasses and walked to his kitchen, an irrepressible yawn escaping his mouth. "Tomorrow," he said to himself. "I'll do something about it tomorrow." CHAPTER FOUR He had a restless sleep, haunted by images of his friends attacked by faceless demons in business cut suits. He tossed and turned until dusk finally fell. He knew it was going to be a rough night and with the unsolved case and the ever-so-anxious Nat wanting to hear about the outcome of her new super snacks, 'rough' might be just the nice way of putting it. Schanke was the first to greet him at the precinct. He was happy tonight and had obviously slept well. Scathingly, he thought how their roles were reversed after just 24 hours. It was his partner's turn to mock him for his scruffy appearance. He ran his hand through his unruly hair and braced himself for what was to come as his merry partner approached the desk. What came was far worse than anything he had expected. Schanke propped himself on his desk and blurted out, "Hey partner! What's with the 'ten-to-two' look? Didn't get much sleep, eh?" Nick looked at him, confused. "What look?" His partner snorted. "Ten minutes to two o'clock." He made a sign of V with his two index fingers. "You know, like on the clock, the hands would look exactly like your brows right now." He giggled. Nick stared at him unblinking for a few minutes before he asked, "Anything new on the case?" Schanke jumped off the desk and wiped his hands on his pants as he replied. "We have an ID on our John Doe. His name is Darryl Timanus, used to be a known candyman in that neighborhood and a few hundred blocks in every direction, with a lot of candy to spare the folks. He was even reported seen around Jenny's high school area trying to sell his stuff to the kids. You know, when I think of it, I might say I'm actually glad the guy is off the streets." "What about helpful evidence?" "Nothing yet, but we are still looking. Anyway, enough of the case, did you do enough thinking on my little dinner invitation? Are you going to honor Myra and me by coming to Schanke's humble home?" Nick looked up with a frightened look on his face. "What are you talking about, Schank? What invitation?" Schanke leaned forward, half yelling in his ear, which was like stabs to his sensitive hearing. "Don't tell me you forgot all about it. Don't you remember what we talked about last night? Our party? You coming to join us for dinner? You said you are going to brood over it, but by the way you look right now, man, I would say you wrestled with it, or something." Nick shot him an annoying glance. If he only knew how much trouble he and Myra had caused him and what grave danger they all were in, perhaps he would've thought twice before being so cheery. Schanke rose from his desk and walked to his own, absently checking the papers. "Well what's the word, Knight? Will it be Tuesday or next Saturday? Myra is planning to invite her sister over and I have to tell you, as much as I find her annoying at times, her cooking is simply magnificato. Muahh! She makes the best tortillas ever, makes you want to eat the whole plate." He smiled gleefully at the memory, oblivious to his friend's grimace. Nick thought about the horrible ordeal, about sitting at a dinner table with mannerly people around him, trying not to choke on the awful-tasting solid food. He closed his eyes in painful disdain and wished for a way out when all of a sudden a thought came to his mind. If he wanted to save his friends from the wrath of the Enforcers, this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Even all things considered, he still needed a chance to talk to Myra Schanke and ask her about her correspondence with Rosaline Mansfield -- that information might prove vital to all of them. And with Schanke pushing the subject now, perhaps accepting this invitation was not such a bad idea, if he was able to stay away from the food. With that in mind, he raised his head to his expectant partner and said, "Tuesday is fine." Schanke shook his head in discontent before he actually heard what his partner had just said. Slowly, his eyes grew wide as he turned back to Knight, not quite trusting his own hearing. "What did you say? Should I take that as a yes? You're coming? You are actually coming? Seriously?" Nick nodded. "Seriously." Schanke threw his hands in the air, joy and disbelief marking his every move. In seconds, he was out of his chair and on the phone dialing a number. "Got to tell Myra. She will jump out of her skin from joy. For months she's wanted to try her new recipes on someone other than me. Oh boy, is she gonna love it." Nick looked at him miserably. His thoughts raced at a distressing speed. The events of the past couple of days had him strained and left with too many dilemmas. He knew he had to somehow get through this in order to find out what was going on. If Schanke or Myra had any suspicions about the Community, it was his job to ensure their safety before the Enforcers found anything about it. That meant he had to talk to them before the Enforcers did, which in turn meant he had to meet them sooner than the interrogator and help them disappear if by a chance his investigation resulted in the worst outcome. If that required him to chow down a few tortillas on the way, then so be it. And who knows, it might make chewing on Nat's wonder snacks a lot easier later. Schanke put down the phone and shot a glance at him. "Myra is more than happy and she said she's also going to fool Janice into giving away the recipe for her secret legendary dessert. It will be a feast." A feast indeed, thought Nick. Had his partner anything other than weird food items planned for the occasion? With painful certainty, he realized that this was going to be even harder than the questioning scheduled by the Enforcers. He swallowed hard and pleaded in a shallow voice, almost involuntarily, "Schank! Is it possible to forget about the food?" Schanke froze when he heard his words. Slowly, he returned to the desk and looked down at the other detective, part of his earlier joy still in place, but by the look in his eyes Nick could tell that most of it had gone down the drain because of his last utterance. His partner was looking down at him with unspoken discontent. Finally, he said, "You're not going to do this, Knight, are you? Not to Myra. I mean, I don't mind if you permanently reject my repeated invitations for a souvlaki here, but this time you have to cut me some slack. For Myra, you know. She's really looking forward to showing someone how good she can cook and she will be disappointed if you don't eat. I swear, you will regret it partner." His gentle pleading touched a deep spot in Nick's heart. He knew he couldn't turn back anymore. There was no escape but to endure the worst, whatever that might be. However, a part of him was glad that this meant so much to his friend, a friend who was putting so much value on a silly concept such as his eating. It almost reminded him of Nat. He replied to that hopeful gaze with a positive nod and a hearty smile. "Sure, Schank! I'm looking forward to it." Schanke smacked the desk with his palm in a gesture of success and ran to make another phone call. As he picked the receiver, he looked back at a staring Nick, happiness once again evident in his eyes. While he was waiting for the call to be picked up, he pointed to the receiver and mouthed 'Natalie.' Nick smiled back weakly, trying to keep his diverse feelings in check. He could only hope the whole thing would turn out well. His mind drifted as Schanke's voice reached him from somewhere far away. "Yeah, Natalie. Hi, listen, you're not gonna believe this. Nick just said yes to my invitation for Tuesday night and he's going to eat, too... Uh-huh. What? I know it sounds crazy, but wait until you taste Myra's cuisine and you'll forget your mom's cooking. And Janice is coming over, too. Remember, I told you about her tortillas. Mmm, you must try them, they taste soooo good..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charente 1368 AD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Elle a très bon le goût" (She tastes so good.) Acheron whispered the words as his hand trailed along the young maiden's retreating arm. LaCroix smiled lazily from above the rim of his goblet. He examined the young girl who was now preparing more drinks for the guests. She didn't look more than seventeen. Her blonde hair, slender form and very innocent blue eyes somehow reminded him of another French girl he had met a long time ago, when they had been to Brabant, a girl with the same innocence and purity and a smell that reminded him of something he loved. Taking a big gulp of his drink, LaCroix savagely banished the memory. "Her name is Germaine; she was born in the village before I brought her to the castle. She is light to my darkness and honey to my wine." "You haven't brought her over, I see," LaCroix put in as he reached for another drink >from the tray Germaine was holding out to him. "No! But I have marked her. I know you can sense me in her; I wanted to make sure no one gets any wrong ideas. It's hard to keep a human servant like her in this house, with all the vampires around, but now that she bears my mark, they all know better than to advance on her." LaCroix studied his host carefully before turning back to the mortal. "I still would have brought her across." He surveyed his children sitting around the room with a hint of pride. Acheron only shrugged. LaCroix knew the dilemma only too well; Acheron was an Enforcer lord. No matter how attached he became to his children, eventually they all had to join the force and he would never see their faces again. Keeping this one as a servant for a mortal lifetime rather than loosing her to the dark forces of the Council was obviously a preferable choice. He felt a tinge of sympathy for this lonely old lord. The young maid moved around the room, offering her tray of bloodwine to the other guests. LaCroix followed her as she went from one vampire to the other, inspecting the guests with a proud eye. His children. They were the gift of all the centuries he had spent roaming through the world. Beautiful, aristocratic, intelligent creatures as well as boisterous predators. He studied them one by one as they accepted their drinks from the maid. Melissa was prettier than the last time he had seen her. Elias was standing next to her and was whispering something in her ear. A few feet away he saw Vincenzo as he was trying to charm Isabelle. So much like him, thought LaCroix, a true ladies' man even in his un-life. And then there were Kaspar, Ivonino and Zavid, the three from the Baltic, still together. LaCroix had great respect for their old family and had risked a lot bringing all three siblings across. He remembered the nightmare of having three infant vampires at the same time and having to protect them through the turmoil of those years in the Baltic. He took a long sip from his glass and moved on, to Arthur. He hesitated for a moment as the slender Welshman chose a goblet from the tray and was about to look away when the boy raised his eyes, looking directly into his. There was nothing specifically evident in them, but LaCroix still didn't like the way he stared. How much time had he spent educating this one? He looked back at the time he had spent in England. It had been very short, since he had to return to Paris quickly for some urgent matters. He had had Arthur for four decades then, but there was not much attention to be paid to the young fledgling since the times where full of turmoil and political disturbance. He also had another fledgling at that time, a beauty called Pericleia whose life was cut short by her carelessness. LaCroix had grieved over her loss greatly and had not been in the mood to indulge his other child that much. When the civil wars of 1050's ended, LaCroix simply left Arthur in Wales and went back to France to follow his goals. Now that he thought about it, it seemed like he never had spent any time with him and didn't really know much about how Arthur came along after he left and how he managed to outlive those turbulent and precarious years. He didn't care much, either. Ardently, he glided his gaze across the room, utterly aware, to finally rest it upon the two vivid individuals he cherished the most among them all. His favorites of darkness and light, the queen of shadows Janette and the prince of radiance, Nicholas. They were sitting together on a large wingback armchair. Nicholas was leaning against the back of the chair holding Janette in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He had her head tucked under his chin and every once in a while nuzzled and kissed her hair. LaCroix smiled blissfully to himself, wondering what had he done in his lengthy life to deserve such splendor. His favorites were true eye catchers, his pride and joy. And even as their eyes stared around the room, he knew how deep their minds were entangled in each other. They were like a majestic and stunning statue cut and shaped precisely to his taste, like the ones he ordered his sculptor to make for him in Pompeii-the man whom in this case he would have killed instead of just making blind to prevent him from producing another copy. They were made to fill the void in each other's eternities with their infinite passion and their intense love, but most of all to be owned and treasured by their father and sire as he acknowledged to himself. Acheron tenderly caressed Germaine's slender arm once more before he told her to leave. As she trailed off, LaCroix noticed the numerous bite marks visible on her wrists and around her neck and thought about the time that was left until Acheron would finally use up this mortal completely. Acheron turned back to his guest and pulled him out of his thoughts with a pleased voice, saying, "Her blood tastes of excitement and anticipation. I have hosted many immortal families here in my palace, but yours is the first one during her lifetime and she's overwhelmed by the number of beautiful and lavishly dressed people around her." LaCroix put his goblet on the table and steepled his fingers. "She is exquisite, my lord, I grant you that. However, I feel the importance of this evening is rather toward more imperative matters than the beauty and aroma of your mortal concubine." He watched his host with icy cool eyes. Acheron smiled from above his glass. Turning his head to survey the room, he sarcastically commented, "Ah yes. I see your beautiful children are all gathered here. I agree they must be far more exciting to talk about than mortal servants." There was an immediate silence following his words. Most vampires stopped their conversations to pay complete attention to what the elders were talking about. A subliminal feeling told them that what was about to be discussed was of severe importance to their fates and possibly their very existence. Vincenzo stopped flirting with the young Isabelle and the three siblings ended their heated conversation in their peculiar language. Acheron leaned back, taking on a serious air. "You know, General, that I am a servant of the Code. For centuries I've provided the High Council with the training and education of its most loyal warriors. What the Enforcement has achieved to this day is somewhat because of the time and energy I spent to give them exactly what they needed: sharp, fearless and trusty fighters." LaCroix nodded in approval. Acheron continued. "I'm sure you're aware that no matter how strong the assembly of Enforcement is, it is not invincible. Our warriors are the greatest, most powerful creatures walking the earth, but as the population of the vampire community grows, so should the number of Enforcers. We have to make sure there is at least one local regiment anywhere in the world where there is a community, to ensure their safety and security and the implementation of the Code. Therefore, once in every decade, I'm obligated to select and train one vampire from an elite family to join and serve the Enforcement, whereas the family is required to present its most competent member for this honorable and demanding position. This decade, the honor is given to your family, Lucien LaCroix, and I see you stand by it. Now I need to know what you say." He spoke while studying the young crowd gathered in the room intensely, before his eyes came back to meet the pale ones of the master. LaCroix stayed silent. Acheron called for his servants to bring them more 'wine.' He waited for the hustle and bustle to cease before turning back to his company. LaCroix was stirring the last of his drink, showing no care for the old lord's recent speech. He lifted the same ice-cold apathetic gaze to Acheron, saying, "All well, my friend. I must say I'm truly, how do we say it, _elated_ by this honor appointed to my family. Now what exactly do you expect me to do with it, if I may ask?" Acheron turned equally inexpressive eyes to LaCroix. "One of your children will be chosen to take the task. He or she will stay in this castle for an appointed time to receive the training and the education that is needed to become an Enforcer. A delegate from the Council of Paris will arrive here after the training is completed to test the pupil and ensure aptness for the duty. If the trainee passes the tests, he or she will accompany the agent to visit the High Council and stand the trials. If all the trials are passed as well, then the new Enforcer will be accepted to the force and become a Destroyer in Council's preliminary guard. After that, it's up to him to elevate his position in the legions, depending on his skills and his knowledge of the Code. If the one chosen is the best, there is a good chance that he will reach very high status within the force and win a solid and proud standing for his master. Therefore, I highly value the choice." His eyes were now fixed on some point across the room. LaCroix followed the gaze and saw Arthur on the other side, turning the same rebellious stare at him as he had before. He stole his eyes back to the Enforcer lord and said with a firm, rough voice that was unlike his usual velvety whisper, "Fair enough. Do you want me to make the choice?" Acheron slowly turned his head back to him. His eyes had a slight shade of amber before he closed them and took a deep breath. He looked away before uttering his next words. "The choice had already been made." LaCroix's eyes flared for a second before he got his interior cool back in place. The idea of someone deciding in his matters, especially about his children, without him knowing about it, made him angry. Still, he was an ancient and so was Lord Acheron, and he knew it wasn't wise to let emotions surface during an important deal such as this. He calmed down and exhaled. "And who, if I may ask, is this chosen one?" The ancient lord looked straight in the icy-blue eyes. "Nicholas de Brabant. Your youngest French get." Dead silence fell over the room. LaCroix became still as a Roman statue, still concealing his inner emotions. His children, however, felt the shudder that ran and spread ferociously through the link they shared with their master. Although for most of them, that link was severely weakened because of the many years of separation and the lack of blood sharing. Only his favorites still retained the strong mental connection with their sire and judging by their reaction, what went through that link as LaCroix reacted to those words was far more than a simple tingle of irritation. Janette shivered and turned to bury her face in her companion's shoulder while Nicholas gasped in something that seemed much like intense pain. LaCroix put his glass on the table and steepled his fingers in front of him with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. He studied his host for another while until he finally spoke two plain words. "Why him?" Acheron countered. "Why not? He is young, both in mortal and vampire years. He had been to the crusades, and therefore is accustomed to the battlefield, although I doubt his experiences as a simple mortal soldier would count much in his advancements as an Enforcer." "I wasn't a simple soldier; I was a knight-errant of the Holy See of France." Nicholas' correcting voice came from where he sat in the corner of the room. LaCroix turned such a smoldering glare on him, it made him shrink in place and immediately regret his outburst. 'Never speak in front of the elders unless you are spoken to' was one of the first lessons LaCroix had taught him in his upbringing, and he had forgotten it in the most critical moment. There would be retribution for his disobedience, he was sure of that, and he hid his face in Janette's uplifted curls. LaCroix returned to their host, announcing coldly, "Nicholas is still a fledgling. His education is not yet finished and he still needs my protection in the Community." "I think you are overstressing it, General. He's already past his first century and from what I've heard, most of it was spent in harsh discipline and continuous teachings on the aspects of the vampire life and the Code. I would say he is more prepared than any one of your other children. It's a good time for you to let go of him and leave him to the further teachings of the Enforcers," Acheron commented. LaCroix was silent again, his fingers touching his lips and his eyes fixed at a point on the carpet as if in deep thought. He slowly raised his head, looking at the Enforcer lord as his features changed into irritated. When he spoke, his voice was the usual husky tone that made blood run cold through the veins of the boldest warriors. "My Lord Acheron. It seems to me that you have spent too much solitary time locked in your castle and away from the rest of the world. Sometimes I wonder how you survive, staying so unacquainted with the affairs of the Community." He stood up and turned gracefully, walking toward where Nicholas and Janette where sitting. His stride was so pompous it gave him the aura of an emperor. He came to stand behind their chair and put both his hands possessively on the chair back, leaning slightly forward as he spoke. "I always thought everyone in the Community knew about my family, my _true_ family. But like I said, you are forgiven, my lord. You had been away for too long and you don't know about the affairs and the ties that bind us together. But I take the liberty to ask of you now, my lord, to look closely at the picture and see. This is us; this is Lucien LaCroix's family. Nothing in the world can change its structure as long as I can prevent it." The hands moved down to gently rest on Nicholas' shoulders, the message transparently clear. Acheron slightly shifted in his seat. A servant was standing behind his chair and was handing him a steel goblet of bloodwine, which he accepted inattentively. As he took minute sips from his drink, his eyes stayed on the master vampire's poised form and his two beautiful children in front of him. LaCroix's family, he contemptuously thought. So the old veteran turned out to be a harder nut to crack than he had thought. From his stance, it was obvious that he was not going to give up his golden child without a fight. And Acheron wanted the golden one, had wanted him before he had even laid eyes on him. He knew a precious piece without having to look at it, and this one was even delightful to look at. It was the naked truth, Nicholas was a valuable possession and LaCroix wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers easily. He lowered the goblet and set in on the table with a thud. Then he stood up. "My dear friend. We shall discuss the matter in another more suitable time. Dawn is nearing and I'm sure you all are very tired and need to rest. Let's go to our rooms and settle for the day. I'll tell the servants to attend to your needs before you sleep." With that, he took one of the heavy-eyed ladies by the hand and led her out of the room. The others followed while LaCroix stayed boldly in his place, his fingers still touching his son's shoulders. He was too poised to notice a pair of golden-green eyes turn to him as one particular vampire left the room, while Nicholas hugged Janette tightly to his chest and silently wished they had never come to this dreadful house. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @}--`--}--, ----- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER FIVE Natalie leaned against the wall as the elevator ascended. She held the files tightly in her hands as she closed her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts and organize all the different things she had to say to her eight-hundred-year-old friend, star detective of Toronto's metro police and partner to her other big-kid friend, Detective Donald Schanke. She had to tell the 'detective' about the new information she had gained on their new case, about the time of death and the possibility of a suicide. Then she had to ask the 'partner' how the hell he could agree to go to a party that would obviously be steeped in food from the Hi to the Bye. What could possibly go through that little head of his to think that he could in any way escape this? True, he had the experience of ages, the strength of titans and had been able to run away from LaCroix for eight hundred years. But from experience, she knew no one was able to get away from Myra Schanke and her cookbook when it came to it, not unless they had tasted at least half of her experimental dishes. And again from experience, she knew that there were many of them. She shook her head, no Nick definitely had no idea what he was getting himself into and it was her job to enlighten him. A frown formed on her forehead as she thought about him. How unpredictable that guy could be. Just days ago they were standing in the morgue arguing over something as harmless as her carefully prepared little snacks and now all of a sudden Mr. I-can't-eat-any-solid-food was going for a whole course. She shook her head again; her buddy vampire could be so clueless sometimes. The elevator came to a halt, and trying not to lose any of her papers, Natalie grabbed the door and jerked it open. She peeked inside and was surprised to see the loft's interior dark. A dying candle was burning on its stand on the piano and there were a few bottles rolling on the floor. Nick was sitting on his black couch, a half empty bottle in his hand, his head resting on the back of the couch in exhaustion. He didn't seem to notice her approach. She put the papers on the kitchen table and slowly started picking up the empty bottles from the floor. All thoughts of the case or Schanke's party gone from her mind, she was just worried now. It was obvious to her that Nick was angsting over something and he hadn't told her about it, which was very disturbing. Since he hadn't even shown any outward signs of distress in her presence, whatever it was must be either extremely stupid or highly vampish community top secret. She put the bottles on the coffee table and then laid a hand on his sweat-soaked forehead, brushing back some stray locks. He woke with a start, golden eyes shooting open as he took in a sharp breath and lost his grip on the bottle. Natalie caught it before it could spill over the furniture. Nick looked at her, confused, all features of the vampire put on view. For a moment he didn't seem to recognize her, until finally recollection dawned in his face and his eyes turned into their normal sapphire blue. She barely heard him whisper. "Nat! ...Is it you?" Nat put the last bottle on the table making sure it was in a stable position. "Yes, of course it's me. Who did you think it was?" "What are you doing here?" "What am I doing here? I'm here to give you the latest test results on that Timanus guy, remember?" He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and sighed groggily. "Ah, yes! Sorry, I totally forgot. What time is it?" "Surely not a time to drink yourself to oblivion." She pointed at the bottles lined up in front of them on the table. Nick looked away; his face showed his reluctance toward carrying this conversation any further. He stood up and took the bottles to the kitchen, all the while feeling Nat's disapproving gaze follow him around. Nat's face turned from worried into irritated in seconds as she witnessed his dismissal. With an annoyed shrug, she went to where her papers were and picked them up before she started talking in a strictly professional voice. "Body is examined, drive-by is ruled out, as it is evident that the victim was shot at point-blank. Time of death, sometime around 10:30 PM, which is exactly two hours thirty-five minutes before the body was found. Bullet was from a .32 caliber. No external tissues of another individual found, neither on the body nor under the nails. Suicide is probable." She finished with an expert throw of the papers on the table and turned to walk away. A strong hand grasped her arm, holding her in place, then turning her slowly around. Nat tried to ignore the pair of pleading eyes that were desperately searching hers and when she finally gave up and looked at them she found them as deep and disturbed as a stormy autumn sky. A stab of concern coursed through her heart once again, seeing the vulnerability displayed in those eyes. A centuries old powerful predator of the masses hanging desperately onto her arm as if she were the last straw connecting him to life. The irony was almost tragic. "Please don't leave. I'm sorry I ignored you, but I've been having a very difficult time lately. There is some disturbance in the Community and it is bothering all of us. I didn't want to involve you in it." Nat's fury returned ten fold as she jumped at him. "Didn't want to involve me? Nick, where have you been in the past five years? Don't you see that I'm already up to my knees involved? Can it even get worse than what it already is?" Nick's wounded eyes stayed on her, his answer something barely louder than a sigh. "It is different this time, Nat. The situation is far too dangerous for you to get into. I may even have to ask you to stay away from me for a while, or maybe I'm the one who should stay away from you guys until this thing is settled." Natalie wrenched her arm from his hand and walked away demonstratively as she spoke. "Oh yes. The 'I'm-too-dangerous-to-be-around' speech again. Makes me sometimes wonder why I even bother trying. And if by 'you guys' you mean us skimpy mortals altogether, I must say you're doing a perfect job at 'staying away' while planning to happily wine and dine with us at Schanke's party tomorrow." "I know you wouldn't believe me, Nat, if I say that that, too, has something to do with the recent problem. I have to go to that party to talk to Myra Schanke." Nat's mouth fell open. Of all the answers she thought he would give her, this was the least expected one. "Myra Schanke? You're going to the party to talk to Myra Schanke? How in all ten provinces did she get into the headlines?" she asked. Nick shook his head. "It's very difficult to explain. But she has a friend in England who might be in danger. I have to make sure I know the whole story before I take on any actions." "Oh, so it's the big secret again. And now Myra is playing a role in it, too. Well, let me tell you something about Myra Schanke, my dear. Since she took that cooking course with her sister last summer, all she does is cook. She's even put her skin care production away for it, and if you are going to jump on a ride with her, you'd better be prepared to chow down gobs of food on the way. Now tell me how you're planning to do that?" "I'll figure something out." "Oh, yeah! Like what? Hypnotize everyone? Turn the whole evening into Dr. Mesmer's happy hour?" He had no answer to give her. Instead, he reached to take her arm again but she backed away. He didn't try to stop her as she walked back to collect her purse and get to the elevator. His pain-filled eyes, however, remained on her back. Natalie was close to breaking into tears. Damn! Why must he be so difficult? Always like a child needing help and guidance, but too stubborn to accept it. She turned to him one last time with a voice already hoarse with sobs as she said, "I am starting to give up on you Nick, starting to get tired of it all. No matter how hard I try, how much I push, there is always something popping in between to destroy all my efforts. I need you to work with me, Nick; I need you to trust me. But it looks like you aren't really interested, or perhaps this is really the way you want it to be. If that is the case, please tell me so that I can stop wasting the rest of my life on you." The tears started sliding down her cheeks, and she turned in frustration and grabbed the door to the lift. Nick's heart broke at the sight of her tears. He was at her side in a heartbeat and seizing her hand, he looked her right in the eyes with his sad blue gaze. "Please, Nat! Don't leave like this. It's not true; I do trust you. And I want you to believe that I am trying." Nat blinked furiously to get rid of the tears; she trembled at his touch and hated herself for showing her vulnerability. "Then maybe it's just not enough." She looked up at him, "Maybe you need to work it out alone for a while." With those last words, she turned and stepped into the lift. The sound of the door closing behind her echoed in Nick's ear several times before he realized she was gone. He walked to the elevator door and leaned against it, resting his forehead on the blackened wood, his fist closing around the door handle as if clinging to a lost hope. He slowly raised his head; his body still slumped against the door. His heart beat once and he turned to rest his back against the door as he continued to muse. Why must he hurt everyone all the time? Why did they have to suffer for his poor existence? Wasn't it better if he just left, moved on to a new life? But was that even possible, to simply go and put everything behind? What about Natalie, Schanke and his silly jokes, all the friends he had made here as Nick Knight? He sighed and pushed himself away from the door and went to the fridge. As he opened it, he felt a sense of determination coming back to him. No he wouldn't run away. He would stay here and fight, show them what he was made of, for his sake as much as for the sake of his friends, the people whose lives he has put in jeopardy. This was no time for backing out. He reached for a small compartment at the back of the fridge and pulled it open with some force. It looked like it was filled with trash as pieces of foil and opened plastic bags popped out. His hand reached down to search through the junk and came out holding a packaged hypodermic and a suspicious looking vial. He held the contents in front of the light and looked deeply into it; memories came rushing back at him, memories of pain, of sickness, of pure unspeakable joy that ran through his veins as he took his first step into the sun, after nearly 800 years, and then, complete loss. His grip tightened around the labeled vial that read 'Litovuterine.' It had been a mistake the first time they'd tried it, and something they had put behind. Still, he had thought it would be a good idea to keep the last vial, for emergency's sake. Who knows, maybe someday someone would need his help while standing in streaming sunlight, or someone would ask him to go visit the Pope at the Vatican, you never knew. And the emergency had finally arrived, ironically for the sake of eating food. He sighed and put the needle and the vial back in the fridge. He had made his choice, there was no way back. Tomorrow would be his second and last experience of near-mortality followed by another battle to endure the sickness he was sure would follow. ---------------- Donald Schanke was happy as a clown. Eyes glowing with mischief, he joked his way through the conversation, enjoying both the subject and the atmosphere. "Ok, so I get to the precinct and I'm telling myself, Donny boy, you're in big trouble this time! It's not like I'd never done paper work before. But this pile was huge, I mean really huge and the captain knew it, too, so she had called us to her office the night before and said 'Schanke, Knight. I know you're cool and all, but if you don't get those papers off your desks by tomorrow night there'll be no donuts for either of you. Understood?' So I'll say 'Captain! What's up with donuts? It's not like my partner cares or anything.' You know I haven't seen this guy eat a donut in four years? Like, how else would you survive life in TRPD Blue? No donuts? C'mon!" Nick giggled and frowned at the same time. It didn't actually bother him that the jokes were mostly directed at him. The women looked at him in astonishment. Only Natalie was looking down and clenching her napkin in her hands. Schanke kept going. "No, no listen, listen to the rest, I'm not even there yet. So I sit at my desk, completely worn out, look around and it's all white. All over the place, you know they were just done painting the entire bullpen and it was *so* white it actually hurt my eyes. Now I look down and what do I see there? A stack of white paper. I look up and what do I see? My partner walking into the precinct, and what is he wearing?" He looked at the audience, waiting for a reply. "White?" Myra and Janice asked. "No, sunglasses. At 1:30 in the morning." He burst into laughter like a comedian onstage. The others followed. Nick smiled bashfully and tried to raise his voice above the noise of the amused crowd. "I have sensitive eyes, so what? You just said yourself they had painted the office walls too white. Plus all that paper we had to look at all night. I mean it's not easy on your eyes." Schanke stopped his chuckle abruptly and put a you've-gotta-be-kiddin' look on his face. "Oh yeah? Those 300-dollar Ray-Ban Polarized Pythons were just for protection, right? Nothing to do with a little show-off, partner?" Nick gave him his best innocent look. "No, seriously, I have sensitive eyes. I only bought them because they promised maximum protection. I really didn't know they were brand name." Schanke was having too much fun teasing his ever-so-swanky partner. "Really? So you simply thought 300 bucks is normal for a pair of sunglasses? Just because they give you the best protection, right? And you wore it to work just to *protect* your eyes from the whiteness of the walls? No Johnny Bravo thing going on at all?" Nick shook his head innocently. Schanke snapped in joy as if that was exactly what he had expected. "Well partner, what can I say? On the one-to-ten scale of the bullshit meter, that's definitely a twelve." Another burst of laughter cracked through the room, making Nick wish he had done something for his sensitive hearing as well. This time even Natalie joined the gang of gigglers, suppressing a smile behind her napkin before she regained her rigid posture. Myra and Janice spoke sympathetic words in Nick's defense before they got up to bring the meal. Schanke's eyes shone with excitement. If there was anything that he loved more that taunting his partner, it was eating good food. Nick looked at Nat nervously and saw her still staring grimly at her hands. He knew she was set to not care about him tonight, but he could only hope she wouldn't be too shocked when she saw him actually eat. The first round was the appetizer. Janice came back with a tray full of roasted mushrooms and breaded chicken breasts stuffed with a combination of ham and Swiss cheese. It looked especially appetizing and to top it off, there was a second tray following it presenting some deliciously arranged asparagus with lemon butter. Schanke licked his lips in anticipation. Manners demanded he wait until his guests were served, but the sparks evident in his eyes betrayed how impatient and hungry he was. Nick smiled at Myra's sister as she held the tray of chicken cordon bleu in front of him. He shot a glance to Natalie, who still acted indifferent, and took two of the stuffed hors d'oeuvres. He looked down at his plate and braced himself for yet another experience of mortal feast. Only this time, he knew about the consequences. After everybody was served, Myra and Janice sat down and told their guests to start with the appetizer until the main meal was ready. All of a sudden, Nick found himself the center of attention as multiple pairs of eyes stared at him from all directions and with diverse expressions. The culinary artists were biting their lips, anticipating his reaction as a fussy diner. Natalie, although still trying to maintain her nonchalant attitude, was darting concerned glances at him. Schanke was burning from impatience. He just wanted Nick to get on with it so he could throw himself on the food and extinguish his hunger. Nick cut a small piece and brought it up to his mouth. Looking at it uneasily, he finally closed his eyes and put the food in his mouth. Almost immediately, his eyes opened in appreciation and true enjoyment as he started chewing the exquisitely well-prepared starter. He turned to Janice and Myra, who were still holding their breaths, and nodded in a jubilant approval. The women cheered and Schanke clapped for a second before he started stuffing his own mouth. Nick did the same, laughing at the same time at the relieved expression on his partner's face as delicious food filled his mouth. Schanke was practically devouring his plate one forkful after another. Nick had finally managed to relax and enjoy the evening, somewhat reminded of that first time in the Italian restaurant. Watching his partner eat, Schanke too was reminded of the old incident and was having a fun time telling the ladies about how his crazy partner had started nibbling from a mobster's plate until the big shot had finally had enough of him and had decided to give up his whole meal just to be rid of him. Myra and Janice were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes, both from the joke and the enjoyment of their success. The main course followed. In seconds, the table was covered with steaming plates and colorful dishes. Roast beef and onions, smoked salmon with vegetables, the infamous tortillas, and a strange looking dish that was called 'choucroute garnie' by its proud makers and looked like something between a bowl full of chopped cabbages and an overcooked soup recipe. Nick willingly tried everything. Letting the sisters refill his plate over and again, he was almost completely lost in the sensation. Schanke was overjoyed by the sight of his gobbling friend and constantly related it to his wife's exceptional cooking. By the time the dessert was to be served, the detectives where both laughing happily as if having the time of their lives. Nick knew he wasn't being exactly cautious. The memories from his last experiment with the humanizing drug still haunted him. But he couldn't help but feel happy for Schanke and his overjoyed wife. The fact that his wife had finally got his difficult partner to eat something seemed to mean a lot to the sensible man who felt like he had finally achieved something with his friend. Nick knew only too well what was in store for him after tonight was over, but since he had managed to make his bighearted buddy so happy, he didn't regret it. Myra brought out the dessert; a heap of whipped cream, Jell-O, banana and cake that seemed to want to fall over at anytime like an overloaded Jenga tower. Nick swallowed. He had tried many things last time he experimented with the drug, but he was sure dessert wasn't among them. He looked at the appetizing sight balancing on top of the plate Myra carried. She was constantly apologizing to her guests that the dessert didn't come out the way it should. Nick seemed fascinated by it, and the fact that just yesterday, an assortment like this would have caused him to throw up, made him appreciate the pleasure even more. He flashed a cautious look toward Natalie, and for the first time realized that she was looking at him with an aura of shock. Her eyes were so wide they were threatening to pop out if she continued to stare at him like that. His joy and excitement suddenly diminished at seeing the expression on her face. He couldn't guess what it really was. Surprise? Anger? Disgust? Did she know what he had done? And if she did, could she believe he had done it? He dropped his eyes and tried to focus on thanking Janice, who again had served him with the largest piece from the plate. The conversation went on until all the food was devoured and guest and host rested happily in their chairs. Myra stood up and started gathering the dishes and carrying them to the kitchen. Nick volunteered to help while Janice led the other guests to the living room for after dinner coffee. Nick joined Myra in the kitchen and helped her to load all the dishes into the dishwasher. Myra was happy to get closer to her husband's partner and to have the chance to talk to him about Jenny's school, Schanke's childish hobbies and her own cooking class. After they finished, they sat around the kitchen table as Myra proceeded making a big bowl of fruit salad, which she said she wanted to leave to the last minute to make sure the fruit was as fresh as it could be. Nick offered to help, but she thanked him, so he sat at the table and watched her go about peeling oranges and apples and slicing bananas. They talked a little more about their work and personal lives until Nick finally decided it was time to get to the point. He stole a look at the others in the living room and said, "Myra, I was wondering if you had a friend called Rosaline Mansfield in the UK?" Myra looked up merrily. "Rosaline? Well, of course. We've been pen pals since before I married Don. We met when I was in London doing some organization work at the National Gallery and we, how should I say it, sorta clicked. She lives in Westminster now and we pretty much write to each other every month. Was there something you wanted to tell me about her? Are you acquainted with her?" Nick shook his head. "No, I don't know her personally. A... friend of mine from England told me about some articles she had published in a London local newspaper." Myra nodded, "Yes, Rosaline had always been a very social lady. She writes articles for a couple of newspapers in the Westminster area, and she is so knowledgeable. She writes about everything, cooking, decorating, housekeeping, pets, you name it." "I bet it's great to have such a well-informed friend. I was wondering, since my friend told me he saw your name at the end of some of the articles, have you ever sent her any helpful information for any of her writings?" "I think I did, on occasion. See, we write to each other about many things and sometimes she asks me for hints on some topics. If I know anything, I'll do my best to help her, although I'm sure she always knows more than I do," replied Myra. Nick searched her face for any traces of jealousy, but found none; it seemed like Myra truly loved this friend of hers. He returned to his intended subject. "May I ask you about the topics you recently helped her with? Anything fiction related?" Myra rested her chin on her hand with which she was holding the knife and contemplated. "Actually, I remember she was writing a series of articles about fictional creatures and she told me about it. She said she wanted to research all the strange living things that were introduced to us in those fantasy books, like fairies, wizards, the Frankenstein monster and vampires..." Nick interrupted her. "Yes, did she ask you for assistance in any of those writings?" Myra was surprised by his abrupt tone and his alarmed look. She shrugged unwittingly and said, "I don't exactly remember. I think she never asked, but I personally volunteered some information when she was writing her article on vampires." Nick suddenly stiffened. He wanted to know more but didn't dare to ask. He assumed that neither Myra nor anyone else in the Schanke household suspected him to be a vampire or else they would not have dared to let him in their house. But still, it was important to know how much they knew or remembered. Schanke was hypnotized by LaCroix after he went to the CERK radio station to talk to him about what he thought he had discovered. He wasn't known to be a resister and even if he was, LaCroix's ancient powers would have easily worked around that. The problem was that he didn't know for how long that suspicion had been on his mind and whether at any point during that time, he had mentioned anything about it to his family. Nick cleared his throat nervously and said, "Err, can I ask you what kind of information you gave her?" Myra looked bemused by her husband's partner's fascination with the subject. She finished peeling all the oranges and continued to think deeply as she started with the apples. "Well, I remember Donny coming home once with a handful of vampire books, you know he sometimes has some weird interests that come and pass quickly. I'm sure you are familiar with them. Then I heard Rosaline was writing on the subject and I thought it might be a good idea to check out some of the books and send her some ideas. She loved it; she said the material was great and something she hadn't found at her local library. I was glad I could help, so I kept sending her photocopies from different parts of those books until she was finished with her article." Nick leaned toward her on the table, trying to catch her eyes, and said, "Myra please look at me." Myra looked up, momentarily stopping her work at hand. Nick locked into her heartbeat and spoke slowly and in a deep voice. "Did Don ever tell you why he got those books? Did he ever talk to you about vampires?" Myra's eyes became dazed. She stared at him with that familiar zombie look and easily slipped into the hypnotic trance he was putting on her. "No, Don...never...told me...anything...about it. He just said...he was...working...on a most...peculiar...case." "Did he ever tell you anything about vampires? Do you remember him mentioning that word?" "No," came the answer curtly. Nick broke the mental connection and watched Myra shake her head confusedly and press the flat of her hand against her forehead before she looked at him. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Must be the exhaustion. Did you ask something?" Nick shook his head no and waited for Myra to finish the rest of the fruit salad. His mind was at ease now. It was apparent that she didn't know anything about him or the rest of the Community. Schanke most likely had not wanted to risk his reputation as a sane person in front of his wife, and had not told his family anything about his suspicions. It was just a coincidence that Rosaline Mansfield was writing a story on vampires at the same time that the books showed up at the Schankes' house. He could be sure that the Enforcers wouldn't find anything to hold against the family and would leave the city as soon as the case was closed. With an intense feeling of relief, he followed Myra to the living room where the rest of their friends were gathered. Janice was with Natalie, telling her a story about who-knew-what and trying to make it more interesting by adding every hilarious gesture she knew out of her pocket. Not that it really helped much, since Natalie didn't even seem to hear what she was talking about and didn't show much interest either, other than occasionally smiling for her friend's sake. It was obvious that her mind was elsewhere. When Nick came in, she turned to look at him. Her gaze was the most confused, disoriented and wounded look he'd ever received from her. It was as if she was asking him a thousand questions with her eyes while blaming him at the same time for not being honest with her and not accepting her help. Nick hurt for her, yet he knew there was no way they could discuss this right now or even later without putting her life in danger, which was exactly what he dreaded. He stole his gaze from her and looked over to where Schanke and his daughter Jenny were engaged in a heated discussion. Jenny was anxious, as if trying to explain something impossible to her dad. Myra and Nick arrived just when Schanke was trying to convince her. "You know what, baby? It's definitely your choice. What would *you* like to do?" Jenny shook her head, which made her nice little ponytail flap. "But I don't know, Dad, it's so hard. I mean, I know I'm good at volleyball and I've been playing in all the school's tournaments with the team. But I'm still a reserve, and now the coach wants me to play as a permanent in the provincials. I mean, what if I screw up? How can the team ever trust me again? My friends will blame it all on me." "No, baby, nobody will blame anything on you. You just have to trust the team and do your best to help them win. Still, if you feel like you're not ready yet, then don't accept the offer. Like I said, kiddo, it's up to you." Myra set the fruit salad bowl on the table and joined in. "See, dear, daddy is telling you exactly what I did. You can ask us for advice, but the decision is entirely yours." Jenny looked as if she was about to cry. With weary eyes, she looked back and forth between her parents and said, "But I don't know if I can. I really do want to join the team for the provincials, but I'm scared I won't be good enough." Schanke drew his daughter into his arms and spoke to her with a gentle voice. "Don't worry about it, baby. You will be the best among them all, even if Daddy has to cut his sleep everyday to help you practice. Together, we'll beat them. Right, sugar?" Jenny shifted comfortably in her father's embrace and sighed. "Ok, Dad, I'm sure we will. Thanks for the help. I love you sooo much." She gave him a peck on the cheek that made the benevolent man blush to his ears. He hugged her again before they gave each other a big high five and she ran to her room, saying good night to the guests on the way. Nick watched the emotional play between father and child with a longing in his eyes. The way some of today's mortal parents treated their children always touched him in more ways than he could think of. As far as he was concerned, neither his mortal nor his immortal father ever gave him a chance to choose his life, not to mention giving him their blessings or support. His mortal father told him to practice the art of war when he was a child, and later sent him to become Lord DeLabarre's squire without even asking him about it. And as for LaCroix... he never remembered even daring to think about his own decisions in front of the ancient vampire, let alone voicing them. Not before he had finally decided to run away and separate himself from the dominating patriarch, and certainly not when he was an immature fledgling. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charente 1368 AD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LaCroix paced the room furiously. It was still bright outside and the sun was burning high in the sky. The thick velvet curtains were tightly drawn in front of the windows, obscuring the interiors of the suite from the deadly rays of the sun, but they couldn't protect the occupants from the waves of anger emanating from the raging ancient. LaCroix kept his pace going from one side of the room to the other and back. He seethed within himself, sending silent curses to the lord of the castle and the gods who had caused him this predicament. Nicholas was the only other person in the room, huddled in a chair in one corner and looking at his angry master with apprehensive eyes. He didn't know what he should or could do to calm the ancient down, but he knew one thing for sure, to stay alert to when LaCroix's dam of rage would break, affecting everything and everyone in its path, which unfortunately for Nicholas, always included him. LaCroix ceased his stride and looked over at Nicholas. "This is despicable." He resumed his pace as he continued to talk to himself in an infuriated tone. "This measly old bastard is making decisions behind my back as if I were a carouche, or some obtuse mortal fool. I will step into the sun before I let him decide what I should do with my family and my possessions." He threw his hands violently in the air. Nicholas fought the desire to make himself small; if he wanted to have a say in this, he had to take his chances, now. After all, it was his future they were bargaining on. He straightened up in his chair and carefully said, "Maybe he doesn't want to insult you; maybe he just thinks it is a good opportunity for me." "WHAT?" LaCroix's eyes flared a crimson blaze as he heatedly strode toward his terrified protégé. He stopped mere inches from Nicholas, then towered over him with his hands grabbing the back and the arm of the chair as if to trap him there. His voice came from between clenched teeth. "Do not even try to tell me you are considering this ludicrous proposal." Nicholas tried to stand his ground even though he feared his master greatly. If nothing else, speaking his mind gave him the feeling that he was taking at least a small part of his destiny into his own hands, even if the two ancients wouldn't pay any heed to his decision. He stared into his master's red-tinged eyes and gulped before he said, "I know I'm not in a position to argue your will, Sire. I'm merely saying perhaps it might be safer for all of us not to go against the wishes of the High Council. You yourself always told me that their word goes above everyone else's in the Community, didn't you?" His words seemed to take the edge off LaCroix's anger. He stepped away from the chair and folded his arms in front of his chest, still glaring down at his son with solemn eyes. "I did say that, but it does not mean I am going to sit still and let them give orders to me. I am very old, Nicholas, and what I say weighs heavy in the Community. If the Council wants to take something away that is rightfully mine, they have to first come to me, otherwise I am not going to submit to some arrogant old rot." Nicholas turned a sad look away. This was obviously a contest of power in which he had no place or right to be. He was the weakest of them all, LaCroix's feeble possession. It was up to him whether he lived or died or if he should be handed over to the other master. And if he did in fact hand him over to Acheron, then it would be him that he would belong to. The only thing he could do was to stay silent and wait for his fate to be decided. LaCroix continued to stare at him as if waiting for a response. When none came, he slowly bent down and took his son's chin in his hand, turning the golden head to face him. He looked deep into the poignant blue eyes as he spoke. "Believe me, my son, you do not want this to happen to you. The life of an Enforcer is not something anyone would fancy. It's a life of endless hardship, pain and loneliness. There will be no one supporting you in your training, no kind words spoken to guide you through the night; you will be wounded, hungry and vicious, like a beaten animal left in a lonely world. And even then the Council will demand your obedience; you will never mean anything to them but an instrument to carry out their evil schemes. Listen to me, my child, do not bring such a life upon yourself." Nicholas lowered his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is that so different from the life I'm living right now?" LaCroix's grip tightened on his jaw. For a second he thought the ancient was going to hit him and closed his eyes in anticipation. When his jaw was suddenly released and he heard his master walk away, Nicholas opened his eyes and looked at the retreating back, waiting for his final verdict. LaCroix stopped in the middle of the room before he turned back to look at the younger man, his usual stoic stance fully returned. "Stay away from Acheron, Nicholas. I don't want you to go anywhere or do anything in this castle without my permission; you will stay with Janette at all times until I advice you to do otherwise. I guess I don't have to tell you what happens if you disobey these orders." With that, he turned swiftly around, his cloak swirling about him as he walked out of the room and closed the door with a thud. The sound of his retreating steps echoed through the stone-paved corridors. Nicholas' eyes stayed on the closed door until the muffled sound of the footsteps vanished down the last hall. He then hung his head, taking a deep breath as he whispered, so hopeless and mute that not even the mice in the walls heard his words as he breathed them out. "No, Master. I won't disobey." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @}--`--}--, ----- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER SIX The bar had a tranquil atmosphere that night, like an early 1950's Blues Saloon. Something sad, tired and aged was in the air. Perhaps it was because most of its patrons were over a century old and feeling somewhat nostalgic. Instead of the pounding electronic music that was customary to the place, a local singer was invited-human? Vampire? It wasn't observable, but she had a deep sad voice, and she sang old songs. A young man sat at the bar, his ruby red drink held loosely in one hand while the other rested on the counter. His well-groomed dark hair matched the expensive business suit and tie he was wearing. His briefcase rested against the stool. There was a fluidity to his manner and a deeply buried gloom that was as hidden as his true nature and his exceptionally long canines. He took a slow sip from his drink and turned on the stool to observe the crowd over on the dance floor. They were afraid of him; Arthur knew that as clearly as he knew his name. The couples were entwined in each other's arms as they slow-danced to the music; singles were sitting at their tables sipping their drinks indifferently. They may put on a mask of ignorance, but he could feel with every strand of his overly-heightened awareness- which was even more sharpened by his Enforcement education-that they feared him. True, they didn't make a show of being aware of his presence. But they watched him with wary eyes whenever he wasn't looking, avoided being around him or getting in his way. Even the youngest twentieth century ones knew about his kind, one of the first lessons they learned about the Code, abide or there shall be the boogieman. He sighed as he took another sip from his glass. He had come to the Raven in search of some peace, a sanctuary, had come to find Janette, like he had done so many centuries ago. But now he wasn't sure it had been a good idea. He wasn't sure he wanted to see her again. Not after so much time. Or was it because now, more than ever before, things were heating up around her dear 'Nicola,' her lovely crusader? The man would have to stand in front of the jury of Councilors tomorrow night and answer their questions before facing their verdict. Arthur took a deep draught then slightly bowed his head, contemplating. Had it been fate? Was it him subconsciously taking vengeance for what they had done in the past? He denied his thoughts in silence. No, he never wanted it to be this way; it certainly wasn't his fault. But she wouldn't understand. She never did. His mind drifted back to the time he had seen her for the second time, to the embodiment of beauty and darkness he suddenly had seen in front of him. Janette was everything and nothing at the same time. She was still with their master, as she had always been since her crossing. But now she reflected an aura of her own, a pride so exquisite he couldn't assimilate, as if the queen and the whore had melted and then solidified into one beautiful entity. She was a goddess demanding to be worshiped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring with the desire the memory brought. If only *he* wasn't there. If only LaCroix had not brought him across to be the plague to them all. If only Arthur had acted differently that time, had been as mature and wise as he was now. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charente 1368 AD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ //This is us; this is Lucien LaCroix's family. // The image formed and distorted in Arthur's mind only to materialize and fade again. Again and again he remembered his master's speech, his proud tone as he stood over Nicholas and Janette, his hands possessively, fatherly on the young crusader's shoulders. //Nothing in the world can change its structure as long as I can prevent it. // He clutched the embroidered curtain in front of him in a fierce grip as he ruminated. //My family, my _true_ family .// He didn't turn to look at the others. "I could have been in Venice now," Isabelle said as she played with the golden medallion in her hands. "It's late spring. The king would be showing off his new courtesans to the public. As if he doesn't already have enough of them in his chambers." "Are you jealous of them, my fair Isabelle?" Vincenzo said softly, his voice carrying a seductive timbre, "Or of him?" He playfully raised an eyebrow as he teased. Isabelle shrugged nonchalantly. "Why should I be either? I can have anyone I want anytime. Besides, what are courtesans, other than some dressed up brothel girls?" Vincenzo approached her slyly, stretching out one hand to gently caress the back of her neck. "But have you ever tasted a courtesan, my beautiful flower? Have you nibbled on their ivory necks? Drawn in their scent of lilies and sandalwood? Tasted their knowledge, their memories of unlimited passion, their years of training in the hands of the most experienced teachers in the art of lovemaking?" "You deceitful boaster! You really expect us to believe you have sipped from a courtesan? Do you take us for fools?" Elias said boldly in an attempt to drag Vincenzo down from the soaring heights he had elevated himself to. Vincenzo looked at him in amusement with a twinkle quickly shining in his eyes. Slowly, he brought Isabelle's hand to his lips and placed a kiss on its palm, his eyes never leaving Elias. He then gracefully moved away and walked toward the center of the room, speaking in a loud and demonstrative voice. "A courtesan is like the rarest of the wines, kept in a dark cellar for ages. When I gave her the blood kiss, her blood was like fire on my tongue. I laid her down to take in all of her astounding beauty, then I kissed her and drank from her again until I tasted and drained her entire life. It was one of the most spellbinding experiences of my un-life. And that was only one of the many that I've had over the centuries since I came across. I have traveled in boats filled with flowers and naked women. Drank rounds of wine and hot blood at the Turkish taverns in the east. I have ridden under the desert moon with my lover pressed tightly against my breast while she sat in front of me on the mare. Of course, you don't comprehend." "And still he treats you like you're nothing to him." Arthur's voice reached them from where he stood by the window. The others looked toward him, startled; those had been his first words since the beginning of that evening. Vincenzo seemed offended that his speech was interrupted so indecorously and looked at the Englishman with annoyance. Arthur left the curtain and walked to stand in front of him. Looking straight in the libertine's eyes, he asked, "Tell me, conqueror, when was the last time you saw our master before this trip?" Vincenzo parried, "What business of yours is that? I have no need to answer you." "No, but tell me anyway. When was the last time that he cared for you, that he gave you his blood? I know you can remember, brother, because our kind's memory never fades." Vincenzo gave an indifferent shrug. "1005 A.D. I believe. I'd have to think too hard to remember the exact date, and for some reason I don't feel like doing that right now." His eyes narrowed as he returned Arthur's gaze. "I assume that wasn't too long after you were brought across, was it? What happened after that last time? Did he leave you on your own? Did he tell you where he went, what he was doing? Did he ever inquire about you after that?" "I don't know, signor! Yes, he did leave me alone; no, he didn't tell me where he was going and no, he didn't ask for me at all after that. What is the meaning of this, anyway?" "Yes, Arthur, pray tell, what point are you trying to make?" It was Isabelle who asked, a little upset. "The point I'm trying to make is that we are acting as if we're asleep, not wanting to wake up to the truth. We are creatures of ultimate power and beauty, made to overawe all of God's creations under the limitless sky, to make love and possess lives whenever and however we wish it. And yet we're shunned by the same being who has made us, our own creator." The others just stared at him. The whole room fell into silence as even the three siblings from the Baltic stopped their usual private conversation to regard him. Vincenzo stepped away from Arthur as if he were a dangerous animal one should keep away from. Elias, Isabelle and Melissa stood closer as they gave their undivided attention to their rascal brother. Arthur, noticing the attention he had gained, continued his speech, "You all heard what he said tonight. About his *family.* Who was he referring to by those words? You? Me? Any of us? NO, he was only pointing at that wretched infant he drags around everywhere. That, what's his name, 'Nicholas.'" The others kept silent, some even casting their eyes down. Talking about one's master in such a way, while he was absent, counted as transgression amongst their kind. Children had to always respect and obey their master's decisions and never question them. That too was said to be a part of the Code. Arthur sensed their discomfort, but didn't heed. He walked around the edge of the carpet as he spoke. "He's kept this one close ever since he has brought him over. Fed him his own blood every night for an entire six months after his transformation. Now it's over a hundred years and still he has him at his side. Bet they still share blood as well. And I ask you what *we* got after our first century was past? Desertion? Neglect? Detestation?" He barked the last words as if they where dirty specks sticking to his tongue. The others flinched at his tone. Isabelle looked at the door in fear. The last thing they needed was LaCroix walking into the room while this show was being performed. It was even more frightening as Arthur's voice rose to palpable levels, knowing how sensitive their master's hearing was; he could be listening to this speech even as it was delivered. Finally, it was Zavid who answered, the eldest among the Baltic siblings, the eldest of them all. "It's not our place to question Master's will." Arthur turned toward him curtly. "Why not? From what I've heard, 'Nicholas' questions his will quite often. We are domestic cattle compared to him." Zavid continued looking at him composedly. "We are not to question his will." He didn't even blink as he spoke. Arthur stepped forward until he was mere inches away from the other vampire. Zavid was taller and more than a century older than he. His mortal age was over 50 when he was brought across, older than his master in mortal years and definitely older than Arthur. They looked like a wise man and a pigheaded child as they stood face to face. "Do you think he would've refused it had the lord asked for you instead of him? Do you realize that if Nicholas is out of the question it would be one of us who will be handed to the forces of hell?" Arthur said before he turned to the others. " I bet he'd be happy too. Damn, he might even choose the unfortunate soul himself to be delivered on a silver platter if it means salvation for his favorite. Can't you see, you fools?" He turned back to face Zavid again, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Long live Nicholas! That's all." Melissa snarled in reply. "What about Janette? That fraudulent whore." "Shut your mouth, Melissa!" Arthur snapped without looking at her. "Don't you see, my old friend?" he was talking to Zavid again. "He is selling us for that fledgling brat. Perhaps in the end, more than one of us will have to be sacrificed to bribe the lord into not taking that one. How can we bear that, my dear brother? Tell me if you may?" "Why don't we offer Janette instead? That bitch definitely looks like she needs more company." In a flash, Arthur was next to Melissa, grabbing her by her hair and pulling her head back. He hissed into her face. "I told you to hold your tongue, wench! Didn't you hear that? If you mention Janette's name one more time, I swear on my own blood that I will drain you. You understand?" Melissa's eyes went wide as she weakly nodded. Arthur let her go and stepped away. "I'll go and find LaCroix. We have to settle this today before it's too late to do so. It could be anytime before one of us is condemned to an unspeakable fate. I volunteer to talk to him first but you must promise your support." He looked at them expectantly, then thought otherwise and walked out of the room without giving them a chance to reply. He kept his back straight as he walked down the many halls in search of their patrician master. ----------------------- The sounds reached him before he made the second turn down the particularly narrow hallway. He presumed he was in Acheron's private quarters and his sensitive hearing picked up a conversation between his master and the castle's lord in one of the rooms beyond the bend. He stopped at the turn to lean against the wall and listen. The two ancients seemed to be too absorbed in their own conversation to sense him from afar. LaCroix sounded composed, even though a slight tremor of controlled irritation could be heard in his voice. "I must admit, my friend lord, you never cease to amaze me. I love your unpredictability." "I'm flattered, General. I have to say the same about you, especially in your choice of offspring." Although Arthur couldn't see their faces, he could feel LaCroix's demeanor change, reflected perhaps in the timber of his voice. "I can see behind your façade, Acheron, as clearly as I can see you. I know what you are really after. You can't fool me with your charade about keeping the Code and your vow to the Council. I know why you chose him." Acheron seemed unaffected by the change in his opponent's mood as his voice stayed at the same level. "And pray tell, my old friend, what is the real motive behind my decision that you are accusing me of." "Well of course, you desire him. For the same reasons I desired him the first time I saw him. You have sensed his light, his exquisite fire, his unique passion. You want to taste his blood." LaCroix's voice was dripping with disdain. Acheron growled at the weight of the accusation. Even a young vampire such as Arthur knew perfectly what it meant. Desiring and pursuing another's child was considered one of the more detested acts in the Community. A vampire committing such an act would be regarded with scorn and disparagement. Even if there were no laws set by the Council to protect a youngster's safety or to give him security against an elder's advances, the prowler would have to face the victim's master, who would consider the act as much an offence to his own honor as that of his child. It was a very demeaning accusation, which Arthur assumed deserved a counter attack from the old Enforcer. It was strange how these ancients continued to astonish him with their ways of behaving. Always having his most burning emotions in check, Acheron's voice was as calm as it had been before, even as the imminent anger from the accusation laced through his sentences. "You are bold, Lucius. Too bold for your own good. The only reason I'm discussing this matter with you is because I consider you my friend. If that changes for any reason, I can take your child at anytime without you being able to lift a finger. Remember, I'm not doing this on my own accord, but because of the Council's direct orders; and believe me when I say that the Council can make you obey their word as easily as it can do a mortal." It was LaCroix's turn to snort. The threat was as stern as it was valid. No vampire in the whole world would want to take up a challenge against the High Council of the Elders. It almost always meant an untimely death for the vampire by the hands of none other than the Enforcers. "I certainly appreciate your treatment of me as a friend, my lord!" LaCroix retreated delicately. "But you must understand my concern for my youngest one. He is barely past his first century and his character is too passionate and fragile to be shaped into that of an Enforcer. I have dealt with him, I can tell you it is a failed attempt right from the start." "The Enforcement has had its way for many centuries in breaking ardent, non- compliant spirits. If the student doesn't pass the training the first time, he will have to go through it again, and again if needed. Every weakness or insubordination will be confronted severely. There won't be any room for failures." Arthur felt a shiver run through his body. He didn't want to imagine what it would be like to be a pupil to the Enforcers. He closed his eyes and hoped that LaCroix wouldn't come up with any novel ideas. They had to talk to him, and it had to be tonight. "Nicholas would not survive that kind of treatment for long. He would be destroyed even before you attempt to reshape him. All you would be left with would be a broken shell of a vampire and a waste of splendor." "Au contraire, Général! I think you underestimate this Nicholas rather greatly. He had been to the crusades hadn't he? He has fought under blazing sun, has been captured and injured and infected with unknown and incurable illnesses and yet he has survived. What makes you think he would be anything less as a vampire? It is not he who can't stand the ordeal now, is it, General? Should I say it's you?" LaCroix was silent for a long time before he finally replied, "I see, my lord, you have done your studies well. But I always think of you as a superior being who understands and respects an equivalent's wishes and needs. Perhaps you are right and I am too unwilling to sacrifice my favorite child, but I have many others. And I assure you I wouldn't object a tad if you chose one of them." Arthur gasped at the implications of those last words. LaCroix had openly announced he was ready to sell them all off to save his precious favorite. Suddenly his heart felt unbearably heavy in his chest. "I can't say I won't think about it, Lucius. But you have to understand the obligation I have towards my initial decisions. It is not becoming for an Enforcer to change his mind on the fly simply because of a friend's wish, whoever that friend might be." "I appreciate your consideration, my lord. Let us not discuss the subject any further this instance; why don't we instead move to more pleasurable matters? I've heard that you have a hunting party planned for the next evening." "Yes, my friend. And now that you brought it up, I think it's a good time for you to go and inform our other guests about this event that's coming up tomorrow night. The woods of Charente are excellent hunting grounds for the keen vampire senses, and since I have prepared all the necessary rudiments for our sport, I'm sure it will turn out to be an exhilarating experience." "Thank you, my lord. I'm sure my children would be delighted to hear that." The rustling sounds of cloth and footsteps reached Arthur's ears as his master moved to shake hands with their host and walk out of the room. All of a sudden, he realized his situation and froze in place, not knowing whether to leave or stay where he was. The footsteps drew closer and out of reflex, he held his breath. It was too late to leave now. There was no way he could get away without LaCroix discovering him. Making the choice that it was better to face his master evenly rather than on the run, he stayed where he stood and waited for LaCroix to round the corner. He stared at his master's shadow dancing on the opposite wall, growing larger and larger as he advanced, and tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. Two more strides and LaCroix was right in front of him. "Is there any reason for you to be standing here?" he said in a chilling voice that made the younger vampire shiver involuntarily. "I came here looking for you, Master. We need to talk." LaCroix lifted one eyebrow inquisitively and continued to glare at his child. "Who is *we,* please?" Arthur could feel himself fidgeting. Damn it, why should he lose himself like that in front of the ancient? "We, I mean I and... the others. There are some things we have to talk to you about." LaCroix suddenly released the youngster from his burning gaze and turned to walk away. "Ah, yes! As a matter of fact, I too have something to tell you all. But judging by the proximity of your position, I would say you already know about that." Arthur didn't dare look at him. There was no point in denying the truth, either, and if nothing else, it would put him in a more difficult situation. Since LaCroix seemed not to mind his spying, he decided to sidestep the subject and simply followed his master along the torch-lit halls. LaCroix had not been told where they had gathered, but with his acute sense of his children, he took all the right turns until he was standing in front of the same door Arthur had left a half hour ago. He then turned toward his companion as he once again held him with a glare, and said in a solemn voice, "Now, before we go in, you had better tell me what this is all about." Arthur's heart beat twice. He looked at his master and tried to appear impervious. He raised his chin and spoke firmly. "Sire, we'd better go inside and let the others know that we are here. This is something I'm sure they all want to talk to you about. I don't want to be a source of any prejudgment for you before they get their chance to join in." LaCroix rolled his eyes and reached for the door handle. There was something about this whole affair that didn't please him at all. These youngsters had better have something important to say or he'd discipline them all for wasting his precious time. He walked into the room and let Arthur close the door behind them both. One look around the room confirmed his initial conclusion, that they were all gathered there. All but his two favorites. He observed them one after another before he returned his cool gaze back to his escorting son. "Now are you willing to tell me what is going on here? Why are you all assembled in this tiny room? I thought our dear lord's castle had rather a few better places for little children to dwell." His tone was piercing and sarcastic. Arthur took a step forward and cleared his throat before starting to speak. "The reason we are gathered here is that we want to ask you to acknowledge us as your children." He kept his gaze steady as he looked straight into his master's eyes. "What did you say?" LaCroix's tone was more one of confusion than annoyance. He peered at his child, demanding an explanation. Immediately, Arthur realized the denseness of the situation and tried a different approach. "We all love you very much because of the gift you gave us. Even though we have been apart for a long time, there is a part of us that has always belonged to you ever since the beginning. All we want from you now is to reassure us that your love has stayed." LaCroix gave him a shrug and a dismissive wave with his hand. "All right, I love you. Now get out of here." "Not just yet." The young vampire took a courageous step forward while trying not to provoke his master's ire. "We would like you to call us your family. Like you did the other night with Janette and Nicholas. We would like you to take our side and defend us against Lord Acheron and his Enforcers, to treat us the way you treat your other two children. That's our legitimate right." Before he could say another word, he was slammed against a nearby wall and held in the strong grip of his master. LaCroix growled as he held the mutineer flat against the wall and inches above the floor. "I already have enough on my mind to want to listen to your irrelevant blather. Your legitimate rights are what *I* decide they are, I thought we were already over that after your first two decades." Arthur clawed at his master's hands before he realized there was no chance for him to break free. Panting, he stopped his struggle and submitted to the older vampire. LaCroix glared at him for another while before he let him down and turned to his other children. His eyes where mere slits as he surveyed their receding, frightened faces. He wasn't happy with any of them. "I want all of you to listen very carefully. Janette and Nicholas are my true daughter and son. I do not want any of you to disrespect or question that, understood? I gave each and every one of you the time he or she deserved to be trained and prepared for this life and have set you on your own. What I do with the rest of my eternity is my business. Make sure you etch that into your brains." The others nodded fearfully. They all had at least once experienced LaCroix's wrath during their infant years, and knew that the master's temper was not something to meddle with. LaCroix was still seething when a weak voice came from behind him, breaking the silence that had fallen upon the room after his declaration. "I don't recall Pericleia getting the chance she deserved to survive through the life you blessed her with." LaCroix promptly turned back to Arthur, who was still standing against the wall rubbing his throat and panting slightly. For a minute it seemed like the elder would rip his impudent youngster to shreds. He slowly advanced on him, making sure his eyes never left the demanding green orbs of his child. "I told you to never cross my path again. You are such a wretched fool that you don't even deserve my punishment. Your sister died because of her own negligence and you would have ended up the same way had I not taken care of your miserable hide all those years. And this is how you repay me for my troubles? By defying my authority?" Arthur swallowed but didn't back away. His eyes had taken a strange shade of gold and green and he had a mad look on his face. He gasped, "And what about him? I only went against you when you stopped caring for me and left me for death. But you cared for him for so long and all he gave back to you was defiance and disgust. He never appreciated your gift, did he? Not the way I did. Still, you love him more. You always love him, always him, never us, and I want to know why?" He was inches away from his master as he spoke those words into his face, holding his chin up to look him right into the eyes. His voice trembled at the utterance of the last words. LaCroix raised his hand, poised to strike, but then he brought it down slowly. He was very angry and he knew if he acted on it he might destroy something he would regret later. Knowing how uncontrollably severe his actions were when he was in a state of rage, he instead ignored the fuming youth and once more turned toward the other occupants of the room, speaking pointedly. "I intend to forget about this little incident tonight. I don't think there is any time for me or any one of you to repeat the basic lessons of respect and submission you were taught in the first years of your lives across. As long as we are in this castle, I don't want to hear any word discussed or even whispered regarding this matter, is that clear? And if I discover that either Janette or Nicholas has been told anything about tonight's nonsense, it's everyone's neck that will be at stake." He glared at Arthur once again with crimson eyes, then stepped forward and towered his tall form over him. "Be warned, you are as much a property of mine as any other miserable soul in this room. And it is up to me how I handle my properties. You can live with it or you can walk into the sun. But don't ever cross me again, because it _will_ surely be your last time." With that, he left the room, leaving his children in a sea of trepidation and the dark silence that fell over them as soon as his footsteps faded down the last hall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @}--`--}--, ----- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Arthur swirled his drink as he replayed the memory. That day, more than six hundred years ago, had been a defining moment in his life. He had relished the moments LaCroix had held him pressed against the wall, had drunk in the master's angry words. He had wanted them, needed them for a long time. He sighed and took another sip. His master, who had repelled and rejected him, his master, who had openly announced he didn't want to have anything to do with him, who only loved Nicholas, his favorite son, had given him some semblance of joy that day. Still he cherished the memory. Because even though it had been out of pure rage, albeit his show of dominance and repulsion toward his child, LaCroix had paid attention to him. He closed his eyes as he remembered. //You can live with it or you can walk into the sun. // Did he ever consider that option? But now, all had changed, forever. Now he was an Enforcer, no longer the property of Lucien LaCroix but a property of the High Council. He drained his drink swiftly and stood up. Tomorrow, he thought to himself, Nicholas will have to stand trial. He might be acquitted; he might be condemned, which meant that he then would have to endure the punishment. Would LaCroix show up and interfere? Would he risk opposing the high powers to save his favorite son? He ignored the retreating crowd as he silently walked out of the bar and into the starlit night. He took flight as the wind brushed his thoughts away. CHAPTER SEVEN The loft was dark. The only source shedding light on its interior were the scattered sunbeams coming from between the closed shutters through which tiny dust particles danced and disentangled. Natalie dropped her medical bag on the kitchen table and went for the closest lamp. Turning it on, she looked around. The place looked like a mess. Bottles-'again' she thought-clothes, shoes, paper and an overturned chair told tales about what had happened last night after they had left the Schankes. She gathered the clothes and put them on a chair then went on picking up the bottles and the rest of the trash. As she opened the trashcan she saw what she halfheartedly had more or less expected: a torn plastic package, a used hypodermic and the empty vial of Litovuterine. Natalie bit her lip. She disposed of the trash and walked back to the kitchen table and her bag. At that moment she heard a weak moan coming from the couch. She didn't turn to look, she didn't need to; they had been through this ritual many times. She picked up her bag and a couple of wet paper towels and walked toward the couch. It wasn't until she was halfway around it that she saw him, lying on his back, half on half off, one arm stretched over his head resting on the arm of the couch, the other dangling >from the side and touching the floor. He was breathing raggedly, eyes closed, blood sweat running down his face and glistening on his palms. He was wearing his blue pajamas with most of the buttons undone. Through the gap she could see the faint sheen of blood covering his chest. Another dim moan escaped from his lips as she came closer. Natalie kneeled beside the ailing vampire. She set down her bag and for a long moment simply looked at him. He looked restless, his face contorted with discomfort and pain. Her heart clenched in her chest and with one hand, she reached to brush the strands of bloodsweat-matted blond hair from his forehead. He opened his eyes, deep amber rimmed with red looking at her. She didn't flinch. Nick closed his eyes again. He exhaled laboriously, wincing at the pain that seemed to envelope his whole body. Natalie continued stroking his hair, trying to comfort him as much as she could. She reached down and picked up one of the damp paper towels and wiped the blood sweat from his face. He moaned again and she almost felt her tears threatening to flow. When she finally found her voice to talk, it was in the form of a quiet whisper. "Why, Nick? Why did you do it?" It was a gentle question. She wasn't demanding an answer, wasn't expecting any, either. All she wanted now was to help him get through his suffering, as ever. "I had to," came the weak reply. He turned his head slightly and looked at her through half opened eyes. His eyes were blue again. Natalie wiped another drop of blood as it slid its way down the side of his face. "Rest. I'll call the captain and say you're taking the night off." "I already did that. But I'm not staying here. I have an important appointment to go to..." His voice trailed off and he shifted his position stiffly. Natalie could have yelled at him. She could have slapped his face and demanded immediate explanation for this sudden madness. But she just continued stroking him. She was tired and sad and she didn't want to cause him more hurt. Whatever had happened lately must have had something to do with people being in danger, and now this was Nick's chivalric side stepping forward, taking all the danger, all the pain into himself to assure others were safe and unharmed. Like it was his way all the time if she knew him well. She opened her medical bag and brought out a needle and another plunger. She placed the needle and filled the plunger with a clear drug, then she rolled up Nick's sleeve and injected him with the drug. He flinched at the jab, but didn't open his eyes. It was a gesture of complete trust that didn't escape her. She pulled out the needle and rubbed the spot with alcohol, out of habit really as vampires were naturally safe from infections. She was putting the bottle back in her bag when she heard his hoarse whisper again. "There will be some kind of inquisition, Nat. Tonight. I have to stand in front of their court." Nat looked up, startled. It was true she had yearned for hearing something from his part, yet she had not expected a disclosure as inclusive and minimal as that. Even though she was used to the fact that whenever Nick volunteered to give one, it always contained the strangest particulars. She reached to grab his hand and held it in hers, patting the back ever so slightly. "What are you talking about? What kind of court? And why? What are you accused of?" He continued speaking with his eyes closed. "It's not really a court. It's more of a questioning. They want to know if I have broken any parts of the Code." Natalie shook her head. She was feeling worried now; this was an area she had no expertise in. Her scholar brain resented everything that could not be associated with modern science, and the things about Nick's community and their mysterious traditions were no doubt on the top of her list. She sighed. "Is there going to be any danger for you? Are they going to charge you with anything?" Nick took a deep breath. For a moment he appeared to have fallen asleep before he finally said, "I don't know, Nat. These things are never pleasant affairs. I have broken many rules during my search for a cure, and this might be the time they're getting back at me. LaCroix isn't in town to defend me if I'm convicted and I'm not sure what they have against me at the time. I..." He was cut off by a wave of seizure that shook his entire body. He curled up into a ball and clamped his jaw tight to avoid throwing up his stomach contents in front of Natalie. Natalie jumped up to help him. She reached out to hold him still, but was slapped away by his flailing hands. Keeping his knees close to his chest and rocking back and forth to defuse the pain, he repeated over and over, "It will be ok. It will be ok. I only have to rest for a while. I can't miss the hearing tonight." He panted. Nat pulled back her hand and covered her mouth while she looked at him with tear-filled eyes, helpless to do anything. As the attack finally ceased, Nick turned and forcefully opened his eyes to look at Natalie. He looked as if he was seeing right through her, trying to say something but not finding his voice. As he groped to arrange his vocal cords to a workable composition, she wiped his face with another paper towel and cleaned the sweat from his exertion. She was turning to go and get more towels when he grabbed her hand and finally said in a gruff, barely audible voice, "You have to promise me something." Nat turned back and looked at him, waiting for the rest of his speech. She saw him struggle with the effort to speak. "I'll be fine soon. I can stand it, no matter what comes, I always did. But you must promise me, that you will stay alert. Promise not to do anything about this, not to ask too many questions. If people come to the precinct or the morgue..." He had to swallow before he could continue, "If you see any strangers asking about me, don't tell them you know me. Don't tell them anything. They could be dangerous; they could hurt you. I don't want them to hurt you..." His grip tightened on her arm as he spoke the last words, then slowly loosened and slid down. The drug she had injected was slowly showing its effect. She was overwhelmed by his concern. As he drifted away, she reached down and stroked his face faintly with the back of her hand. How could she not love him? His gallantry, his kindness, his sacrificing all of himself to help other people survive. The tears finally flooded her eyes and spilled down her face unheeded as she ran her hand one last time over his sleeping face and whispered quietly. "I will be careful, Nick. I promise you I will." --------------------- Janette sat at the bar, enclosed in her own silence. It was day; she should be in bed. She sensed the sun above, crawling ever so insistently in the sky, urging her to go to sleep. She yawned and stretched slightly but didn't move from where she sat. She traced the rim of her half-filled glass with a slender finger and slid deeper into her thoughts. She didn't want to sleep today; and she knew she couldn't anyway. She had spent last night entirely in the shadows at the back of the club, veiled by the darkness, watching him at the bar where he sat all by himself. He had changed over the years, but that could only be her imagination. Perhaps to his eyes, she had changed too. He was an Enforcer now; the most feared among their kind, that by itself was very strange and hard to digest. She remembered the last time she had seen him. He had demonstrated so much passion and energy that the only one comparable to him was Nicholas. He had a fire constantly burning inside him and it sometimes flared through his eyes, illuminating his entire being as if he was truly the young man he appeared, not an immortal creature of the night, dead, yet so alive. So much like Nicholas himself. She closed her eyes at the thought rushing to her, so much like his brother. But that had been all in the past. Seeing him last night, she had felt the fire missing. He was still very beautiful and age had added a sense of power and elegance to his youthfulness. The hardships he had endured during the unimaginable life he had walked through so far seemed to be marked in the lines of his face. As an Enforcer, he carried a certain powerful aura that denoted his rank and status in the Community as well as his standing with the High Council. But with that also came the isolation and the rejection laid upon him by others of his kind. She saw how they drew away from him with the unspoken fear evident in their eyes, and she felt sorry for him. Sorry for the light that had vanished from his eyes and the centuries of loneliness and hardship that weighed on his shoulders. When he looked up, it was as if she was looking at him for the first time. She had wanted to go and hug him, to comfort him and tell him that he was still attractive to her and that she saw nothing different in him than before. But she knew she couldn't do it. Not just because saying so wouldn't make it less of a lie, but also because as much as she wanted to deny it, she, too, was afraid of him. Afraid of the Enforcer that dwelled within him, the thing that had stolen his light. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charente 1368 AD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They lay in each other's arms on their bedroom's large four-poster ornamented bed, entwined in soft silky sheets and the affectionate embrace they had been sharing for over a hundred years. Nicholas lay on his left side, his arms tightly looped around his lover's waist and his cheek resting against her bosom. His eyes were unfocused and faraway, looking into an unknown space above the room. Janette's arms circled around his head holding him close to her chest like a mother would her child. Her head was slightly tilted on the oversized pillow as her chin lightly brushed against her lover's hair. Her eyes were closed and her right hand absently swept through the unruly tresses of the golden mane. Together they produced a picture of beauty, Janette in her dark red velvet nightgown and Nicholas in his cream-white shirt and pants. Like two fallen angels from the heights of nirvana, one representing the lividity of the dark side, the other portraying the brightness of celestial light. They were Venus and Adonis, Cupid and Psyche. Janette was shaken out of her reverie when she felt a slight twitch from her Nicholas. She slowly opened her eyes and shifted, turning the lovely head in her arms gently around and looking deep into his expressive eyes. Sapphire eyes blinked softly as he looked back at her with apprehension radiating from deep within. she thought to herself as her smooth hand gently brushed against a round cheek, running seductively down to rest on the ivory neck and the barely pulsing vein. He turned his head back, breaking the mesmeric eye contact and looking into nothingness again. Janette got restless and repeated the action, this time more insistently, regarding the ocean blue lovely eyes now with more concern. "What is it Nicola, mon amour? What is bothering you?" Nicholas turned again; pressing the side of his face once more into the warmness of her breasts, he let out a sigh. Then with a voice so quiet only a vampire could hear, he whispered his muffled words in the velvety folds of her gown. "What should I do, Janette?" Janette stroked his hair, wondering what could possibly bother her brave knight. At his words, she raised her perfect eyebrows and answered, equally quiet, "About what my love?" "About the old lord's proposition. About him choosing me to become an Enforcer." "You mustn't do anything, mon coeur, LaCroix will take care of it, I'm sure." "LaCroix." His tone held a familiar bitterness speaking the name. He separated himself from Janette and lay on his back, pulling himself up to rest his head on the pillows and next to Janette's. She turned to her side and continued staring at him; he was looking at the ceiling now as he spoke. "Why must LaCroix always decide for me? It's not like I'm an infant child." "You are an infant vampire, and he is your master." She reached with her hand to touch his face, but he withdrew. "How long am I going to stay like that? I'm over a hundred years old now and I have a grownup's wisdom. Why can't I decide my future for myself?" Janette sighed sadly. This was not the first time they discussed this issue. Ever since her young lover had stepped across, he had had problems accepting his status as a young fledgling as well as their master's authority. She reached out and took his hand, this time folding her fingers around his in a sympathetic gesture. "Why would you even want to contemplate the decision? LaCroix said you don't have to bow to the old lord's will to become an Enforcer and he has the power to prevent them >from taking you away by force. You will stay with us, mon cher, like before, isn't that what you want?" Nicholas continued to stare ahead, one hand holding Janette's while the other lay above his head stretched out on the pillow. "I don't know, Janette. Is that really what I want? Is that the best choice for me?" "Of course it is; what else could you possibly think, my love? Are you saying you would rather leave us and stay with the lord? Become an Enforcer, a soldier of darkness, as they are called?" her voice held a twinge of urgency now. Nicholas turned and faced her. "But is it really that bad? Becoming an Enforcer, living a soldier's life instead of a slave's?" Janette's grip on his hand tightened. "You can't even begin to imagine what an Enforcer's life is like. LaCroix might be a harsh master sometimes, but he loves us very much and is ready to protect us against the world. If you become an Enforcer, you will have no one to protect you, no one to give you love and support. You would be hated and feared by others of your kind. Everyone will leave you and you'll be alone for the rest of eternity." She looked at him apprehensively before raising their joined hands to plant a small kiss on his thumb. "Please, Nicola! Say you won't accept this offer. I had been alone for too long; I can't imagine living without you." Nicholas reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand as he looked affectionately into her bewitching eyes. "I can't imagine living without you either, my love. Since the day I was brought into this permanent hell, the only shining lights I've known are those of your beautiful eyes. I love you even more than I love my own life, but sometimes I feel that I can't take it any more, that I might lose my mind. I long for my freedom so much, it sometimes feels like an endless curse, as if I'm forever locked up inside a small cell and LaCroix is my jailer. All this time his love has brought me nothing but pain and misery, and abhorrence toward him and toward what I am. Sometimes it's so suffocating that I even consider walking into the light, accepting the pain to end the misery." He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed her hand. She unlocked the fingers and reached up to brush his lightly sweat tinged hair. If only she could do something to ease his suffering. She would give her everything if it made LaCroix go a little easier on him, not demand so much obedience, so much perfection. She could see how he struggled, his pride in constant battle with the respect he knew he should have for the ancient master, trying to balance his morals with LaCroix's constant demands and always failing. Never to learn that they essentially couldn't mix together, just like oil and water never did. "Please, my dear, try to get some rest. These thoughts only serve to make you hurt more. You are still young, and it's natural for a fledgling to feel trapped and depressed. That's part of our nature, especially in the early years. And believe me, that is exactly why he is hard on you, why he watches over you so carefully. He loves you just as much as I do, and he is worried about you. It will all change when you get older, I'm sure. He will eventually let go of the bonds and allow you to go your own way, as he has done with his other children." Nicholas' face brightened with a child-like smile, the smile that captured her heart every time she saw it. He clasped her hand in his and kissed the back of her fingers. Then he drew her close and kissed her eyelids, first one then the other, forcing them to close under the slight pressure of his lips. She took in a deep breath as he moved further down, brushing his lips against her cheek, her lips and the side of her alabaster neck. Her arms came to wrap around his neck, pressing him harder to her as he continued his journey down her throat. A nip at her jugular drew a sharp breath from her and she clasped him tighter, running her hands in the soft curls of his golden hair. The kisses turned into soft licks, gently outlining her collarbone, then circling the hollow of her throat with his tongue. It wasn't long before she felt the scrape of his fangs and a gentle query reaching her through their link. Taking her quick moan as his awaited permission, he reared his head back and sank his fangs deep into the softness of her throat. It wasn't long before she followed. ---------------------------- He was dreaming of Janette when a strong hand wrenched him out of his sleep and held him firmly by the throat before slamming him against the near wall. Tears came into his eyes as he tried to blink away sleep and pain and identify his attacker. A pair of emerald-green irises were looking at him from a pale, juvenile face framed with smooth, black hair. He struggled against his captor, but was knocked to the wall again. Awkwardly, he looked sideways toward the bed and saw Janette's side empty. He was relieved; he didn't want to worry about protecting her against this crazy madman that seemed to have appeared out of a nightmare. As the hand tightened on his throat, he reached up with his own hand and tried to loosen the fingers, only to collide with an immovable strength far greater than his own. This vampire must be at least two centuries older than he was. His face looked familiar even though he couldn't place it. But then, he was looking at it through painfully blurred eyes. "I think you have spent enough time with Janette to be ready to leave her alone." Another hand ripped Janette's velvet scarf from around his neck in a swift, blistering motion that brought a cry to his lips and the reminder that he probably had fallen asleep when she had put it there, a gesture she sometimes used to remind him of her love. His tormentor brought the piece of cloth close to his face and took a deep breath, taking in the essence that was emanating from the scarf and was truly Janette. He momentarily closed his eyes and his grip on Nicholas' throat slackened. Nicholas squirmed to escape, but the vise-like hand tightened again as the assailant lifted him further along the wall and hissed menacingly into his face. "You don't deserve to be with her. You don't deserve any of this. You are just a mere infant who thinks he's the prince of the realm. I can crush you with my bare hand if I want, right here and now." He shoved his captive further into the wall, eliciting a pain- filled moan from Nicholas. "Why do they all love *you?* Why should you be his chosen one without having proven a thing to him? Why doesn't he throw you out like he did with me two centuries ago? Tell me. Why?" he yelled as he slammed Nicholas again and again against the unforgiving stones of the wall. Nicholas cried again, this time for help. A slender hand closed around the attacker's neck from behind; a feminine almost melodic voice rang in his ear. "Let him go or I'll break your miserable neck." Janette moved closer to stand right behind the man who held her younger brother. She was nearly his age, just a few decades younger, but her constant blood sharing with their powerful master made them equal in strength. Arthur hesitated before he finally loosened his grip, letting Nicholas slide down the wall. Janette still held him in check. "Now, tell me what you want here?" she hissed as her fingers tightened, her nails digging into his flesh. She looked over to check on Nicholas. He was standing where he was left, his back still flush against the wall with his head leaning back and looking at the two of them through half closed eyes as he took deep, ragged breaths. Janette saw the slowly-fading bruises around his throat and her eyes glowed in anger. Arthur lowered his eyes and brought his arms down in defeat. He knew he had the strength to wrench her arm away from him and that they would be equal if they fought. But this was Janette. He would kill the infant at any point in time if it wasn't for LaCroix, but he wouldn't as much as raise a finger to hurt the raven-haired beauty, no matter how far she went in damaging his pride. Softly, he said, "I wasn't going to hurt him, Janette. I just wanted to teach him a lesson." Janette pressed her fingernails deeper into his skin as she growled angrily, "Wasn't going to hurt him? Don't you see you have already done that, you fool?" She nodded at the younger vampire who was standing by the wall and still panting. Arthur's voice trembled. "Let me go, Janette. I swear on my blood I won't touch him anymore. Please Janette, you have to trust me." Janette fumed but finally let go of his neck. She watched him as he turned to face her, a growing misery radiating from his perfectly schooled face. He kept his eyes down. "I missed you, Janette. You look very lustrous now, even more than you did those very long years ago." His eyes slowly rose to meet hers, and she felt her heart leap, seeing their depth. "I can still see us walking along the Danube and in the old city of Obuda. The nights were so hot and full of whispers. Remember how we used to eavesdrop on the lovers along the bank? Remember how their chanting made us ache for one another? Yearn for another touch, another kiss, another taste of blood...?" "Enough!" Janette cut him off stridently. She moved to stand next to the still- disoriented Nicholas and looked him up and down, stroking his face with one hand while running the other along his silk-clad arm. She then turned to face her older brother without ceasing her caress. "What was in the past is in the past, Arthur, it is over. You know how LaCroix took on our first meeting, I don't want to relive that again." Arthur's face turned into a mask of remoteness as he watched the siblings arm in arm in front of him. When he finally spoke, his eyes where focused at the wall behind them and his voice was gruff. "Yes, LaCroix! He made his feelings toward me fully clear that first time. Although I never understood them, I grew and learned to accept them, as hard as that has been. He is my master after all and if he only wants you as his truly beloved children, I will understand and accept. I'm satisfied with being his bastard son." Janette studied him with a sense of wonder. She left Nicholas and came to stand next to Arthur, her chin raised to face him squarely. "Are you saying you envy us, brother? Is that the reason why you came here and threatened Nicola? Narrow-minded jealousy?" Her tiny voice quivered as she let her emotions creep into its melodic tone. Arthur lifted one hand and tenderly touched her face. "God curse the day that I, even for a second, think ill about my lovely little Janette. You know how much I love you and how I would sacrifice everything if it means being with you once again, even if it were for one night. The reason I bit back my pride and my pain and agreed to my unmerciful fate all those years ago was because I loved you, and because I had unconditional respect for our master's will. I may have been hurt because of him, but I never gave up loving him. He was my only true father and I presumed it to be his right, not wanting me in his family. Perhaps he was tired of having a son. Until I heard the news about his new fledgling." His gaze turned toward the vampire standing against the wall, opening his emotions to let him see the hatred emanate from his aura. He continued frozenly. "At first, I thought it was for sport. Another one of his strategic crossings to achieve some political agenda, or maybe he was bored and wanted to have some fun. But then the news expanded; everyone talked about how he adored the new one, how he spent night after night feeding him, guiding him, educating him in our ways and sharing blood with him. My world crumbled into pieces as I realized the truth. That he had created another one to attain all I had offered him freely for such a long time, and he was giving all the things I craved for so long to that someone else freely. I felt betrayed, Janette, can you understand that? Betrayed. Maybe it was tainted with a bit of jealousy after all, but that, too, was because of the belief that I deserved it more. I deserved you more." His hand trailed down the side of her neck and rested lightly on her left shoulder. She looked away. It was then when they heard Nicholas' voice reaching them from were he stood against the wall with his sapphire eyes fixed on Arthur and gleaming. "You envy my life?" he was trembling with emotion as he asked, "You crave what I have? Tell me, my brother, how much do you know about my life, which parts do you think you long for? Do you want your mind linked to a powerful being who watches your every move and knows your every thought, ready to punish you for simply thinking about defying him? Do you crave endless days and nights being chained in a dark cellar, starved to the point of unconsciousness, left alone in darkness to learn how you should cherish and respect his protection and how it feels to be without it? Do you crave being beaten into a pulp, drained to slow your healing process so you would feel the pain of your disobedience for hours and hours until he decides to come and feed you with his life preserving blood and save you from near death? Do you crave being possessed, owned, used in any way he likes simply because it is you whom he wants? You crave that, my brother? Is that really what you want?" His words descended on them like currents of ice, freezing them momentarily in place. The weight of sorrow they burdened wiped away any second thoughts either of them might have entertained. The first one coming out of the induced shock, Janette shot Nicholas a warning yet sympathetic glance and started to say something when she was cut off by Arthur. She watched him turn to Nicholas, a strong sense of determination seemingly shrouding his entire being as he spoke in a firm voice. "Yes, I crave all that. I want all of what you said, the pain, the pressure, the punishment and the love. I am willing to accept it all and more if he asks me for it, just to be close to him, just to feel his care. I'll gladly sacrifice my entire un-life if it means for me a taste of his ancient blood, the memory of which I never abandoned. I want him to own me, to possess me, to call me his and to take care of me. I'm sure you'd never understand that." He looked at his brother for another while, then turned and placed a feather-light kiss on Janette's lips, unheeding of her surprise, and left the room in silence. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @}--`--}--, ----- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Janette stared at her drink mutely. She wondered if one could actually feel one's heart break, because that was exactly how she had felt that day almost seven centuries ago, when a proud but sad Arthur left their room stiff backed and reserved. Before that day, Nicholas and she had never even imagined that what they considered eternal captivity could be a dream of a lifetime for someone else. Never had they thought that someone would actually want what they lived, yearn for what they considered ordinary life, what Nicholas considered unjust. Yet now, after so much time had passed between them, it seemed so rational. She stirred the blood and took the last gulp. She remembered the rest of the events of that day. Nicholas had been stunned after Arthur's last speech, not having a clue as to what he was referring to or what his problem really was. Janette, who had been more informed about their older brother's situation, had proceeded in telling her younger about the events of years ago when she had first met him. It was a few decades after her coming across. LaCroix had some errands to run in Budapest-Obuda in those days, one of the three villages that later integrated into becoming the Hungarian capital-they were staying at a small inn close to the river and LaCroix was away on business almost every night, meeting other elders that were residing in the city. Janette was still too young to be on her own, but LaCroix had allowed her to go to the inn's main hall and the attached tavern that was usually filled with drunken mortals and sleepy travelers. Janette didn't like any of those places, but preferred the inn's quiet garden that overlooked the Danube and the neighboring hillsides. Every night she went there and sat on a bench beneath a scented lily tree and the silvery moon; she looked at the calm river and listened to the boatsmen's calls and songs coming to her sensitive ears from miles away on the shoulders of the wind. She dreamed about her mortal days when she was still a young girl and her mother took her for small trips on decorated boats, about festivals that happened on the water and fishermen in old villages who knew all the stories in the world. There she had her little peace all night, until LaCroix came back with some blood and she joined him in their sheltered room to spend the day. Her master knew that she spent the nights outside in the garden, but didn't say anything. As long as she didn't go too far and was in the room when he returned for the day, he didn't care what she did with her time. Until he came along. One night when Janette walked to her usual place under the lily tree, she was surprised to find a young man there, sitting on the bench and looking at the sparkling river just as she used to do. His hair was dark and silky under the pale light of the moon; his eyes were emerald green. Although she was still very young, she could sense him as a vampire. That alone made her heart pounce, since this was the first vampire that she was seeing in her life other than her master, LaCroix. Before she could make a move, he turned and looked at her and she froze in place. Her first instinct, to run away back to their room, died as soon she saw his smile and heard his gentle greeting. He was so warm and kind when he invited her to sit next to him on the bench, something she hadn't felt from a man in a long time, mortal or vampire. Despite her master's warnings about others of their kind and the fact that she was almost certain that LaCroix wouldn't approve her joining the handsome stranger, she couldn't resist the pull of his mesmerizing eyes or the beckoning of the siren scent of his blood. Soon she felt herself leaning against his shoulder and his voice whispering enchanting words in her ears. She was lost to him there and then. It didn't take long for them to become fond of each other. Janette's trips to the garden changed from mindless strolls along the walkways or among the bushes to a ritual of tiptoes within the shadows of the trees and walls. She met him every night in a different place and they went for short walks along the river or in the city through the still-busy night markets. He took her flying over the orchards and old castles, kissing her chilled cheeks as the flight wind wheezed around them. On their fourth date, he finally told her who he was and what he was doing there. Her astonishment was unparalleled when she realized he was of her own blood and another one of her master's children, brought across only decades before. He told her about his search for LaCroix years after surviving his abandonment in Wales. His pursuit had lead him to Obuda and the small inn where he had finally felt a tiny thread of connection to his master, which had proven to be his presence. He had watched them from among the crowd in the public house's hall, and that was when he had seen Janette. He then had watched her for several nights as she went to her established place in the garden. He had relished her beauty and her presence and waited for eight days before he made himself apparent to her. Perhaps he had envied her at first, had been jealous of her because she had taken his place at their master's side. But all of those initial feelings had melted at the first sight of her beauty, the first intake of her scent and finally their first kiss. Now he only felt in love with her as much as she was in love with him. Janette feared LaCroix's reaction if he was to find out about her little liaison. So far, the ancient hadn't shown any signs of suspicion, as he was too busy with his own affairs to care or even realize what she was doing. Over time, she became bolder and went farther with her newfound lover. One dreamy night, they landed in a small, secluded clearing in the northern hillside's woods and made love for the first time. In his blood she tasted the sorrow and pain he felt about his state as well as the unconditional love he felt toward her. The emotions were so strong, they threatened to overwhelm her, especially since this was the first time she was sharing blood with anyone other than her in-control sire. Arthur's passion carried her to new heights as their exchange of feelings went deeper and deeper and they continued to explore more of each other. She knew she would never forget that first experience. After they went back to the inn, Arthur promised to return to her the next night and vowed to continue seeing her for as long as they were able to. He had then flown toward the river where the boatmen were shouting the night's traveling conditions and she had stared after him as if in trance, dreaming about the nights of ardent lovemaking that lay ahead. LaCroix found out about them that very same night. He had come home angry and poised, had ripped her collar from her neck and tasted her blood. Her blood had told him everything, but nothing he hadn't already known. He had smelled his scent on her a few nights before and had known she was seeing someone else. That night he had spied on her and had seen them together, kissing and making love and sharing blood. He had also recognized the impostor, which had made him even more furious. Janette had cried miserably, but it failed to melt the master's heart. He punished her and forbade her to ever go out on her own again. They left Obuda the next night. When Arthur returned to the appointed place in the garden, he didn't find his raven-haired angel anywhere. Instead he found a note written by LaCroix telling him to go away and to not show himself around him or Janette again. It also told him that if LaCroix saw him ever again it would be the last day of his existence. Arthur had flown to the river that night, screamed so loud the fishermen had thought it was the rumble of an impending storm, and cried bitter tears into the dark waters. After that he had left the town and sworn never to return unless to meet the rays of the sun or his lover's embrace. Despite his master's threat, Arthur knew that some day they would meet again and that on that day he would try once more to make him understand that all he wanted was a bit of fatherly love and that it was only love that he had offered his newest fledgling. As bleak as un-life had become for him, he still had faith that someday LaCroix would see reason and welcome him as family. Janette had told Nicholas all this while crying on his shoulder. Even though they had been separated for so many centuries she couldn't help but feel sorry for poor Arthur. But sorry was the only feeling she now had for her former lover. Her heart belonged to Nicholas now, and she knew that her black-haired suitor had lost his chance the moment the golden knight had entered her life. In fact, he had lost it along with the rest of his dreams, long ago on the shores of the Danube, even though he never came to accept it. Janette stood up as she tried to suppress a yawn escaping from her rosy lips. It must have been well past noon, she thought and she knew she needed her sleep. But could she really rest with all that was weighing on her mind? The questions crowded her brain like the patrons in the club on a Saturday night. Would Arthur come back to the bar tonight, acting again like the unattached member of the untouchable force? Would his eyes secretly search for her, like she would watch him from the shadows of the back stalls? Would he ever accept the truth, ever forgive her for her disloyalty, forgive Nicholas for what had never been his fault? Janette put a glove-clad hand over her heart and closed her eyes, thinking how comforting it would have been if she were able to pray. A few words escaped her lips before the agony of it took away her courage and forced her to fly up to her bedroom and retire for the day. Quietly, she surrendered herself to the softness of her satin bed and waited for the next night. CHAPTER EIGHT Cold wind blew through deserted alleys, lifting discarded newspaper and trash in the air and banging shutters of abandoned dark buildings. The area was one of the rather more dangerous and less pleasant parts of the city, somewhere in the ghettoes of Flemingdon. Trash was piled in virtually every corner and walls were covered with obscene graffiti. Homeless people, gangs and junkies were the only dwellers of the empty alleyways in the late hours of the evening as the chilling wind howled through the dark pathways and the secluded make-shift shelters. Nick parked the Caddy a few blocks away from the appointed place. He preferred walking to driving in dangerous situations related to his own kind, since it gave him the opportunity to take to the air if something unforeseen happened. He looked at his car worriedly and cursed the assembly who had chosen such an unfriendly area for the engagement. He was almost sure he would not see the sight of his tires again if he ever came back, but he had no choice either. He started walking down the dirty alley ahead. Strange figures wrapped in rough clothes passed him by, looking at him suspiciously. He had been in this area once with Schanke for a case and knew what sort of people hung around here; this was his first time alone, and even as a powerful 800-year-old vampire, it still felt frightening. He wrapped himself more tightly in his overcoat and secretly felt for the bulk of his gun under his clothes. He knew the real danger-if it was hovering in the area-would be something against which his gun would be completely useless. But at least he could stop any foolish mortal mugger from making a big mistake that would complicate his situation more than it already was. His stomach protested once again with another sharp arrow of pain shooting through his abdomen. He grabbed the nearby wall for support and took a few deep breaths until the pain subsided. He looked straight ahead and gathered his strength for what was awaiting him. At no cost would he fail this test, because if he did, the cost would most probably be his life as well as the lives of some of his dearest friends. He pushed himself >from the wall and stepped into the darkness. A few more blocks and he finally stood in the middle of a vacant square. The sun had finally set and the darkness of the night added to the creepiness of the surroundings. A murky three-story building loomed in front of him, obviously abandoned and the walls partially ruined. Wooden boards where clumsily nailed over the windows, blocking any view to the interior. The massive entrance was also blocked and chained. A half-corroded metal sign was dangling above the door; some of the engravings still readable. "MC...abse...Dog Racin... Arena." Nick shook his head in resentment; what a great place to set up a meeting. Obviously, the owner knew about his business being illegal and had tried to fool the officials by calling it a 'dog racing' establishment instead of 'dog fighting,' which is what it was in reality. He circled the building cautiously and tested the area for any mortal heartbeats. When he became sure no one was watching, he took to the air and landed on the rooftop. He looked around once more, then took a piece of folded paper out of one pocket and opened it. It was a blueprint of the building with instructions on where the meeting took place and how he could get there. He folded the paper again and put it back in its place, then levitated along the south side of the building down into an open area in the back. There was a roofed corridor to his right that led to a pair of heavy doors. The doors appeared to have been locked and chained before-like the entrance-but someone had broken the lock and torn open the chain. A faint light was shining from beyond through the gap between the doors. He walked the length of the corridor and stood in front of them. Placing his hands on the surface of each slab, he gave the doors a light push. The chain that was still hanging loosely around the handles fell on the floor with a clank, and bright blinding light invaded his vision as the doors swung open to the well-lit arena that was beyond them. The arena was a round area surrounded by concrete walls with unpaved earthen ground. It was small, 100 feet in diameter at the most. Dirt and litter marked parts of the floor and the walls were stained as well. The whole area was bounded by tall concrete walls above and beyond which were seating locations for observers. The seats looked like the ones one would see in regular stadiums, ascending in a stair-like fashion. Only these had a circular standing area in front of them right at the edge of the pit, protected by a four-foot high barrier wall where some of the more enthusiastic viewers could stand and cheer the dogs from above it. The whole place was bathed in bright white light coming from numerous projector lights planted all around the circular barrier. These where not ordinary projectors, but more like the ones used on movie sets with their monstrous heads pointed toward the center of the arena and providing so much illumination that Nick felt like he had suddenly stepped into daylight. He covered his eyes with one hand and walked toward the center of the field. Before getting there, he looked up and tried to make out the presences he couldn't see, but could sense were standing around the pit. His eyes detected dark figures prowling in the standing area beyond the blinding light of the projectors, their faces and the rest of their bodies shrouded by darkness. Only the slight tingling in the back of his mind told him they were there, and judging by the intensity of it, he could tell there were more than a few of them. He wasn't sure what kind of an assembly he was facing since his feeling of them was considerably indistinct. But he wasn't a fool to believe they were feeble youngsters. More than just a thought, he was almost certain that what he was looking at was a group of powerful elders and most probably Enforcers who were skillful enough to control the extent of his awareness of them while at the same time, easily tear through his own mind to discern his motives and thoughts. Surrounded by them, he also knew that now he would be under their complete control. "Step forward and stand in the center of the circle," came a voice from somewhere behind the lights to his left. He complied obediently. When he reached the center of the arena he again raised his hand over his eyes and tried to see the individuals that were observing him from above. Again, he only saw their shadows standing like shrouded statues in the darkness beyond the bleeding projectors. He dropped his hand and looked at the wall in front of him. "You have been asked to come to this questioning on grounds of an accusation regarding the alleged infringement of the Code. You are to answer all of the questions that are presented to you by this committee truthfully and without any imposition. If you speak any lies to this assembly, as it would be detected undoubtedly, your incorrigible sentence would be the immediate extinction of your life. Do you accept the conditions?" He raised his eyes and looked in the direction the voice came from. "What is going to happen to my friends?" The voice came, as soulless as its owner seemed to be. "You are only to answer the questions you are asked. You are not allowed to talk to the assembly on your heart's behest or ask any questions. Do you accept the conditions?" Nick closed his eyes and tried to get the rising beast within him under control. The effort made his stomach lurch once again and he staggered to stand straight. He could almost feel the pull of their minds in his head, which only intensified the ill after-effects of his recent drug use. After a few minutes passed, he finally opened his eyes and replied to their inquest quietly. "Yes." "Very well, let us start the hearing now." He heard whispers from all around the arena, then a different voice came from the other side of the circle, asking him the first question. It rang in his ears with a strange, outlandish accent. "You are Nicholas de Brabant, son of Lucius Divius also known as Lucien LaCroix, grandson to Divia and from Qua'ra's bloodline. You are masquerading under the name of Nicholas Knight in the present time. Is that the truth?" "I'm..." "Answer only yes or no. Is what was said the truth?" "Yes," he answered before his voice got caught in his throat. "You work as a homicide detective for Toronto's Metro Police at the 96th Precinct, Toronto PD. It that the truth?" "Yes." "Is the mortal Donald G. Schanke your partner in this job?" Nick took a sharp breath as he finally turned to face the direction of the voice. His own voice slightly trembled and sounded like pleading. "He knows nothing, really. I swear. I can prove that to you if you want." A sharp pain reverberated in his mind, blurring his vision momentarily and his hands abruptly went up to press against his temples. He felt the intense assault on his brain and let out a small cry of agony before he doubled over with his hands still pressed against the sides of his head. The other's voice reached him through the haze, as if coming from a space beyond this world and emphasizing every word so as to nail them into his head. "You were told only to answer the question you are asked. If you violate the condition once again, you will be removed from this questioning and will be delivered to your fate accordingly. Do you understand?" "Yes," he gasped as he squeezed his eyes shut to the unbearable violation of his mind. All of a sudden, it was over, and he found himself straightening unsteadily until he was standing again. "The assembly repeats the question. Is Donald G. Schanke your partner on the job, de Brabant?" "Yes. Yes, he is," he answered shakily. "Does he have any knowledge of our kind's existence or about the reality of your true nature?" "No, he doesn't." "How can you be so sure?" It was another voice, sounding from behind him. He turned to the faceless interrogator and tried to answer convincingly. "He would have mentioned it to me if he did. There is no evidence of his knowledge of us." "And there hasn't been, ever?" Nick hesitated. If he lied here it would mean certain death. He fidgeted a little before answering. "He once saw me fly during a shoot-out. I tried to erase his memory, but he kept inquiring about it. Finally he went to my master, pouring out his heart about his suspicion and the things he had read in some books. LaCroix was able to completely wipe out his knowledge and his memory along with whatever inklings had been set into his brain. Now he knows nothing; I testify that assuredly." He heard another round of whispers before the place fell into silence again. Minutes passed before the same voice that had spoken before echoed in the arena. "Was that the only time this mortal saw you use your vampiric abilities? Had there been any other incidences?" Nick squared his shoulders. "To the best of my knowledge, no. He might have wondered about some of the strange incidents during our work together, but he never paid attention to those suspicions. Captain Stonetr... our first commanding officer since we started our partnership, told him once that vampires were only myths." "What about others that you work with? Are there any other mortals who might know or have sensed something about you?" Nick's breath caught in his throat before he could answer. He felt his stomach heave at the thought of the one mortal who not only knew about him, but also was participating in his quest to find a cure. He fiercely clamped down the thought, lest it be discovered by the inquisitors, and closed his eyes. What should he do? If he lied, they might find it out instantaneously and destroy him right where he stood. If he told them the truth, both his and Natalie's lives would be in danger. Finally, he opened his eyes in determination and answered. "There are no mortals with any threatening knowledge about my existence." He raised his chin and looked around the circle at the dark-clad figures of his jury. He was ready for their verdict, whatever that might be. The silence stretched for another ten minutes, during which he heard his heart beat five times. He was exhausted from the whole ordeal and couldn't identify what time of night it was or how much was left till the sun would rise. It felt like he had been here for days, standing in the center of the dreadful circle showered by the assailant projector lights, answering one difficult question after another while his faceless interrogators continued probing his mind for unsaid answers. He was tired and afraid and felt very small, like an insignificant bug caught by a group of foul children who were deciding whether to crush him or have a little more fun with him. Finally, a voice he had never heard before rose from one side of the circle in a deep and resonant tone. "Nicholas de Brabant. The present assembly has reached its verdict in the case of your alleged infringement. For now you are cleared of the charges against you and are found to be honest and observant to the Code. But we are keeping a close watch over you until this case is fully resolved. You should not, under any circumstances, speak a word to anyone, mortal or vampire, about tonight's proceedings. Swear this on your own blood." A tidal wave of relief and weariness swept over Nick as he heard the words repeated in his head. He gathered all that was left of his strength together and replied, "I swear on my kin and my blood, I won't talk about this happening to anyone, mortal or vampire, or I shall die." His voice was firm and deep despite his tiredness. He was content that he had won. Suddenly, all the lights went off, the whole place plunged into darkness as deep and fathomless as the bottom of a well. Nick was disoriented for a while, when all of a sudden he felt the solid specters pull out of his mind in a massive unified heave. He felt lightheaded at the effect, his mind flailing as he heard the several whispers of flight sounding all around him. Suddenly, he was alone; the ground seemed to move toward him fast and he heard a silent thump at the same time as he felt the coolness of the earth on his temple and his right cheek. The world was dark and silent and he was at the very end of it, at the bottom of a dark cold abyss unknown and unseen to any living creature but peaceful nonetheless. He saw the fading stars above his head in the boundless sky paling into a resonant purple that was even more comforting to his eyes than the previous dark blue. He smiled and let his freed mind drift into the realm of peaceful sleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charente 1368 AD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Finally, the night of the big hunt had arrived. Lord Acheron promised his guests the best sport of their un-life as they all gathered in the castle's ward near the north gate. The horses were brought out of the stable, but everyone knew it was just for pretense. They were there to divert the mortals' attention from the real nature of the hunt, since the hunters would fly as soon as they reached the hunting grounds and would chase after their prey using their own animal skills. Acheron had mounted his horse and was giving commands to his servants to take care of his guests appropriately. The young vampires were excited and chuckling, as for most of them it was the first group-hunt they were taking part in and they couldn't wait for it to start. They were all dressed in stylish hunting clothes of the time, the men wearing thick doublets and knee-high leather boots, the women dark riding dresses with long sleeves and multi-layered skirts. The only addition to the attire was the thick long cloaks they all wore, male and female. It was one garment that no matter what century it was or what corner of the world they resided in, a vampire never went without, as it provided a sense of security should they ever get trapped in the sun. The little group was a delight to the eye, like a portrait of a royal family. LaCroix, the head of the family, was wearing a black wool coat and black breeches with leather bands tying just below the knees, and dark brown leather boots with slightly pointed tips. He almost resembled a Hun leader as he rode his horse in front of the group and surveyed his children. Nicholas and Janette were sitting on their horses apart from the rest of the pack. Janette looked extremely excited and was clutching the reins of her horse while occasionally looking up to peek at her brother. Nicholas was on his horse next to her, completely motionless, his remoteness a total contrast to Janette's happiness. LaCroix admired his son's gallant form, his rigid back and square shoulders, and for a moment he thought what an apt Enforcer he would make before shaking the idea vigorously out of his head. He looked at his host. Acheron had finished giving the necessary instructions to the servants and was now facing the group in anticipation. As soon as they noticed him, their chatter died down and they waited to hear what the lord had to say. "My dear guests. Tonight I'm delighted to present you with one of the most excitable activities offered to the nobles of our kind here in Charente. It's time to go hunting." A cheer rose from the crowd as the participants showed their fervor at his words. The horses jerked around and riders had to quiet them before the speaker could continue. "I have made arrangements for the hunt in the village and the forest outside. We will ride on horseback until we reach the forest. We will make a stop at the entrance where another group of my servants are awaiting us for further accommodations. I will give you the rest of the instructions when we get there, so please go ahead. Let's start the hunt now." On his cue, the gate's heavy doors shuddered and opened with a screech, just as Vincenzo's horse neighed and took off, stealing its rider with it. Elias followed instantly and then Melissa. Isabelle was having some problems with her mare and was being assisted by a stable lad. As they waited for the younger participants to depart, LaCroix saw Acheron stare at one of the castle's main tower windows. He followed the gaze and saw Germaine's slim figure standing at the casement. Strands of gold were evident in the old lord's eyes and his heart made a beat, causing LaCroix to smile. He enjoyed watching his adversary give in to his affections and knowing that he, too, wasn't without a weakness. The night wind was in their faces as they rode on the path connecting the north gate to the forest. Vincenzo was still in the lead, waving his oversized feathered hat in the air and letting out yelps of exhilaration. His siblings followed him a close distance behind, separated into several uneven groups with different speeds. Nicholas and Janette were last, still very quiet, but their graceful and elegant riding style not lost to their master's observant eyes. It showed they were both from blue-blooded families and not new to the manners of courtiers. He shook his head in amazement and grinned at his thoughts. Even during a harmless ride to a hunt, he couldn't stop wondering about and admiring his favorites. They reached a clearing just before the road dived into the mass of trees. Acheron ordered them to halt and then turned toward a small cottage at the side of the road just where the trees started. The riders stopped as another group of servants, this time vampires, came out of the hut and stood in front of the group waiting for Acheron's orders. "My gentle guests. This is where we leave our horses and start our hunt in the traditional ways known to our kind for thousands of years. For the past three months, the villagers have stopped lynching their convicts at my order, and have incarcerated them in "foncée pierre" instead, the turret I have built for this very matter. They fed them and treated them well, and tonight these criminals will be allowed to escape their prison and run free in the forest. They are our prey. They are about fifteen men and eight women, most of them young and fiery-spirited. They will be perfect quarries for the hotheaded beasts in us and perfect targets for our game. The partaker who makes the most kills is the winner of the game, and I'll announce and award her or him after the affair." The vampires, who were gradually dismounting, cheered with excitement. Acheron raised a hand, asking for silence. "However, there are certain rules to this game that must be remembered. Keep in mind that the mortals you will hunt are convicts. They are scared and disoriented, but they are mostly cutthroats and criminals, so they know life on the run and will be more difficult to hunt, which serves to make the game more challenging and enjoyable. But you must also remember that you are only allowed to hunt them and no others. I don't want any harm to come to my peasants or anyone else who might walk in the forest, even if I have told them to stay in their homes tonight. The hunt is only limited to the forest area and therefore no one should approach the village, or the castle, for that matter. Our prey would most definitely stay away from these places too, because of the fear they have of the sheriff or the guards. They will all run to the forest, which is where we want them to be. They are all wearing iron manacles on their left ankles with a broken chain attached, which serves as a way for us to recognize them. Therefore, make sure your prey has a manacle; otherwise you are chasing the wrong target and let it be said, I don't take kindly to mistakes that end up in unnecessary deaths of my subjects, so be careful. And enjoy." This time there were no cheers. Some of the young fledglings squirmed under the warning tone of Acheron's last comment and decided to be exceptionally cautious. None of them wanted to try the ancient's rage. As soon as the speech was over, LaCroix went to his host to thank him for all the effort he had put in for the occasion. While he was talking to Acheron, he surveyed the crowd from the corner of his eye. He saw Isabelle ride toward Janette and start shaking hands and talking with her. As soon as the vampire servants came close to get the horses, the ladies started their usual struggle with their whopping skirts while trying to dismount. He saw Nicholas as he deftly and immediately jumped from the back of his horse and offered his hand first to Janette and then to Isabelle to help them get down. Always the chevalier, he thought. Janette barely noticed his assistance, as she seemed completely fascinated with whatever Isabelle was describing to her. Nicholas took the horses' reigns and gave them to the closest servant before he turned to attend to his own horse. "I want you, General, to hunt with me tonight." LaCroix turned and saw Acheron looking at him. "What do you intend?" Acheron nodded at the group of fledglings. "I want to let them all hunt by themselves with no assistance from either of us. I like to see who brings home the biggest prize. Perhaps, if it is someone other than your favorite golden one, I will re-evaluate my decision." LaCroix smiled intently. "I would be honored to hunt with you, my lord." Nicholas was just returning from handing over his horse when he saw LaCroix approach. The vampire master sent a call to Janette through their link that was immediately picked up by his daughter and took her attention away from her companion. She excused herself as she came to join her master and Nicholas, already standing together. When she finally reached them, LaCroix took a long, serious look at both of them and said, "I have decided to hunt with our host tonight, which means I will not stay with you. I know what a great opportunity this is for you to prove yourselves, but no matter how much of an excellent hunter you are, you should not bring any kills. I don't want either one of you to win this game, understood?" Janette and Nicholas looked at each other wonderingly before they turned and nodded in unison. LaCroix then turned to Janette and spoke firmly. "I want you to remember that Nicholas is _your_ responsibility tonight. I do not want him or you to get into any dangerous or inane situations. I trust his safety to you, as he is still too young and foolish to go on his own. Make sure you don't misuse my trust." Nicholas turned his head, not daring to show his wounded eyes and the anger they held to his master, but Janette complained, "But LaCroix, I can't keep an eye on him all the time. You have already ruined half of the fun for me by telling me not to win. I..." LaCroix silenced her by grabbing the satin folds of her dress at the shoulder and glaring into her eyes. "I want no arguments, is that clear? Promise me you won't take your eyes off him." He shook her. Janette fearfully stuttered. "I--I promise." Nicholas then felt LaCroix's gaze on him, but when he finally turned his head, his father was gone. He cursed under his breath; the patrician didn't even give him a chance to protest. Why did it always have to be his way? Nicholas hated that as much as he hated to be babysat. He was a grown man and even as a vampire, he was way past the age of needing guardianship. He reluctantly joined Janette as she went back to resume her chat with Isabelle. LaCroix went back to Acheron. He mulled over the situation; to hunt with the great ancient would be an exciting experience, but since he had clearly announced it as a competition among the young, he wondered what their parts would be. Privately he was planning a hunt of his own, to watch the ancient carefully and mark any weaknesses, any mistakes that could be to his benefit later on. If there was one chance for him to gain that advantage over the old lord, it would most likely come about tonight. The group of vampires gradually separated, some lifting to the air right away, others continuing their way to the forest on foot. Janette took Nicholas' hand and leaped. Isabelle, who seemed to have found new companions, followed them. They landed in a secluded spot in the forest among a cluster of fig trees. Nicholas seized Janette's waist with both hands and gently set her on the ground as she landed. They stood for a few minutes, looking into each other's eyes, Janette lifting a hand and touching her lover's upper arm, whispering, "I'm sorry." Her bright blue eyes flooded with sympathy for her brother and the abhorrence she felt toward their master's treatment of him. "Don't be. It is not your fault," he said as he turned to kiss the palm of her gloved hand, which now rested against his cheek. Then he looked down. "You brought your riding crop with you. You wouldn't need it here." Janette looked at her other hand clutched around the grip of the crop. "Oh, I forgot to leave it with the horse. I'll go back and give it to the servants right away." Nicholas caught her hand and once again looked her in the eyes. "Allow me, my lady. I'll return it for you; you can stay here and chat with Isabelle until I'm back." He kissed her hand and took the crop from it. Janette smiled. "Thank you, my knight. Make sure you come back soon; there are humans to hunt in the forest." She turned and walked to where Isabelle stood. Nicholas leaped into the air and flew back to the small cottage. The servants were ready to help him right away, but he told them that he would find the horse himself and replace the crop. He entered the dark stable and looked around easily, using his acute night vision. Janette's steed was standing in the left stall next to the other horses. He put the crop in the side pocket of her saddle that was laid over the railing and headed back for the door when he suddenly saw someone standing before him in the darkness. He was startled at first, but a better look revealed the prowler's identity to him. It was Arthur, his tyrant brother. The revelation didn't do much to relax him. "What do you want here?" he asked demandingly. "Just to talk to you," Arthur replied. "I have nothing to say to you. I told you all I knew the other day. Get out of my way now." Arthur came closer and smiled as he saw Nicholas instinctively back away. He pushed his hands into his pockets and stood tall, looking at the vampire in front of him with confident eyes. "I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you the other day. I had no right to enter your room without permission and hurt you like that. Please forgive me." Nicholas was surprised to hear the older vampire apologize to him though he tried hard not to lose his feigned indifference. He wanted to show Arthur that he no longer cared about him or his personality complex. "All right. I accept. Now step aside and let me pass." The older vampire simply stepped to one side and watched Nicholas hurry to the door, but before he could reach it, he spoke again. "I was thinking about turning this night into some kind of celebration of our truce. Why don't we hunt together?" Nicholas stopped. Arthur's voice held something different this time. He didn't turn to face him, however, but merely growled under his breath. "I can't. I have to escort Janette." Arthur started walking, an air of amusement now apparent in his tone. "Ah, the lovely Janette. Sure, she is a delicate flower and a precious companion to hold. But you've been with her all the time these past few weeks. Don't you think it's time to give both her and yourself a break? Tonight is a special night; why not change the routine this once? Hunt as men, like we used to do when we were mortals." He finished his sentence and his walk, standing once again in front of his brother. Nicholas looked away. When he spoke, his voice was clipped. " I am told to stay with her." He didn't look back to face Arthur again. Arthur stared at his face, pretending to be confused. "By whom?" Nicholas closed his eyes. He opened them again. "I can't accept your offer. I have to go." He started walking as he said the last words. Arthur's hand closed around his arm when he tried to pass by him, held him in place and spoke kindly in his ear. "You don't have to fear him anymore, my brother. You are a grown vampire now, over a hundred years old. You have a right to walk on your own, do as you please and even he will be pleased when he sees your independence." Nicholas looked back at him skeptically. Was this a trap? Was Arthur planning to get him into trouble with LaCroix and then stand back and enjoy his chastisement? Or was it all just a way to rectify what he had done? "What do you have in mind?" Arthur smiled and let go of his arm. "I want to win this game, and we can do that if we work together. I have a plan of how to make the most of our skills." Nicholas was about to tell him how he was ordered by LaCroix not to participate in the game for the win, but held back at the last minute, as he remembered Arthur's comment about his obedience toward their master. He didn't want to come across as the fearful child. "Ok, I'm in. Let's see what this plan of yours looks like." Arthur laughed and gave him a brotherly slap on the shoulder. Together, they exited the shack and took to the air, taking the opposite direction from the rest of the pack. Nicholas peeked over his shoulder at the cottage and the section of the forest that grew smaller below him and sighed. "Janette! I'm very sorry." He followed Arthur, who seemed to head for the castle silently. LaCroix followed Acheron to where he landed outside the village. There were the usual measly peasant homes in a farther distance and then a group of houses that looked a little more decent on a hillside right across from them. LaCroix looked at the Enforcer lord and was about to speak when all of a sudden, a group of Guetennes appeared from one side as if waiting for their arrival. LaCroix's eyebrows rose in surprise, so there was, after all, more to this hunt than met the eye. He turned to Acheron, who looked amused at his surprise. "As it appears, my lord, you and I are going to hunt a dragon, judging by the backup you have called in," LaCroix put in as he surveyed the group of dark-armored vampires approaching on their steaming stallions. Acheron threw his head back and let out a roaring laugh. "Oh, my dear friend Lucius. You are in fact a delightful companion to be with. No, we are not going for a hunt; let the young ones take their pleasure in that. I'm here to show you a real Enforcer's work." He raised a thickly gloved finger toward the houses on the hillside. "Those are the homes of the merchants. One of the more affluent hordes among my mortal subordinates, they have the privilege to live in better homes and eat better food and make better love. That's where we are headed now." LaCroix shrugged his shoulders as he pointed to the rest of their companions. "Why the horses?" "To keep the image, of course. We don't want them to think they are being passed judgment upon by a gang of flying monsters, now do we?" He hopped on the horse offered to him by one of the riders and directed his guest to take the other one. They rode a short distance until they reached the cluster of houses leaning cozily on the hill. Riding through the nightly emptiness of the narrow alleys as the hooves of their rides echoed through the silence, they reached a stone house with shuttered windows and a cart in the front. Acheron raised his hand, motioning for his warriors to halt. Immediate silence fell all around them. The old lord motioned to one of the riders to come close and whispered something in his ear. LaCroix couldn't see the warrior's face hidden in the shadow of his ominous-looking helmet, but he could see him nodding his head as he received his superior's orders. He then rode his horse to the back of the house, followed by a few other soldiers. Acheron, having been satisfied with the way his orders were carried out, grabbed LaCroix's arm and rode toward a shadowy corner on the other side of the alley where they could hide and watch the action around the house from a distance. "This is the home of one of the more successful and wealthy merchants of Charente. He was invited to my castle a couple of times and has even visited the Prince of the region. Tonight he will visit the Prince of the underworld." He smiled at LaCroix's confused expression. "He has taken a lover. A vampire whom he visits every once in a while but is not bound to. His life is our forfeit now, as are the lives of his family and the perfidious vampire." He pointed at the group of soldiers that were slowly tightening their siege around the house. "Why the excess precautions? Isn't it but one wretched mortal, after all?" LaCroix whispered as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. "That is true, of course. However, this is a mortal who knows about our secret and might have been warned by his lover about the consequences of violating the Code. He might be entrenched in there, armed with a stake, waiting for us to make a move. It's never a mistake to take extra precaution since I put a high value on the lives of my troops and a good Enforcer takes a long time to train." They suddenly became alert at the sight of movement at one of the windows. The light went on in one of the rooms and they heard a child's whine. The group of vampires watching the front of the house dismounted from their horses and approached the entrance. The ancients watched as the leader walked to the front door and at once, kicked it open with his boot before stepping in. The rest of the group rushed in after him and within a few seconds, the deserted street was filled with screams and cries coming from inside the house. A window broke on the second floor and they saw a woman trying to escape through it, only to be pulled back by an invisible hand. Even with the darkness, they could see with their vampire eyes as the broken glass was splattered with red stains. Soon the air was filled with the all-too-familiar scent of fresh blood coming from the house and LaCroix felt his fangs itch. Gradually, the noises died and they saw the Enforcers emerge from the building, their hands and mouths stained with the evidence of their carnage. Acheron nodded his head in endorsement and leaned back against the house behind them as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "That went well, it seems. I'll check with the bunch that was sent to take care of the vampire, I'm pretty sure they're done with their job as well." He looked at LaCroix, grinning. "My friend. Do you want to take a look at the result?" "No, thank you." As much as LaCroix considered himself the ultimate predator, he couldn't help but feel a slight repulsion at what he had just witnessed. If this was to be the future occupation of his beloved child, then he was sure to prevent it from happening at any cost. Nicholas was too precious, too delicate to be reduced into being one of these brutish, soulless monsters. They stayed a while longer until Acheron had made sure that all the mortals were dead and his troops had thoroughly searched the area for any possible onlookers. They then mounted their horses again and rode back down the hill. LaCroix was utterly quiet as they rode, a gesture that wasn't completely lost to his host. With a tug to the reins, Acheron brought his horse close to LaCroix's. He started speaking, still looking straight ahead as he rode. "So, General. What is on your mind? Are you going to be our audience in yet another act of Enforcement tonight?" LaCroix was about to answer when a movement in the group caught his attention. He kept his eyes to the fore but could feel with his senses as a part of the group dislodged and rode in another direction. He didn't give any outward sign of his suspicion to his host, but only slightly turned his head toward the other as he replied. "I think I'm going to pass, my lord. After witnessing all that blood, I feel the urge to hunt in me strong. If you won't mind, I'd like to join my children in the hunt and meet you at the castle afterwards." Acheron nodded. "All right, my friend. I would no longer deny you the joys of chasing and killing prey. But you had better hurry before your fervent offspring devour the whole pack. I'll see you later at the fort." LaCroix slowed his horse and watched the old lord gallop away. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned the steed and headed in the direction of the squad that had left earlier. Janette was restless as she flew another round around the area. "But he said he was going to come back," she exclaimed in a somewhat concerned voice. Isabelle looked at her from the ground, stepping from one foot to the other. "Dear, you must know men better than that. No matter how old, they'll always be like little boys, running off whenever they feel fit. Don't sweat over it and come down. We have a group of mortals to hunt and we've already wasted enough time." Janette let out a sigh of defeat as she finally descended and went to where Isabelle was standing. "But you see, I don't understand. Nicola has always been true to his word. In all these years he has never even once left me standing. I'm sure something has happened to him. I have to tell LaCroix." Isabelle put an arm over her shoulder as she walked her away. "Think, ma cherie. If Nicholas were in trouble, wouldn't you have sensed it already? You do have a link with him, don't you? Search it, and you'll see that he's probably standing somewhere over there in the shadows laughing at your distress. There is no sense making a big deal about it, he is a grown vampire and can take care of himself, I'm sure. What is the use of calling our master now and bringing his anger down on us when by the end of tonight your brother will turn up by himself anyway? Better to leave him alone and have some fun of our own before you die of too much stress." Janette slightly nodded her head as she listened to her sister. Although all of her senses were screaming at her to go and tell LaCroix, she could see the reason in Isabelle's words. If this was just a joke on her played by Nicholas, or if the boy was simply unhappy about her babysitting him, then running off to LaCroix and bringing him into it would only complicate the matter more. Not to mention the punishment that most probably would await both of them once the matter was over. And as much as she hated Nicholas' manners right now for letting her stand like that, she never had had the heart to watch him be punished. Letting out another sigh, she finally accepted and followed an impatient Isabelle to the forest all the while hoping that Nicholas would turn up soon, before LaCroix found out about his absence. Arthur landed on the flat rooftop of one of the East Side apartments of the castle. Nicholas did the same, following him just a hair behind. He didn't look too happy and now that they had flown so far from the hunting grounds and their master, he was a little worried, too. He watched as Arthur walked to look beyond the vault that was obscuring their view to the right. He approached him and came face to face with him as he turned. "I don't like what you are doing, Arthur." Nicholas said tensely. "The old lord said we should not hunt beyond the forest and the hillsides. What are you planning to do here? And why did you bring me with you? I mean, I accepted your apology but I'm still not sure I can trust you." Arthur gave a smirk as he put an affectionate hand on Nicholas' shoulder. "My brother Nicholas. I see it is true after all. You are in fact a tad too young to understand life as it is." He smiled again as Nicholas responded with a confused look on his face. He removed his hand from his shoulder and grabbed his upper arms with both of his hands, looking him straight in the eyes. "The reason we are here is not to hunt. If I wanted to take part in the old lord's childish game, I would have stayed with the rest of our brothers and sisters. But I know there is more to this night than simple entertainment. I sense the ancient is up to something, and wanted us out of his castle for that matter. If we can find out what his secret is, maybe we can use it against him to get out of his forced bargain." Nicholas shrugged himself free from his brother's grip. He still didn't feel comfortable about the whole thing. "Tell me why you brought me with you." Arthur nudged his shoulders in nonchalance, keeping his hands in his pockets. "I thought you might be interested. After all, it's you who is his first and foremost target, isn't it? Plus, if I want to prove something later on, I'd rather have a witness to testify for me. It's all just common sense." Nicholas sank his head. It did make sense. And no matter how much he disliked and distrusted Arthur, he couldn't help but to agree with his plan. It might be their only way out of the lord's dreadful request. With some hesitation, he nodded his approval before raising his head again and watching Arthur look over the edge of the roof one more time. Before he knew it, the elder vampire had swooped down the wall in one whoosh of air, so fast he had to use his vampiric speed to be able to follow. They landed on another rooftop just a hundred feet away from the main tower. Nicholas saw Arthur's eyes flash amber for a split second before he slipped back into his prying mode and all of a sudden ducked behind the short wall surrounding the rooftop, pulling Nicholas with him. At Nicholas' surprised look, he just put his index finger on his lips, motioning to a few guards that were just passing that part of the castle's curtain a short distance away. Nicholas held his breath and waited for Arthur to tell him what to do next. "Wait for me here." He heard the whispered words before the hush of displaced air indicated his companion's departure. A second later, Arthur was gone without him even seeing where he had flown >from above the edge of the wall. So he stayed where he was, hunched out of sight, and waited. It wasn't hard for LaCroix to catch up with the departing group of warriors without them noticing him, as they were still riding on horses while he had left his in a field as soon as he had spotted them. He flew the rest of the way, the shadows of the trees and stones shielding his presence completely, keeping them from sensing him. He could feel something strange about the way the group behaved along the way, as they seemed to follow a scheduled routine as they rode on. They had lookouts at intersections awaiting them and messengers that bolted away as soon as the squad leader handed them mysterious parchments. It all seemed like a strategic maneuver, although the relaxed bearings of the participants suggested it to be more of a once-in-a-while practice. As the secret proceeding went on, LaCroix felt himself growing more and more interested. This certainly _was_ something out of the ordinary, and if he paid absolute attention, he might discover something to his advantage after all. He continued his silent pursuit as the group rode farther and farther from the village and into the surrounding hillsides. Soon they entered a narrow valley encasing a small stream; the water glittered and sparked in the moonlight. They made a turn around a bush-covered cliff and stopped in front of a dark structure. LaCroix peeked from his hiding place above the cliff and saw another group of soldiers as they joined the first squad in front of something that looked like the entrance to a cave. The leaders of the two groups conversed for a few seconds before they turned toward the doorway and entered the cave. As soon as the last soldier disappeared behind the door, LaCroix slid down the cliff and walked toward the structure. He knew he was playing a dangerous game; if these were true Enforcers and this was their hideout, following them here and spying on their activities would be considered a violation of the Code and most likely punishable by death. The master vampire smiled as he pushed the entry door just a slit open and stepped inside the dark den. It was hardly the first time he had played with his life in order to overpower an adversary. The hall beyond the entrance was dark, but that wasn't a problem for his extraordinary sense of sight. He scanned it in one glance and saw it was empty. However, there was a small gap in front of him opening to a low ceiling corridor, where he supposed the other vampires had disappeared. Reaching out with his senses, he figured more vampires present in the confined place than he had witnessed entering it. So, he thought, he had stepped into a major gathering. Although his entire intellect advised him to turn and leave the clandestine cavern immediately, he shoved it away easily with his immense sense of curiosity and rushed toward the dark hole-like corridor that looked as if ready to swallow anyone daring enough to enter it. 'As if Lucius Divius wasn't the daring type,' he thought with a smirk and was inside the passageway in the blink of an eye. The passage continued for a few yards before it opened to a completely secluded but enormous chamber. LaCroix stayed hidden in the darkness of the passageway as he looked carefully around the place. A few hundred candlesticks garnished the walls, giving light and needless warmth to the room. The furniture could be considered antique, mostly from the first and the second centuries and made of a rare dark-reddish wood. A tribune of some sort stood at the other side of the chamber, facing LaCroix's hiding place in the narrow hallway directly. He watched as the squadron members he had been following so far made themselves comfortable on the many benches and futons available in the room, and started talking to the other warriors that appeared to have been there before they had arrived. He did another survey of the room; about a hundred vampires must have been gathered in the place. Even though he continued keeping his shield up, he didn't worry too much about being discovered, since he knew they couldn't sense him with that many auras present. As the room fell into silence at the glimpse of someone approaching the tribune, LaCroix sharpened his senses as well to make sure he wouldn't miss any word of this overly remarkable meeting. Nicholas was still crouched behind the short wall when a strident, high-pitched cry sliced the silence of the night and reverberated through the rooftops and the courtyard underneath, making him jerk upright. His heart jumped a beat as a second cry ensued, but was immediately silenced by some unknown effect. Slowly, he rose to his feet and peeked over the battlements down to where the sound had came from. The enormous bulk of the main tower was obscuring most of the yard's interior from his view and he couldn't see what was going on beyond it. He was torn between flying in the direction of the cries and keeping his promise to Arthur to wait for him, when another shout tore the air, this one more masculine, and calling his name. "Nicholas, help me... Please!" It was Arthur's voice coming from some place beyond the massive structure. Without thinking for another second, Nicholas flew toward the tower, expertly maneuvering around it and finally taking a better look at the courtyard. Bizarre images of what might be there raced through his mind, but the sight that greeted him was unlike anything he had expected. The courtyard was empty and bright, bathing in the pouring light of the full moon. Short trees and trimmed rose bushes decorated the gardens all around, while a small fountain standing in the center of the yard spurted sparkling water in the air. Close to the fountain, to one side, lay the slender body of a beautiful blonde girl dressed in a fine white chemise. Her slick hair fanned out on the ground like the golden rays of the sun, and she had a branch of morning glories in her hand, her arms crossed in front of her breast as if in prayer. Her face was completely pale and drawn, and the way her body lay motionless, almost saint-like on the ground, made her look like an illusion from above. Nicholas swooped down and landed close to where she lay. The fountain's steady splatter created a strange contrast to the otherwise silent castle grounds. He crouched beside the body of the girl, looking in awe at the parted lips and the pale face. Two tiny trails of fresh blood ran down the side of her neck from a pair of puncture wounds visible under her jaw, the fierce crimson streaks on the snowy white flesh screamed contrast. For some reason, it seemed to Nicholas as if he was looking at a scene out of a dream, his brain refusing to accept what his eyes perceived. Hesitantly, he extended a hand to touch the cold skin of the face and the pallid lips. His hand slowly trailed down to her chin, her jaw, her neck, down to where the two minuscule rivulets of blood found their way to the cascade of smooth golden hair. Instinctively, his hand rose to his lips, tasting the flavor of the angel-like creature's blood on his fingers, conveying the veracity that this wasn't a dream, but in fact happening in the real world. Nicholas closed his eyes and savored the taste of the blood while trying to read the images that usually projected with the first taste of it. His senses barely registered a faint vibration when he was suddenly yanked to his feet by two pairs of strong, claw-like hands grasping him by his upper arms. His head jerked back by the severity of the motion, and his eyes flew open upon the deadly irises of the two guards holding him. What he saw were two sturdy vampires fully dressed in the traditional body armor of the Guetennes, with such elongated fangs their lips could barely conceal them. The frightening faces were stoic, staring in utter callousness as they held him in their steel grips that tightened around his arms and bruised the tender flesh. Nicholas struggled to break free, his fear arching through the link, but his hundred- something years of vampire strength was no match for the solid hold of the two monstrous creatures. He cried out for help, searching for his older brother, who was all of a sudden nowhere in sight. When there came no answer from the outside world, he turned inward, screaming a plea to his master through their link, begging him to come and save him from this nightmare. LaCroix was centered on the unbelievable event being played in front of him when he felt Nicholas' terror vibrate through their link and crash into his mind vehemently. He stammered at the force of the emotional impact before he could find his balance again and turn back toward the scene he was observing. He wondered what he should do next. The enormity of Nicholas' fear struck a concerned note in his core, yet he was so lured by the importance of what he was witnessing that it was hard for him to leave it to attend to a simple fluctuation in the psyche of his highly temperamental child. Perhaps Nicholas should learn to stop transferring his every mood-change to his sire in order to get immediate attention. Acheron might have had a point when he said that he was raising the boy into a spoiled brat who couldn't take care of himself without his master being always one step behind. LaCroix was about to turn his attention back to the room when he felt another tremor in the link, this time entirely clear in nuance and implication. It was a plea for help and LaCroix had to close his eyes and force his control lest he make a sound and reveal his presence. His anger fumed at his child's insistence of using the link, and the distraction it was causing him. Nicholas was such a demanding fledgling sometimes and LaCroix partially blamed himself for that. A thoroughgoing talk was in order after tonight, but for now he needed all his focus present in order to record every single word, every slight gesture that went on in the opposite room. He wanted to miss nothing to make sure he could replay them exactly afterwards when the appropriate time came. With fierce determination, he closed down the connection he shared with his offspring and focused on the task ahead as another speaker from the crowd stepped onto the tribune and delivered yet another interesting speech for the closely attuned audience and their hidden uninvited guest. Nicholas panted helplessly as he sent plea after plea in the direction of his sire and received nothing in reply. It was as if the link had gone dead after his first cry of help. Fear gripped at his heart and his knees gave in, but he was held fast by the strong hands of his two restrainers. As his panic rose to palpable levels his mind reeled back instinctively to a habit he had acquired in his childhood and had used incessantly as a soldier in the holy war. He closed his eyes and prayed to the Blessed Virgin for aid. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a white-hot agony spread through his entire being and seared him as if he'd been touched by the sun. He let out a cry and opened his eyes when he felt another presence join the scene. He looked up glaringly, and saw the imposing form of the castle's lord slowly descend from the sky. Acheron softly landed on the ground next to the prone body of the dead mortal and looked down at the unmoving corpse. His face was a solid mask of ice; barren from any kind of emotions he might comprise underneath. He slowly knelt down and put the tip of his fingers on her now-ashen mouth. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he kissed them in the gesture of a parting kiss, closing his eyes as the scent of her touched him. Then, nearly instantly, the eyes shot open and Nicholas saw the flaming red irises as they slowly moved up to glare at him in ire. Still struggling against his captors, his breath was caught in his throat from fear when he saw the ancient rise, his movements still awfully graceful and slow, and step forward to tower over him. A low growl escaped from Acheron's mouth through the fully extended canines. "WHY?" Nicholas swallowed hard, images from the past invading his consciousness. A body lying in his arms on the shore of a lake. A cold wind blowing from over the water, bringing the faint smell of algae and mold, and death. A harp floated on the surface, silent, still. He was crying, at least in his heart, pressing the dead body of his lover close to his breast, his mind whirling in a thousand different directions, asking, pleading, with his god. Why? "Wasn't it comprehensible enough when I ordered you not to hunt outside the designated grounds? Did I have to beat it into you, you ignorant whelp?" A hand reached out to wipe the remains of the girl's blood from his still-stained lips. He winced at the touch, recoiling from the power and wrath he was feeling from this very intimidating vampire, but it only caused the guards to tighten their hold. Acheron licked the blood and closed his eyes at the taste, turning into a frozen statue for several moments before suddenly pouncing and grabbing his prisoner by the front of his shirt, his eyes yet again a pair of crimson orbs. He hissed, "Why, you bastard? Why her?" Nicholas felt like he was going into shock. His brain seemingly not wanting to function and his body trembling uncontrollably, he turned his head to one side away from the ancient's bared fangs and stared into space. //There came a mob. Villagers from the land of Pagan holding their pitchforks and sharp sticks in his direction, they threatened and swore at him in a language he didn't know but with no logical reason was able to understand. "Bastard! Murderer!" He looked at them; pain-filled sapphire eyes flooding with unshed tears. She was dead. Gwyneth, his Gwyneth. Killed by an unknown evil that he hadn't been there to defeat. He had failed her, left her to be taken away by the demon when she had so many songs yet to sing, so many tunes to play on the harp. The harp! Where was the harp? What did these people want? What were they saying? Murderer? He? But it wasn't true. He wouldn't, couldn't, ever kill his love, such a sweet innocent creature as she. No, this was a nightmare. He had to get out of it, escape somehow. Where was LaCroix? // Strong hands shook him viciously over and over as the owner shouted at him. "ANSWER ME, MARMOT! WHY HER? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MURDER MY LITTLE GERMAINE?" Nicholas' head jerked back toward the angry monster holding him, his eyes half- closed and clouded with delusions. Germaine? Who was Germaine? He hadn't killed anyone by that name, hadn't even known her, not even in his early ravaging tumults of a fledgling's hunger. He was innocent. He wouldn't be condemned to the crusades again, not for a crime he had not committed, not again. He breathed heavily as he looked the ancient in the eyes and pleaded. "I didn't..." Acheron shook him harder, as if deaf to his claim, then stopped all of a sudden, his stare boring into Nicholas' eyes, and inquired in a dreadful calmness that was even more terrifying than his shouts, "Tell me, cub, what were you imagining? Didn't you sense me in her when you bit her? Wasn't my aura strong enough to tell you to back off? Tell me before I twist your head off." Nicholas continued quaking in his grasp. His voice came in short gasps as he struggled to form a sentence. "I...swear...I did...n't...do...it." Acheron let go of his shirt with a shove, letting him stumble backwards while still in the grasp of the guards. Nicholas lost his balance and yelped in shock as he was caught and held upright yet again. Acheron glared at him distastefully. Then his features turned to stone again, more menacing than an avenging angel sent to deliver God's justice upon the earth. He continued to look at the distraught youngster and then very deliberately pulled his broad sword out of its scabbard. The blade shimmered in the bright light of the silvery moon before he pulled in completely out of its shield and rested the tip on the ground. There was a space of immeasurable silence before he uttered the curt command to his mute warriors. "Lay him." In the space of a mortal heartbeat the two soldiers flung Nicholas to his knees and held on to his outstretched arms like a broken puppet on a stage. They shoved him forward making his head tilt down and baring the back of his neck. A cold dread ran down his spine when his vision was limited to the ancient's brownish leather boots and the tip of the heavy sword still resting on the cobbled ground. Then the tip rose and he felt the coldness of the steel touch the back of his neck and the weight of the sword as the cutting edge of the blade was laid on his skin. Panic took over as he realized what the old lord was intending to do, and he struggled desperately, trying to break free from their hold. A steel toe boot connected with his ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs and making him gasp from pain. His struggle ceased and he fell forward, this time dreadfully still as the edge of the sword returned to the bareness of his neck. Acheron looked down at his captive, anger and revulsion surging in waves through his veins. He would show no mercy, not with this one, not with his sweet Germaine lying dead on cold stones. The young vampire struggled and was mercilessly kicked in the chest by one of the Guetennes. He became silent after that; the only sign of his panic his redundant sharp breaths that made his chest heave while his arms were held. He placed the blade of his sword once again on the exquisitely white neck bared to him, and prepared for the strike. He could see his prisoner trembling in apprehension as cold blood sweat ran from his skin. His perfect nose got a whiff of the smell and immediately his eyes changed in pleasant reaction. He hesitated, sliding the blade diagonally along the skin and drawing blood. As the skin broke and the first droplets of blood appeared, he reached down and gathered some of it with the tip of his finger. The smell was intoxicating. Could the rumors be true after all? Could this be another thing special about this Nicholas? He put the finger in his mouth and tasted the blood, and his fangs instantly fell in place. The small taste of Nicholas' blood was invigorating. There was so much there to taste he couldn't even fathom. Passion so intense it threatened to suffocate the bearer. Undivided love, not just for his family, or even the rest of his kind, but such undemanding affection that went above and beyond all the creatures of this world. And that was only a part of it. Nicholas was such a compilation of every diverse emotion that one taste of his blood only felt like a peek through the door of the Garden of Eden, or the gates of hell. One could not discern which one he was entrusting, sin or salvation. And then, there was the light. The one thing that stood out from all the flavors, all the images the blood projected. A bright, beautiful light shining from the depth of the crusader's heart like the blazing rays of sun under which he once had battled. Acheron took a deep breath, reveling in the splendor he was experiencing until the feelings were gone, slowly fading as the last of the blood disappeared on his tongue and left him wanting more. The old vampire reflected as he looked down at the prone body still presented to him. Slowly, he removed his sword from the back of the ivory neck remembering the pleasure he had just received. Nicholas was in fact a jewel, a child so precious no wonder his master was reluctant to give him up. It would be a shame to kill him if only a small taste of his blood could evoke so many sensations in one being. Suddenly, he envied LaCroix, envied the century-and-a-half he had spent with this one, giving and receiving blood in the throes of passion, especially when he was still an infant, needing to feed and to share blood with his protective master. He lingered for another moment, contemplating his options as his faithful warriors continued their hold on the now-exhausted captive. Finally, he shielded his sword slowly and ordered them to hoist him up. Nicholas could barely stand and had to be pulled up by his arms. His face was covered with a faint sheen of blood sweat, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open, all pleas disappeared from their ocean blue depths and replaced by a quiet surrender. The old lord's face took on a hard expression as he reached out with his left hand to touch the side of his captive's face. "I will avenge the death of my Germaine, of that you can be sure. But I won't kill you just yet. Your fate will be decided later, and you will bow to it no matter how harsh it may be." Without taking his eyes off the young vampire's face, he commanded his guards in the same chilling voice he had spoken in before. "Take him to the lowest level of the east dungeon. Make sure he's sealed." The two leviathan vampires started dragging a barely conscious Nicholas toward the fort's open door. As they were leaving the courtyard, the hopeless fledgling took one last glance around, hoping to see his father or his older brother. When his eyes only registered stars and fireflies in the vast expanse of the sky, he turned inward again, trying to reach the place he always felt occupied by his father's presence, his one refuge in the violent vampire world since the night he was drawn to it by LaCroix. Once more, he found nothing; the link was completely silent. Slumping into defeat and the creeping belief that all who had once cared for him had abandoned him to his cruel fate, he finally gave in and let the hurtful hands carry him through the torch-lit stairwells and narrow halls toward the moldy dampness of the castle's dungeon. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @}--`--}--, ----- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER NINE Nick opened his eyes to the pleasant sight of his beloved Janette. The vampiress was wearing a long velvet burgundy gown and was pouring a drink of the same color into a crystalline glass. A candle was lit on an end table, bathing the room in a soft glow and highlighting the beautiful woman's features and subtle curves. He lingered for a few minutes, taking in the sight that looked like something out of a da Vinci painting. The mesmerizing aroma of fresh human blood cut with vintage wine teased his nostrils, and like so many times before, took him back to the past, to the time when they were still together as husband and wife, sharing the same bed and the same love. He let out a sigh, languorously. The dark-haired enchantress turned. Her eyes glimmered in the faint light as she took the tray with the bloodwine and carried it to the bed where her guest was lying. She set it on the nightstand before turning inquiring blue eyes toward her resting brother. "And how did I earn the honor to become your host today?" Nick looked around. His senses told him the sun was perfectly up in the sky and his surroundings didn't look like his own home. Realization slowly sank into his mind as he identified the place as one of the Raven's private rooms, decorated expertly according to Janette's tasteful liking. He was lying in the center of a king-size bed covered with dark satin sheets of expensive quality. The bed, just like the rest of the room's furniture, was made of a reddish mahogany wood. Most of the furniture was antique, but the interior designer had managed to put together the different pieces in a way that made them match in color and style despite differences in era and background. Janette sat on the bed next to him and lifted one of the crystal goblets. He silently refused the slender hand that was offering the glass and sat up, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. "Janette! How in all the world did I get here?" Janette's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "You mean you don't know? It was only seconds before dawn when I found you sleeping on the front stairs of the club. How ever you got there is out of my comprehension." Nick stared at her, dumbfounded, trying to remember what happened last night and how he got there, but could only gather bits and pieces of recollection. He remembered the trial from hell, the faceless shadows that stood in his judgment, probing his mind with their powerful psyches and bombarding him with intricate questions. He also remembered them leaving him when the lights went off and everything went dark. But beyond that, he remembered nothing. He knew time had passed since then, for it had still been dark when he last closed his eyes, but now it felt like close to noon. He shook his head in bafflement and sank his head down, not wanting to look into Janette's you-are-a- fool accusing eyes. "I--Janette, I honestly don't know how I got here. Last thing I remember, I was at the other end of the city in the Flemingdon area." He raised his eyes and gave her his most skillful, innocent look. Janette threw her hands in the air and reached for the crystal goblet again. Like a protective mother urging her sick child to drink his medicine, she brought the goblet toward Nick's face and offered. "Now, before you tell me what you were doing in that awful part of town, you will drink this, and no, I wouldn't accept a 'No' for an answer. It's bright outside and you are stuck here with me, mon amant." She moved seductively closer and put one arm around his shoulder while the other held the goblet under his nose. "And I hope you don't want to starve yourself, because I think you know how I despise anorexics." She smiled and nuzzled at his ear as she spoke the last words. Nick turned his head. Her closeness both unnerved and exhilarated him. She smelled of pine and bee wax, her dark, slick hair coiling around her ivory neck like a cobra on a marble statue. He closed his eyes and breathed her scent, his lips touching the coolness of her skin and moving tentatively across her cheek, searching for the ruby lips. His hand touched the goblet she was holding and brought it down, absently spilling some of the contents on her velvet dress and the bed sheets. He whispered in a voice thick and husky >from his excitement. "I would much like to think that. However, there is a better brand of wine at hand that I think I would prefer over human." Janette hissed as his lips moved down her neck, once again touching a sensitive spot only he knew about. Her eyes glowed amber and her fangs appeared as the sensual change washed over her. No matter how long she lived or how many lovers she took, no one would ever compare to her beautiful Nicola. No one would be as passionate, as skillful yet benevolent as he who could arouse her by a simple touch on the neck. She took in a ragged breath as she felt the pinpricks of his fangs touch her skin, but held herself in control. A slight wave of wickedness overtook her, and before he could complete the bite, she entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back, staring deep into equally amber eyes. She heard his labored breath as he struggled to free his head from her grasp and return for the bite, and smiled in satisfaction. "Now, now, mon petit diable. We don't want to rush things here, do we? How about a little foreplay and cuddling before we get to the actual game, hmm?" She let out a startled shriek when all of a sudden, her Nicola wrestled her down to the bed, holding both her wrists on either side of her head and giving her a fully fanged grin. He hissed naughtily. "As you wish, my lady. I shall have the honors." He leaned his head down toward her breasts as she struggled playfully and giggled, pushing the bed clothes to the floor with her feet, her fingers clinging to the golden tresses of his tousled hair as soon as her wrists were freed. Their link hummed with exquisite ardor and overwhelming happiness as the two vampires started their everlasting dance of pleasure and passion. --------------- The first thing he thought about after leaving the Raven by nightfall was where to find his car. He wanted to fly to where he had parked it last night and drive it back to the precinct, but even the thought of the neighborhood where his nightmarish trial had happened sent chills through his body. He chose to leave it and to take a cab instead. Tomorrow he would ask someone from the office to go and pick it up for him. Or, who knows? Maybe he would whammy his partner again into driving it back to his loft and giving it another good wash. He laughed at the idea as he got into the cab. As soon as he entered the precinct, he sensed tension in the air as all eyes turned toward him. He looked at their joint desks and saw that Schanke wasn't in yet. Walking through the bullpen, he ignored a few more stares before he plopped down in his chair, placing his feet on his desk and putting his arms behind his head in a comfortable posture. He felt relaxed tonight, a feeling he had missed since the arrival of the Enforcers. Spending the day with Janette had taken away most of the strain of the past few days. If he dared, he would say he was happy. "Knight, in my office, NOW." The indisputable command of Captain Amanda Cohen ripped through his solace and shook the precinct as she walked toward her office and waited at the door with an unrelenting look on her face. Nick put his legs down and stood up. He caught the other officers' knowing gazes from the corner of his eye and tried to stay indifferent. He had no clue what the captain could possibly be angry about, but wasn't willing to take any chances. Confidently, he skirted the desk and walked toward his waiting superior. Cohen waited with her arms crossed on her chest. When Nick reached her, she freed one hand, palm up, offering him to enter the office first. Nick complied, and soon the captain followed, closing the door tightly behind her to lock out inquisitive eyes and ears. Then she ordered her detective to sit down while she moved behind her desk and finally sat down herself. Nick hesitated before he actually sat on the chair, his earlier good mood partially distorted by his captain's behavior. Amanda looked at him with the same disgruntled expression that she had carried so far before she finally spoke. "So tell me, Detective Knight, what is going on with you and your partner this time?" Nick scratched his head before he answered. "I'm not sure what you mean, Cap. What *is* wrong with me and my partner?" Cohen laid her arms on the desk and focused on the man in front of her. "All right, then let me ask you another question. How far are you and Schanke in the Timanus case?" He swallowed hard. He hadn't done much work on their latest case since it had coincided with his case with the Enforcers. But he knew he had to give her an answer. "Uh, Nat... I mean Dr. Lambert, verified that the shots where fired from a close range. Forensics is still looking for a murder weapon and more clues, the victim was a known drug dealer working in a wide range, drive-by is ruled out because of the..." Cohen silenced him with a raised hand, "Stop it, Knight, your recitation doesn't impress me. This is the same report you gave me three nights ago, which clearly shows you guys haven't made an inch of progress since. And it is no surprise to me either, since neither of you have been at work in the past few nights." Nick looked at her questioningly, not daring to say anything when she was so heated. The captain stood and paced behind her desk while Nick followed her with his eyes. She started talking as if to herself, without looking at him. "Now, let me see. Schanke took tonight off, you took last night off, and then both of you took Tuesday off to go to his culinary party." Nick's eyes widened. "Schanke took tonight off? Why?" Cohen turned accusing eyes back at him like a mother catching her son snacking on the cookies she had forbidden him to touch. "So you wouldn't even know where your partner is had I not told you? That, I'd say, is great teamwork. I'm wondering how you guys stayed together this long, let alone got awarded partners of the month." Nick interrupted her rather rudely. "Did he say why he wanted to book off?" He looked with boyish eyes at his superior, worry now evidently showing in their sky-blue depths. Cohen paused for a moment. The worried look on her detective's face surprised her a little. Was there something else going on between the two aside from the case? Had they been fighting? She sat back in her chair, laying her arms once again on the desk before her. "He said he had someone coming over to his house. Didn't give me any more information." Nick tried to keep calm. "Did he say who this guest was?" His mouth suddenly felt dry. Who would visit his partner at night when there was plenty of time during the day? Unless it was... "Listen, Detective. I don't pry into my officers' personal lives unless they are my partner and we are working on an unfinished case. I don't ask why Det. Schanke took the night off, but you should. This is what partnership is all about." Nick lowered his head and tried to hide his trembling hands. It was them, they had planned this, otherwise why would they meet him at his house, where his wife and daughter were? Why not set up a meeting somewhere else, at the precinct for instance? He squeezed his eyes shut as images of Myra and Jenny running from red-eyed monsters threatened to overwhelm him. When he felt a hand touch his shoulder, he looked up to meet Capt. Cohen's confused gaze. "Are you ok, Detective?" "Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I promise we will work harder on the case and make some progress by the end of the week. Sorry for all the delay, it will certainly never happen again." Cohen patted his shoulder and went back to her desk. All irritation gone from her stance, she clasped her hands together on her desk and looked at her troubled officer for a few seconds before she spoke. "Ok, Knight, that's fine. I suggest you stay more in touch with your partner next time so you won't have to worry this much over him. Now, go back to your desk and start working. I want a full report on your progress by the end of tomorrow night." Nick stood and nodded his head a couple of times like a soldier addressing his commander-in-chief. "Yes, ma'am. I will. Thank you, ma'am. I'll go straight back to my desk and start working on the case." He turned and left like a robot with tension radiating from every fiber of his body. Amanda let out a frustrated sigh; she would never understand Nick Knight. He was happy one second and troubled the next without a discernible transition in between. And she could never read what went on behind those stormy blue eyes, which at times held such a haunted expression that it made her pause. Nick tried to focus on his work, but soon found it impossible. He was too worried to concentrate on anything else other than what he imagined was going on at Schanke's home. Twice, he decided to call him, but held himself from doing so in fear of putting his partner in even more danger. He felt his stomach churn at the thoughts that kept coming to his mind and silently prayed that none of them would actually be true. His thoughts went back to another night, much like this one, but centuries ago and a lot more terrifying. Where again he was a prisoner of insecurity, not knowing what was going to happen next and imagining a thousand horrible possibilities in his troubled mind. That had been a long time ago, when he had only been a fledgling, but he remembered every detail with vivid clarity as anxiety had clawed relentlessly at his unsettled heart over and over again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charente 1368 AD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He leaned his head against the mildewed, damp wall as the darkness of his confinement threatened to consume him. He still couldn't work out what had happened. He had trusted and followed Arthur to participate in a plot to trap the ancient, but now he was the one trapped by him, after skating only inches away from true death. He didn't know what his crime was. No one had believed him when he had pleaded innocent, presumably because he was too young and insignificant compared to his accuser. Without his master around, he was at the mercy of any vampire who had even a few decades on him. He closed his eyes at the thought of his master. Why hadn't LaCroix come to his rescue? Why hadn't he answered his cries of help? Had he forsaken him tonight? Was he too occupied with the hunt to come and save his youngest child? He grimaced at his own thoughts, thinking of himself as a child and complaining about LaCroix not being there for him. He hadn't been a child for a long time, and it disgusted him that his sire and everyone else treated him like one. The punishments, the disrespect and the bossing around had all become too much to bear at some point. But somehow he had managed to bury all the anger in one corner of his heart, in caution of his father and other older more powerful members of their community, because he was perfectly aware of how much he still needed LaCroix's protection. He knew how they thought of a young vampire cub in the Community. The ones neglected by their masters would receive the most humiliating and horrifying treatments imaginable by the elders of the pack, simply because they were too weak to defend themselves, and there weren't any laws to defend them, either. In the ways of the creatures of the night, the strongest always had the most rights, doing whatever they pleased without regarding how much hurt or terror it caused the weaker. Only the respect and consideration over an ancient sire would secure a young one's safety and security from others' trespass, a truth that made him tremble now when he thought about his own master. If LaCroix had in fact abandoned him, then it would be Acheron's will that would determine his fate, and with the odds so tragically against him, he was sure it would be anything but pleasant. His only hope was that whatever motive had stopped the elder from cutting his head off tonight would present itself again once it was time for his verdict ------------- They were all gathered in the antechamber leading to the castle's throne room when they heard their master approach. Most flinched at the sound of doors being slammed shut or banged open against stonewalls as LaCroix's sturdy footsteps rang closer and closer. They could tell the master was angry. LaCroix came into the room like a torrent of wind, blasting the heavy twin doors wide open as he strode hurriedly toward the adjacent room, where his adversary Lord Acheron was situated. He didn't so much as look at his children, who made themselves smaller at his angry arrival and tried to clear out of his way. Anxiety was etched in his face, but the fact that he had preferred the hammering stride to the swishing vampire skid showed that he was counting on a dramatic entry in hope of robbing some of his enemy's confidence. He was stopped short in his tracks by a sobbing Janette. "Oh, LaCroix, please help him. They have thrown him in the dungeon. I'm scared they might kill him if you don't do something." Her eyes dripped red tears down her cheeks. The master stopped, looking furiously-yet-frigidly down at his daughter. His voice was more like a snarl when he finally answered her from between gritted teeth. "Go to your room and stay there until I tell you otherwise." "But LaCroix..." "NOW!" The others cringed at their master's shout. Vincenzo's hand shook, spilling droplets of bloodwine onto his fine boots from the goblet he held. Isabelle hid behind a stiff-backed Elias and buried her face in his shoulder. The room suddenly felt cold and quiet as master and daughter stood face-to-face, one trembling from fear, the other fuming in anger, his intimidating presence hovering over her and the entire room. Seconds later, Janette retreated, weeping uncontrollably as she ran up the stairs toward her bedchamber. LaCroix's blazing gaze circled around the room, looking at the rest of his children in resentment. He roared. "THAT GOES FOR YOU ALL. ALL OF YOU! GO TO YOUR ROOMS AND DO NOT SHOW YOUR FACES UNTIL I CALL YOU." The young vampires slowly drifted away. Elias put a supporting hand on Isabelle's trembling shoulders while guiding her out of the room. Vincenzo set his wineglass on the closest table and walked toward the door. They had all felt their master's fury hours before he had shown up. Something had happened, something that had stirred up a dark cloud of anger in both ancient vampires and was threatening to suffocate all of the smaller beings who lived under the same roof with them. Coming back from the hunt, they had heard the news from the castle guards and the reality of its disaster had struck them numb. Distress was showing clearly on all the faces leaving the room under their master's domineering gaze, when the last one locked eyes with him. Arthur's stare was calm, as it always had been, with the silent resentment glowing under the green exterior. After a few seconds, he coldly looked away and rushed out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. LaCroix felt a new pang of anger rise in his chest, but right now he had no time for it. Finally alone, he spun instantly, swirling his cloak like a shroud and resumed his daunting stroll toward the other room, where his opponent patiently awaited him. The double doors opened and LaCroix stared at the scene greeting him inside the room. Acheron was near the fireplace at the far end of the room, sitting on a chaise, one leg bent at the knee with the foot flat on the cushion and his knee supporting his right elbow while his back rested against the arm. He was looking intently at a spot below one of the many banners that embellished the far wall. On a table in the center right hand side of the room lay the pale body of a young woman, her face ashen and her eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. With her golden hair and her white chemise, she looked remarkably like one of the ancient goddesses LaCroix used to worship in his time. Even though he had already heard about what had happened, and was mostly furious at the accusation rather than anything else, the gloomy sight still took him aback for a moment. They stayed that way for several minutes. Acheron made no move to acknowledge his guest's arrival, nor did LaCroix to get the other's attention. It was their sensitive hearing picking up Janette's sobs from somewhere on the upper floor that finally melted their freeze. LaCroix took a deep breath before he commandingly uttered the first words, aiming to intimidate. "What did you do with my son?" Still, his host took no notice of his presence. When LaCroix shouted his insistent question again, he didn't even blink, but as the furious master was about to shout once again, he spoke in a terribly low and detached voice as if the words were taking some effort to come out of his mouth. "My Germaine is dead," came the whispered reply. "I can see that. Where is my son?" the seething LaCroix demanded, hissing through fangs. Finally the beleaguered black eyes lifted toward him, the intensity of their grief striking him like a bolt of lightning. The voice now rose to a more heated level. "He killed her. Your Nicholas killed my Germaine." The dark eyes pierced the pale blues of LaCroix, daring him to deny it, which was exactly what he did. "You have no proof. I demand you release my son, immediately." This time the old lord stood up, locking his hands behind him as he took slow steps toward the table where his deceased concubine lay. He ran a hand through the golden strands of her hair and over her face, pausing on her lips as he gently brushed them and moved down, toward the arc of her throat and the telltale punctures that were screamingly visible against her pale skin. "She was everything I had. I loved her more than anything, more than eternity and Charente, even myself. Her blood was so sweet, so hot and full of emotions. I could never have enough of her." A tinge of compassion touched LaCroix's cold heart. It was hard to watch the powerful ancient mourn. "I am sorry for your..." "Are you?" Bright crimson eyes burned into him, the voice already rough with the emergence of the vampire. "You will be more, after your bastard brat finds his final death at my hands." LaCroix's heart trembled at the thought, but he let none of it show on the surface. The situation was far more than devastating. "You will not harm him for as long as I speak in his rights. His punishment is my responsibility, according to the Code, and you have to abide by that." "The Code?" A cry of amusement came from the other ancient. "You speak of the Code? What about your careless whelp? Did you forget to teach him about the rule of thralls? Didn't he know they were not to be touched by anyone other than the vampire who's marked them? Were his senses on leave when he attacked my Germaine, that he didn't feel my aura in her?" "There must be a mistake. Nicholas has great control over his blood urges, and I taught him well to obey the Code." "Then pray tell why he was found on the castle grounds sitting next to the dead body of my angel when I had explicitly told everyone not to hunt in that area?" LaCroix bit his lip; the question was legitimate, and something he asked himself too. The only person who knew the answer was Nicholas, and in order to get the situation under control, he had to meet him soon. "I want to see my son. I will answer you then." Acheron moved away from the table and stood face to face with LaCroix. His eyes had lost most of their red glow, but they were still laced with traces of amber. "I will extend the generosity to let you visit him, but remember this. Even if his life is spared for your station's sake, I do claim him as mine from this moment on. I told you about my decision some time ago at our first gathering, and you refused to consent. Now the odds have shifted and you are not in a favorable position anymore, so I think it's best if you do not refuse whatever I can spare you." He met his retort in the likewise flaming eyes of the other as LaCroix bit back a snarl and glowered at his adversary, who now indeed had a more secure and powerful position than he. He had hoped to beat the ancient by trapping him in his own tangled net, but all the tables had been turned by the latest incident, and now that his most precious possession was a captive of the powerful enemy, a vulnerable spot was created in his carefully woven armor. He backed away hesitantly, and hissed from between clenched teeth. "I agree, now take me to my son." Acheron nodded in satisfaction and marched to the door without another word. LaCroix followed, equally silent, though still fuming on the inside. They walked out of the room and toward the castle's more secluded underground levels. ---------------- Nicholas was sitting on the cot opposite to the cell's door when he heard the sound of feet approaching. He was tired, hungry and scared, and even though his master had taught him that weather had no effect on vampires, he could swear he felt cold. The back of his shirt was moist from leaning against the damp wall and he felt the wetness seep into his skin. He wanted so badly to go to his room, feed, put on warm clothes and crawl into bed with Janette. Yes, especially that. His eyes stung with tears at the thought of failing her. He had promised her he would come back, that he wouldn't cause any trouble this time. But he had caused trouble, again, and he worried LaCroix would blame her for his blunder. The steps came closer, and a minute later the heavily bolted door clanked open allowing a ray of light to creep into the cell from the adjacent corridor. He stood up as all of a sudden, an overwhelming sense of his master engulfed him and he was at the door before LaCroix could take a full step inside the cell. "LaCroix! I'm glad you came. There's been a mistake; please tell them it's a mistake. I never killed her, honestly I---." He was cut off abruptly as the back of his master's heavy hand harshly struck the side of his face, sending him crashing against the cell's right wall. He crumbled down to the floor, blood oozing from his nose and lips. Before he could surface from the dizzying haze and gather himself up, LaCroix was upon him, picking him up and slamming him against the same wall. He gasped and tried to cower as his father hit him in the face and stomach, again and again, with forceful, vicious blows. His vision darkened and the world spun with him in the center, tasting his own blood as it flowed in his mouth. Finally, he gave in and stopped his struggles, going completely limp in his master's grip and surrendering to the angry patriarch's punishment. LaCroix was angry enough to tear his son limb from limb. It infuriated him that the boy's silliness had put him in such a vulnerable position. He had been so close to bringing the old lord down and now Nicholas, with his childish idiocy, had ruined all his plans. He saw him become still, saw the trails of blood streaming down his trembling chin, and realized he must have broken some bones. Irritably, he loosened his grip and watched the errant boy slide down the wall to the mossy straw at his feet. Silence fell over the dark cell, no sound to be heard save for Nicholas' labored breathing. LaCroix moved toward the other side of the confined space and sat down on the protruding cot, resting his forehead in his hands, cursing the world for his predicament. When the stillness stretched long enough, he raised his head and spoke. "Why do you do this to me, Nicholas? Why do you always have to disobey me and do the exact opposite of what I say? How many times more do you think I am able to save you?" Nicholas didn't answer. He stayed on the ground were he had fallen, huddled against the wall, head bowed and focused on stilling the pain. When he could finally muster enough strength, he lifted his head just slightly, looking at the empty space on the floor in front of him. "I didn't do it," was all he said in a bitter, shaky voice. LaCroix glared at him with red-tinged eyes. "Did I not tell you to stay with your sister? Why did you have to wander off to the castle? What trouble were you looking for out there?" This time Nicholas did look up. LaCroix's heart clenched at the sight of his bruised face. He quickly lowered his eyes though, and stared at the bare ground once again. "I don't know why we flew back. I went back to the stables to place Janette's riding crop in her saddle, and Arthur came to me. He said he had a plan to trap Lord Acheron and asked me to go with him." LaCroix's eyes became a pair of burning conflagrations. "Arthur???" He growled the word, almost unintelligibly. Nicholas didn't seem to notice or care. He sat back against the wall, wincing at the pain the movement caused him, and closing his eyes, continued talking as if to himself. "Arthur had hurt me a few days ago. He was there to say he was sorry and that he wanted to make peace by letting me join him in his little witty plan. I agreed, but after we reached the castle, he left me on a roof and disappeared. That's when I found the body." The picture slowly started to come into focus before LaCroix's eyes. Why wasn't he told this before? A new anger boiled up inside him. How dare that swine disobey his order not to get close to Nicholas? How dare he get so bold as to plot against him? Had all his children turned into insubordinate brats? He looked over at his son. Nicholas sat drooping on the floor. His right temple was resting against the cold wall, and he looked woozy, drifting in and out of consciousness as he intermittently opened and closed his eyes. Blood and grime had soiled his delectable face, and a slowly-healing bruise marked the side that he leaned against the wall, probably using the moist chill as a soother. All at once, LaCroix regretted his impetuous action. "Are you hungry, mon fils?" he asked in a leveled tone. Nicholas only nodded slightly. He closed his eyes again and pressed himself closer to the wall. LaCroix stood up and came over to crouch beside him. He grabbed Nicholas' shoulders and lifted him off the floor, then gently walked him to the cot. They both sat down as father gathered son in his arms and Nicholas rested his back on LaCroix's chest. Without a word, a wrist appeared in front of him. He took it and hesitated just a bit before finally bringing it up to his lips and sinking his fangs into the cool flesh that rewarded him with the deliciously healing blood. Tension gradually left his body, and he relaxed more against his father's powerful form, drinking in long, slow draughts. LaCroix closed his eyes as well. There was always a sense of peace and immense pleasure in feeding this one. He remembered Nicholas' earlier years, when he was still a helpless vampire infant dependent on him in every way. Scattered images started to slowly form in front of his mind's eye. Images from Nicholas' experience that night and what had happened in the courtyard. He saw how Arthur had fooled him, lured him into the trap and left him there to be captured by the guards. He relived Nicholas' fear and desperation as he struggled against the stronger men, cried out to the only guardian he knew in his immortal life, his father, his sire... and received no answer. He read his devastated thoughts of the possibility that his father had left him in the accusing hands of Acheron and his Enforcers, and saw the depth of his sorrow and hurt. LaCroix's heart trembled from emotion and slowly, not disturbing his feeding child, he planted a tender kiss on the soft golden curls. "I will always be there for you my son, always," he sent through the link that was strengthened by Nicholas' drinking of his blood. Nicholas' eyes were half-closed; his drinking slowed and he finally fell asleep. LaCroix dislodged his wrist from his mouth, and with the same hand, brushed over his forehead, hugging him closer to his chest as if trying to protect him from all the monsters in the world. He whispered in his beloved's ear, "Rest, my little one. I promise I won't let them have you, not this time, not ever. And as long as I'm alive, you have my word that you won't ever have to face them alone again." His thoughts then floated to another one of his offspring, the one who had caused all of this, Arthur. Silently he vowed retribution, to show that bastard spawn what it meant to overlook his orders and to mess with his favorite creation. He would regret it dearly for the rest of his un-life, which would be a very long time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @}--`--}--, ----- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER TEN Nick caught Natalie as she was discarding a pair of surgical gloves. He hugged her >from behind, showing some good mood that had magically returned to him during his drive to the morgue. It seemed that getting out of the office and on the road had been the remedy for his distress. Having been subjected to grave tension in the past few days, he felt like he saw Enforcers at every turn, and any news that came from either the Raven or the Schanke household had something to do with them. While driving to the coroner's building, he had time to think over what he had heard about his partner that night and the reason why he had booked the night off, and he had decided that his fears were ludicrous. The Schankes might have had anyone coming over to visit them without necessarily imposing any danger. It might as well be a family member or a friend of Myra's. Nat turned around in his arms with a bright smile and gave him a peck on the cheek before she walked to her desk to pick up her tape recorder and a bunch of papers. Nick leaned against the wall and watched her with his usual sheepish grin. Things seemed to be commonplace for now, and he didn't see any reason to speculate otherwise. As Nat moved to another table to continue her work on her newest 'patient,' Nick asked, " So what's up, Nat? Do you have anything new for me?" She didn't look up from her focused inspection. "New in what sense? New as in 'I found the killer, the proof and the murder weapon' or new in the sense that you are finally out of your insanity session and back with us on dear mother earth." His smile broadened. "I go for the first, although the second isn't anything short of reality, either." She tossed her bloody tweezers in a dish and cleaned up her hands before she came up to him. "I'm glad to hear that, although unfortunately, I'm not able to help you any further with your case, as there is no additional evidence to work on at this point. You either have to find that handgun or you have to call it closed." "I know. That's what's bothering me the most since the Captain has forbidden me to drive around without having Schanke along, and so I can't go and investigate the murder scene." Nat regarded him with a mocking grin on her face. "Cohen put you under curfew? Now that's something interesting to hear. And where _is_ your chaperone partner now?" "He had someone over to visit him at his house. He took tonight's shift off, which means I'm pretty much stuck in two places, here and the 96th sweathouse." She came closer and put both her arms around his neck, enjoying his surprise at the intimate gesture. "I hope at least one of them is a pleasant place to be." He smiled and kissed her on the cheek, making her close her eyes and struggle to suppress a shudder of joy. He had a spell on her. Damn him, but he had a spell on her and she couldn't run away from it. Was it love, friendship or a simple attraction? She didn't know. But she had enough presence of mind to open her eyes before he could see her basking in the pleasure of his kiss. Now they were looking at each other with her arms still resting around his neck. "Natalie, I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved this past week. I'm sorry I couldn't really tell you what was going on, but believe me it was for your own protection. I hope you're not too mad at me." Slowly, she removed her hands and patted him reassuringly on the arm, smiling all the while. "I know, Nick. Don't forget I'm an expert when it comes to your hidden identity. I was worried about you too, and considering all the weird things you did in the past few days, I thought you had finally gone insane, planting anxiety in place of your well-known guilt. I'm glad it's over." Nick's heart pounded in his chest. Was it really over? How could he be any surer that he and his partner were cleared of the charges the Enforcers had against them? The jury's verdict-whoever that jury was-was not in yet, but he didn't want to let that piece of doubt darken his just-found peace. He was sure if the judgment had been to end their lives, it would have been carried out by now. There was really nothing there to stop the Enforcers or to make them wait. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as he looked at the clock. "I've got to go back to the precinct. Cohen is going to skin me alive if I don't show her some work, any sort of work, by the end of tonight. I guess boy's night out is over." Nat went back to the body on the table and put a pair of magnifying goggles on. "Well, I don't want to fight her on that one, Nick. If you have to go, then you'd better go. I guess I'll see you later." She winked at him from behind the goggles with oversized eyes. Nick winked back. Before turning to leave, an idea came to his mind and made him call to her one last time. "Nat, would you like to drop by the loft tomorrow after the shift and watch a movie with me?" She looked up, happy and surprised, her expression somewhat comical because of the magnifying effect of the glasses. Nick suppressed a grin. "Of course," she said. "But I get to pick the movie, ok?" He let the grin surface on his face. "Ok!" He widened his eyes with his fingers to mimic her expression and quickly ducked and left the room before the pair of flying tweezers thrown in his direction could hit him. -------------------- There was an abnormal amount of activity at the precinct when Nick walked in. Everyone seemed to be talking about this remarkable thing that had just happened and whatever it was, it somehow seemed to have something to do with him. As he walked through the bullpen, he heard Capt. Cohen's voice on the phone talking to someone from forensics. Nick turned to Officer Smith, who was standing close to Nick's desk going through some papers she was holding in her hand, and asked curiously, "What is going on? Why is everyone so keyed up?" She looked up, smiling at him, her long lashes trying to blink away the row of curtain- like long bangs that fell on her forehead like the descending cascade of a brown fountain. "You mean you don't know, Detective? Your partner, Detective Donald Schanke, just solved the Timanus case." "What? The case is solved? The same case that had us chasing ghosts just, let's see... two minutes ago?" Nick couldn't contain his astonishment at the news. Smith jiggled her bangs and blinked again, "Actually, it was just after you left when he called and said that he had a lead that might direct us right to the murder weapon. He asked for backup, and the forensics team immediately followed." Nick was genuinely amused. "And was it real? Did they find anything?" "Uh-huh. They found the handgun in the same area they found the body. Apparently, after the guy shot himself and fell down, the gun skittered out of his hand and fell through the slits of a manhole. Forensics had failed to search the sewer canal below the site, which is where they found the gun tonight." Nick felt like having a stroke from the magnitude of the information that was being delivered to him all at once. He and Schanke had been working on this case for more than a week without any progress, and now all of a sudden they were telling him it was over in one night. It felt like those TV game shows where the curtain went up at the end and the one million dollar answer was uncovered within seconds. Recalling something she had said in her speech, Nick asked the other officer, "Did you say the guy shot himself? Does that mean that this was a suicide after all?" "Not really, more like an accident. The gun they discovered had a large hole in the back, and it was missing the hammer block. It looked like the gun had exploded rearward while the hammer was being pulled down, and the bullet had gone right through Timanus' chest." Nick scratched his head. None of it made sense. "So that means the bullet that hit him in the chest was shot backwards from his own gun while he was playing with the hammer or something?" She shrugged. "Forensics say it makes sense. They say he probably had the gun in front of him and was fumbling with it because of something, and the gun wasn't equipped with enough safety measures to avoid firing off. So while he was pulling on the hammer, he must have accidentally broken the hammer block and caused the gun to fire in the wrong direction." Just at that moment a roar went up in the area as Detective Schanke entered the bullpen, followed by a group of forensic people. He went straight into the captain's office and Nick heard Cohen immediately put down the receiver as she accepted him in. Nick wanted to join them, since this was supposed to be his case too, but stopped himself before he made a move and sat down behind his desk in disgruntlement. He had expected his partner to keep him informed of any changes that would happen in their case, but here he was, running off with the evidence and taking all the credit for himself. Perhaps-he thought with scorn-their captain had a point earlier when she said they didn't work in sync. The door to the captain's office opened and Amanda's head showed past the frame. "Knight, in my office please." He stood and walked to the office. He closed the door behind him and saw a jubilant Donald Schanke sitting on a chair in one corner. He stole his gaze away and looked at the captain getting back in her chair behind the desk. "Yes, Captain?" He inquired. She looked up; the same disinterested look she flashed every day, even if there was turmoil going on all around her. She pointed to the other chair facing the desk, and asked him to sit down. "I want you to go over the case with Schanke carefully. It seems he has found some valuable information that might help us solve this one." Nick looked at his partner, who responded by raising his eyebrows several times in a show-offish gesture. He turned back to the captain and said, "Are we ruling out homicide completely?" "It looks like it was an accident. The reports collected from witnesses show that there was only one shot fired and the angle it took to go through the chest is corresponding to the nature of such accidents, says forensics. Preliminary examination of the gun shows only one set of prints on the handle and those are the victim's." "How come forensics overlooked the manhole and the sewer underneath the first time?" "They say they did send someone down there to check the canal, but he came up with nothing. Since they suspected nothing to be down there in the first place, they didn't bother with a second search and accepted the report." "Until it dawned on me that there might be more below the surface than we might have though of," Schanke put in with a satisfied grin. Nick shook his head in disbelief. Was he having another one of those nightmares where everyone seemed out of this world? Since when had Schanke turned Sherlock Holmes, solving impossible cases by pure ingenuity? Cohen waved her hand, silencing both of them. She looked at the gloating detective with serious eyes. "Enough, Schanke, you already recited it to me three times. I'm not interested in knowing how you discovered this, but you have to make sure it gets somewhere so we can close this case as soon as possible. Now, I want the both of you to get out of this office right away and start on the paper work before forensics' final report comes in. I also want you to call the coroner's office and supply them with the new information so they can verify it with what they've found in the body. All right, gentlemen, let's go." The moment they stepped out of the captain's office, Nick confronted his partner with a demanding glare. "Now listen to me, Schank. You tell me right away what happened tonight or I'll ask for a replacement as soon as this case is over." Schanke didn't back off a bit at his partner's angry declaration; he didn't even lose the smirk he had on his face all through their conversation with the captain. Nick was starting to get frustrated when his partner finally decided to reply. "Yes, I know it sounds unbelievable, partner, but it is true. Don Schanke, the ever-so-quiet man, the unseen, unnoticed but hard-working hero of the nightshift, finally solved a case all by himself. And that without any help from his superman partner coming to the rescue this time. Nope, it was one hundred percent Schanke." His voice raised and he started pointing at his chest in a determined way. "Yes, partner, me. The always-last-on-the-scene Don, the oops-my-partner-got-the-guy-first Don. I did it all by myself this time, you hear that? All by myself." Fed up with his partner's bragging, Nick raised a hand to stop him and said, "Ok, ok. I got it, Schank. You're the hero this time. Congratulations. I'm not even thinking about taking any of that away, all I need to know is just one thing." Confident that he finally had his partner's full attention, Nick looked him directly in the face and asked, "How?" Schanke, like a record that had been paused mid-play and was now resumed, exclaimed in the same animated fashion as before, "What do you mean, how? How I figured it out? How I discovered where to look for the gun? Well, duh. It came to me; you hear that? I thought about it, figured it out, solved it. Is that so difficult to believe? My bald head not worthy of solving simple problems?" Nick looked at him in disbelief as they both sat behind their desks. Schanke fiddled around a little more, but seeing his insistent partner wasn't about to give up, finally shook his head and said, "All right, all right. I'll tell you the truth. But you must promise me you'll keep it to yourself, ok?" "Ok Schank. I'll lock my lips like a burial chamber, promise." Schanke leaned forward to get closer and whispered, "I was clued in by someone." "Someone? Someone who?" Schanke looked around before he turned back to him. "I am not supposed to tell you because I promised him. But since I don't even know his name myself, I guess it would be ok. Plus, we are partners, right? I mean you would've told me, too, if you ever had a secret, wouldn't you?" The cold finger that touched Nick's heart stopped him from answering immediately, but then his partner had returned to telling the rest of his story without really expecting a confirmation. "I was getting ready for work tonight when this guy showed up at my door. Said he knew something about the case that might be helpful but didn't really want to come to the precinct because he was scared of cops or something. He said he had been there when Timanus shot himself and saw everything from a window. He was the one who gave me the location of the gun." Nick was confused at Schanke's confession. Rubbing his chin, he asked, "Who was this guy? Did he tell you his name, or where he came from, or what his connection to the victim was? And how the hell did he know your address? Did he tell you any of that?" Schanke nodded approvingly. "Yes, of course he told me all that. He said his name was... umm, it was... err, I think I've forgotten right now. It was just a regular name. And he said he was in the area, that's all. And I guess he knew my address because he... uh... I think he followed me or something." Schanke stared optimistically at his partner on the other side of the double desk. Nick leaned forward and equally stared him in the eye. With a speculative tone he said, "Tell me, Schank! How much of what you just babbled was actually what *he* said?" Schanke wiped his forehead in befuddlement. "Uhh, I guess, none of it. Now that I think about it, you may have a point there. Everything is so fuzzy in my head. I remember him showing up at my door and introducing himself to me. No, wait a minute, he called me first and told me he had information and wanted to talk to me about it. I suggested he come to the precinct, but he told me about his police-o-phobia and said he would rather meet me at my house. I wasn't comfortable with that, but before I could argue further, the line went dead and two minutes later he was at my door. He must've called me from the phone booth across the street or his cell phone. Anyway, I invited him in and we sat in the living room. He said it might take a while, so I better call and book the night off, so I did. I was pretty sure he had something that would be worth something. I think it was after I finished my call and returned to the living room that he told me about the shooting and the gun." Nick took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. "What did this guy look like, Schank? Can you describe him to me?" Schanke shook his head rapidly as if he wanted to spill the information from his brain onto the desk. He said, "Well I think I can remember that, because the moment I saw him, I got a little suspicious. He didn't look much like a snitch; I mean, you know, the types that hover around those areas. He was quite well dressed, suit and tie and all that. His hair was combed, face clean shaven. Kinda like an office guy. And even though it was late in the evening, he still wore a pair of sunglasses, expensive ones, too. You know how good I am in detecting those. Not that I ever had a pair myself, but like that time when we had the walls painted and you had..." Nick cut him off impatiently. "Schank, would you please stay on topic here? You were telling me what he looked like, right?" Schanke looked dumfounded for a few seconds until Nick encouraged him to continue. "Uhh, yeah, right. That's all there is to it, really. Tall, white male, mid 20's, good looking, well dressed. Like I said, didn't look like a snitch at all." "Do you remember anything else from your conversation with him? Other than the lead he gave you on the case?" He waited expectantly. Schanke bit his lip as if thinking hard, while playing with a paperclip he held between his fingers. Finally, he looked up, a trace of indefinable confusion showing in his eyes. "You know what? Honestly, I can't say I even remember that. I mean, I know he showed up, we talked a little, I made the call to the precinct, and then we sat in the living room. After that, it's all just fuzzy and weird. It's like I know he told me that stuff, but can't quite remember him saying it to my face. Just that I knew it all when he left." Nick blinked. He finally knew what this was about, and he didn't expect to hear anything more. Schanke's eyes got brighter as he continued remembering. "And you know something else? Now that I think about it, I remember something else that was a little weird. I can swear I was alone with him when I finished my call. I don't remember anyone entering the room while we talked. But in the end, when he was saying goodbye, I faintly remember him shaking hands with Myra and even Jenny. I don't know how they got in the room, but they were there when he was leaving." He sat back and rubbed his forehead, his primary cheerfulness now turned into bitter frustration. "I don't know what is happening to me these days. Last week with all those suspicious nightmares about you and Janette and that creepy Nightcrawler guy, and I ended up polishing your car so much it was like I intended to rub off the paint. Now this guy shows up at my door out of nowhere, and I can't even remember his name. I think I'm losing my mind, here. Must be from lack of sleep." Nick leaned back in his chair too, more collected and in control than his distressed partner. He knew what had happened, could read it clearly between the lines of his friend's muddled explanation. The Schanke family had been through their interrogation with the Enforcers, and from the looks of it, they had passed. Of course, Don couldn't remember any of it, since he must have been hypnotized throughout the whole process. They also wanted to make sure nobody in the whole family knew anything about the Community, and that was why they had called Myra and Jenny to the meeting and probably whammied them as well. After everything was done and over, they had replaced their memories with fake ones and left the house, leaving a confused but happy Schanke behind. Why they had helped him solve the case, or how they had done it, was something beyond his perception. What was important now was that with any luck, the matter would be solved and the Enforcers would be soon leaving the city with the confidence that no part of their irrefutable Code was broken by either of them. He let out a long-held breath and leaned further back in his chair, closing his eyes. Captain Cohen's voice brought both detectives back to reality. She looked down at them from where she stood close to their desks with disapproval showing in her eyes. "I don't know how many times I have to repeat an order for the two of you to make sure you understand it. Every time I turn my back, one of you is daydreaming," she pointed at Nick who had just opened his eyes and straightened at her tone, "while the other is looking around wondering if an alien spaceship has landed." For that, she pointed at Schanke. "Neither is carrying out my order," she concluded discontentedly. "We'll get on with it right away, Captain," said Schanke, returning to his cheerful manner. "And my partner wasn't daydreaming, Captain, he was just dreaming. It's the nightshift, remember?" They both laughed as Cohen threw her hands in the air in helpless defeat and walked away to see to her own work. ------------------- The following day was the first in a while that Nick had a complete and restful sleep. He woke up refreshed in the evening and drove to the precinct in peace. Arthur and the Enforcers had not contacted him since the trial, and he was taking it as a good sign. If he or Schanke had been found guilty, they would have been dead by now. The mere fact that he was alive, and driving to join his partner for their case, meant that this whole episode had gone well and was over with no bodies left behind. He and Schanke finished all the paper work on the Timanus case that night. Forensics and coroner's reports both indicated the correctness of Schanke's assumption and the case was filed and closed as accidental death. Both detectives were happy that they had finished so early and could have the rest of the night off. Nick politely declined Schanke's offer to join him for a souvlaki and asked him to say hi to Myra and Jenny for him. He then jumped in his Caddy and drove toward the heart of the city, happy and pleased with himself. The uneasiness of the past few nights slowly lifted from his chest as he listened to the taped version of LaCroix's monologue on CERK. His master hadn't yet returned to the town and that in itself added to his joyfulness and calm. He had decided at first to go and visit Janette, but was reminded of something she had said about running an errand that night last time they had been together. So he just drove around for a while before turning the car in the direction of his loft. It was in fact a peaceful night; there were no clouds in the sky, the moon was shining high over the city and the stars were sparkling. Nick opened the elevator's door to the darkness of the loft and sighed in contentment. What he really liked now was a hot shower followed by a nice glass of cow's blood and a lot of music. He would sit at the piano and work on the piece he had recently started and abandoned after all the excitement had happened. He could also start a new painting, a table full of colorful plates of food, inspired by his one night at the Schankes'. He picked up the remote and clicked the shutters into motion. The metal curtains rose, revealing a view of the crisp starlit night and the faraway illumination of Toronto. He looked at it for a while and was about to put the remote down when he envisioned a shadow pass by the window from the corner of his eye. He rapidly looked back and saw nothing. Shrugging indifference, he walked to the piano to light his favorite candles. He had always preferred the soft glow of candles to artificial lighting, not just because of his sensitive sight but because the quaking flames of candles soothed his mood and put him into a convivial peace. He had lit the last candle when he turned and saw Arthur sitting on his couch. The appearance of the young man where there had been nothing before startled him. Arthur smiled at his astonishment and deliberately, as fluid as a lava lamp, lowered the shields that had veiled his presence from the other vampire. Nick staggered at the sense of power that surged from the Enforcer, but fought to keep his ground, looking at the uninvited guest with curious eyes. Arthur stood up and bowed courteously. "I am sorry I again invaded your home without your permission. But I couldn't risk staying outside for the whole night, and it was absolutely essential that we meet tonight, as I'm planning to leave Toronto soon." Nick offered him to sit down again and asked him if he wanted something to drink. Arthur accepted with gratitude. After Nick returned to the couch with their drinks, Arthur threw one leg over the other and started casually, like two friends making conversation. "So, I see your case has finally come to a conclusion." He took a small sip from his drink. Nick played with his, rolling the stem of the crystal glass between his fingers and looking into the ruby depth of the liquid within. "Yes, my partner did that, although in a most peculiar way." "Why is that?" "For days, we sat with no clue, trying to find something that pointed to a suspect, or a motive, or anything that would help us get a little closer to the truth, and came out empty- handed. But all of a sudden, as if from above, a lead walked right to my partner's front door and gave him the essential information. After that, it seemed like everything flowed by itself and we finished the case." He looked up and stared intently in the other's shadowy eyes, accentuating his upcoming words. "Of course, we don't know who this mysterious tipper was, and Schanke has no recollection of what happened after the man entered his house, other than the useful information he gave him." He kept his eyes unblinking on his visitor's face. Arthur hesitated for a time before he leaned forward and set his glass on the table. He settled back again, resting one arm over the back of the couch as he said, "Yes, you guessed right, my friend. It was I who tipped your partner about the handgun and planted the idea of the case being an accident in his head. I was assigned to interview him and his family on the basis of the information we suspected they might have of our existence. To ensure they told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, the entire interview was conducted with them under the influence of deep hypnosis. That was also to make certain they wouldn't be remembering any of it after we were done, if they passed of course. I planted the information afterwards and fixed their memories so that the whole incident looked like a friendly visit from an anonymous snitch." Nick didn't shift his steady gaze, but asked, "How did you know that much about the Timanus case?" Arthur's lips curved in an amused smile. "How could we not know that much about that case? After all, we were the ones who created it. It was an essential process for our later actions, no matter which way they went." Nick's mouth fell open; his tongue suddenly felt dry before he moistened it by taking a quick sip from his drink. When his initial astonishment was over, he looked up and said, "What do you mean you created that case? Didn't Darryl Timanus shoot himself in the chest as a result of an accident?" Arthur shrugged and reached for his glass again. "You can put it anyway you like. Of course he shot himself by accident. But the defective gun could have been planted in his hand, and his mind could have been tampered with so he would fire the gun after putting it in the most inappropriate condition." He shot an evocative glance at his shocked companion. Nick tried to swallow past the lump in his throat after Arthur's revelation. The thought of what they had done didn't leave his mind, no matter how hard he tried. An innocent man, killed for the mere sake of their dirty project. And he had fallen for it like a fool, a rat stepping into the trap focused only on the bait and not the spring latch next to it. He closed his eyes as if in pain, restraining a roar of anger that threatened to escape his mouth. When he finally managed to get his fury under control, he opened his eyes and asked crossly, "Why?" Arthur raised an eyebrow in surprise as he swirled his drink in front of his nose, sniffing occasionally. "Why what?" "Why did you have to kill him, kill Timanus?" "I told you. Because it aided our plan and the procedure that was required for an infringement case such as this one." "What do you mean? How could killing an innocent man aid you in your plan?" Arthur sighed and put his glass back on the table. He then entwined his fingers on his lap and looked at them for a while before he raised his eyes to Nick. "You know it's not my duty to give you explanations on how we do our job. Even this visit in itself is needless, since we usually inform the acquitted defendants by sending them a simple note of indication. But I will tell you about the process nonetheless, if only to make up for some of the anxiety we have caused you during the past few days. You can also count it as my being nice to my former relatives." His eyes glistened as he watched his listener wince at the mention of the word. He continued nonchalantly, "As you probably know, both you and your partner passed your relative examinations and were absolved from the charges held against you, based on the rulings of the Code. I give you my felicitations on that." Nick nodded his head in gratitude. Arthur continued, "However, if it happened that either or both of you were found guilty as charged, then the course of events would have taken a different path." He paused as he played with his fingers. Nick grew impatient. "Different how?" Arthur took a deep breath. "Things that were found in certain places in the current scenario would have been found in other places." Without taking his eyes off his stunned audience, he added, "For example, instead of uncovering the gun in the sewer, they might have found it at your partner's home." A second of silence as he waited for Nick to digest the information, and a slight nod to himself as he noticed the enlarged eyes indicating his host's realization. "Other things might have been found there as well. Like a pack of cocaine in the backpack of little... what was her name, Jenny? That would make some nice evidence like Timanus had given some candy to your partner's little princess and created a motive for revenge." He steepled his fingers and slowly patted them against his lips, looking at nothing in particular, but more like picturing the setting in his head. "Of course, things could have always gotten more complicated. Timanus, as we knew, had a gang of violent buddies who would have wanted to avenge his death before the court could cut some piteous prison time for his detective murderer. So there might have been another scene, again at the Schankes' house, one night when the family was gathered around the dinner table in complete harmony. A raid I'd say, shooting, our detective drawing his gun only a little too late. Maybe a certain vampire detective would be informed ahead of time to come and try to rescue his partner, maybe he too could get shot and die in the incident. And nothing would be left but a house full of dead bodies and no witnesses, oh, and a little bit of ash." He lowered his hands and looked up, satisfied. "A perfect set-up. Won't you agree?" Nick was now literally fighting for control. Just imagining the massacre that would have happened had he and the Schankes not been exonerated sent jolting shivers through his entire body. God, after so many centuries, these beasts hadn't changed a bit. The only thing in their organized justice system that had changed was putting the blame for their slaughters on someone else. He swallowed before he spoke, "That would have been quite a bit of stage work, don't you think?" Arthur shrugged. "Not really; the mortals would have been easily made compliant through mind control and you, my dear brother, are, as I know, famous for your rather exorbitant trust of everyone." "Why go through this much trouble? Why not send the Destroyers and let _them_ finish the job, as you used to do in the old times?" Arthur picked up his half-full glass and stood up, walking leisurely. "Because, my friend, like I said before, times have changed, even for us. It's not safe anymore to leave a trail of inexplicable bodies behind while carrying out an assignment, especially in a city like this that has a sizeable community residing in it. Sometimes, we have to move strategically in order to do a most complete job with the least amount of evidence pointing to us. Hence, the setups." He stood at the window, finishing his drink and putting it on the ledge. The sky was starting to pale. Nick folded his hands and put his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, mirroring Arthur's previous posture unknowingly. Now it was his turn to look into oblivion and talk as if to himself. "So that's how you work now. Set up a stage, get the unsuspecting players, write a scenario and make them play it for you, so you can do your dirty job backstage without having an actual hand in it." He looked up, his irises quivering slightly. "That's how your kind does their work today, isn't it?" "No, that's how *I* do my work. I always liked to frame others for my own goals." They both went silent at the reminiscence those words brought to their minds. Nick looked away after a moment, whispering solemnly under his breath, "Yes, how could I forget." The conversation seemed to end there. Nick was now only waiting for his guest to leave and let him have his rest, thankful that it had all stayed at a professional level and not gone into deeper, more unpleasant recollections. But Arthur didn't seem too keen to leave. It looked like there was something weighing on the vampire's chest that demanded to be spoken out. He was just standing there by the window, his back leaning against the surface of the glass and playing with the empty wineglass he had picked up from where he had left it before. Finally he walked back to the couch and sat down, still looking at the empty glass in his hand with abnormal concentration. Suddenly, Nick felt as if an air of loneliness cracked the cold shell of his somber visitor. The man's voice came unexpectedly. "Remember the big Huberstein auction in 1964 for the old paintings recovered after World War II? It was in Leipzig, wasn't it?" Nick grimaced at the sudden change of subject, but still replied, "Yes, I remember it. Amazing pieces, some very old." Arthur nodded. "Very interesting indeed. I flew all the way from New Zealand just to get my hands on one of them. But I was unsuccessful. By the time I got there, I was told that someone had beaten me in buying it." Nick perched on the chair, still not getting where this was going. Arthur continued, "The piece was a simple oil on canvas, 15th century painting called 'A View from Charente.' I heard that the buyer's name was Nick Thomas. I remembered it." He looked at Nick, his eyes shining. "I wanted to see that painting, if only once. That's all I wanted. But the buyer had left right after the purchase, and no one knew where for. I decided to forget about it, but somehow it never left my mind." He stole his eyes away and looked at the empty wine glass. Nick leaned back, finally remembering what Arthur was talking about. It had been during the time he had gone to Germany to search for the Abarat and a possible cure. He had heard about the auction and, interested as he was in old artwork, had attended it to buy some of the more valuable ones. This particular painting was from an unknown artist. Its sole value was because of its age, which dated back to the fourteen hundreds. It was a picture of a grand window opening to a beautiful view of a castle's courtyard and a wide sandy road leading to the outside gates. Colorful flowers decorated the gardens of the yard and a small fountain spraying water was painted to the left of the window, only partially visible, and the rest secluded by the perimeter. It was a beautiful piece, but to Nick it was more than that. He had bought it for the memories it brought from a very old time, and now he was amazed to know that someone else had sought the piece for the very same reason. "I am the owner of that painting now." He paused for a second and the silence that ensued disturbed him. "I had to leave early after buying it because someone who was chasing me had arrived at Leipzig that very day. I didn't know there was someone else interested in the work, otherwise I would have gladly relinquished it." "There is no reason to say that. All I wanted was to take a look, that's all. I used to be an admirer of old artwork, but never a collector. My... job never allows me to have any personal belongings or get attached to anything for too long. You, on the other hand..." He tellingly looked around the loft at the displayed antiquities. Nick set his glass down and stood up. "I don't have that one on display here. I keep it with a couple of other very old pieces in a chest in my bedroom, since it's not wise to expose them too much, especially with this many pollutants in the air this century. But if you'd like to take a look, I'd be glad to show it to you." For the first time in their recent encounters, Nick saw a flash of something that could be considered joyfulness in Arthur's green eyes. Leading the way, he went up the stairs and Arthur followed as they both entered the bedroom. The room was dark, but neither bothered with turning on any lights since their enhanced night vision allowed them to see perfectly through the darkness. Nick walked to the other side of the bedroom and opened a bulky closet. He leaned down and easily picked up a heavy old wooden chest adorned with ancient carvings. Putting it on the bed, he retrieved a key from his bedside table and opened the chest. A row of antique frames came to view, their unsoiled polished look indicating the owner's care and attention. Nick searched through them and soon pulled out one, a thin medium sized painting framed with old fine oak. The dark color of the wood had partially faded and the canvas was covered with oilpaper, which he unwrapped before handing the piece to his excited guest. The older vampire looked at the picture with veiled interest. His pupils distended as his eyes tried to penetrate the darkness of the room and take in all that was there in the image. Suddenly the room got bright and he looked up. Nick was standing by the end table and smiling at him as he turned on another lamp to lighten the room. His eyes returned to the painting, trying to absorb every color, every ray of light and every angle of the outlook. It was different, obviously, as this was painted during the day and in full sunlight. But the scene was the same. This was most likely created looking through the same window from which he had watched their departure that faithful night so many centuries ago. He remembered as if it was only a short time ago, perhaps last week, perhaps last night. The carriage stood shrouded in the darkness with no visible light to illuminate it for mortal eyes. His heart was pounding way too many times for its dead existence, but he was paying no attention to it. His whole being was focused on one single truth. They were leaving. He remembered throwing himself against the coldness of the glass as if wanting to break it and to break free. He remembered his master's intimidating gaze from where he stood near the coach, under the moonless sky, and his shudder at the memory of their last encounter, when he was told how his master had found out about his betrayal of Nicholas and when he was delivered his ultimate condemnation. They were leaving him behind. He saw Janette walk to the coach wearing her beautiful traveling clothes, and his eyes filled with tears. Janette. She was so beautiful. He tried to send a mental plea toward her, but it was their master that turned his gaze toward the window, frowning. She walked faster and disappeared inside the coach, out of his sight. He dared to step closer and risk getting noticed by them. Then he saw him, Nicholas. Walking a little more hesitantly. He took a deep breath, unknowingly clawing at the smooth surface of the glass, his mind gone blank. Before reaching the waiting coach, the blond head lifted, looking directly at where he stood at the window. He didn't even bother to hide; what did it matter anyway? And then Nicholas turned to their imposing master, still standing by the open door, and said something, hard for him to make out >from the distance. But whatever it was, it only served to make the tall vampire angrier. His glove-clad hand shot out and grabbed the fledgling by the back of the neck, practically throwing him inside the coach. Lastly, the master himself put one foot on the first step leading to the inside of the vehicle. He saw him throw one last glance at the window, eyes as cold and uncaring as ice, before he finally stepped in and closed the door behind him. And they took off, taking all his hope and future with them. Only then did he realize the reality of his situation and his sweat-covered palms slowly slid down the surface of the glass, leaving a brownish stain in their path. The rest of his body followed and soon he was sitting on the floor, face pressed against the wall and crying bitter tears as he screamed his sorrow in the emptiness of the room. Six centuries past. They both heard the sound of the elevator door opening as Arthur snapped out of his reverie and looked up to see Nick glance at his watch. The faint resonance of a mortal heartbeat touched their senses, and he saw hints of nervousness cross his brother's face. "Nick!" A female voice was calling from downstairs. High-heeled shoes tapped on the floor as the mortal took a few steps into the loft. "Nick, are you there?" Nick walked toward the bedroom door and peeked outside. Arthur heard him speak to the unseen visitor, "Hi, Nat. I'm here. I'll be just a minute." He turned back to his brother apologetically. "It's just my friend Natalie, she's a medical examiner for our precinct. We watch videos together sometimes." His whole stance showed his willingness to escort him out. Arthur nodded and put the painting back in the chest. The mortal called again. "Nick! I looked for that old B movie you liked so much, but I couldn't find it at the local video store. You know, the one they showed on Sunday with all those hairy people in bizarre clothes. Remember we missed the ending? But I got something else instead." Nick put a hand on Arthur's arm and started with uncharacteristic tenderness, "If you want to take it with you, go ahead. I have many pieces like it here. I want this one to be a gift to you." Arthur felt his heart leap. A violent struggle roared in him between the affectionate feelings he was experiencing now and a millennium of detestation he had felt toward this vampire who was indirectly responsible for his damnation. He couldn't decide which side to take. He watched as Nick reached for the painting and placed it in his hands, smiling. The female voice from downstairs tore into their silence. "Nick, you'd better come down soon and see what I got. I bet you'll love it." They heard a hand fumble through a crammed purse, but neither broke their locked gaze. "Here it is, 'Samurai Vampire Bikers From Hell.' I couldn't get the picture of you riding that motorcycle of yours in a devilish red Kimono out of my head. Have you ever been to Japan? Or perhaps they're talking about a group of Asian hell's angels wreaking havoc in your fanged community?" Feminine giggles followed, and then silence. Nick watched in horror as Arthur's face turned into a solid mask of disbelief. The green eyes that only seconds ago were exhibiting a rainbow of emotions dominated by a need for love became as cold as stone and then slowly transformed into orbs of angry amber, followed by crimson red. He took a shallow breath and tried to speak, but before he could even see it, the Enforcer disappeared from the room, leaving behind only a mirage of blur. Cold dread sank into his heart as he summoned every iota of his vampiric strength to rush after him and prevent the impending tragedy from happening. Still enjoying her own little joke-after all she had practiced it all the way to the loft-Natalie was stunned when all of a sudden a translucent shape whizzed before her eyes and within a second, a fully fanged dark haired vampire grabbed her by the neck and lifted her off the couch. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to free herself by scraping the creature's hands with her nails, but the vampire only got more infuriated and tightened the grip on her neck. Dimly, she heard Nick's cry coming from somewhere upstairs, sounding desperate. "NO! Arthur, stop! Please!" She watched as he virtually crashed down from the balcony to the main floor and scrambled arduously to his feet with arms stretched out in front of him, reaching for the assailant and screaming like a madman, "She is my personal pet. Not my friend, MY PET! I have marked her, that's how she knows. For the love of God Arthur, please don't hurt her." He grabbed Arthur by the back of his suit and tried to pull him away from a wide-eyed Nat. The Enforcer quickly turned and without loosening his grip on Natalie, slapped Nick's hands away from his suit. Nick stumbled backward, but tried to advance again, only to be knocked senselessly to the other side of the room with a severe blow. Natalie screamed as Nick's body flew five feet across the room and hit the ground on the other side, his head banging on the edge of the stairs. She barely had time to assess his condition before the nightmarish monster turned back toward her and started shaking her violently. "Tell me how you know! Tell me, you mortal wench, HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT US?" She tried to speak but all that came out was unintelligible gabble. Desperately, she clung to the steel hand that was holding her off her feet and tried to pull herself free. Nick's frail voice came from the other side of the room and from the corner of her eye she saw him unsteadily climb to his feet. "Arthur, I told you how she knows! Please..." "You told me a lie." Arthur snarled and looked over his shoulder at the other vampire. "You think I'm a fool. That I wouldn't sense you in her if she were marked? Tell me, traitor, where is your mark? Show it to me if you can." He lowered Natalie and moved behind her with lightning speed. Grabbing her collar with both hands, he viciously tore the material, exposing her neck and shoulders in one swift move, causing her to whimper. Nick was on his feet now and holding onto the staircase's railing for support. When he saw Arthur's violence against Natalie, he felt his beast seethe to the surface again. He gathered all his strength and prepared himself to pounce. Arthur was now pulling and tearing at Natalie's sleeves to show him her wrists, which were just like her throat -- devoid of any bite marks. "So where is it, dear brother? Show me your mark, you bastard. You dare to lie to an elite interrogator? You'll see what that brings you. I will report this to the Council, all of this. I will make you face the sun; drive the stake through your heart with my own hand. YOU WILL SUFFER FOR THIS, IN THE NAME OF THE CODE." He continued jerking Nat around as she cried and pleaded for help. In the space of a mortal heartbeat, Nick was on him again, this time completely enraged and fighting with full strength. He grabbed Natalie by her shoulders and tore her away from the other vampire. She moaned as he dumped her on the floor, turning barely in time to stop the other from attacking her again. This gave Nat a chance to pull herself behind the sofa and hide, where she fearfully watched the rest of the battle. Within seconds, the loft was filled with shrieks and snarls and whooshing sounds as the two carnivorous creatures rolled and leaped and tackled each other in a feral fight that was as much happening in the air as it was on the ground. Their swift eye-blink movements didn't allow Natalie to fully observe what was going on, other than quick flashes of fangs and glowing eyes. But as the fight went on and the opponents' energy level started to deplete, they eventually slowed down and allowed their audience to witness the last stages of their battle. It was evident that Nick was at a disadvantage. Arthur was not only older and better fed, he also benefited from years of Enforcement training, whereas Nick as a vampire had denied his nature for all his 800 years. He tried with all his might to tackle the other, but as his wounds increased and his strength lessened, the fate of the battle was clearly decided. She closed her eyes when he finally went down. With one last blow to the head, Arthur crushed his exhausted brother to the ground and watched him as his body went limp and his mind slipped into unconsciousness. He stood over the prone form for a minute before crouching down beside him and reaching forward. An involuntary scream escaped Natalie's throat at the fear of what the terrifying monster was intending to do to the now-helpless Nick, and she failed to silence it in time before the crimson eyes slowly turned to spot her. She knew he would have discovered her anyway; her heart was pounding so savagely in her chest even she could hear it. Still, drawing his angry attention at this point was the last thing she had wanted, and she knew it was already too late when the figure suddenly straightened and started walking with long threatening strides to where she hid. She said a quick prayer and closed her eyes, letting her tears slide down onto her cheeks. A cold hand closed around her naked arm and viciously hauled her off the floor. She didn't want to open her eyes, but had no choice but to do so as the presence looming over her started speaking in a low, menacing voice. "Your fate will be determined by a jury >from the Council. As much as I wish to kill you now, I have no authority over your life without their consent. But let me assure you, mortal, that it will come about, for both of you. As soon as the Council is informed, another trial will be set and this time the outcome will be a death sentence." He hissed, his bare fangs in her face before he let go of her arm all too suddenly, causing her to fall backwards and onto the floor. Before she could blink a second time, a breeze brushed against her face and he was gone without the barest sound, leaving only the wreckage behind. Timidly, she gathered her feet beneath her and stood up shakily, leaning with both hands on the back of the leather couch. Her eyes fought for focus as she searched for Nick on the ground, and found him trying to sit up. Immediately, she was at his side and he grabbed her right hand as she slid her other arm under his armpits, trying to help him up. "Nick! Oh my God, Nick, are you ok?" "Nat, you... you're alive." He struggled, and with her help, at last managed to sit up. She hugged him closely and her tears flowed unbidden on her cheeks. She buried her face in his shoulder and let her fear and anguish overflow at long last. "Nick! What was that? Oh God, Nick, I was so scared." Nick's hand slowly stroke her auburn hair while he whispered through the soft mass of curls, the blood from his face smearing them. "It's all right, Nat. It's all right. You have nothing to fear now." But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. He knew that what had happened had broken the seal on Pandora's box that night, and now the ghouls and goblins of the underworld would be gathering in their evil lairs to plan their destruction. His eyes took on a distant look as his heart skipped its single, infrequent beat. It was almost as if he could see the clouds forming on the horizon, their thunderous roar masked by the sound of Natalie's heartrending sobs. Praying was a painful endeavor, but as he listened to her soft weeping, he did it anyway. To a merciful God who might just listen, this once, if not to a sinful creature such as he, then perhaps for the sake of an innocent soul such as Natalie. CHAPTER ELEVEN There was noise. The sound of shutters kicking into motion to perform the everyday task of locking the sun outside where it belonged. The roar of the occasionally passing trucks, speeding down Gateway Lane to their unknown destinations. The refrigerator's incessant humming. Indications of the passage of time. Except to her, it felt like time had stretched and suddenly solidified, every second extended to infinity, every minute a practice of excruciating strain. She looked up at Nick, who had become silent an hour ago, after spending the better part of the day soothing her, comforting her while explaining what had happened. He had talked about the Enforcers, the Community, the High Council and the Code, unaware of her total lack of comprehension. Just the reality of how good it felt to be in his arms was enough for her to know. She just wanted to stay like that, in his arms, and not have to listen to what would come next. Nick's injuries had long since healed, but his appearance had stayed that of a troubled man. He was extremely agitated, and jerked at every unexpected sound, most of them inaudible to her normal human ears. All the while, he had tried to make up for what he had failed to do in the past few days, to explain to her what went wrong and the possible consequences. But now it appeared to be too much information all at once. Too many fables presented as facts for her brain to understand. She laid her head against his chest, reveling in the comfort and protection it gave her, remembering how she had longed for it for so long. Longed for his touch that had become part of her dreams ever since she had started thinking of him. And when had that been? Last month, when she saw him in his crisp white T-shirt and dark Denim jeans? Last year, when he saved her from Roger Jameson and her date from hell? Or was it right from the very moment he sat up on her examination table, when he grabbed her hand and placed it on his soiled, handsome face and told her what he was. And it seemed so long ago: 'I'm dead.'---'No, you're not. You're not dead.' She pressed herself harder against him, wishing they could stay like this till the end of time. But when the tiny pins of sunray penetrated through the shutters-against all their high-tech impeccability-and elongated to their mature length, indicating the nearness of the night, she knew their perfect moment was over. And today, accompanying the familiar sense of loss her heart always felt in the last stages of their rarely occurring intimacies, was another sensation from the trauma they had faced last night, a sense of dread and of impending danger. As the day started to fade into night, Nick slowly untangled his arms from around Natalie, and holding her by her shoulders, turned her so they were face to face. Through his touch, he could sense her body's faint trembling and could hear her heart as it pounded wildly in her chest. He looked at her deeply, hoping to obtain her full attention. "Nat, you must leave town immediately." She blinked, her eyes betraying her inner feelings. A fountain of diverse emotions reflected in their depths before she actually found the words to voice them. And even as she did, they sounded nothing more than a desperate plea, although verbalized in the form of a vulgar objection. "No, I'm not going to leave you all alone here at their vile mercies. I'm not..." Nick silenced her imploringly by putting a finger on her lips. His face, filled with an unspoken sorrow, almost resembled the hopeless expression it had that first night she'd met him in the morgue. "Please, Nat. Just listen to me, just this once. I don't want you to get hurt." She countered, "But what if he's really gone, Nick? What if last night was the end of all his threats? He roughed you up and scared me to my death and left. Suppose what he said at the end was just a load of bluff?" Nick shook his head in negation. "No, Nat, it wasn't. I know Enforcers better than you do. The only reason he left us alone last night was because your case was outside his jurisdiction and not a part of his assignment. He's probably gone straight to the Toronto Council and presented it by now. If you don't get out of here before the sun sets, they'll catch you and set you on trial based on their own twisted laws, and most likely condemn you to a death worse than you can ever imagine." "And you? Isn't that the same treatment they'll give you if you stay behind?" Nick's eyes took on a distant look and she knew he was struggling to hide his contempt. "I'm a vampire, Nat. I can stand their treatment, perhaps even rescue myself." "Against that crazy sonofabitch? He'll tear you to shreds with those stiletto fangs of his. My gosh, I thought I was looking a prehistoric mountain lion in the face." Nick smiled at her sense of humor, even in a situation like this. But it was short-lived and he knew he had to try again. "Nat, please listen to me. They will kill you if you stay. There is no question about the fate of a mortal who knows of our existence without being bound to a vampire." "Then 'bind' me to yourself." "It's not that easy." He looked away. "For a mortal to become bound to a vampire, it requires the vampire to drink from the mortal's blood over a consistent period of time. It is a dangerous practice, and even done right, it will cost the mortal her independence and her power of will. It will turn you into a thrall, Nat." He let go of her shoulders and clutched his hands in his lap, looking intensely at the floor. Natalie threw her hands up angrily. "All right, then come with me. Why do you have to stay behind and face them alone like some foolish martyr who needs to sacrifice himself...?" Her voice broke on a sob before she could finish her sentence coherently. Nick reached out and folded his arms around her shoulder again, drawing her back to his embrace and holding her while she cried. He brushed his lips on her hair and spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Nat. I'm really sorry, but I can't go with you. If I do, they'll track us easily down by sensing my presence as one of their kind. I don't want to risk your life by signaling them towards you. Not only can I not come with you, you also have to make sure not to tell me where you'll go, so that if they try to extract that information from me unwillingly, they can't." At his last words, Natalie's eyes widened and she looked up. "What do you mean, unwillingly? You mean they are going to torture you to find out where I am? Oh Nick, how can I let that happen?" Nick cupped her face with his hands and stared caringly into her eyes. He said, "If you stay, the odds would be even worse for me. They can use you to make me do anything they want. They can torture me by hurting you; make me kill for them to save you. I will never recover from the guilt of it, and I may even lose my sanity. At least this way, I don't have to worry about you." She blinked her tears from her eyes and let them flow down her face. At last, she just pleaded. "Then run away by yourself. What is the point of staying behind and waiting for the inquisitors to show up and give you the medieval treatment? Nick patiently stroked her hair. Amidst all the anguish and confusion, he still couldn't help but smile at the loveliness of her face. He traced his finger over the line of her jaw and her lips, and spoke to her benevolently. "No, Nat. I have to stay in town to watch over Schanke and his family. What happened last night might have undone the jury's conclusion about their case as well, making them a potential target for the Enforcers again. It would be extremely selfish of me to leave them here just to save my own hide." She closed her eyes and burrowed tighter in his embrace, unable to contain the exasperation in her voice as she said, "Yeah, that is the damned problem with you. It should always be you who saves everyone at the cost of his own suffering. You whose body will shield the world against all the pain that rains down on it. You! The white knight, the self-sacrificing hero." Nick kissed her tear-soaked face, trying to comfort her. He didn't speak anymore, for he knew that no matter what he said, she wasn't a fool and was right in her concern over the situation. He contented himself with brushing his cheek against hers and closed his eyes. After a long time passed, he finally was able to speak again. "Nat, please don't worry about me, ok? I swear I will take care of myself and everything will eventually be all right. Arthur was a little mad last night because he thought I lied to him. But in truth, he is a very rational Enforcer. He will listen to reason if I tell him about our situation, and maybe they'll even drop the whole thing, you know, like they did with Myra and Schanke. But for me to be able to handle it, I need you to be out of harm's way. I can't afford being diverted by having to worry about you. So please, do this for *me.* Leave as fast as you can, at least for tonight." Natalie sat up, still hiccuping from her recent weeping. She absently searched for one of her shoes she had lost during their hugging and crying scene, and brushed the tears away from her face. She said, "I first have to call the coroner's office and tell them to book me off for the night. I--I don't even know where to go, but if this is what you want, then all right, I'll go, just for you. Hope you remember afterwards how I listened to you tonight and pay me back for it. Oh yes, am _I_ going to enjoy making you swallow my protein shakes by the gallon to get even with you, you bastard piece of chivalry, you." She slapped his hands away when he tried to help her straighten up her clothes, and stood up. She walked to the sink, and washed the tears and makeup stains from her face before she turned to him once again. "Do you know how this makes me feel? How much guilt it puts on my shoulders just to think I'm leaving you here with them? It was my fault anyway that I couldn't shut my big mouth and not..." Nick interrupted her before she could say another word and rob his guilt for herself. "No, Nat. Never say that, it wasn't your fault at all, it was mine. I should have told you sooner about what was going on around us this past week. But now is not the time to think about that. The sun will set soon and you only have that much time to put a safe distance between them and yourself." She hiccupped again. "Ok, I won't think about it. Where is my purse?" She reached and grabbed it from the table, continuing her thoughts aloud. "I won't think about it. It'll be fine, all fine. I'll go far. Very far. Let me think where I can go. Oh God, I don't even know. Maybe I should go to..." Nick was at her side in an eye blink, stopping the rest of her words from coming out by putting his finger on her lips. His expression was serious. "Nat, you mustn't tell me where you go, do you understand? Just take off and leave. And don't look back or anything until I call you and tell you it's safe. Will you promise me that?" Nat nodded her head like an obedient little girl, with Nick's finger still resting on her lips. Mumbling around it she said, "All right, I'll take my cell phone with me." Her hand rose and closed around Nick's arm, pulling his hand and finger down from her face. Her eyes never left his. "Promise you'll be careful, Nick." "I promise." They hugged one last time, holding onto each other like they needed to for a while. Then she stepped away and headed for the elevator. Once she walked in, she turned and looked at him, a hesitant farewell balancing on the tip of her tongue. He looked so lonely standing there all by himself in the loft. The door slid closed in front of her, hiding him >from her view behind its unforgiving solidity. He never sensed when she was gone. -------------------- Nick stared at the stack of piled paper awaiting him on his desk in utter frustration. Why was it that whenever a case was over they were immediately buried in a mound of unsolveds and bureaucratic rubbish? His brain froze when he remembered how these had been his exact same thoughts the night they were assigned to the Timanus case. How long ago was that? A week, a month, a century ago? The shift moved at a snail's pace, but then again, desk duty always did. Yet when he looked up and saw the clock strike four, he knew he wasn't ready to leave. He felt safe back there behind the paper fortress, the fake barrier resembling the façade of his mortal life. It was like a boring dream, one you didn't enjoy but didn't want to wake from either, because if you did, you would have to face another day and the painful truth of real life >from which there was no escape. One more hour to go, then it would be time for him to wake up and face reality. He heard Schanke call his name and looked up. His partner was looking at him quizzically. "Hey, Knight! You all right back there?" "Yeah, Schank, why are you asking?" Schanke threw his shoulders up. "I dunno, you look like Jenny on an exam day with no cramming the night before. Now tell me, have you talked to Natalie at all tonight?" He couldn't repress his involuntary flinch at the mention of Natalie's name. Immediately, he got himself together and attempted to cover his apparent apprehension with a smile. "No, why?" "Umm, well, there was this thing I had to ask her, about the last report on our guy Timanus, but she seems nowhere to be found. I already checked the coroner's building, but they said she had booked the night off. She wasn't at her apartment either and even Grace said she had no idea where she could be. Although she said something about Natalie calling her before the shift and telling her she was going to..." "It's all right, Schank, I don't want to know where she is." Nick almost jumped out of his chair in an attempt to cut his friend off quickly. Schanke looked at him in surprise, his suspicion confirmed that something was certainly wrong. Nick tried to keep his hands steady as he opened another folder and pretended to work. "A-ha, so my first guess was right. It's about Natalie, isn't it?" Nick looked up, aggravated. "What? What's about Natalie? What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about you being all edgy and on the frying pan tonight. It has something to do with Nat, doesn't it? Did you guys have a fight or something? Nick stared at him and inadvertently snapped the pencil he held in his hand. The sound of the pieces hitting the tabletop and the floor made Schanke start. Nick never moved his gaze. "I have no problems with Natalie. I have no problems at all. Drop it, Schank, all right?" "Ok, ok, Mr. Ivan the Terrible. I won't say another word, see?" He made a sign of zipping his lips. "All zipped and sealed." Nick banged his fist hard against the surface of the table, as if something new had ignited him, and shouted at his partner, "Ivan IV of Russia was not terrible in any way. Most of what he did was aimed at uniting the country. It was his greedy family and those Russkii nobles who accused him of being mad." Schanke was speechless. He threw his hands up in a gesture of total confusion and said, "Wow, man, cool down a little, will you? No offense intended to your Russian buddy, how the heck would I know who he was? I heard his name in this show on A&E Myra was watching the other night, and thought it sounded cool, that's all. What's wrong with you tonight, anyway? It's like you're waiting for me to say something to get angry. Since when did you become so super sensitive?" Nick sat back in his chair and grabbed his head with both hands as he muttered, "I-- I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I snapped, Schank, you're right. I don't feel that well tonight. Maybe I should just go home." Schanke wiped his forehead and sighed, "It's all right, partner. But try to drive carefully, ok? Looks like you're a little upset tonight; can cause accidents you know. I'll cover the rest of the shift." Nick thanked him silently as he reached for his coat and got ready to leave. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. Whatever awaited him out there had to be confronted sooner or later. There was no sense in hiding in here, other than running the risk of endangering his friends' lives even more. He waved his partner a charming goodbye and walked out of the precinct, the night air blowing to ruffle his hair. He was on his way to the Caddy when he saw something move in the shadows and disappear out of his sight. The next gust of wind brought coldness and dread. Not believing that anyone of his kind, Enforcer or not, would be so naïve as to confront him in an open parking lot, he wrote it off to his agitated imagination and walked the rest of the way to his car. He drove home in silence. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charente 1368 AD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LaCroix entered Acheron's throne room with the same air of superiority he used to display every time he entered Caesar's court as the victorious Roman general in his mortal days. Acheron was sitting on his throne placed high on a wide ornamented platform, fully dressed in his regal attire and holding his heavy sword in one hand. The Enforcer lord was leaning to the right, his elbow propped against the arm of the chair and his knuckles touching his lips in a contemplative manner. His eyes were fixed on LaCroix. Two of his warriors each stood on either side of him. Clad in black armor and the traditional and rather fearsome Guetenne's headpieces that covered the larger part of their faces, they added to the dramatics of the scene. One look to the side revealed to LaCroix that the body of the mortal Germaine had been removed from the table it had lain on before, implying that the Enforcer lord had most likely recovered from the grief over his loss and was now ready to confront his opponent. Both vampires, lord and general, were radiating so much supremacy and mental command that it seemed to sway the room. LaCroix instantly recognized Acheron's maneuver to intimidate him by arranging the imposing scenery. He was fully aware of the old lord's standing with the High Council and the power he yielded over nearly all of the legions of the Enforcement. He also knew the difficulty of the situation he and his son were in, as according to the Code, Nicholas' deed was unquestionably punishable by true death, and that his son was only alive due to the old lord's mercy and his fondness to take him for himself. Nevertheless, he was all but ready to face the challenge and save his most precious possession by relying on his own recently gained design for battling the superior foe. The thought brought a smile to his face as he walked toward the throne, head held high, his wide heavy cloak floating like a dark mane around him. He made sure his boots hit the stone floor hard enough to make the sound echo through the entire high-ceilinged room. Finally, he came to a halt in front of the steps that led to the surface of the platform and the massive seat, and looked at the peer of the realm with piercing eyes. Acheron straightened in his seat. He put the sword at the side of the chair, where the jewels decorating its shield reflected the light from the room's chandelier, and intertwined his fingers in front of him. He raised his chin and looked down at LaCroix with an air of dominion. "Your business here is finished, General. You can gather your family and leave at any time." LaCroix fought to keep out the beastly snarl from his voice. "I am indeed more than eager to depart from your restful home, Lord Acheron. But I will only do so if my son is returned to me unharmed. I will not leave here without taking Nicholas with me." Acheron sighed, staring at the ceiling in a gesture of frustrated disapproval before responding, "General, I thought I made myself fully clear with regard to your son's case. Nicholas has committed a felony against the Code which warrants him a death sentence. I am generously granting him his life, but for that, he has to join the Enforcement and serve to protect the Code. That is the fairest judgment I can give you. Watch him delivered to the Council either as a convict or a soldier, the choice is entirely yours." LaCroix observed his opponent with restrained hatred. He wouldn't back down now, regardless of how much advantage the other wielded. Unknown to the other, he was still holding one last winning card in his hand, his last hope for winning this round. Closing his eyes briefly, he braced himself for the ultimate attack and put down the card. "You would not want to face the Council with me," he retorted. "And why would that be?" The vampire master opened his eyes. "Because if you do, I will tell them about your secret." Acheron was stunned momentarily, unsure of what he had just heard. "What secret? What are you talking about? " LaCroix's lips turned up in a smile. "You know exactly what I am talking about. I was there at the assembly of the Guetennes, the one they held at the secret hideout between the south hills, only they did not know about my presence. Credit that to my outstanding ability to shield myself." He stopped, knowing too well how his speech was raising the level of anxiety in the old lord's pretended coolness. Narrowing his eyes so that his words were amplified with his menacing gaze, he continued, "I know your secret, my friend. I know how you are gathering forces behind the High Council's back, planning to create a legion of your own to defend your profits if time calls. I know they are vowed to obey you, to follow your command when things get rough. I guess with the power you gain as centuries pass, you justly anticipate the Council's concern over your jurisdiction, and that they will eventually consider taking action to limit your command. You have prepared yourself for that moment, Lord Acheron, have you not? When you summon your personal army against the High Council to demonstrate how mighty you are and keep them off your back." He enjoyed the silence that ensued as Acheron fidgeted in disbelief. LaCroix had delivered his final blow, and he could see the effects of it on his adversary. The first thing that came to Acheron's mind was to deny the accusation. LaCroix could just as well be bluffing. But then he thought better of it. LaCroix was an ancient, and if he took his claim to the Council and proved it, it would mean the definite end of his career as the lord of the Enforcers, or perhaps even worse, the end of his un-life. Not losing an ounce of his nonchalance he stated, "What do you demand from me, General?" LaCroix let out a well-hidden sigh of relief. At last, things were starting to turn to his favor. He folded his arms in front of his chest and spoke in an assertive voice. "I want Nicholas to be released immediately, and I want all charges against him to be dropped. I will leave the castle promptly after that." "Agreed. However there is still the matter of your kin's contribution to the Enforcement." "I will make my contribution by handing over another one of my children to the force. I assure you, he will live up to your expectation." He grinned sardonically. Acheron gritted his teeth. Although he did not consider this as defeat-merely a changed bargain between two sovereigns, each having something to use against the other-he wasn't happy about the shift in the situation. He cursed himself for not being more careful in his affairs and for underestimating the enemy. LaCroix had been a military man, planning attack and defense was a part of his daily life, and for sure he had defeated many of his enemies using strategy and ploy. He had been just too self-confident to see it coming. "I accept your treaty, General. My guards will be ordered to free your son right away. Arrangements are made for you to leave as soon as you wish. But before that, you must take your chosen child to the middle room at the east turret and mark him or her with the seal of the High Council. I assume you know that after that, you will lose all claims of ownership over that one. Are you content with that?" LaCroix nodded his head in agreement. "I will have Nicholas in my room this very night. I will take care of the other task immediately after our conversation is over, but when I return, I expect to see my son safe and present in my room." Acheron bowed his head, even as he seethed inwardly. He cursed LaCroix under his breath and couldn't help his instinctive growl when he saw him smirk in satisfaction. "You know, my lord, you're not the only ruler who has tasted my power of manipulation. I have survived by it for centuries, both as mortal and immortal. Remember that for the next time we meet, although I strongly hope it will be a very long time from now." When he turned to leave the room, he was pleased with the sound of Acheron's sword being fiercely pulled out of its sheath. he thought as he listened to the noble ruler chop and break parts of his embellished throne seat with his sword in the fit of his unleashed anger. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ @}--`--}--, ----- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They were there. He knew it as soon as he turned the car into the garage. The area vibrated with their presence, and he felt it as he rode the elevator up to the loft. When it reached the top, he spent a long time just staring at the door, anticipating what was beyond before at last summoning the courage to grab the handle and yank it open. He was greeted by four pairs of voraciously blazing eyes and a pair of stony green ones. Arthur and his Destroyers where waiting for him. He silently stepped out of the lift and closed the door. The light from behind disappeared when the door was shut, leaving the large living area bathed in moonlight and the tiny flickers that were coming from the fireplace and one single candle lit on the kitchen table. He made a quick survey of the surrounding. Aside from the five Enforcers, he could sense other beings, ancient and powerful, standing just beyond the dim light in the shadows at the back of the loft. The feeling he was getting from them was the same he had felt when he had stood in trial in the dog-fighting arena two nights ago. He knew they had been informed and that this time, the handling would be rather different. He turned his eyes back to his brother, who was now standing in front of him, hands behind his back, chin raised, like an acrimonious SS officer ready to arrest a cornered resistance fighter. "Greetings, Nicholas." His voice was different. Nick could sense the tinge of threat within it. Behind Arthur, the fully vamped out Destroyers formed a barrier, standing just a step away from the interrogator in a semi-circular formation. As the fluttery light of the candle was cast on their bulky forms, he saw for the first time that they were all armed with sharp stakes and special rifles. He forced himself to stay calm and show none of his inner feelings. "Greetings to you, Arthur, and to your companions. Of course, you all are most welcome in my home." In his sarcasm he almost sounded like LaCroix, and was oddly proud of it. Arthur raised his eyebrows, but other than that, his stance didn't change a bit. He continued in the same noncommittal tone. "This is not an ordinary visit, as I'm sure you know." Nick fought to restrain an involuntary shiver. He knew of these visits; the stories of the Enforcers' fearsome interrogation sessions had been told around in the Community for centuries. Most of their subjects either caved in or died the true death. He gulped uneasily, but didn't take his eyes off the vampire who stood in front of him. He would not show fear, no matter what the cost; weakness would only denote his ultimate defeat. Just as he had strained himself to hold the interrogator's gaze for as long as it took, he suddenly saw something different in the eyes: an age-old sorrow, a never-recited tale of pain and rejection, well hidden behind the impenetrable mask. //I crave all that. I want all of what you said, the pain, the pressure, the punishment and the love. // The memory of his words came to him entirely unbidden, but it was cut short by the echo of the cold voice coming from behind the mask, the stoic tone now leveled to utter the next unfeeling, reproachful announcement. "You stand accused of violating the first article of the Code, the rule of concealment. There is a mortal in this city that knows about you and your nature and is _not_ by any means bounded to you or any other vampire. We need to know the whereabouts of that mortal, now." He didn't blink. His eyes stayed fixed on the cruel and demanding face in front of him, but he didn't speak a word. //They were leaving the castle on the darkest of nights. No moon, no stars, not even fireflies in the forest. He felt cold even though he knew their kind wasn't supposed to. The nightmare of the castle's dungeon, the terror of his life hanging by a thread, of how he would be chastised by either the dark lord or his displeased master, stirred in his mind and made his body shiver as if standing in the path of a cold wind. He felt Janette squeeze his hand before she released it and went to get in the coach. Then he saw his master point to him and with his head hung low, he obediently walked to where the coach was waiting. But then he looked back-he didn't know why, but it was as if something had tugged at his mind-and saw a face at the window looking down at him. He slowed. "LaCroix, didn't you say all the others had left? I think I see someone standing behind that window." He pointed toward the middle window of the east tower directly facing them. "All the others _have_ left, Nicholas, come here and let us be gone, too." "But, LaCroix, I see a face behind that window. Someone is looking at us from there." He felt his master's anger flare through the link and then his large hand as it grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him toward the waiting coach in a nearly painful wrench. At the same time, he heard sullen words spoken into his ear. "I said there is no one left in the castle, boy. Come and get in the coach." He had no choice but to comply. A minute later, after they were all seated and settled down, the coach started to move, taking them away from Lord Acheron's castle and Charente with all its memories and secrets left behind. // The silence stretched between them. Arthur, watching the other's muteness and reading it as concrete defiance, dropped his gaze to the floor and started pacing around him like a predator circling its prey. Having reached behind Nick, he leaned over his shoulder to speak softly in his ear. "This isn't a trial, Nicholas. You and your mortal ally are already convicted by the Council's jury. All that we ask now is to know where she is." "And why is that, Arthur?" Nick finally countered, just as Arthur completed his circle around him and they once again stood face to face. "I mean, why do you need her to be here right now if the judgment is already passed? Could it be because the jury hasn't really taken your word for it and needs more proof? Isn't that why you need her present, to show them as evidence?" Arthur's eyes blazed. It seemed like he had greatly underestimated Nick's astuteness, which had naturally sensed the presence of the jury. It was important to bring in the mortal soon, before he jeopardized his own reputation and that of the British Enforcement that he represented. Infuriated, he stepped up before Nick and hissed in his face. "Tell us where she is." Nick stayed unspeaking as he coolly eyed the intimidating creature in front of him. Good, he was getting angry. Maybe that would give him a chance and prolong this interrogation enough for Natalie to put ample distance between them. "I don't know. She didn't tell me were she was going when she left." Arthur huffed like a steam machine. Nick discovered that he was actually enjoying giving the interrogator a tough time. He watched him turn around and take a few steps before he whirled again to address him. "But I'm sure she left you a way to contact her. A cell phone number, a pager perhaps? She's with the Toronto PD like you, isn't she? Shouldn't you guys always have a way to stay in touch?" He eyed him expectantly. "I don't know of any way to contact her. She left without saying a word to me or anyone else. I don't think you can reach her at this point through any means." Arthur marched up to him, this time shouting irritably. "LIAR!" He pushed his bare fangs in Nick's face and Nick was reminded of Nat's remark of the prehistoric mountain lion. //I can crush you with my bare hand if I want, right here and now.// With a swift movement, Arthur broke off the gaze and stepped back once again, studying him. Sensing that he would not get anything more out of his captive, he returned to the daunting interrogator mood and contemplated his next move. Then, as seamless as a dark cloud, a frightening calmness spread above his head and slowly floated down, covering his whole being like an evil cloak. He finally decided that time was over for senseless dialogue and had come for them to get some real answers. He motioned to one of the agents to come closer and whispered something in his ear too hushed for even a vampire to hear. Then he turned toward his brother. "Nicholas de Brabant, in respect of powers bestowed upon me by the High Council, I am to interrogate you to uncover the whereabouts of a certain mortal who is suspected of having illicit knowledge of our existence. You denied having knowledge either of her location or a way to contact her. I ask you once again, Nicholas de Brabant, is that what you claim to be the truth?" Nick hesitated to answer. This was a difficult predicament. One did not lie to an Enforcer, the consequences of such a lie-if detected-were said to be deadly. Yet the truth wasn't any less harmful, either, as it probably meant Natalie's death in light of her extended knowledge about their kind. He was telling the truth when he said he didn't know where she was, but the phone number she gave him before she left that night was the freshest thing on his mind, and he couldn't deny that knowledge. Finally, he lowered his eyes and answered, "It is the truth that I know nothing about her location. She didn't tell me when she left." He looked up, a kind of determination shining in his eyes. "That is all I will admit to you." Arthur snarled as he pressed on, "So you don't deny possessing the knowledge of her way of contact? She did leave you a phone number by which you could reach her, didn't she?" Nick didn't meet his gaze. He was now looking straight ahead, into the dismal void that shrouded his home. //You don't deserve to be with her. You don't deserve any of this. You are just a mere infant who thinks he's the prince of the realm. // He knew they were watching him, that this wasn't a trial anymore but a battle of wills between him and his brother. Taking in a single shallow breath, he answered the question with the truth. "Yes. She did." Arthur was pleased. Not because he wouldn't have enjoyed Nicholas' condemning himself more by lying to them, but because the confession had cleared all doubts in his own mind about the situation. Of course the vampire wouldn't let the mortal run off without having a way to track her. Vampires were highly territorial creatures, even if they were sometimes careless in doing it the right way, such as binding the mortal completely to themselves. But that was why they-the Enforcers-were there. To take care of other people's carelessness. "All right, then. You just admitted to having her phone number. Therefore, I require you to contact her immediately and tell her to come here. *Now*" As if materialized out of the darkness, a phone was pressed into Nick's hand by one of the Enforcers, who suddenly appeared at his shoulder and just slightly behind him. He looked down at the phone in his hand for a few moments and then-as if having already finished with it-turned and handed it back to the one who gave it to him. "What is the meaning of this?" Arthur inquired angrily. "The meaning of this," Nick countered calmly, "is that I am not going to call her or tell her anything. This is between 'our kind,' as you may say. There is no need to get the mortals involved." Arthur pounded his fist so hard on a nearby table that it cracked. "This _is_ about the mortal. And if you refuse to call her yourself, you will give us her phone number so that _we_ can do it." Nick's voice wavered as he spoke. "I won't do that either, and I think it's unnecessary to tell you I haven't written it down," he said as he watched Arthur look around the loft in unchecked fury. Arthur stopped his frenzy and looked at his brother through glowing eyes. So many years, so much time passed, and this one still managed to irritate him. No matter where he went or what he became, it was an unspoken and unfaltering law that Nicholas would be the winner, always one step ahead. With Janette, with LaCroix, with the Huberstein painting, and even now, when he was in such a dire position as a convicted violator of the Code. He simply wanted to reach out and break his victorious neck. he told himself. Not here and not tonight. He would put an end to this unending chain of defeat and denial and wretchedness once and for all, in the proper legitimate way, the way of the Enforcer. "You will tell us what we want to know or we will use other methods to obtain it from you." Nick looked up; his blue eyes reflected the iridescent light coming from the fireplace like sunlight bouncing off the surface of a lake. They were soft, filled with all possible emotions but fear, even though he knew only too well what Arthur had meant with his last indication. The beautiful eyes flickered for another few seconds before they were cast down. He knew about those 'other methods.' LaCroix had used them with him many times in the past. In all those centuries, whenever he had a secret he didn't want to share with his master, or something he wanted to protect, like a friend, a possession or something the knowledge of which had to be kept from him, LaCroix would eventually employ his other methods to extract the information. When asking and shouting-and sometimes even beating-wouldn't work, he simply switched to biting and drawing blood. A cruel practice that Nick loathed, not just because of the access it provided for his sire to his thoughts and feelings-there would be more than one occasion that those were used later on against him-but because the actual act in itself was contemptuous to a person, human or vampire. Throughout the years, as he grew older and more skilled, he managed to develop ways of defending himself by blocking his thoughts against the onslaught on his mind through the blood. But even though it protected his thoughts from being invaded, it was no protection against the assault itself. He emerged from his rumination to see Arthur standing mere inches in front of him. His face held a deadly expression that didn't fit with its youthful features. He was all Enforcer now, no trace left of the vulnerability Nick had spotted earlier in the emerald green eyes. He heard the callous voice; sounding like someone was asking another person if they wanted to die. "For the last time, Nicholas de Brabant, will you tell us the phone number of the mortal woman?" Nick took in a deep breath and replied. "No!" Arthur made a sign to the Enforcer standing behind Nick. In a fraction of a second, Nick's arms were grabbed and twisted behind his back and he was flung to the floor and onto his knees. The Enforcer who held him crouched next to his body, but far enough away to give room to another Enforcer who came to his side, also kneeling behind him and holding his shoulders in a death-like grip. They lingered in that position and waited for their superior to give the next command. Arthur was now standing over him, his eyes back to their normal green, and remarkably passionless, just like his voice. "I give you one last chance to give us that information willingly, and I highly suggest you take it. I assure you, it would create an unpleasant situation for all of us if you resist." Nick stared up at him from the floor, his jaw stubbornly set. With a wave of his hand, Arthur gave the last order and the Destroyer kneeling behind Nick tightened his grip on his shoulders before he savagely bit into his neck under his left ear, sinking his mammoth fangs deep into the cool flesh. Nick bit back his yell of pain. He felt all his muscles tense as his blood was forcefully sucked away from him. The fangs that pierced his neck were so deep they had severed a nerve, sending shots of pain through his entire body whenever his assailant moved them. He tried to concentrate on something other than the pain, but his vision was clouding rapidly. Through the red haze that covered everything around, he saw Arthur's towering figure, leaning slightly forward, watching him with those same heartless green eyes. //Why do they all love *you?* Why should you be his chosen one without having proven a thing to him? Why doesn't he throw you out like he did with me two centuries ago?// The world spiraled around him. As the lethargic nausea that always accompanied being drained started, he began to sense something else coming at him. A mind probing at his brain, searching through the images that rapidly flashed in front of his eyes. He knew it was the Enforcer looking for Natalie's phone number, the one piece of information they were searching for. Breathing hard to shut out the pain and nausea, he tried to concentrate on hiding that part of his mind from the invader, burying it deep under layers of thoughts, memories and useless data to keep it from them, an ability he had mastered during his years with LaCroix. He felt the Enforcer stir, his drinking slow as he tried to break through the barriers Nick had erected. Nick's mind fluctuated with his attempts, and he held on vigorously, fighting the repeated efforts of the other to break through. At last the Enforcer retreated. Nick felt the fangs withdraw from his neck and heard a voice speaking very close to his left ear. Talking to Arthur. "He is blocking." The voice was flat. Not complaining or accusing, just informing, coming from the soulless creature that it was. Bending down, Arthur grabbed a fist full of Nick's hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to open his eyes and to look him in the face. He growled. "Let go if you don't want to hurt more." He was trembling now. He struggled to keep his eyes on his tormentor. His arms were still in the steel grip of the other Enforcer, and the one who had bitten him continued to hold him by the shoulders. He would admit he was grateful for that, because if they let go, he would most likely slump to the floor. Suddenly, his world exploded in pain as Arthur backhanded him brutally across the face with a force that would break a mortal's neck. He gasped for air as his nose and mouth filled with blood and some of it started flowing down his chin. Just then, Arthur grabbed his hair again and snapped his head back, making him look in his eyes again. "We're going to try this one more time. I don't want to hear you block anything, you understand?" He let go of Nick's head and watched it drop to his chest. With another signal of his hand, the fangs returned to the trembling vampire's neck, piercing the artery this time, drinking down the flowing blood viciously. His brain started to float afresh with the prodding presence returning for another assault. He bit down on his lip with the already protruded fangs and squeezed his eyes tightly, focusing hard on separating the parts he wanted to expose and the parts he didn't. It was getting harder, as with each passing second, more of his precious life-giving blood was being pulled out of him. He felt the Enforcer shake his head rapidly; shredding the wound he had made to get more blood. He knew he was trying hard to read the blood and fought to block him from the part he sought. Another blow to his face was the answer to his struggle. His breath came in a short gasp and he fought down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. His mind was filled with images now. He could see them as clearly as a slide show: Janette showing him her new dress; LaCroix sitting in a large chair reading a book; the three of them in the woods, hunting; Lord Acheron's castle; Arthur's face behind the window... his pain. Yes, that _was_ what he had felt that night. It was the sorrow of a forlorn vampire abandoned by his family and his father, to be cursed into a life that turned him into a monster, an Enforcer, a creature that even his own kind loathed and feared. He took another small breath as he looked at his brother with more concentration, through tear- filled eyes, and was hit once more across the face, with the pain immediately searing through him. Images of Natalie were starting to surface. He tried to figure where they had come from, but saw them being instantly snatched away by an unseen hand, like a big hungry lizard with a large lapping tongue stealing them as soon as they appeared. He let out a whimper and tried to gain back his focus, but everything seemed to move differently now, and the insistent pain in his head kept him from thinking clearly. He saw Natalie in the morgue putting on her surgical gloves, then the image changed into a picture of her sitting on the couch watching TV. Again, the scene flashed away and another one appeared, this time of her standing in the loft, reaching inside her purse and bringing out a cell phone. Then she punched some keys on it and turned it toward him, speaking to him in a muted voice. The scene came closer, the phone enlarged, its green LCD screen filling up his entire vision, a row of numbers visible on it, coming into focus... "Nononononononono!" He screamed as Arthur hit him again and again. A feeling like falling into a bottomless pit overcame him, the world slowly going dark as a ghostly blackness oozed >from all directions to cover his view. He tried to fight it, but only managed to sink deeper into it. Finally giving in, his body screamed for relief as he allowed his mind to go blank and the unconsciousness to take him over. He felt his body hit the floor and the last thing he heard was Natalie's fear-filled cry, calling his name from some place beyond the world, through thunder and storm, through the thousand other voices that had suddenly filled the air. And then someone turned off the lights and shut down the sound system and all of a sudden, he plunged into a dark silence, and sighed. Arthur was startled by the sound coming from the lift, the clunk of the door closing and then a woman's loud and piercing shriek. He broke from his taut concentration on the now unconscious Nick to where the sound had come from, and saw the mortal woman he was looking for. She was standing by the door looking with terrified eyes at the prone figure of the blond vampire. An insurmountable joy filled his whole being and he was on his way to leap at her and prevent her escape when all of a sudden he saw her run... toward them. She kept screaming Nick's name as she fell to her knees next to the lifeless vampire, and slid her hands around his neck to turn him over and lay his head on her lap. Her face was wet with streaming tears. "Nick! Oh, Nick, what have they done to you?" Arthur was stunned by the scene. Nick seemed completely out cold and didn't respond to the mortal's caresses and pleas. The woman had taken out a handkerchief and was dabbing at the blood running from his nose and his lips. She kept calling to him, completely oblivious to her surrounding or the dangerous creatures that were present in the room. He didn't even have to restrain her; she had walked with her own feet into the trap. "This mortal has clearly shown her awareness of our existence right here and now and therefore must die. I will see to her elimination." He was looking at the space beyond the dark but was aware when the mortal raised her hate-filled gaze toward him. He looked down. She was beautiful, her round face bathed in trickling tears, her chest jumping from her gasps every once in a while. She was only looking at him, but her eyes said more than her words could ever do, and her hands cradled the golden head in her lap so protectively, it resembled a mother's embrace of her child. One of the Destroyers moved. Arthur held up his hand, palm out, commanding him to stop, then reached down and grabbed the mortal by the neck of her shirt, pulling her to her feet and breaking her hold on Nick. She was now hanging by her collar, held like a kitten in his grip. He bent over her throat and touched his lips to her hot skin, he could almost smell her fear, which made the blood flow wild, made it jump at the bite and taste incredibly delicious. He opened his mouth and bared his fangs over the smooth flesh, nearly breaking the skin. "STOP!" From the shadows of the back, a young woman emerged, dressed in a ceremonial Native American attire. Her face shone in the firelight as she stepped closer and the medallion she wore around her neck reflected the flames, its symbol clearly that of the High Council's. Her hair was silky black falling on her shoulders and down her back. A feather hung from one side of it. Arthur looked up at the authoritative shout that came from the presence in front of him. His eyes returned to their regular human color, but he wrapped one arm around the mortal and held her firm as he addressed the other woman with a courteous nod. "Noayak!" The woman answered his greeting with a nod of her own, then spoke in a voice that sounded deep and wise. "Arthur of Wales, the mortal woman you are holding now is Doctor Natalie Lambert. She is a medical examiner at Toronto's coroners' office. You were right about her knowledge of our secret, but you never mentioned her name. You may not know that Dr. Lambert's case had been a subject of debate for a while now at the Toronto Council and the decision is still pending. She is a resister, yes, and therefore a danger to the Community, but she also has helped the Community in many ways in the past by covering up mistakes and mess-ups created by those who don't know the Code. She's proven to be more useful than dangerous since she has been aware of our existence for a while now, and we haven't had any problems regarding her knowledge so far. Hence, on behalf of the Toronto Council and as a high member, I suggest you release her and finish the interrogation, now." Arthur looked at her for a long time, hesitant, as if he couldn't believe what she had said. Slowly, his hold loosened on Natalie and she slid onto the floor with no sound. The Enforcer stepped forward and addressed the Native woman in wonderment. "You mean you knew about this all along, and you never took any active measures? How could that even be possible? Does the High Council of the old world know?" The cat-like eyes of the woman observed him smoothly. "I told you about the conditions of this case, and need not repeat myself. This is too small a thing to trouble the High Council with. But if it makes you feel better in doing your job, yes, they are informed." Arthur seethed, still not believing the change that just had happened. He thought he had finally succeeded, finally cracked the case that had taken him so far from home. His whole travel to the North Americas would have gained a meaning, a sense of usefulness, if he had finished this. It would have meant one more step toward enforcing the Code, one more step to fortify the High Council's power, a warning from the European elders to these New World greens. And perhaps something even more significant for him, he thought, as he looked at the still figure of Nicholas lying at his feet. It could have been a victory, this time for him, to finally overcome all those caged up feelings that had been eating on him for such a long time. And now, it was all gone. Noayak-clearly considering the argument as finished-took a step toward Natalie, but stopped before reaching her side and looked up at Arthur with a commanding gaze. Getting her message, and regarding the fact that she was a prominent member of Toronto's Council, Arthur stepped back and allowed her access to the mortal's side. He was as calm and obedient as any Enforcer would be in relation to a Council member, but his inside was boiling like vampire blood exposed to the sun. Noayak knelt by Natalie and held her dazed face in her hands, looking her deep in the eyes. Natalie stared for a time before she roughly pulled back, already gaining some awareness. "No! I don't want you to erase my memories. I want to remember what happened, to help Nick. He deserves to know all this, after the way you treated him." The female vampire shook her head reassuringly as she placed her cool palms once again on the sides of Natalie's face and said, "Don't worry Dr. Lambert. I'm not going to wipe out anything from your mind. I believe it's better for you to remember what was said about your case and the Council tonight. Now close your eyes and try to relax, and I'll make your pain go away." Natalie stared at her with disbelieving eyes for a second before finally closing her eyes and trying to ease her brain. Something cool touched her mind, like fresh, cold water in a hot summer's day, soothing and comforting the chaos that was tormenting her inside. She felt herself leaning into the touch as the more painful memories of the past two nights slowly unwound and smoothed through the threads of her thoughts. She smiled when the slender hands retreated in the end. "Take care of him, Dr. Lambert; he has been through a rough trial tonight, which-as you justly said-he has not deserved. Give him our high regards when he awakes." Natalie turned to look at Nick, who was still lying on the floor. She moved to his side, cradling his head once again in her arms and stroking his ruffled hair with her hand. Noayak stood and walked up to Arthur. Facing him, she reached inside her dress and pulled out a sealed parchment that she handed to the Enforcer. "You can go back to Europe, Arthur of Wales. I think your work here is done. These are the final remarks from the Toronto Council to the Council in Europe, together with a confirmation of the closing of this case." Arthur bowed his head as he accepted the roll of paper. He watched the young woman walk back to her companions, who had stayed in the shadows through the entire proceeding, and then turned toward his men. With a gesture of his hand, he ordered them to leave and proceeded to follow them. As he was passing by the pair of mortal and vampire huddled on the floor, he stopped and stared at them intensely, an unreadable expression evident in his eyes. Natalie almost expected him to say something when he broke away and left abruptly. She knew she would not forget that look ever in her life, but decided to disregard it for now. Gently, she leaned down over the golden head she was holding in her arms, and placed a tender kiss on Nick's lips. Her hand stroked the sweaty blond tresses matted on his forehead as she spoke to him affectionately. "You see how weak I am? I couldn't find the heart to leave you, not even for one day. I told myself that's what he wants, that's what he's asked you, but I couldn't. What can I say; I care too much? You know, sometimes I ask myself who the real fool here is. You with your incessant sacrifices to achieve a dream of atonement, or me, the fool who always comes back, always sticks around, even though she knows there would never be anything other than pain and suffering for her in that dream. She always comes back, the fool, and do you know why, Nick? Did you ever ask yourself that question? Why she stays around? Would it surprise you too much if I said that this fool loves you? Loves you more than anyone else in her life? Would you not admit that she's a fool?" She bent down to place another kiss on his lips, and smiled when she felt him stir. Epilogue @}--`-- The cool night air swept over Toronto, taking the city's sounds and silences with it. The night was calm and mystic, like a gentle lullaby sung by a gypsy or the embodiment of a magical dream where darkness was punctured by man-made stars. The lights of the downtown high-rises shining from afar blended with the tiny stars that in turn looked pale against the fullness of the moon. Smoke rose from a nearby building lit from below, drifting in the air like the puff of a sleeping dragon. From somewhere down the alley came the sound of someone playing a saxophone, its sad tunes meshed with the city's usual nightly noises of traffic and roaming salesmen. He landed on the rooftop, his long coat flapping in the wind. He stared at the city lights before him, at Toronto's skyline which he was going to leave before long. He could sense the other standing behind him; he didn't need to turn. Even after so many centuries had passed with the two of them so far apart, the feeling still was something more than just a simple awareness of another's presence; the feeling was what it had always been, one of a kind. The other was silent too, most likely waiting for him to utter the first words. And wasn't that so much like him? Like what he remembered of him, what he had been, how he had stayed in his shattered and lost memories? He could hear the flutter of the other's coat echoing his own; he, too, was looking at the city, listening to the silent tunes and the sounds of life. The mortals who saw this night would all die some day, their homes would crumble and turn to dust and new buildings would be built on top of them. The city would rejuvenate over and again as time went by; it would never die. Just like the two of them. And perhaps, one night, they would stand in this very spot once again, looking at the reconstructed city with the same old eyes, listening to the same unending tunes of life going on. At last he decided to speak. He didn't turn toward the other man; instead he kept his eyes roaming over the city. "You were here all the time." "Yes." The voice came from behind, like a velvet caress, yet so strong. Oh yes, that had not changed, either. "Even though you were told to stay out of the city for the length of the investigation?" he continued. "I do not take orders from anyone. I thought they knew that." He looked over his shoulder at the tall figure of the ancient man, watching him out of the corner of his eye. This power, this daunting superiority that emanated from him, had haunted his thoughts for as long as he remembered yearning it. "You gave your word not to interfere. You do value your own promises, don't you?" "I do indeed." "Then why did you stay?" "I did not interfere, did I?" "You picked up his body from where he had collapsed in the arena on the night of the trial. You carried him to the Raven that night." "Was it said that he must perish in the sun after that ludicrous show of yours? Don't you think it would have ruined the fun you were planning to have by interrogating him yourself?" At that, he turned to face him. The usual cold face, the eternal smug look, one eyebrow raised in mock amazement, daring the other to challenge his words. He was the statue of intimidation and awe, no matter how much time might pass. "I can still arrest you for breaking your vow. I can argue to the Council that you interfered with the investigation." "Oh, by all means, my dear, try. I am sure your last argument's remarkable success will certainly endorse you in accomplishing your next one." A smile formed on his lips, showing his enjoyment of the conversation. Arthur bit his lip, annoyance palpable in his glassy green eyes. He stared up at his one-time master, to whom he knew he didn't owe anything now. Their bond had been broken centuries ago on the night he was left behind in the castle of Charente. Yet even now, looking at the ancient-at the man before whom he once would've fallen on his knees to gain his acceptance-still carried a sense of mixed emotions, some he could not put into words. A long time had passed, his life changed to a whole new direction. All that was left for him now were the assignments, the High Council and the Code. The empty gap his family had left him with had long been sealed by his vow to those entities, or so he thought. He lowered his eyes, not daring to look at the cold blue gaze in fear of what the ancient might read in them. But the acknowledgment escaped him before he even knew how. "You still care for him. After so many centuries, you still do." The green eyes rose to meet the glacier ones. "Of course," came the short reply with an assurance that shook him. "Why?" He didn't want to ask that, either. He didn't want to open the old wound. But again, he was not able to stop himself in time. The answer came in the same sardonic tone. "Why, he is my son. Every father worries when something bad is about to happen to his child, don't you agree?" For a single split second, he wished he were somewhere else. The pain of hearing those words was nothing compared to the things he had endured on his way to becoming an Enforcer, but a lot more intense if he had to listen to them while looking at those cold, piercing eyes that were so terribly empty of passion. He turned and decided to leave. The weight of a hand pressing down on his shoulder suggested that he wait. The voice was more vibrant this time, as it came from a close distance behind him, albeit the words still stabbing. "You knew that a long time ago, didn't you? You cannot blame anyone for what happened back then. Not me, and certainly not him. It was all your own doing. You planned a clever scheme, set up all the pieces carefully in place, and were so sure of your win that you didn't even see it backfire." A small breath touched the side of his neck and he pulled away swiftly. The figure behind him stood still, hands dropping to his sides, but even without seeing, he could feel the icy gaze on him. All of a sudden, he realized he didn't want to talk anymore, didn't want to dig up the past. It was there where it should've stayed, buried deep in earth with constantly revivifying cities built and destroyed on top of it. He looked at LaCroix in detached nonchalance, then turned back to the city to deliver his final words. "When you brought me across all those centuries ago, at first I thought that it had been an accident, that you never wanted me as a son. Then you fed me and took care of me and I felt glad. As a mortal, no one had ever taken care of me like that. I was a child of nobility, brought up by nurses and servants with a father who spent all his life on battlefields and horses and a mother who couldn't choose between her many lovers. Then I met you and you showed me fatherly care, tenderness, and when it was required, discipline. And for once, I felt treasured. I was happy during those years, thinking I was your chosen one, your precious son, all until Pericleia died. You do remember that time, don't you?" The master's proud head slightly tilted. He had kept his eyes on the Enforcer during the recitation of a tale he had strangely felt compelled to listen to. But now, he, too, had to look away. "When she died and you left me, it took me some time to realize what had truly happened. At first, I thought you were angry with me, that somehow I had done something to deserve your hate. I desperately wanted to see you again and ask for your forgiveness. It wasn't until our second encounter in Obuda, after you told me to stay away from you and Janette and not to ever try to find you again, that I realized the truth. It was the hardest thing I had to accept and somehow I never did. "When I heard about Nicholas, my mind went on a frenzy to try and find an excuse for why you had picked him. I simply couldn't accept you choosing another son; I convinced myself that the same scenario must have been repeating itself. You picked me to keep Pericleia company, then discarded me when she died; now you had Janette and had brought over Nicholas to make _her_ happy. Hearing about the circumstances of his conversion, and Janette's active part in it, strengthened my theory. I was almost accusing you of being a bore who couldn't do anything innovative other than repeating himself, until I saw you with them at the castle of Charente." "When I saw the way you looked at Nicholas, the love you had for him shining so vividly in your eyes, I felt a fracture of anger and doubt crack through my confidence. The picture of the three of you arriving together, standing together at all the meetings, spending day and night in each other's company, clearly showed me what my mind so desperately was trying to deny. It was an undeniable truth that everyone else seemed to know about except for me. And they all did talk about it. About how close you were to your newest fledgling, how protective you were of him, how possessive toward your right of ownership over him. They talked about the hours and days you had spent, that you still spent after a hundred plus years, teaching and training him. And how harsh and disciplinary you were towards him. I didn't want to believe it, took it all as one big misconception, not until after Acheron chose him as the next Enforcer-to-be, and you gave your speech on who your family really was. Then I knew it was the truth." He finally turned toward his father, his face a cold mask of indiscernible emotions. The ancient's mood didn't seem to have changed a bit during his recital-his face as cold a mask as his own-and he hadn't expected anything else, either. He wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know; he was just pointing it out. Shooting a glance at the sky, he walked to the other and put hands on his upper arms. LaCroix raised his head and looked him in the eye. "Take care, Father. I, too, hope our paths never cross again. I understand your abhorrence of me now, since you're not the only one. I know what I am and how others feel about us. At least when you handed me to the Enforcers, you provided me with a reasonable rationale for why others, including yourself, would hate me. Now, I don't have to worry about it, and I am strangely grateful for that." He dropped his arm and walked to the ledge, a gust of wind catching his long trench coat and winding it around his form. He turned his eternally youthful face toward LaCroix and smiled. "Goodbye, my friend." He was gone in the next blast of the wind, taking his image away in a blur as if it never had been. As the wind stilled, LaCroix found himself standing alone on the rooftop and looking over the deserted streets. The moon was halfway through the sky and was pouring its pale light all around him. Slowly, he turned up his face toward the reflected light of the sun, to where his companion of a few minutes ago seemed to have disappeared, and whispered. "So we were, and so we shall be." In a different part of the city, Natalie was getting ready to go home. She had spent all day taking care of Nick as the wounded vampire finally came to, and had fed him all that he had stocked in his refrigerator. She had made sure he was comfortable on the couch while handing him one bottle after another and recounting what had happened that night after he had lost consciousness. Everything was like the previous day, only this time there was no fear, no undercurrent of threat running through their conversation, just cooling peace as she sat next to him on the couch and massaged his shoulders. They had made jokes and had laughed. Later, as the evening progressed, she had checked his vital signs again to make sure everything was fine. Noting his drawn features, she had suggested that he book the night off and go to bed again to spend the rest of the day and the next night in complete rest until he was ready to join the mayhem of the precinct. His request of her to stay with him a little more was delivered in such a sweet way that she just couldn't refuse. It was almost dawn when she groggily got out of his bed, looking at the fast asleep vampire with caring eyes. After so many years, Nick still slept like a child, his features filled with delightful abandonment and simple innocence. She threaded her hands through the golden strands of hair before she tucked him in and grabbed her purse to go back to her apartment and catch some real sleep. She looked at him as she was leaving the room, then walked back to the bed and placed a small kiss on his forehead. She felt a hand close around her wrist just as she turned to leave, causing her to look back at the man lying on the bed. Ocean blue eyes stared up at her from the warm confines of pillows and blankets, his voice soft and sleepy as he said, "Thank you, Natalie, for everything!" She bent down and kissed him again. "Always, my little devil, always." Janette looked at the paling sky while getting ready to go to bed. She liked these early hours of dawn when it wasn't too bright to be a danger to their kind, yet still bright enough to give everything its natural color. She slipped out of her expensive evening gown, leaving it carelessly on the floor as she revealed her perfect body to her tall dressing mirror. She grabbed the sides of the clip that held her beautiful raven hair in a tangle of curls on top of her head, and opened it in one pull to release a waterfall of dark strands around her shoulders and her face. She distractedly ran her fingers through the tangles and walked to her dressing table to take her sleeping gown out of the drawer, when she was startled by a sound coming from the window. She looked up, staring intently at the space beyond, but her acute vampiric vision didn't register anyone or anything visible there. She took out the silk lingerie and dropped it absently on the king- size bed as she walked up to the window to observe more carefully. There, on the outside ledge, laid a single red rose together with a card. She opened the window to the coolness of the predawn and picked up the flower and the card. Her heart trembled as she turned the card over and saw a picture of the Hungarian capital on the back. It was a postcard >from Budapest with a few hasty words scribbled on the side. She turned the picture and looked at the handwriting intensely. "Forever ours." Her eyelashes fluttered as she turned her eyes toward the rapidly lighting sky, and a smile slowly graced her luscious red lips. She raised her hand and planted a kiss on her palm, then tenderly blew it to the breezy morning air that passed by the window. Pressing her treasures to her breast, she finally closed the window and the shutters and returned to her bed for another day of restful sleep. Only that day, her sleep was filled with dreams of a memory lost a very long time ago, turned into dust by a thousand years of un-life and buried on the shores of the Danube with the remains of a city called Obuda. THE END All comments to sunny_lacountess@yahoo.com "Courage, is when fear meets faith"