The Last Dance 2, 01/





 
Dance with The Devil
By Lorelei Sieja
 
  They had been dancing for hours. Nick had shed his shirt and shoes. His hair 
  curled more as it grew damp. Urs had kicked off her shoes, as well. Her soft, 
  cotton blouse had come unbuttoned far enough to reveal a smooth, pale 
  cleavage. They wore identical smiles- broad expressions that hinted of 
  seduction and romance; the feeling was mirrored in the smoky golden glow of 
  their eyes. They looked so right together. 
  Tracy grinned, wondering how much a picture of Nick like this would be worth. 
  The guys at the precinct called him the "Knightmare" and the "Ice Prince". 
  They figured that since he wasn't doing it with the coroner, who obviously was 
  hot for him, then he just must not be doing it at all. There were still bets 
  on him, on when he would get a little action and with whom. Tracy had not been 
  allowed to join the pool since they claimed she had an unfair advantage. She 
  spent more time with Nick than any of them, and, she'd learned to her own 
  embarrassment, that some of the cops were betting their money on her! Now was 
  payback time.
  She dug through her purse. There'd been that small, disposable camera she'd 
  bought three months ago when her cousin had come for a visit. She hadn't had 
  the pictures developed, as there were still some shots left. Pulling it out, 
  she checked the settings, then quietly moved a little closer. The flash might 
  draw attention, and then again, maybe not. Nick hadn't noticed anyone or 
  anything but Urs for hours now. Tracy took the shot. And another. And a few 
  more, before running out of film. Slipping the camera surreptitiously into her 
  bag, she gasped at the voice so close to her ear. 
  "I would like to have a copy of that when you get it developed," LaCroix said 
  smoothly.
  Tracy grinned. "I think it will turn out nicely. It's good to see Nick like 
  this. I haven't ever seen him so relaxed."
  "Nor have I," LaCroix said. There was a sadness in his voice. "At least, not 
  for a long, long time."
  She wondered what was a "long time" for the vampire. Then a yawn slipped out 
  and she shuddered. 
  "Let me show you to your room," LaCroix offered. 
  "I don't have to stay," she said, stammering awkwardly. "I could just go home, 
  although I came in Nick's car, so I don't know how I'll..."
  "You will stay in my guest room." End of discussion. Tracy followed him up the 
  stairs to his apartment. The windows were heavily shuttered against the sun, 
  she noticed, just like Nick's loft. Her sleepy eyes drifted across the simple, 
  yet elegant furnishings that spoke of wealth, power, and sophistication. Her 
  host was already down the hallway. She hurried to catch up. 
  "This is where Nicholas will be staying," LaCroix informed her. "No doubt 
  Ursula will keep him contented, but I suggest that you lock your door. His 
  stomach wakes up a good thirty minutes before his brain."
  Tracy blanched. She'd never thought of her partner as dangerous before. Oh, 
  he'd been rather violent towards Roy Benson two nights ago, but she'd never 
  been afraid of him. "Yes, thank you," she said nervously. She caught the 
  yellow lights in his eyes as well. He must have known that the vampires were 
  getting tired and their control was slipping. He'd herded her here for her own 
  safety. She smiled at him before closing the door. It had been the strangest 
  of nights. 
  Nick and Urs did not quit dancing until the band put away their instruments. 
  Nick begged Vachon to play one more number, but Urs smiled at him through 
  half-closed eyes. "Nicky, I'm really tired. Can't we go to bed yet?"
  Nick hugged her, twirling around in a circle as her feet came off the floor. 
  "But I promised Tracy the last dance," he said lightly. 
  "Miss Vetter retired hours ago," LaCroix stated. "She is in Janette's room. I 
  trust you won't mind, but since you brought her here, I thought it best."
  Nick stared at him for a few minutes, as the lateness of the hour suddenly 
  struck him. "Yes, of course. Thank you." Then with an arm around Urs, he 
  headed upstairs himself. 
  Vachon eyed LaCroix coolly. The ancient vampire was about to dismiss the young 
  Spaniard, but his inane grin was most irritating. "Is there something on your 
  mind for a change?" LaCroix demanded.
  Vachon grinned; the insult went right past him in his exhaustion. "I was just 
  thinking. If my fledgling and your fledgling hang out, then that must make us 
  like in-laws."
  "Vachon. Don't think again. It isn't safe." Then LaCroix turned and fled to 
  the quiet retreat of his apartment. 
  Tracy awoke, luxuriating in the feel of satin sheets on her bare skin. The 
  room was bathed in rosy sunlight. She'd opened the drapes before going to 
  sleep, as further protection from the vampires in the building. But now the 
  sun was setting. It was time to move. A yawn shook her entire frame. It was a 
  good thing that she didn't have to work tonight. She'd had entirely too much 
  fun and too little sleep. 
  She stretched in front of the window, feeling the warm sun on her bare skin. 
  Last night's clothes still lay in a heap on the floor where she'd dropped 
  them. She didn't really feel like pulling them back on. The room had a 
  decidedly feminine look to it. Pulling out a few drawers revealed that it was 
  indeed a woman's room, a woman about her size with expensive tastes in 
  clothes. She selected one of the more "casual" outfits, designer jeans and an 
  over-sized v-neck sweater, then stepped into the private bath for a shower. 
  Before long, she felt brave enough to venture out. 
  Nick sat at the piano, playing softly. His hair was damp from a shower as 
  well, and he wore only a soft, faded pair of jeans and a bathrobe belted 
  loosely. He seemed oblivious to her presence. She moved quietly into the room 
  and listened to him play. 
  Of course he had a piano in his loft, but she'd never heard him play before. 
  The song was sweet, hauntingly lovely. It wasn't something she could place, 
  and she thought she knew a lot about music. Her dad had dragged her and mom to 
  every fund-raiser concert from the time she'd outgrown a pacifier until she'd 
  graduated from the Academy and struck out to be "independent", and still he 
  sent her invitations. As the song ended, she stepped closer to the piano and 
  into Nick's line of sight. 
  "That was lovely. What was it?"
  Nick jumped, then he shrugged indifferently, but she saw a faint sign of a 
  blush. It was hard to see on a vampire, but there it was. Nick grabbed his 
  "wine" glass and swallowed half the contents. It didn't seem so strange now 
  that she knew his secret. 
  "It's just a little something I've been writing," he mumbled. 
  "You write? Nick, I never knew that you wrote music too. What is it called?"
  Nick got up from the bench and dodged into the kitchen. "Are you hungry? 
  LaCroix wasn't really expecting company, so I don't know what he's got around 
  to eat. Um- here, make yourself at home." 
  Tracy grinned as she saw him awkwardly pulling food items from the cupboards. 
  He obviously didn't have a clue what mortals would eat. A box of spaghetti 
  noodles, a jar of peanut butter, some oyster crackers, and a package of 
  ho-hos. Nick poured himself another glass. 
  Tracy watched as he turned away from her before drinking. So he was still 
  keeping up the charade? He wouldn't let her see his fangs, thinking she was 
  still the fool? She wondered what if anything he remembered of last night.
  "Really Nick. Wine for breakfast?" If he was going to keep up the game, then 
  she was going to play too.
  "Well, it was left over, and I can't let it go to waste now, can I," he 
  replied. 
  "You still owe me a dance," Tracy reminded him. "So I thought, maybe you and 
  Urs, Vachon and I could go out tonight. You know, double date?"
  Nick was about to shake his head no, but then he saw Tracy's innocent, hopeful 
  expression. He was already feeling guilty that he'd brought her here and then 
  forgot about her, putting her in danger. And she was so trusting. "I'll 
  mention it to Urs. What'd you have in mind?"
  Tracy shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it. Vachon doesn't like to eat 
  out, but maybe we could take in a movie or a play?"
  Nick nodded. There was a play opening at the theater. He'd seen it before; 
  he'd even acted in it once... February, 1872- the benefit under the direction 
  of the composer himself, Mussorgsky, and his significant other, 
  Rimsky-Korsakov... It might be fun to watch Urs watch it.
  "Hey, Nick. Don't zone out on me," Tracy said, waving a hand in his face. 
  "Where is Urs?"
  "Still sleeping. I kept her up too late, I guess. Funny, she dances for a 
  living, but last night I think I wore her out."
  "You're a great dancer, too. Where'd you learn to dance like that?"
  Nick grinned at her. "Twenty questions is over, pest. I'm going back to bed 
  for a few more hours. Do you need a ride somewhere? I'll call a cab."
  Tracy nodded. "Thanks, that'd be nice. Good night."
  She watched through the curtain until the cab pulled up in back, then she 
  hurried down the stairs and out, before she could meet any newly awakened 
  hungry vampires. Would they have hangovers? Life was just too weird any more.
  Back in her apartment she could almost forget about last night entirely. It 
  still bothered her that her partner had kept such a big secret from her. She 
  understood that it was the rules, and with a dad like LaCroix, she didn't 
  imagine that he broke the rules very often. Still, she felt the need to get 
  even, if only just a little. Nick still didn't know that she knew. If LaCroix 
  didn't tell him for awhile, then she'd have time to play a few pranks. 
  The telephone interrupted her. "Vetter," she said, slipping into professional 
  mode, just in case. She was on vacation now, but maybe Reese would change his 
  mind and call her back.
  "Hi, Tracy. It's Natalie."
   
   "Hi Nat," she responded nervously. She knew what Nat didn't. She knew where 
  Nick was and with whom, but it wasn't her place to share that information. 
  She'd have to speak with Nick about talking to Nat soon. It wasn't fair to 
  her. But Tracy was a little angry with Nat, too. Nat had to have known about 
  vampires- she and Nick spent too much time together for Tracy to believe 
  otherwise, and there had been so many times that Tracy could have really used 
  the advice and comfort of another woman. 
  "I heard that you and Nick are on vacation," Nat began. She was fishing, Tracy 
  thought. She was too proud to come out and ask for information. She was hoping 
  Tracy would volunteer something. Well, two could play that game.
  "Yes. Nick collared that Benson killer, but he was really out of control," 
  Tracy said. That was safe to share. Nat had most likely heard all about it, as 
  there had been plenty of witnesses and even more gossip. "I convinced Reese 
  that Nick probably came back to work too soon. I think he's still grieving for 
  his grandma."
  Tracy grinned. She wondered just how old that vampire would have been, to have 
  been LaCroix's master.
  "I heard about that," Nat said. Her tone was very concerned. "I was hoping to 
  talk to him, to see how he's doing. But he's not at the loft. I was wondering, 
  have you seen him?"
  So, she did ask. That must have cost her a lot. Tracy thought fast. She 
  couldn't have Nat go barging in on Nick and Urs, causing a lot of pain for 
  everyone. "I don't know where he is now," she replied. It was sort of the 
  truth. He was probably at the Raven, in the guest bedroom with Urs, but then, 
  they might be in the shower together, or even on the couch by now... she 
  hadn't ever thought of Nick as an insatiable lover. He always seemed so 
  tightly controlled around her. 
  "But you have seen him. You went out with him last night? How was he doing?"
  Tracy couldn't torture her any longer. So the woman hadn't trusted her, hadn't 
  confided in her. She also lost her boyfriend, and didn't even know it yet. 
  Tracy decided to offer her a little comfort. "He's doing much better, Natalie. 
  That night, I took him to see a friend, that Nightcrawler. And the next day 
  when he came in to work, he was just fine."
  Tracy heard the gasp over the phone. Natalie didn't seem to like the 
  Nightcrawler then. Why did Nick's dad like Tracy and not Nat? What was it 
  about the coroner that bugged him? Here was another puzzle for her to figure 
  out. 
  "Nat, I've got to go," Tracy lied, trying to get out of having to make up any 
  more. "If I see Nick, I'll tell him you asked about him."
  "Thanks, Tracy," she said. 
  Tracy fixed herself a big dinner, then after washing up she gave Vachon a call 
  to discuss the double date. 
  "I don't think that's a good idea," Vachon hedged.
  "Why? I've seen you hang out with mortals before," Tracy said petulantly. 
  "Don't you like Nick? You were telling me just last night that he was a great 
  guy."
  "What does Nick think," the vampire asked hesitantly.
  "It's fine with him. But he said he'd rather see the play than the movie."
  "Okay." Vachon wondered if maybe he was still suffering from sleep 
deprivation.
  "I'll come over to the church and meet you there. Bye!"
  Next she called Nick. "Can you give me a lift? I told Vachon I'd meet him at 
  his place, but I can't get my car started. Dad's going to have a new starter 
  put in tomorrow."
  "Urs isn't ready yet," Nick said.
  "That's fine. Take me to Vachon's, then we'll all go back to get Urs. Okay?"
  Nick reluctantly agreed. Before long, she saw the large green Caddy pull up in 
  front of her apartment. Nick got out and came to her door, as polite as a 
  1950's date. Tracy wondered how old he really was. 
  She whistled at him as he stepped inside. He looked very different >from the 
  half-dressed vampire on last night's dance floor. He was in a tux. His idea of 
  a date was a whole lot more formal than she'd ever imagined. "Nick, this is a 
  play, not a wedding," she teased.
  "It is opening night at the Jane Mallet Theatre. The occasion calls for more 
  dignity than jeans, Button. Shall I wait while you rethink your attire?"
  Tracy blushed. "Okay, okay. But, make yourself at home. It will take more than 
  a minute." She had a closet full of clothes. It wasn't like she didn't have 
  anything appropriate, but she did wonder about Vachon. Would he be in his 
  biker black-leathers? Maybe this double date thing wasn't such a good idea.
  She slipped into a slinky black evening gown that was slit up the side clear 
  to her thigh and quickly tossed a few items in a smaller purse, then grabbed a 
  string of pearls. Grinning, she had a sudden inspiration as she examined the 
  clasp. Setting the pearls on the floor, she stepped on the tiny clasp and 
  damaged it. Then she left her room and handed the necklace to her vampire 
  partner. "Give me a hand, Nick?" she asked, as she lifted her hair off her 
  neck. 
  Nick's fingers trailed along the smooth skin. His touch was cool, sensual. 
  Tracy felt the hair on her neck tingle at the vampire's nearness. He fumbled 
  with the clasp. She heard a muffled curse, felt his breath just behind her 
  ear. She'd never really been attracted to her partner before, but there was 
  something so erotic about a man being attracted to a woman... but then, he was 
  just responding to her blood.
  Tracy smiled knowingly. She'd seen him take his lover several times last night 
  in the Raven, and heard suspicious noises later from his room. And necks still 
  aroused him? Interesting. She wondered if Vachon would be as amorous.
  She stepped away and took the necklace from him. "Oh drat," she said, trying 
  to sound duly alarmed. "The clasp is broken." She glanced at the clock, 
  knowing already that they had plenty of time. "Maybe we could swing by the 
  jeweler's real quick and get it fixed? It won't take long."
  "Tracy," Nick started, with that annoying "big brother" tone of exasperation.
  "Sorry, Nick," she said lightly. "I don't have a lot to choose from, and these 
  were my grandmother's pearls. I'd just enjoy the evening a whole lot more if I 
  could wear them."
  Nick sighed. "All right. Let's get a move on it."
  Tracy sat up front and chatted amicably all the way to the mall. The stores 
  were open later there than downtown. She noted the stares from the usual 
  jean-clad clientele as she strolled through the mall in the black evening gown 
  next to Nick in his tux. They were worth a picture tonight, she thought 
  proudly. 
  "You know, maybe this was a good thing," she said.
  "How so?" Nick was certain he'd never understand how a woman's mind worked.
  "Well, I bet you haven't got Urs a gift yet, have you?"
  "A gift? Why should I get her a gift?"
  "You really have been single for too long, lover-boy. You should always get a 
  girl a gift. Different gifts for every occasion. Flowers if you're sucking up 
  for a date or apologizing for being a screw-up, candy for light romance, 
  diamonds when you're dead serious, got it?"
  Nick nodded vaguely, looking around for the jewelers. 
  "But you and Urs haven't known each other long enough for you to screw up yet 
  or be too serious, so this calls for a trinket. Earrings or a bracelet, or 
  something which says that you were thinking about her and you care about her. 
  Right?"
  A bracelet, Nick thought. That was a sweet idea. Urs had such delicate wrists 
  and slender hands. A simple band of diamonds would be perfect. But, he 
  couldn't let Tracy see the price tag... a cop would never buy diamonds. 
  Tracy handed the pearl strand to the jeweler and pleaded with him to fix it 
  immediately. The skinny young man with too-thick glasses mumbled how it would 
  be absolutely impossible to fix it tonight. Tracy pouted, fighting back a real 
  tear at the thought that she might have actually ruined the pearls. They had 
  been her only gift from her grandmother, a woman who had died so long ago that 
  Tracy didn't even remember her. 
  Nick leaned in to the man's face and spoke very softly. "You will fix the 
  clasp immediately," he said. Tracy concealed a grin as she recognized the 
  signs of vampire hypnotism. Nick was really good at it, much better than 
  Vachon. She wondered how many times Nick had hypnotized some one in the past 
  and she hadn't realized it. 
  As the jeweler took her necklace into a back corner to work on it, Tracy 
  glanced over the other items looking for something. "Here it is, Nick! This is 
  perfect for Urs!" 
  Nick blanched as the dainty crucifix was waved in his face, and he staggered 
  back, colliding with two customers behind him. Tracy pretended not to notice 
  as she chatted on. "Isn't it pretty? I never had one like this, as we weren't 
  brought up Catholic. We weren't really brought up to be Christian either, but 
  Dad attended the Unitarian church, because the mayor went there. Always a suck 
  up."
  Nick had recovered and moved away from her. She saw him eyeing the more 
  expensive pieces kept under a glass display case. A second clerk pulled the 
  tray out and Nick pointed to the one he wanted. Tracy felt a moment of envy as 
  she drooled over the thin bracelet set with tiny diamonds and rubies. It was 
  so old-fashioned and sweet, and so like Nick. Urs had better appreciate him, 
  she thought protectively. 
  Nick passed the clerk a credit card and waited while the gift was wrapped. 
  Then he slipped it into a pocket. He directed the clerk to add the charge for 
  Tracy's new clasp onto the bill. 
  "Nick, you didn't have to do that," she said, feeling a twinge of guilt.
  "No problem. And thanks for the idea. Do you think she'll like it?" 
  Tracy looked up at Nick quickly. How could Urs not like it? What girl would 
  reject a bracelet that was worth more than a year's salary? But Nick didn't 
  look like he was joking. His face was so hopeful and a little worried, that 
  she almost felt like patting him on the head. "I'm sure she'll love it," she 
  replied.
  Vachon was ready and waiting when they reached the church, and he was 
  appropriately attired in a tux as well. Tracy couldn't do a thing except stare 
  for many moments. He had showered, shaved the scraggly shadow from his jaw, 
  and pulled the long black hair into a tidy ponytail. She almost didn't 
  recognize him. 
  "Javier, what's this?" she whispered into his ear.
  He grinned sheepishly. "Nick's orders, Trace."
  Vachon held the back door of the Caddy open for Tracy, then he went around to 
  the other side and slid in next to her. Nick pulled away, finally returning to 
  the Raven for Urs. "You two wait here," he ordered.
  "You know, Vachon, I could get used to this new look," Tracy said, snuggling 
  up a little too closely to him.
  Vachon swallowed nervously. "A-hem. Don't get too used to it. It won't happen 
  very often."
  Nick took the stairs two at a time. The gift in his pocket weighed heavily on 
  his thoughts. Would she like it? What if she didn't? Excitement and dread 
  warred within, and he knew it would all be over soon.
  Urs was just coming out of their bedroom as Nick burst through the door. His 
  breath caught, and if he'd have been mortal, he was certain he'd have fainted. 
  Urs stood in a stunning sheath of white with silver sequins. Her blonde curls 
  were gathered together with a simple jeweled comb. Though she wore no other 
  gems, Nick thought she looked magnificent. 
  Urs turned around in a tight little circle and spoke with a nervous laugh. "Do 
  you like it?"
  Nick reached her in two quick strides and hugged her to him in a bone-crushing 
  embrace. "I love it. All of it. Urs... you look good enough to eat."
  She melted in his arms, not minding at all that her ribs were bruising. They 
  would heal quickly enough, but the love of a man was unequaled. 
  Nick nuzzled her slender throat, feeling his fangs descend and knowing that 
  the vampire was threatening to devour her again. He growled, tearing himself 
  away. There wouldn't be time for that now, thanks to Tracy. 
  "Um, I got you something," he said nervously.
  "Nicky, you didn't have to," Urs replied. "You are all that I want or need."
  Nick pulled the slim box from his pocket and held it out to her. He stammered 
  incoherently, as she loosened the paper. Pushing back the lid, she gasped at 
  the dazzling brilliance of the simple bracelet. Tears filled her eyes. "Oh, 
  Nicky! You shouldn't have!"
  She didn't like it! "I'm sorry, Urs... I'm sorry. You can exchange it for 
  something that appeals to you..."
  "Sh-sh..." she said, placing a finger on his lips. "It is beautiful! It's 
  lovely, it's perfect! No one has ever given me such a fantastic gift in my 
  entire life! Please, will you put it on? I'm shaking too much right now."
  Nick blinked back the moisture in his own eyes as he took the bracelet from 
  the velvet case. He did the clasp, then brought the graceful hand to his lips 
  and placed a kiss upon it. "You make me so very happy," he said, softly 
  singing the familiar words to an old song. 
  "Nicky," Urs whispered. She hesitated. They'd never spoken the words before. 
  But, it was a diamond bracelet! Surely, it would be acceptable now? "I, I love 
  you!"
  "I love you, too, my little bear," he exclaimed, crushing her to him again.
  A loud, familiar honking sounded from the street below. It was his Caddy. 
  Vachon or Tracy must be getting impatient. "Shall we?" he asked.
  Urs placed her arm through his and walked beside him, the joy in her heart 
  threatening to explode. 
  Nick pulled in front of the theater, leaving the engine running for the valet 
  to park. He didn't seem to mind that his thirty-year-old Caddy would share the 
  lot with Porsches and Jaguars. He took his date and entered the theater with 
  as much dignity as a crown prince. Tracy stared at him, a little awed, as she 
  wondered if the analogy wasn't so very far from wrong. Was the favored son of 
  the ancient LaCroix a prince in his community?
  They were handed programs and directed towards their seats- box seats no less. 
  Tracy noticed the orchestra, and felt a sinking suspicion that this wasn't 
  just a "play". She opened the program and skimmed it anxiously. "Nick! What is 
  this? This isn't even in English?"
  "Russian, Tracy. You know, you really should get out more," Nick said, with a 
  smirk. She had pushed this double date idea. He thought that if he made it 
  just a little too different from what she was used to, that there would never 
  be a repeat. "This is the opera, Boris Godunov."
  "An Opera? You have got to be kidding," she muttered under her breath.
  Urs kept her arm looped through Nick's, while she admired her bracelet again. 
  "I haven't been to an Opera in a long, long time," she whispered. "And I have 
  never seen this one. Tell me about it?"
  "It is a tale of political intrigue, public unrest, and a Pretender to the 
  throne," Nick began, describing a time in Russia's dismal past that was not 
  very different from many modern countries. His story was so vibrant and 
  colorful, that Tracy felt she was really there, a part of the action, 
  experiencing it first hand. 
  Then the curtains parted, revealing a courtyard near the Novodievichy 
  Monastery outside Moscow. A stage full of peasants cried out pleadingly, as a 
  police officer held them back. "Na kovo ti nas pokidayesh!" 
  "To whom art thou abandoning us," Nick whispered, for both the women's 
  benefit, as he knew Vachon's Russian was sketchy at best. The boyar, Boris 
  Godunov, had gone into retreat, and the masses were begging him to claim the 
  throne of Russia, which was still vacant. 
  For the next three hours, the awe and mystery enveloped them. The music was 
  passionate, bringing tears to the eyes of many. Vachon gallantly handed Tracy 
  a handkerchief before many songs had passed. She was grateful for the dark 
  that would conceal her own runny mascara and Urs's blood red trails. At the 
  brief intermission, she grabbed Urs to accompany her to the rest room. She 
  knew the vampire would not need it, but there was no way she was going to wait 
  in line alone.
  Urs twitched her wrist again, admiring the stones, not pretentiously, but with 
  the wide-eyed wonder of a kid at Christmas. 
  "That is so gorgeous," Tracy told her.
  "He is too sweet," Urs said. "And so thoughtful!"
  Tracy hid a smile. That was one secret she would never break. This night had 
  begun as a joke, a way to tease Nick, to get even with him, but it had turned 
  out so differently. She would just enjoy the remainder of the opera, and plan 
  the rest of her attack more carefully.
   
   
  The prospect of a week off had seemed like an eternity to Tracy, but it had 
  passed all too quickly. She'd flirted outrageously with Vachon. She's teased 
  Nick a few too many times, and she'd hardly slept at all. She covered a yawn 
  and stared at the reflection in the small mirror mounted inside her locker. 
  She looked too pale. Hanging around vampires all the time had leached away the 
  last of her summer tan. 
  "Come on, Button. No more time for day dreaming," Nick said, patting her back 
  patronizingly.
  "Don't call me that! I hate it when you call me that." Geesh, she sounded 
  crabby.
  "I know," Nick replied. His eyes were sparkling with mischief. He looked 
  wonderful after his week off. Romance had done wonders for his normally gloomy 
  disposition. 
  Several pairs of eyes stared at them as they took their desks. Nick tried to 
  ignore them, but Tracy turned on the nearest victim. "What!"
  Novak shrugged. "You two just seem mighty chummy tonight. I don't think Reese 
  meant that you had to take your vacation together." He wiggled his eyebrows at 
  her suggestively. Nick was out of his desk and had the startled officer by his 
  shirtfront before Tracy could even blink. 
  "That remark doesn't even deserve the dignity of a reply. You will apologize 
  to Miss Vetter at once, and if I ever hear that sort of nonsense from your 
  mouth again, you'll resent ever setting foot in the city of Toronto." 
  Novak paled visibly, horrified that an off-hand comment could have turned the 
  relaxed Detective Knight back into the Knightmare so quickly. "Uh-uh, I'm 
  sorry, Tracy, I, uh, didn't mean nothing."
  "Nick," Tracy said, no longer angry. "Down boy. Let him go."
  Nick unhanded him, glaring into his eyes for a moment longer, then returned to 
  his desk, effectively dismissing the stunned officer from his mind completely. 

  Getting back into work began slowly. They pulled out an unsolved from the pile 
  and spent two hours in research, looking for similar cases. After awhile Nick 
  left without saying where he was going. Tracy hoped he was going to talk to 
  Natalie. She needed a break, too, and went into the lounge. 
  The conversations stopped when she entered. She stared at them, first angrily, 
  then with amusement. They had been gossiping about her, and their renewed fear 
  of Nick made them more careful. Nick was a handy person to keep around. But, 
  it was time to put the next step of her plan into action. 
  "Nick and I are not an item," she informed them all. She heard a few mutters, 
  which included the coroner's name, and she felt a twinge of remorse for her. 
  Nick had better talk to her, before she heard it from the gossip ring. "But I 
  do know who he spends his days with." 
  A groan circled the room, as those who'd bet against the coroner suspected 
  they were about to lose. "Nope," Tracy said, unable to stifle a giggle. 
  "Hey, we're going to need some proof before we pay up," the pro-Nat-ers 
  complained. 
  "I've got proof. But what's it worth?"
  Tracy skillfully negotiated a percentage of the pot, then whipped out the 8 x 
  10 incriminating enlargement of her partner. Nick was only half dressed and 
  barefoot, dancing wildly with a seductive young blonde. Tracy had had to have 
  the odd lights in the eyes touched up. Lots of photo places advertised getting 
  rid of "red eye". She guessed that "golden eye" removal was similar. 
  "What is it with him," one disheartened and decidedly poorer cop complained. 
  "He's got to be at least twice her age. What's she see in him?"
  Tracy laughed out loud. "Nick is sensitive, thoughtful, and romantic. What's 
  not to see, Gordon? Just because your idea of a hot date is pizza and 
bowling."
  "You got it for him, too?" Gordon sounded shocked.
  "Not me. I have someone of my own. And if you want more information, you'll 
  have to get it the hard way. Nick's more like a brother to me. I guess I 
  couldn't ever get too interested in anyone I work with." Then she pocketed her 
  winnings and hurried back to her desk before her partner returned. She took 
  back her photograph, although several offered to buy it from her. She wasn't 
  through blackmailing him yet.
  "There you are, Tracy," Nick said distractedly, as she slipped behind her 
  desk. "Let's hit the streets."
  Another night of cruising town. At least it was more interesting than 
  research. "Where to?" she asked, grabbing her jacket. 
  Nick rattled off several destinations and reasons for going there. It was a 
  stretch. He was probably just as restless as she was. 
  The night air was nippy. She zipped up and tightened her scarf, although 
  Nick's coat was still open. "You know, Nick, you could catch pneumonia if you 
  don't take better care of yourself."
  He shrugged, but didn't bother to fasten the buttons. He switched on the 
  radio. Shortly, the soft, velvet tones of the Nightcrawler whispered dark 
  nonsense over the air. Vampire or not, Nick's dad was still pretty weird. He 
  was retelling a Biblical parable! The prodigal son. She eyed Nick as the story 
  unfolded with a new twist. Perhaps, the voice suggested, that when the son 
  left and squandered his inheritance, it wasn't merely his own greed that drove 
  him, nor his own childish impetuosity. Perhaps, it had been as much the 
  father's fault? Had the elder ignored his child's needs? Failed him somehow, 
  in his education? 
  Tracy noted the light smirk on Nick's face. Knowing now that the Nightcrawler 
  was his dad, she suspected that this story at least, was meant for Nick. Was 
  LaCroix publicly apologizing, in an unspecific, round-about sort of way? What 
  ever the story meant, it pleased Nick. Maybe his dad wouldn't be such a bad 
  master after all?
  Thinking made her hungry, and at that moment she saw a fast food place that 
  sold pizza by the slice. "Pull over!" she said. 
  Nick complied, listening distractedly to more of the monologue. 
  "I won't be long. Wait for me," she said, as she ducked inside. A large slice 
  of garlic and pepperoni pizza and a coke would make a wonderful late night 
  snack, she thought. She took her purchase and returned to the Caddy. As Nick 
  pulled away from the curb, she opened the box.
  The car swerved sharply, nearly spilling her drink. "Nick!" she gasped. "Want 
  me to drive?"
  He looked faintly nauseated, she noted wickedly. The garlic smell must be 
  pretty powerful. She couldn't really smell it that much, but then she'd heard 
  Vachon say that vampire senses were much sharper.
  "Will you hurry up and eat that noxious food," Nick snapped.
  "I'm eating. I'd appreciate it if you could drive a little more safely. I 
  really don't want to wear this coke all night, thank you." She took another 
  bite, savoring the hot, cheesy pizza. Giving up eating once she became a 
  vampire wouldn't really bother her- she hated the constant ritual of three 
  meals a day - but pizza was going to be hard to say good-bye to. She might 
  have to eat it every night for the rest of the week. If Nick didn't kill her 
  first.
  Nick stopped the car and put down the top. 
  "Nick! What are you doing," she demanded. "It's cold outside!"
  "Defumigating the car. And I'm not cold," he replied. He grinned at her as he 
  pulled back into traffic. Another prank that backfired, she grumbled to 
  herself. She turned his car heater on high, with the cold night wind blowing 
  around her, and wondered what she would do to get even.
  Much later the call came in. Another death to investigate. Nick turned the car 
  around. Tracy glanced off at the horizon. It was still dark, but it wouldn't 
  be for long. How could he be so calm about it? He should remind the dispatcher 
  that he absolutely had to be home before sunrise! 
  "Vacation's over, Tracy," he said gently, misunderstanding her concern. 
  She loved being a cop and felt good about her job. But, she didn't like it 
  that some one always had to die. She sat quietly in the Caddy, deep in 
  thoughts as they drove to the newest crime scene.
  Nick pulled up outside of St. John's. His throat was suddenly too dry. He 
  hadn't been here in years... and one time was filled with memories of Schanke. 
  Nick had hidden inside the confessional, struggling with his own fears while 
  waiting for a serial killer to strike, when Schanke had decided it was time to 
  confess his near occasion of sin with Alma, a young vampire he'd danced with 
  at the Raven. It was a bittersweet memory. "I miss you, Schank," Nick 
  whispered.
   
   
  Tracy followed him out of the Caddy. Nick gave the church a wide berth, 
  following the flashing police lights to the scene. Off to one side, near the 
  trash cans and bordering the parking lot, was the ubiquitous yellow tape and 
  the city coroner. For a moment Nat's eyes lit up as she saw Nick, but then the 
  sadness returned. She bit on her lower lip, averting her eyes. 
  Tracy watched as Nick reacted to the body. She saw the tightening in his jaw, 
  thought she saw the tips of fangs between his lips. His hands clenched and he 
  stepped back. For the first time, she wondered if it was hard to be surrounded 
  by this- did it make him hungry? Did it make the vampire want to emerge in 
  full force? She admired him for his control. Tracy moved closer then to see 
  for herself.
  A boy of about thirteen lay awkwardly on the ground. The front of his shirt 
  was soaked with blood. His face, relaxed in death, was so young and smooth... 
  a child, cut off before he would ever become a man. Somewhere, some mother 
  would grieve tonight. Sometimes, life's a bitch. 
  "Multiple stab wounds to the chest," Nat was reciting. "T.O.D. was maybe two 
  hours ago... I can tell you more after I get him to the lab."
  "Who found the body?" Nick asked.
  "Father Rochefort called it in. He said he'd been putting out the trash," 
  answered one of the uniforms. 
  "Do you know if drugs are involved? Could this have been a deal gone bad?"
  "No," came a deep, anguished voice. Nick turned towards the sound. He nodded, 
  a look of recognition crossed his face. "Hello, Father. Sorry to see you again 
  under such tragic circumstances."
  The young priest extended his hand. Nick hesitated only a minute, then 
  returned the handshake. "I didn't realize that you were still serving here."
  "His name was Rueben Maloney. He's a good kid. He's been an altar boy since he 
  was seven years old. I know him. He wouldn't be dealing drugs!" Tears streamed 
  down his face. 
  Nick led the priest away with a gentle touch. "These are questions we have to 
  ask, you understand. We will do all that we can to find his killer."
  Nick waited a few moments. When Father Rochefort was breathing a little 
  easier, Nick continued. "Can you think of any reason someone would have wanted 
  to harm him? Did he have enemies? Could this be a gang retaliation?"
  The priest continued to shake his head, then burst into weeping again. "No 
  gangs," he stammered. "No, I'm sorry." 
  "That's okay, Father. That's enough for now. I may need to talk to you again 
  tomorrow, though."
  He nodded, then went inside the rectory.
  Tracy had watched the entire interview. She didn't often see Nick use such 
  sensitivity, and with a priest no less! She'd seen how even shaking 
  Rochefort's hand had caused Nick real discomfort. They seemed to know each 
  other though. There was a story here, and she wanted to know what it was. Some 
  other time, perhaps. 
  Nat had the body removed, and the area was searched unsuccessfully for the 
  murder weapon. Nick gestured to Tracy that it was time to go. 
  "What was he doing taking the trash out this late at night," Tracy asked. 
  Maybe if she dropped a few hints that might incriminate the priest, Nick would 
  tell her how he knew him. 
  Nick walked around to the trunk and opened it. He smiled at her. "It isn't 
  late for him, it is early. He's just getting up for the day. Now, you drive. 
  The sun's almost up."
  She just nodded as he crawled into the trunk and closed it. Even a week ago 
  she would have thought that her partner was the strangest person she'd ever 
  met, but now it seemed perfectly normal to drive his car while he rode in the 
  trunk. "I guess watching the sunrise will be out in a few more days," she 
  thought wistfully. But then, when they were both vampires, who would drive 
  them home?
  Two days had passed and they still had no leads into Rueben Maloney's murder. 
  And through it all, Tracy was becoming increasingly more difficult to work 
  with. She turned the volume up on his car radio until it hurt his sensitive 
  hearing. She ate pizza and garlic bread. And the questions. She asked so many, 
  seemingly innocuous questions, that he just started tuning her out. Maybe she 
  was going through a stage. He'd have to stop by Vachon's later and see if he'd 
  noticed anything different about her. 
  Meanwhile, he and Nat were doing the cold shoulder dance. He stopped by the 
  morgue to talk, and she avoided him. She called the loft, but Nick and Urs 
  were still staying at the Raven. And for once, the police gossip about Nick's 
  newest romance never quite made it to the coroner. No one wanted to run the 
  risk of pissing off the Knightmare that much. 
  "You really do have to talk to her," Tracy insisted.
  Nick shrugged. "Yeah, I know. I just haven't a clue what I'm going to say."
  "Coward," Tracy said. "See you tonight."
  Nick parked across from the Raven and went inside. He'd managed to get back 
  early enough that Vachon was still there, although the club was nearly empty. 
  One mortal waitress was stacking chairs and sweeping, getting it ready for 
  another night of business. LaCroix liked to make the vampire waitresses do 
  this task, as their instincts made them work quickly, but they often used 
  their powers of suggestion to get the mortal ones to swap shifts with them. 
  Nick smiled to himself. He'd never known LaCroix to involve himself with 
  mortals like this before. Ah, the plight of the modern businessman.
  Nick gestured to Vachon, then went to the side opposite from where the 
  waitress was working. Vachon put his guitar away before joining him. "Hey, 
  Knight. What's up?" he asked.
  Nick took a long swallow. The warm, wine-laced liquid soothed. His eyes felt 
  heavy. Spending his days with Urs was wonderful, except he wasn't getting 
  enough sleep. "Tracy," he sighed. A single word, yet it packed enough 
  exasperation to alarm even his master through their psychic bond. LaCroix 
  exited his sound booth, having signed off for the night. He grabbed a beverage 
  and came to join the younger vampires.
  "Yeah, I know what you mean," Vachon was saying. "She's driving me crazy."
  "A short trip," LaCroix said derisively.
  Vachon didn't take offense, too lost in his own miseries. 
  "Tell me about your "perky" partner, Nicholas," LaCroix inquired. "What 
  devilment is she playing upon you?"
  Nick yawned widely, then mentioned about the pizza. The garlic smell was so 
  strong in his Caddy that he was going to have to have the upholstery 
  professionally cleaned. Vachon told how she kept snuggling up too close to 
  him, that he was trying to avoid her entirely, rather than risk killing her. 
  Nick told about the incident in the jewelry store, and several other annoying 
  habits she had seemed to have picked up recently.
  Neither noticed when LaCroix's eyes shifted to their amber glow. Encouraged by 
  each other's sufferings, they just continued to tell all, so it came as quite 
  a shock when LaCroix slammed his fist on the table and growled angrily. "I 
  shall take care of this," he stated firmly through full fangs.
  "LaCroix, no," Nick interrupted with alarm.
  He glared at his naïve protégé. "Nicholas, she knows you are a vampire. She is 
  taunting you deliberately. I will not tolerate such impudence from anyone!"
  "She knows?" both vampires asked simultaneously, their surprise evident in 
  their expressions.
  "LaCroix, how could you!"
  The ancient forced his anger to recede. It seldom helped matters when dealing 
  with his son. "I did nothing. You revealed yourself to her. You and Urs were 
  rather indiscreet last week. Right in the middle of the dance floor, as I 
  recall."
  Nick's sudden shock and anger wilted, as he was overcome with remorse. "What 
  am I going to do," he breathed.
  "You will do nothing."
  Nick and Vachon turned twin looks of confusion towards him. "Miss Vetter is 
  too curious for her own safety. I have given her an ultimatum- join us, or 
  allow me to take her knowledge away."
  "What did she say?" Vachon asked.
  "Can you do that?" asked Nick.
  LaCroix nodded slightly, enjoying his position as patriarch. "She will need to 
  learn a little respect, however. I will not bring such an impetuous child into 
  our family."
  "You won't hurt her," Nick said, not sure if it was a question or a command. 
  LaCroix lifted an eyebrow at his son. Miss Vetter was not worth a family feud, 
  however, he decided. "I will not hurt her today. But I intend to thoroughly 
  intimidate her... now if you will excuse me?" Then he was gone. Nick reached 
  into his extra sense. The sun would soon be up, so LaCroix must not be 
  planning to do too much to her. 
  "That little vixen," Vachon said, toying with his glass. "If she becomes a 
  vampire, I shall enjoy getting even with her." 
  Urs came down shortly and half dragged Nick upstairs. He was so tired that she 
  just put him to bed. Poor boy, she thought with an indulgent smile. She was 
  able to catch up on sleep while he played detective. She slipped into bed 
  beside him and laid her face on his smooth, cold chest. Even in his sleep, he 
  wrapped an arm around her, holding her securely. It felt like home, she 
  realized, before sleep claimed her.
   
 
   
  Tracy turned off the water to the shower and just stood for a few moments, 
  dripping in the steamy confines before grabbing for her towel. She'd only been 
  back on the job for a few nights and already she couldn't wait for her next 
  night off. Just thinking about the big changes in store for her was 
  overwhelming. Maybe she should take a vacation to the beach? Sit in the sun? 
  Watch a few sunsets? 
  It surprised her how little the thought of never again watching a sunrise 
  bothered her. She'd always thought of herself as a morning person, until she 
  fell in love with Vachon, the ultimate in night owl personalities. Giving the 
  towel a careless sling over the door, she pulled on the short pink teddy and 
  stepped out into the hall, the cooler air there prickling the tiny hairs on 
  her arms. 
  A glass of milk before bed should hold off the hunger that sometimes woke her 
  up around mid-morning, but as she passed through the living room on her way to 
  the kitchen, the large window shattered. She gasped in alarm. Suddenly LaCroix 
  was standing mere inches away, glaring at her with crimson eyes, a vicious, 
  feral look marring the patrician features. 
  Her heart seemed to be blocking her throat; she could barely breath. She knew 
  he could hear her pulse rapidly racing, but she fought to control her voice. 
  "That entrance may impress other women, LaCroix, but it just pisses me off. 
  You're going to have to pay for that."
  He took a step nearer, drawing back his lips to reveal twin daggers. "I'm not 
  here to impress you, you impertinent child, but to kill you." The words were 
  softly spoken, belying their perilous intent.
  "But- but no! Not today," she stammered. "You gave me two weeks- I have two 
  more days!"
  LaCroix laughed. It was an evil sound, hissing around his fangs. "I rescind my 
  overly generous offer, my dear. I would be a fool to bring over a child who 
  annoyed me so."
  Tracy felt true panic welling up inside and wished for a moment she could do 
  that hypnotic thing Vachon did so easily. "But, what about Nick? Won't he be 
  mad if you kill his partner?" She was stopped in her backward movement by a 
  wall. LaCroix had her surrounded, one arm planted firmly on either side on the 
  wall, his fangs moving ever so slowly towards her. 
  "He will pout for a few years, I am sure," LaCroix admitted. "Like he always 
  does, but he will get over it."
  Tracy felt faint. The wild beating of her heart, her sweaty palms, the room 
  which was suddenly too warm... she fought to remain alert, knowing that if she 
  passed out now, there would be no tomorrow. She forced herself to look this 
  menacing creature in the face and defend herself, however futilely. "Is this 
  about me picking on Nick? I- I'm sorry, LaCroix, honest. He doesn't have much 
  of a sense of humor, I take it. I didn't mean anything by it. Really! Please?"
  The ferocious beast stopped his attack, glaring at her a moment longer. "My 
  son has a great many qualities," he began. His speech sounded so smooth and 
  erotic around his fangs. She found herself oddly drawn to them, staring at 
  them while he continued. "Both endearing and utterly annoying, but a sense of 
  humor is not one of them."
  "So I've noticed," she whispered nervously.
  "I, however, find this very amusing."
  Was he joking? Was her life going to be spared? She didn't dare hope. She 
  blinked back the tears of terror threatening to spill. "I, I'm afraid I don't 
  see the humor at the moment," she admitted.
  LaCroix laughed again. This time she watched as his fangs receded. The crimson 
  glow was fading to the amber light she had seen a few times in Vachon and 
  Nick. Still, the vampire kept her pinned. 
  "I will excuse this objectionable conduct just this once, if... "
  "If?" she encouraged, seeing the way out being offered, and being just smart 
  enough to accept what ever terms and conditions he set before her.
  "You will apologize to Nicholas and vow never to make a repeat performance."
  "Done," she said immediately.
  LaCroix straightened then, resuming his almost officious bearing of power. 
  Tracy wished she could learn to put a lock on her mouth, as she knew just how 
  close she'd faced death only moments ago. Still, the words were out before she 
  could stop them. 
  "So what about my window, LaCroix?"
  His hand flew to her throat. The thumb gently stroked the still wildly pulsing 
  vein just beneath the surface of the skin. He didn't harm her, but the threat 
  was evident. "While I do have a greater sense of humor than my Nicholas, I 
  lack his pitiful mortal gift of patience, child. Do not forget."
  "No, of course. I won't." She managed a limp smile. "I can promise you, that I 
  never screw up the same way twice. I always manage to be original."
  Just the edge of his mouth quirked in the faintest display of a smile. Tracy 
  took a step away from him, hesitantly, and glanced outside through the cold 
  opening of the shattered window. The sky was light. Sunrise has happened, and 
  she was stuck with this demonic parent for the day. Poor Nick, she thought 
  miserably. How many centuries had he lived under the oppressive rule of that 
  dictator? This was a side of vampirism she'd never really considered before, 
  since Vachon had no master. One thing was certain, she would have to do some 
  serious thinking before she'd sell her soul to this creature. So what if he 
  said he could protect her better than any other vampire in Canada? Who would 
  protect her from him?
  "Um, I have some, um, for Vachon... if you're hungry?" she offered. 
  LaCroix shook his head. "That will not be necessary."
  So much for formalities. Now what? The cold wind reminded her just how little 
  she was wearing. She returned to the bathroom and grabbed a robe off the hook 
  on the back of the door and cinched the belt securely around her. Then she 
  stared at the opening. The furnace was running at full blast, as the cold, 
  autumn air assaulted the thermostat. She went to the closet and took out a 
  plastic drop cloth from when she'd painted the kitchen, and a roll of duck 
  tape. It would help a little, she thought. She felt the eyes of her uninvited 
  guest on her as she moved. Ignoring him as best she could, she finished the 
  task and swept up the broken glass. Then she placed a call in to the building 
  superintendent to have it fixed. When she replaced the phone in its cradle, 
  LaCroix was no longer in the living room.
  Could he have left? But no, the sun was too bright. He wasn't in the kitchen 
  or the bathroom... with a sinking feeling she pushed open her bedroom door. 
  The heavy blinds were drawn and the pale figure was stretched out in the 
  middle of her bed. He lay on his back, the long, white fingers folded over his 
  chest, as though even in sleep protecting him from wooden stakes. She knew her 
  bedroom would be dark enough. Vachon had stayed the day a few times... though 
  not as often as she could have wished. Maybe that would all change shortly?
  LaCroix looked different in sleep, she thought. Beautiful. She wondered again, 
  just how old he really was. There was something compelling about him. But did 
  she really want to be tied to him forever? Taking a blanket from the closet, 
  she resigned herself to sleeping on her couch. That, plus apologizing to Nick, 
  was not so great a penance for her continued life and safety. If only she'd 
  bought a longer couch! 
  When Tracy awoke that afternoon, LaCroix was gone.
 
  She waited in her car until she saw the old, green Caddy pull into the parking 
  lot. Tracy hurried out to intercept Nick. It would be humiliating enough to 
  apologize to him, she didn't want to have witnesses. 
  Nick saw her approach. He shifted nervously himself. What did he have to be 
  upset about? Had LaCroix come down on him too? She quickened her pace. 
  "Uh, Hi, Nick," she said lightly.
  Nick closed the car door and leaned against it, finding his keys very 
  interesting at the moment. "Hello, Trace."
  "I want you to know this is all your fault," she stammered. "If you had told 
  me the truth last year... you knew I knew Vachon. You knew I knew about your 
  community! Why didn't you trust me?"
  Nick fidgeted uncomfortably. "Tracy, I just couldn't tell you. You have to 
  believe me."
  "But Nat knows, doesn't she?"
  He nodded, looking even more miserable. Something in Tracy melted then. "I'm 
  sorry, Nick. For everything. For teasing you, for the garlic, the necklace, 
  and for making you feel responsible. Forgive me?"
  Nick pulled her closer and hugged her, resting his chin on the top of her 
  hair. "Sure thing, Button."
  She punched him lightly in the stomach. "How do you live with that guy? 
  Doesn't he just piss you off?"
  Nick tilted her face up to look at her sincerely. "Tracy, you don't want to do 
  this. You want to submit your will to him and let him take your knowledge of 
  us away..."
  Nick's eyes took on a sad, melancholic look. 
  "No, Nick. I don't have to chose LaCroix to do it, he said so. I want this. I 
  really want this. And hey, if you didn't have to worry about me all the time, 
  maybe you could spend more time doing your job."
  "You're nuts, Tracy," he said.
  Then a loud call interrupted them before the conversation could get any more 
  intense. "Hey, hey, Tracy! None of that on the job!"
  "None of what?" Nick asked, stepping away from Tracy and staring at her. 
  "They still think there's something going on between you and me," she 
  admitted. "I told them they were way off, but there's always a few die hards 
  who won't face facts."
  Nick put an arm around her shoulder brazenly and advanced on the irritating 
  officer. The other man gawked, taking an involuntary step backward at the 
  Knightmare's approach. Nick glared at him, catching him in his trance. Tracy 
  grinned. That ability to intimidate must run in families. 
  "Tracy is like family to me," Nick stated firmly. "If I touch her, or tease 
  her, it is with the affection of a brother. You will never suspect us of any 
  impropriety again."
  The officer nodded meekly. Moments later, he found himself inside the women's 
  bathroom without the faintest idea how he got there. 
  "And LaCroix said you didn't have a sense of humor," Tracy whispered.
  "It will be our secret."
 
  Nothing new had turned up in the investigation into Rueben Maloney's death. It 
  seemed they might just have to write this one off as a random act of violence- 
  the hardest to accept or to understand. They could find no reason for anyone 
  to want the thirteen-year-old dead. Nick became more irritable as the night 
  wore on. 
  Late in the shift Father Rochefort called. Tracy noted with interest how the 
  worry lines in Nick's face relaxed, his sharp voice softened, as he talked 
  with the mild mannered young priest. When he hung up, he stood and grabbed his 
  coat. "Come on, Trace," he said. "Father Rochefort has something he wants to 
  talk about with us."
  "So how do you know him?" she asked. 
  Nick shrugged noncommittally. "I've lived in Toronto for nearly six years, 
  Tracy. I'm bound to know some people."
  "Yeah, but this is different. You respect him. You don't treat him like 
  everybody else."
  "So now I don't respect people?" Nick grinned at her innocently, as he slid 
  behind the wheel.
  "You know what I mean, Nick."
  "The man's a priest! I'm not going to invite him to the Raven for a beer." 
  Nick squirmed in his seat, his voice raising a notch. Tracy knew she was 
  hitting a sensitive nerve, but she wasn't ready to let it go.
  "Come on, Nick. Look. If I chose the hypnotic lobotomy, then I won't remember 
  any of this, and if I chose enslavement to LaCroix, then I'll be family. 
  Either way, it can't hurt you to open up once in a while and talk to me!"
  Nick heaved a sigh. "I'm voting for the lobotomy, myself, Button."
  Tracy just glared at him.
  "Okay. There was a serial killer in his parish about four years ago. The guy 
  was a fanatic nutcase, claimed he was doing God's work, killing off sinners- 
  prostitutes, winos, and the like. The priest heard him confess to the murders, 
  and refused to tell me what he knew."
  "But of course he would, Nick. Everyone knows that the confessional is sacred, 
  like some holy secret, and the priest would burn in hell if he broke that."
  "Yeah, well, I wasn't as understanding. I rode him pretty hard. But later, I 
  realized what his faith meant to him, and I apologized."
  He finished the story just as he parked beside St. John's. Tracy waited for 
  him on the curb, and they walked to the rectory together. The light above the 
  door was on, and Father Rochefort must have been watching for them as he 
  opened the door before they had a chance to knock. 
  He looked fresh and awake, his hair was damp and just combed. Tracy smelled 
  coffee perking. Nick must have been right. The priest was just getting up for 
  the day, not staying up all night. He seemed a little uneasy though, as he 
  escorted them into a living room and invited them to be comfortable. 
  "Father, I don't think you've actually met my new partner, Tracy Vetter."
  "No, no I haven't," he said, extending a hand towards her. "I was so sorry to 
  hear about Don. All those people. Such a tragedy."
  Nick nodded, the sudden rush of grief still just as powerful as it had been a 
  year ago. He wondered when it would get easier. "Now, you thought of something 
  that might relate to this case?"
  "Detective, I hope I'm wrong," he stated by way of getting started. "There's a 
  boy in the parish, named Brandon Stout. I've known him as long as Rueben, I 
  guess."
  "Was he also an altar boy?" Tracy interrupted.
  "No, he couldn't have done anything that complicated," Father Rochefort said. 
  At her questioning look, he explained. "Brandon isn't quite normal, Detective. 
  He's autistic. His mother says he's a highly functioning autistic child, as 
  there are times when he seems quite coherent. He'll carry on a conversation, 
  and he's really very intelligent. But there are days when he'll stare at 
  nothing for hours and hours. He can do advanced mathematics in his head, but 
  he can't learn to tie his shoes."
  "Weird," Tracy stated. Nick scowled at her. 
  "How does he know Rueben?"
  Father Rochefort shifted uncomfortably. "I feel just awful about this, Nick. 
  His mother has spent her life taking care of him, trying to help him to learn, 
  hoping to keep him out of an institution. But, he's getting so big now. He's 
  almost as big as she is. When he's off in space, he's fairly harmless, but 
  there are days when he has become violent. He hit her once, her face was black 
  and blue for many days. I am worried about her safety."
  "And you think this child might have killed Rueben?" Tracy sounded doubtful. 
  Natalie had already told her that the angle of the wounds implied that 
  although the killer was no taller than Rueben, but the force of the blows 
  implied that the killer was also incredibly strong. Tracy figured they were 
  looking for some short, fat sumo-wrestler type. 
  "I don't know," Father Rochefort replied. "I told Nick that over the phone. 
  Maybe I'm leading you down a rabbit hole. But yesterday Brandon's mother told 
  me that he came home with blood all over him. She thought at first that some 
  bullies had attacked him, but when she finally got him into the tub, there 
  wasn't a mark on him."
  Nick stood up then. "Thank you, Father. We'll look in to it."
  "Nick, please. Be tactful? Mrs. Stout is a good woman. If I'm wrong, I'd hate 
  to have her suffer more needlessly."
  Nick grinned at him innocently. "Of course, Father. I'm always tactful."
  "Yeah right," Tracy muttered. "Mr. Congeniality."
  Nick waved, then stepped out on to the porch. 
  "Nice meeting you, Father Rochefort," Tracy said with a wide smile. 
  Something felt wrong. Nick reached in his pocket for the keys. Someone was 
  coming... his sixth sense was tingling. It felt strangely familiar, but it was 
  not LaCroix. Glancing left and right, he saw nothing, but whatever it was, was 
  coming fast. "Tracy, go back inside," he said firmly.
  "Why? Forget something?"
  "GO NOW!" He grabbed her arm and pushed her away forcefully. She stumbled but 
  caught herself before she could fall, aiming a few curses in his direction.
  The priest opened his screen door and stepped out to ask if everything was all 
  right. Then seven dark figures whooshed from the sky. Nick braced himself. He 
  glared at them through narrowed eyes. That these vampires were here to cause 
  harm he had no doubt. They came with bared fangs and the crimson eyes of the 
  predator. Nick drew back his lips and growled at them menacingly. 
  One slammed the front door closed, preventing Father Rochefort from going 
  inside to call for help. Two made a grab for Tracy, but Nick launched himself 
  at them. The first he tossed fifty feet away, crashing into the stone fence 
  with bone-cracking force. The second he lifted overhead, throwing him into two 
  more. As yet another lunged for Tracy, Nick turned to grab him. A loud shot 
  resounded. Nick screamed in pain. He doubled over, clutching at the shotgun 
  wound in his gut. It burned fiercely. Cold blood oozed between his fingers. 
  "Resist further, and the bimbo gets it in the face," the vampire leader 
  promised. 
  Nick blinked. His vision blurred. The leader looked very young. His jaw was 
  smooth; his eyes now were clear and bright like a child's, but Nick knew he 
  was ancient.
  "What the hell do you want," he demanded through clenched teeth.
  "Why, you, of course. Isn't that obvious?"
  "I don't know you."
  The vampire held the shotgun in both hands like a cane and danced lightly, 
  clicking his heals together. "Getting to know you, getting to know all about 
  you, getting to like you, getting to hope you like me," he sang with a phony 
  English accent.
  Nick weaved on his feet. Tracy rushed to his side to catch him. 
  "Nick? Nick- are you okay?"
  Tracy knew that vampires didn't feel pain like mortals did. Vachon told her 
  once that the wounds from bullets and knives were no more than minor 
  irritations. But blood still flowed from Nick. It soaked through his shirt and 
  was pooling on the pavement, and he looked like he was going to faint. Just 
  her luck, to get a vampire partner that passed out at the sight of his own 
  blood.
  The leader lowered his shotgun cane and sauntered closer to Nick. He reached 
  out and caressed Nick's face affectionately. "Family always knows family," he 
  lectured. "Even bastard children like yourself should have the ability to 
  recognize your elders."
  Nick's eyes drifted closed. It was too hard to concentrate with the earth 
  canting awkwardly. He reached into that part of his mind where LaCroix could 
  be found. "Help me..."
  The leader struck Nick in the face with a forceful blow. "None of that! No-no! 
  It is not time yet."
  "Let my partner leave," Nick said. He stood up a little straighter, trying to 
  summon the strength to appear intimidating. "Whatever this is, it doesn't 
  involve her."
  Tracy tried to argue with him, but Nick glowered at her. The leader laughed at 
  the absurd thought. "Oh no, Bradant. She will prove most useful. I've heard 
  that you can be rather difficult, and yet, I have also heard that you care 
  about these mortals. They are my insurance. I have use for them later."
  The leader prowled around Nick, a smirk on his face. There was an odd light in 
  his eyes. Not a yellow or red flash of an enraged vampire. This light was 
  glassy, sharp, unfocused. Nick felt uneasy at the vampire's touch. It was 
  oddly familiar, and yet he was certain that they had never met before. Still, 
  this vampire seemed to know a lot about him. 
  "So who the hell are you!" 
  Tracy winced as the leader struck Nick yet again. She lost her hold and Nick 
  fell to the ground. She knelt beside him, feeling incredibly useless. 
  Blood dripped from Nick's lip now. Finding strength from somewhere, he lunged 
  at the foppish looking tormentor. Four vampires grabbed him, restraining him 
  from further movement, a fifth grabbed Tracy easily and held her in his 
  clutches. The leader glanced at the sky and smiled.
  "Soon, whelp. Very soon, now."
  Nick struggled against the firm grasp of the vampires. The wound seeped more 
  blood with each slow pulse of his heart. He felt dizzy. Once more he tried to 
  reach his master through their link, but the leader stopped his concentration 
  with a blow. 
  "Grab the other one, too," the leader directed lightly. "It is time."
  One vampire grabbed Father Rochefort, but quickly released him, crying out and 
  staring at his hands which were badly burned.
  "A priest," the leader stated. "What in bloody hell are you doing hanging 
  around a priest?" 
  Nick did not respond. It wasn't just a bullet he'd been hit with it. It burned 
  like garlic. 
  "Shoot the priest," the leader said lightly.
  "No!" Nick staggered, not even able to stand. "Let me hypnotize him."
  "Permission denied," the vampire said with a sing-song voice, shaking his 
  forefinger at him. "That was very naughty of you."
  "Then, I will carry him."
  The baby-faced leader tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "Self-inflicted 
  torture... I like it! I like it!" He motioned for Father Rochefort with the 
  barrel of his shotgun.
  "Put your arms around me," Nick said.
  "You can't carry me, Nick! You're injured. This man needs a doctor at once!"
  The leader leaned back his head and laughed. His associates laughed with him, 
  enjoying the macabre sense of humor. Nick let his fangs drop as the priest 
  looked on. "I will be all right," he whispered. 
  "But you're bleeding," he stammered. He took a handkerchief from his pocket 
  and laid it over the gaping wound, although it was about like putting a 
  band-aide on a sieve. "What can I do to help?"
  "You will have to have enough faith for both of us, Father." Nick's legs 
  crumpled under him. If not for the hold of the two vampires he would have 
  fallen to the ground. 
  "Put your arms around me, and hold on very tight," Nick said.
  Father Rochefort wrapped his arms around Nick's chest. Nick winced painfully. 
  He didn't burn, though, as the other vampire had. It was something Natalie 
  would have been interested in, a part of his brain thought, the part that was 
  becoming sluggish and numb. The two vampire guards then lifted into the air. 
  Two more vampires grabbed Nick's ankles. They flew with him imprisoned, the 
  priest clutching to him in mortal fear, far above the city of Toronto. 
  Only one vampire carried Tracy. He wasn't too worried about her escaping. She 
  clung to him with a choke hold, her teeth chattering deliciously in his ear. 
  The leader of the band of reprobates led them northward. Nick tried to reach 
  out to his master, but something was blocking him. He could sense nothing, not 
  even the vampires around him. If it were just him, he thought he might still 
  manage to escape, but with two mortals to protect, Nick knew he would need 
  help. 
  "Nick, what are you? What are they?" Father Rochefort whispered. His voice 
  cracked, his fear was palpable.
  "I am a vampire," Nick said. 
  "What do they want with us? Where are they taking us?"
  Nick was drifting out of consciousness. But it was strange. Ever since the 
  priest had touched him, the pain from the gunshot wound had disappeared. He 
  felt too warm. Why did touching this priest burn the other vampire? Was that 
  also causing his body temperature to rise? 
  The priest started whispering softly the words of a prayer Nick had learned as 
  a boy. The words were both comforting and horrifying. The soft, gentle voice 
  drew him from the black void of unconsciousness, yet the prayer terrified him, 
  as only things sacred could do. 
  "Father, can you do that silently?"
   
  "If you don't shut up, doll-babe, I'll have to make you," the vampire hissed. 
  Tracy clenched her teeth, trying to keep them from chattering. She felt 
  frozen. Her fingers were so numb she couldn't move them, and she'd ceased to 
  feel her feet some time ago. She yearned for the winter coat she'd foolishly 
  left in Nick's car. All she had on now was a stylish jacket and pants in a 
  thin, no-wrinkle fabric, and nylons. One shoe had dropped at the priest's 
  house, the other fell at least half an hour ago. She'd actually looked forward 
  to flying ever since LaCroix had delivered his ultimatum, but now she wasn't 
  sure if she'd ever enjoy it again, or would it always remind her of this night 
  from hell? Assuming of course, she survived.
   
  Natalie straightened, rubbing a kink in her lower back. It was passed time for 
  a break, but she dreaded going in to the break room and listening to Grace or 
  any one else give her unwanted advice on how to handle her love life, or lack 
  thereof. They'd all noticed that Nick had been avoiding the morgue lately. 
  They assumed it was just a lovers quarrel, and she and Nick would eventually 
  kiss and make up. Only, they had never been lovers. And they had not actually 
  quarreled. No, what she faced was a cold war, of sorts. She didn't know what 
  he wanted anymore. She didn't know what she wanted either. 
  She fixed some hot peppermint tea and turned up the radio. The station was 
  tuned to the Nightcrawler. Nick always listened to it. She'd started to listen 
  too, about a year ago. Sometimes, it gave them something to talk about when 
  she would stop by the loft after work. She'd learned that most of LaCroix's 
  seemingly senseless diatribes were really lessons spoken for his son's benefit 
  alone. Sometimes, she could hear the disgust in his voice as he berated Nick, 
  but other times, especially lately, she'd heard something else. If she didn't 
  know the sadistic scoundrel better, she'd almost have to say that just maybe 
  he did love Nick. In a sick sort of way.
  LaCroix was really off his usual beat tonight. He was reading a love poem. 
  Natalie closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the sweet tea as she listened 
  to his cultured voice recite the famous words. 
  ... and sweet the coming- on
  Of grateful evening mild; then silent night, 
  With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon...
  The poem was from Milton's "Paradise Lost". Eve to Adam, expressing joy and 
  wonder at the beauty of the night. The word pictures filled her... "stars, the 
  gems of heaven". Years ago Natalie had had to memorize the poem for school and 
  it had not impressed her at the time. Somehow, it was easier for her to 
  memorize the periodic table than several stanzas of a non-rhyming poem. But 
  now the night was her work and her life. She smiled as LaCroix, reading Eve's 
  words, spoke the last line.
  "But wherefore all night long shine these? For whom 
  This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?
  "Yes, gentle listeners," LaCroix continued. "The night is exquisite. The 
  gem-stars are brilliant. Herb, tree, fruit, and flower are glistering with 
  dew. Go out, my children. Leave your beds, your offices, your sheltered 
  abodes, and drink of this eternal beauty! Let joy- "
  The soft lulling tones were shattered with a cry of pain. Startled, Nat 
  dropped her tea. The cup splintered in tiny shards, but Natalie didn't notice. 
  She held her breath as silence filled the air waves. What had happened? 
  She heard a muffled cry of pain, then only music, as someone put on a CD. Her 
  heart was beating wildly. Why should she care? LaCroix was ancient. He was a 
  big boy and could take care of himself. And that was what bothered her. If 
  someone or something could hurt him, then it posed a threat to Nick. She 
  grabbed her purse. She had to go see what was happening.
  "Give 'im hell, dear," Grace cheered at Nat's retreating form.
  On the drive over, Nat worked out several possible conversations, each 
  sounding more ludicrous than the last. "Hi, LaCroix. Heard your show tonight. 
  Some fan not like Milton? The sound effects were a little spooky. Um, have you 
  seen Nick?" Well, maybe the words would be there when she needed them. 
  She pushed her way past the bouncer at the Raven, and went straight to the 
  sound booth. The door was closed, but not locked. She knocked once then let 
  herself in.
  LaCroix sat in one of two leather loveseats, his elbows resting on his knees, 
  his head in his hands. He made no move or response at her intrusion. 
  "I was listening," she said. Still silence. The room felt cold, dead. She 
  shivered involuntarily. "I heard you. I came to see if you are all right."
  Nothing.
  "Look, I know you and I don't see eye to eye on anything, but I know Nick 
  cares about you, and so I want to help. If there's something-"
  LaCroix lifted his head then and gave her a blank look. Twin tracks marked the 
  white face. LaCroix was weeping.
  "My god, LaCroix. What's happened!"
  "It's Nicholas," he whispered.
  For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Something had happened to Nick! Her entire 
  life stopped so suddenly that she felt motion-sick. "No," she denied. "No! 
  Nick's okay. You're wrong!"
  He turned away and sighed heavily. "We were just starting to get along again. 
  He, he told me, that he..." LaCroix could not continue.
  "Tell me what happened!" Nat moved into the room and knelt on the floor before 
  the ancient vampire. She clasped his cold, white hands in hers. "Tell me 
  everything."
  "This is what YOU wanted for him," LaCroix hissed. Somehow his wrath was 
  reassuring to her. Life wasn't really turning upside down. Some things would 
  always be the same. "You encouraged him to seek a mortal's death!"
  "Nick is not dead," she shouted at him. 
  "I felt his pain. And then, I felt nothing. I cannot sense him at all. It is 
  as though he has ceased to exist." 
  Natalie shut her eyes. She could not imagine a life without Nick. LaCroix had 
  to be wrong. "But, there are other things that would cause him to be shielded 
  from you. Maybe he's doing it on purpose."
  "The pain was severe. Not much can hurt us, but it was as painful as a wooden 
  stake."
  "Where!"
  LaCroix touched his stomach low and to one side to indicate the area. His hand 
  came away sticky with blood. Nat stared at it without understanding. 
  "You're hurt? This is your pain- not Nick's!"
  He shook his head. "No doctor. It's Nick's. We are so closely linked, that I 
  bleed for him."
  Why did that not surprise her? "Look- this is far from his heart. This would 
  not be a fatal wound!"
  "Then, nothing. No more sensation of pain, no pleas for help. Nothing."
  Nat stood and paced a small circle in his sound room. "But, even when you guys 
  are staked, death takes a while. Surely, that he was cut off from your 
  mind-link thing so suddenly must be a hopeful sign? Some one has hurt him, and 
  they don't want him to reach you. Right?"
  LaCroix closed his eyes and leaned back in the couch. "I am tired, doctor. 
  Leave me."
  "No. He's not dead! I tell you, I know he's not. And I'm not leaving. Sooner 
  or later, he's going to try to reach you, and I will be here to drive. The sun 
  will be up soon."
 
  Tracy felt her stomach heave as the vampire began his decent. One moment, they 
  were still 600 feet up, and the next she was on a muddy riverbank somewhere in 
  Ontario, shivering painfully. The others were all lighting around her. 
  Nick looked bad. His eyes were closed, and his head hung awkwardly. Father 
  Rochefort did not let go of him when they landed, but he shifted his arms so 
  that instead of hanging on to him, he was holding him. 
  "Hold your breath," her vampire warned. Then she watched as the leader dove 
  into the river. The others followed suit. Tracy hadn't thought she could get 
  any colder, but now she was cold and wet. The river water got in her ears and 
  mouth. Cold as melted ice, it slid between the layers of her thin clothing. 
  Swimming underwater for a short distance, they entered an underwater tunnel, 
  then came up on the other side. They were in a cavern, dimly lit with three 
  torches set in to the rock walls. The vampires dragged their prisoners to the 
  back, opened a door, and shoved them in. The solid door was closed and latched 
  on the outside. 
  "Are you all right," Father Rochefort asked softly.
  "Yeah, sure. I'm peachy. My feet are froze and my hair's a mess, but otherwise 
  it's a picnic," she snapped sarcastically. 
  She heard a scratchy sound, and moments later a small flame lit in the 
  Father's hands as he held a cigarette lighter. Searching the inside of their 
  surroundings, he found several candles and lit them. The cave prison was cast 
  in a flickering, eerie light. Tracy looked around. The room was all set for 
  mortal occupants. There was a small table with a bowl of fruit, a single bed 
  with blankets, a chiffarobe full of clothes- all styles and none too clean, 
  and a crude washroom. Tracy had a creepy thought that she and the priest were 
  Hansel and Gretel, being fattened up prior to being eaten. 
  "Get out of your wet things," Father Rochefort said, turning his back to her. 
  "You must get dry before you become ill."
  Tracy rummaged through the clothes. Many were torn or stained, but she had to 
  do something before she was the next statistic. She pulled on a sweat suit and 
  a pair of socks. She didn't think she'd ever be warm again, but at least this 
  was an improvement. "Your turn," she said.
  He shook his head. "Help me with Nick. I think he's sick." 
  "Vampires don't get sick."
  "Look at him. You and I are freezing. His skin is hot to touch."
  Tracy went to her partner's side then. His forehead was hot and her fingers 
  came away with a bloody residue. She tore his ruined shirt open. As his 
  vampire heart pulsed once, fresh blood gushed from the large, gaping wound in 
  his gut. She pulled off his wet shirt and folded it, then pressed it over the 
  injury. 
  Father Rochefort removed Nick's jeans and wet shoes. He took a dry garment and 
  briskly rubbed Nick dry. "Think we can get him to the bed?" he asked.
  Together, they worked to get him the short distance across the floor. Then it 
  was a struggle to get him on the bed, and in that time his heart beat again, 
  renewing the blood flow. Father Rochefort took the top sheet and tore it into 
  strips. He made a bandage and tied it around him. 
  "Nick! Nick, can you hear me?" Tracy asked. She touched his face to try to 
  reach him. "Come on, partner. You gotta help. Wake up."
  Nick tossed on the pillow, his face creased in pain. "Tracy," he whispered, 
  not opening his eyes.
  "Yeah, Nick. I'm here."
  "Should have listened to me..."
  "What, and leave you to their mercy all alone, I think not. When are you going 
  to get it in your skull that we're partners and that means sticking together? 
  Tell me how I can help. What's wrong? Why aren't you healing?"
  "Sawdust and garlic oil." He groaned and turned away from her, shuddering 
  convulsively.
  Father Rochefort reached out and touched him comfortingly. At once Nick became 
  still. The lines in his face relaxed and he slept peacefully, yet when the 
  priest removed his hand, the vampire groaned again.
  "You have a magic touch," Tracy said. "Don't let go."
  "I do not understand any of this," the priest admitted.
  "Me neither. But, I know wooden stakes can kill a vampire, and garlic poisons 
  and repels them. These guys must want something from him, badly enough to 
  torture him, but they don't want him dead. At least, not yet."
  Father Rochefort shivered. "I need to change." 
  "Yes, you do. And crawl under the blanket with him. You're too cold and he's 
  too warm. Maybe it will do good for both of you."
  Nick cried out as the priest stood to take off his sodden suit, but he did not 
  awaken. Tracy waited, her back turned, until the sounds of movement ceased. 
  The young priest looked very uncomfortable in the narrow bed, stretched out 
  next to the naked vampire. "This isn't a sin or something, is it?" she asked 
  nervously.
  "Showing compassion for one's neighbor is a corporal act of mercy, Miss 
  Vetter. But I am glad that I went to confession yesterday. I suspect that we 
  will need all the grace we can get."
   
  For hours LaCroix sat on the couch without moving. His glass remained 
  untouched. Natalie felt so hopeless. She was tempted to call the police 
  department and have a APB put out on Nick's vehicle, but she knew that what 
  ever had happened to him must be vampire-related. Getting the police involved 
  would not be wise. 
  It must be midmorning, she thought, as her stomach warred with her brain. Her 
  body wanted to eat or sleep, but she couldn't let it do either. If only she'd 
  had some clue what he was working on last night! If only their relationship 
  wasn't so strained right now, he might have confided in her, told her 
  something, anything, that could give them a lead.
  LaCroix doubled over suddenly. He made not a sound, but his jaw was tightly 
  clenched, struggling to contain the cry of pain. His closed eyelids were 
  glowing a faint reddish hue. Nat resisted the doctor's urge to run to his aid, 
  keeping a relatively safe distance until the moments passed. Then LaCroix 
  looked up at her. Although blood tears filled his eyes, his expression was one 
  of relief mixed with rage. "He lives," he whispered.
  "And can you find him now?"
  He shook his head. "I sensed him, and then just like before, he was gone."
  Natalie pressed him back against the couch as she saw the blood flow >from his 
  side. He was too preoccupied at first to take notice of her. She undid the 
  buttons on his blood-stained shirt and examined the gaping wound. "Looks like 
  a shotgun wound," she said. "Can't you block this? Do you always feel his 
  injuries?"
  LaCroix grabbed for his glass and drained it. Even while she watched the 
  terrible wound shrank and faded. "Of course I could block him," LaCroix 
  snapped. "But he has the uncanny knack of always getting himself in to 
  trouble. He would never have survived this long without me."
  "Would Nick be blocking himself intentionally?"
  "No. I never taught him that lesson. The boy's too pigheaded for his own 
good."
  She smiled. It was probably inappropriate, she knew, but after the tense, 
  silent hours she needed the emotional release. "Guess he must take after his 
  master," she commented dryly.
  LaCroix chose to ignore her remark. 
  "So. Nick's alive. And you can't sense him. What can block this link you 
  share?"
  "Holy places will do it- cemeteries, shrines, sometimes churches... great 
  distances will only weaken the link. In that one moment, I sensed Nicholas is 
  no longer near."
  A holy place... Nick had been going to meet with that priest at St. Somebody, 
  about the Rueben Maloney murder. It could just be a coincidence, but maybe it 
  might mean something. "Nick was going to see a priest tonight," she said 
  aloud. "Father... Father-- Rochefort, I think. But, what was the name of his 
  church!"
  "You're asking me?" LaCroix said dryly.
  "Damn! It's just on the tip of my tongue."
  LaCroix placed his hands on her shoulders firmly and stared at her. She felt 
  his presence inside her, probing, searching, and she was powerless to resist. 
  "You know this name," he whispered. "Think. What is the name of the parish 
  where Father Rochefort resides."
  "Saint John's."
  He released her abruptly. She didn't feel any of the disorientation that 
  Nick's victims usually displayed after one of his whammies. That reminded her 
  again just how much more powerful Nick's master was. Powerful and composed. 
  And deadly. But for now his dark rage was directed towards Nick's tormentors. 
  Nat grabbed her car keys and coat from where she had tossed them many hours 
  ago. LaCroix stood then and followed her. "Where do you think you're going, 
  LaCroix. The sun is still up- it can't be much more than noon."
  "You will drive. I am coming with you." He opened a closet door and withdrew 
  two cloaks. He pulled one on, a full-length, hooded cape like in the Bela 
  Lugosi films. It did serve the function of covering most of him from the sun's 
  harmful rays. The second cape must be for Nick. She prayed they would find him 
  soon, for although LaCroix's sympathy pain had healed, she doubted that Nick's 
  had. 
  Several heads jerked up when they entered the bar. Vachon, Urs, Patrick the 
  bartender, Bourbon and two other vampires in Vachon's band... Nat didn't know 
  them by name. They'd been camped out on the tables, and now they looked at 
  LaCroix expectantly.
  The ancient eyed them disdainfully, but he spoke not a word. Vachon stood, but 
  it was Urs who came forward. "We sensed Nick is in trouble, sir," she 
  explained. "We want to help."
  Nat stared at him, wondering how he would react to their offer. He merely 
  nodded, as though worthy of their servitude. "Vachon, I require the services 
  of your band's cargo van."
  "You got it, LaCroix. But whose goin' to drive it? The stick doesn't work real 
  well- you have to-" 
  LaCroix silenced him with a gesture. Vachon shrugged and took a step away from 
  the angry vampire master. 
  Patrick carted a case of bottles towards the door. Natalie went out. She 
  pulled the van as close to the door of the bar as she could, even driving up 
  over the curb where it coughed belligerently. Then she opened all the doors. 
  LaCroix touched Urs with a gentle hand. "My dear, you will not come tonight."
  Her brows puckered and she began to protest, in her quiet, gentle manner. 
  LaCroix smiled at her indulgently. This one was a jewel. Vachon was a fool. 
  "That these vampires could subdue my son speaks of their great power. I cannot 
  let anything happen to you. Nicholas would never forgive me."
  "But I want to help."
  "And so you shall. You will stay here and wait for him. And when I bring him 
  home, you will see that he gets the rest he needs." 
  Urs reached up, standing on her toes, and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. 
  "Bring him home," she whispered.
  Then, it was time. LaCroix and the four vampires flew out and into the van, 
  slamming the doors closed with a violence that made the rusty vehicle tremble. 
  Nat held her breath, hoping important parts weren't falling off underneath. 
  The van smelled foul of singed flesh. There was a shaking in the back, a few 
  muffled curses, as arms and legs were adjusted, and the passengers ensured 
  that they were out of the reach of any rays that might seep through the many 
  small patches of rust. Nat pulled off the sidewalk, made a u- turn, and sped 
  off in the direction of St. John's. 
   
  Tracy warmed up noticeably as she paced in the narrow prison cave. She eyed 
  the bowl of fruit hungrily, but something made her hesitant to eat. They had 
  poisoned Nick, what would keep them from poisoning her as well? When her 
  stomach argued with her, she lifted an apple and examined it closely. The skin 
  was smooth and unbroken. Still, it worried her. She took two apples and handed 
  them both to Father Rochefort. "Will you say a blessing over the food?"
  He smiled at her, sensing her fear. Laying one hand over both fruits, he asked 
  God to bless them. Then he leaned on an elbow to eat one of the apples. 
  "You know, I got to hand it to you," Tracy said, making conversation. The 
  priest shrugged.
  "You're taking all of this pretty well, I mean. I knew about vampires before 
  tonight's attack, but I take it you didn't. And still, you treat Nick the 
  same, not like some damned monster."
  "I'll admit that part of me is hoping this is all a very strange dream, and I 
  will wake up and it will be gone," he answered.
  "That could still happen. Assuming we get out of this alive, Nick will 
  probably hypnotize you and make you forget it."
  "Why?"
  "It's part of their code, for one. And, he would do it to protect you."
  Their conversation stopped as the heavy door was unlatched and pulled opened. 
  The vampire leader stepped inside pompously. "Brabant! Get up! It's time to 
  give us some information."
  "This man is too weak to be interrogated right now," Father Rochefort 
declared.
  The leader stared, horrified, at the priest. "Get away from him!"
  Rochefort pulled back from Nick, no longer touching him. Nick cried out 
  immediately, a loud, pain-filled sound. The leader tore off the blanket and 
  glared at the bloodied bandages around Nick's gut. "You idiots," he shouted at 
  his thugs. "You put too much in the mixture. It is generally more productive 
  to interrogate the prisoner before you kill him! Go, fetch him something to 
  drink."
  One vampire left in a rush, returning shortly with a carton of bottles Tracy 
  guessed were blood. The leader gestured the priest to move away from Nick. 
  Then one of his thugs uncorked a bottle and held it to Nick's lips. Nick drank 
  too slowly, some of the red liquid dripped down his chin. As the needed blood 
  began to sooth the worst of his injury, he awoke. Eyes glowing, fangs 
  descended, he grabbed the bottle from the thug's hands and drained it 
  instantly. He grabbed the thug, intending to drain him as well, until the 
  other vampires grabbed Nick's arms and restrained him.
  "Feeling better now, young Brabant?" the leader asked. 
  "Go to hell," Nick answered.
  The leader struck him in the face. 
  "Who are you and what do you want," Nick demanded.
  "I will ask the questions. And you will only speak when spoken too. Has your 
  master not yet managed to train you?"
  "He trained me well enough, not to pander to a pack of puffed up miscreants 
  like yourselves."
  The leader's eyes grew livid. He lunged for Nick with his fangs, grabbed his 
  head and shoved it to one side, preparing to bite him. Nick screamed in rage, 
  renewing his struggles, kicking viciously. The leader restrained him with 
  little effort. He stopped his assault on Nick, instead caressing Nick's neck 
  with the tips of his teeth. Nick tried to pull away, but he was no match for 
  the ancient youth. 
  "The poison will soon leach from your blood, whelp. Then I shall take what I 
  need from you. Now, Brabant. Tell me where I will find Divia."
  Nick just glared at him.
  The leader stuck him several times. Tracy gasped at each blow, blinking back 
  tears of frustration. When she would have gone to him, another vampire held 
  her back. She knew Nick would heal, but it still seemed so wrong! 
  A red sheen doted Nick's brow. His eyes were glassy. If he were mortal, Tracy 
  would say he was going into shock. She had to try to divert the leader's 
  attention from him. "Who is this Divia?" she demanded. "And why are you 
  looking for her?"
  "Ah, so you are the intelligent one in your partnership, eh?" The leader eyed 
  her lasciviously. Tracy felt dirty under his inspection. 
  "No, I'm the bimbo, remember?"
  "Allow me to introduce myself then. I am Flavius Vacinius. Divia's consort."
  "You lie," Nick spat. "She had no lover."
  "You do know her, then! Where is she? I know she came to Toronto, and 
  suddenly, I stopped sensing her. You are too young to have done her any harm. 
  Was it your master?"
  "Divia was a sick-minded little child," Nick retorted.
  "Was!" Flavius held him by the throat. "What do you mean, was! What have you 
  done to her?"
  Nick tried to focus on Tracy. Her fear would keep him going. He couldn't give 
  in to the encroaching darkness, for then she would be at the mercy of their 
  tormentors. "Divia was my grandmother," he told her, blood oozing from the 
  corner of his mouth.
  "Oh, Nick! I'm so sorry," she said.
  Flavius released Nick. He danced through the small, crowded room. Grabbing 
  Tracy, he whirled her around doing a clumsy three-step. "Oh Nick- I'm sorry- 
  Oh Nick- I'm sorry," he chanted in a high pitched voice.
  "You're really crazy, you know that?" she snapped at him.
  Flavius shoved her away. She fell into another vampire that softened the 
  landing. He grabbed one of his own thugs and continued the dance. The vampire 
  leaned his head on Flavius's shoulder, the other's hand stroking Flavius's 
  rump intimately. 
  "Crazy is as crazy does," Flavius recited sagely.
  "Crazy is as crazy does," chanted his followers.
  Nick coughed. His throat was bruised and injured. If he could have just a 
  little more to drink it might heal, but the bottles were far away. His legs 
  were still too weak to support him, and the garlic poison coursed through him. 
  Father Rochefort made a tiny gesture with his finger. Nick understood. The 
  priest was largely ignored by the dancing vampires. He would try to reach the 
  bottles. He moved slowly along the back wall.
  Tracy stared at the vampires. Although she'd seen Nick and Urs dance together 
  just last week, this was different. It was up close, for one, and they were 
  both guys... were vampires bisexual? Still, she noted the signs of arousal, 
  and felt strangely drawn to watch. Flavius continued to dance, then he and his 
  partner sank their fangs in each other's throats and drank, moaning as their 
  bodies shuddered together.
  Rochefort had succeeded. He held a bottle behind him and passed it to Nick. 
  Nick grabbed for it, gulping greedily. Flavius ripped himself free >from his 
  mate, tearing the wounds in his neck, and batted the bottle away. The glass 
  shattered; the blood spilled over the ground. 
  "Nicky is a naughty boy," Flavius announced again. He smiled widely. "Time to 
  play our favorite game!"
  Nick found himself pinned against the wall spread eagle. Flavius stood in 
  front of him, then turned and took large steps away, counting as he went. When 
  he was near the other side of the small room, he reached into a coat pocket 
  and withdrew a small dart. He twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, 
  letting the soft feathers brush against his cheek.
  "Now, you will answer one question for every dart. If I like your answer, I 
  will throw wide. If I do not, well, you'll learn. Where is Divia?"
  "I don't know," Nick said immediately.
  Flavius glared. His eyes bulged and a vein in his throat pulsed. "Wrong 
  answer!" he screamed. He threw the dark with deadly accuracy. It plunged into 
  Nick's chest, just above the heart. Nick screamed in pain. Tracy screamed in 
  horror. Father Rochefort folded his hands and prayed, even as he wept. 
  "Let us try this again, where is Divia?"
  Nick struggled vainly against his captors, unable to answer the question. He 
  knew that the truth would be a death sentence for them all.
  Flavius hurled a second dart. It struck Nick's right shoulder with enough 
  force to sink up to the feathers. Father Rochefort lunged forward, but a 
  vampire knocked him out with the butt of the shotgun.
  Nick was losing the war. He'd fought hard, he reflected. The Saracens had him 
  outnumbered... he blinked. There was a woman present. She was weeping for him. 
  He didn't remember there being a woman in this war. Unless she was an angel. A 
  pale, blonde wraith here to guide him on to the afterlife. But that could not 
  be right. He was cursed, damned. There would be no salvation for his soul, no 
  second chance, no peaceful hereafter. He was in hell. 
  Flavius stared at the bleeding wounds of his prisoner. The dark, cold fluid 
  taunted him, dripping deliciously down the pale, smooth stomach. He glided 
  over and knelt before Nick, inhaling the aroma. Had enough of the garlic 
  passed through his system yet that he could taste him? It was so tempting. He 
  placed his fingers lightly on Nick, trailing them up slowly, drawing them 
  through the rivers of red. He brought a drop to his lips and inhaled. It was 
  heady. There was a special sweetness to this one's blood that he had not ever 
  found before. But the faint garlic smell was repulsive. He drew another dart 
  and resumed his position across the room.
  "We'll try an easier question, Brabant. Do you know who Divia is?"
  "Yes," Nick whispered. Divia was the demon child, mortal daughter of LaCroix 
  and the prostitute Selene. She became a vampire, and later murdered her 
  master. In 79 AD, as Vesuvius erupted, she brought LaCroix across, making her 
  father then her son. Nick knew this. But he did not know much more about her, 
  except that she evil. She was more evil than the sum off all the evil 
  creatures Nick had ever met, both mortal and vampire. She had tried to kill 
  Vachon and Urs. She'd attacked Nick and left him for dead. Then she'd tried to 
  kill LaCroix. She had failed. And she was dead. Nick had watched with his 
  master as her body burned to ash. He had seen the ash scatter in the wind. She 
  was gone.
  The dart sailed through the air, whistling past Nick's ear to strike the rock 
  wall. It clattered to the floor. Nick trembled. How many darts did Flavius 
  still hold in his pocket?
  "Do you know who I am?"
  A lie. Nick knew he had to lie. This vampire was as crazy as Divia. "Yes, 
  master," Nick whispered. "You are Flavius. Divia mentioned you often."
  The vampire shrieked gleefully. "Yes oh yes! Yes oh yes! She loves me!" He 
  threw another dart, barely missing Nick. "She loves me not!" Another dart. 
  Another miss.
  "We were lovers while we were yet children, you know," Flavius said in a stage 
  whisper. "Divia, my little sister. Oh how I love you!"
  Sister? The word filled Nick with resentment. Would that make Flavius also a 
  son of LaCroix? Was he to be murdered by his own brother? Why hadn't LaCroix 
  ever mentioned him! Nick felt betrayed. 
  "And Divia loved me!" Flavius shouted. "Only me! Not Lucius. He tricked her 
  away. He was cold, heartless. He never loved any one. Never. I told my father 
  Lucius had raped me. I wanted him dead. All is lost... Lost. Lucius will die!"
   
  As Natalie pulled up to St. John's, she saw Nick's Caddy parked there. A cold 
  dread lodged in her throat. It was a confirmation that Nick had been here last 
  night. She burst from the van, racing towards the old, green monstrosity. Both 
  Tracy and Nick's coats were in the back seat. Undoubtedly, their cell phones 
  were, too. Why did they even own phones, if they weren't going to have them 
  when they needed them, she thought angrily.
  A wind whooshed past her, dressed in black. "LaCroix! Get back in the van," 
  she scolded. 
  The smoking cape hovered over the pavement where a scorched spot left a stain. 
  LaCroix touched the burn spot, inhaling. "This was Nick's blood," he told her. 

  Nat knelt before the spot. It was fairly large... Nick must have lost a great 
  deal. "Well, let's go inside. Maybe Father Rochefort knows something."
  LaCroix grabbed her and flew back to the van. Once under the shelter, he threw 
  back the hood and glared at her with full fangs. Nat ignored them. She knew 
  LaCroix was just worried about Nick. Hell, if she had fangs, she'd be flashing 
  them about now too. 
  "No one is inside," LaCroix told her. "Head north."
  "North. North on the highway? North as the crow flies? North where, LaCroix?"
  "Go north," he repeated. 
  Nat turned north on the freeway. It was a clear, cold afternoon, which ticked 
  her off. Why couldn't it have been cloudy today? Did even the weather have to 
  work against Nick? How fast do vampires fly, she wondered? 
  LaCroix stiffened and let out a cry of pain before he was able to bring the 
  sensations from his son under control. They were hurting Nicholas again! His 
  fury grew exponentially with each passing moment. Whoever these vampires were, 
  their unlives were forfeit! Forcing the pain from his thoughts, he 
  concentrated on sensing his son, but he did not allow Nicholas to know he was 
  coming. These beasts had been somehow blocking their link and now it was open. 
  LaCroix did not want to take the risk of them discovering that he was on the 
  trail. As each new wave of agony washed over him, he was torn between wanting 
  to comfort his precious child and wanting to destroy the beasts who dared to 
  harm him.
  Divia! Nicholas was thinking about Divia! She could not have come back from 
  the scattered ash... she could not be here! LaCroix had seen her die. He had 
  killed her once, and he would do it again. The first time had hurt him and he 
  grieved for the death of his child, but he no longer thought of her like that. 
  She was a demon. There must have been something wrong in him, a curse >from the 
  gods of Rome, that he could create such a tainted offspring.
  "Follow the river," LaCroix demanded. Nat slammed on the brakes, slowing 
  barely enough to make the turnoff. Her vampire cargo muttered oaths as they 
  were tossed about in the back. She smelled a metallic odor as two bottles of 
  the blood they'd brought along were opened and passed around. It slightly 
  repulsed her, but she knew they needed their strength to fight off whatever 
  lay ahead. 
  The road branched and she took the dirt logging road that fronted the river. 
  They had to be getting close, she thought. She could almost sense something 
  herself. 
  "Stop! Back up," LaCroix said. "Here."
  The car stopped. Natalie looked out expectantly, distressed to see nothing but 
  trees, rocks, the river, and sky. No vampires. No signs that any living 
  creature had even been here. Except... something sparkled oddly in the dirt. 
  She jumped out and followed it. Sunlight glinted off of something that should 
  not be here in the middle of nowhere. She stooped and picked up a small blue 
  glass bead. Looking back in the direction they had come she could see another 
  bead, and another. Retracing her steps she followed them in the opposite 
  direction. Four more beads lead right to the water's edge.
  "This doesn't make sense," she muttered. 
  "Well?" LaCroix demanded imperiously.
  Nat returned to the van and held out the beads. "What do you make of this?"
  LaCroix recoiled, pressing into the vampires behind him. "Rosary beads, 
  doctor. You have a sick sense of humor."
  Rosary beads! They must have taken Father Rochefort with them, and he was 
  dropping holy bread crumbs for them to follow! "LaCroix! Can you follow these, 
  without touching them?"
  He nodded curtly. 
  "They lead right up to the water though."
  "They could have flown through the water for a time," Vachon volunteered, "to 
  conceal their trail. It will be impossible to follow unless we can see more 
  beads down there." 
  LaCroix shuddered. Although he was fairly impervious to the cold, he did not 
  relish the idea of wearing wet clothing. 
  "I should go," Vachon said.
  LaCroix looked at him as if he'd just uttered absolute gibberish. 
  "Well, you're pretty worked up right now. Do you honestly think you can still 
  sneak up on them?"
  LaCroix didn't answer. Vachon was hard to detect. LaCroix wasn't sure if it 
  was because he was a New World vampire and therefore not related to most of 
  the community, or if it was more that he'd spent most of his 500 years hiding 
  from his twin. Either way, Vachon was the right choice for this reconnaissance 
  mission. "Doctor," he said. "Pull the van closer to the water so our Spaniard 
  can display his swimming ability."
  Natalie maneuvered the van as close to the river's edge as she dared. Vachon 
  pulled off his coat and shoes. He closed his eyes, taking several deep 
  breaths. Then he flew from the van. They watched from their shelter as he dove 
  into the river in a puff of smoke. 
  Natalie found herself holding her breath as she waited. Before long, the river 
  erupted and a wet vampire flew back inside the van, spraying cold water on all 
  of them. 
  "I found it," he said. "Those beads are glowing, even under the water. They 
  light up a trail all the way to a cave. I didn't go very far inside, but I 
  sensed at least seven vampires- maybe more. And I heard Nick."
  Without a word, LaCroix and the others removed their excess clothing. Wet 
  coats and shoes would not greatly impede their swimming, but they knew they 
  were going in to do battle. Natalie pulled off her shoes and jacket as well. 
  She dreaded the thought of going for a dunk this late in the autumn, but Tracy 
  and Father Rochefort were probably down there. Her help was needed. She took 
  two of the bottles they had brought along and put them in her medical bag, 
  then did up all the zippers and Velcro flaps. Bourbon handed her a plastic 
  trash sack to cover the bag and keep the contents as dry as possible. 
  LaCroix surveyed his small band quickly. Vachon was the oldest among them, and 
  he was still relatively young. If only there had been more time to gather 
  reinforcements from the elders in the community. But time was running out. 
  Nick's pain was severe and he was growing weaker by the moment. LaCroix spoke 
  to the youngest vampire, the drummer. "You will come last, and bring the 
  doctor with you." Without waiting for confirmation, LaCroix dove into the 
  swift flowing stream. Immediately Vachon, Patrick, and the bass player 
  followed. Then Natalie grabbed on to the drummer's neck and took a deep 
  breath. 
  "Ready when you are."
  The shock of the cold water nearly took her breath away. The odd little 
  glowing lights of the blue beads lit up the river bed, as welcome a sight as 
  runway lights to an airplane on a foggy night. She couldn't explain how the 
  blue beads would be visible in the cold water reflecting the blue color of the 
  sky. Her concept of science changed every time she hung around with vampires.
   
  Tracy was screaming at their captors, taunting them, trying to draw their 
  attention away from Nick. Nick was only whimpering now, too weak to resist the 
  torture any longer. These impressions crossed LaCroix's mind with lightning 
  speed as he soared through the water towards the cave. 
  "I am coming, my son," LaCroix promised, offering comfort to him at last. Then 
  he burst from the water and took off through the small cave in the direction 
  of the sounds. He broke down the door at the back and zeroed in on the vampire 
  torturing his golden child. With a cry of rage he tore him from Nick's throat. 

  "He killed her!" the other vampire cried in shock as Nick's blood dripped from 
  his fangs. "I thought it was you!"
  LaCroix slammed the vampire into the rock wall. Fangs flashed. He tore at the 
  other's throat and quickly gulped. Flavius! He knew this ancient one... The 
  child was Selene's! 
  Flavius recovered his initial shock and fought against LaCroix. Although he 
  was older than the Roman General in vampire time, it wasn't by enough to make 
  much of a difference. He and Lucius were brothers. 
  LaCroix fought hard and dirty, throwing Flavius into the walls, tearing at his 
  throat, grabbing anything in his reach to wield as a weapon, not hearing 
  anything in the room around him, so intent was he on his goal. Flavius fought 
  well, too. He attacked with a wild terror that few vampires could match. 
  Flavius pierced him with more of his darts, the tips of which had been dipped 
  in garlic oil. 
  Vachon led the others in their attack. The vampires let go of Nick and turned 
  to face this new threat. Nick crumpled to the floor.
  Nat rushed to him. His skin was hot to touch and covered with blood sweat. She 
  fumbled with the plastic cover of her bag to dig out the blood he needed. 
  "Hang on, Nick. Drink this," she urged. 
  Nick did not respond. All around her bodies and objects were flying around the 
  room, but all she could see was her knight. She knew without a doubt that he 
  had bought Tracy and Father Rochefort's safety with his own suffering. Gently 
  rolling him on to his back, she pulled six darts from his body, overcome with 
  sorrow for his pain. The wounds from the darts bled without closing. She 
  brought one dart to her nose and sniffed. The faint presence of garlic 
  assailed her. She didn't no how to treat this. Nick had been shot with 
  garlic-filled bullets once before. He'd described it as a thousand biting ants 
  crawling all over his body... She hadn't treated it then. It had just taken 
  time to run it's course. However, the gaping hole in his stomach was not just 
  garlic but sawdust. She knew that wood splinters could kill, and the wounds 
  would not heal until all of the wood could be removed. But how did one remove 
  sawdust? She brought his cold, limp hand to her lips and kissed it, weeping 
  for him.
  Tracy went limp in the hands that held her. Moments later she drove both her 
  fists into the region below his belt, hoping it would startle him enough to 
  release her. She might not have succeeded, but Patrick fell into her attacker 
  and the three of them went down. She rolled out of his reach. 
  Nat was with Nick, the vampires were at war. She went to where Father 
  Rochefort lay limp on the floor. A purple bruise was swelling above 
  Rochefort's temple. 
  "Wake up, Father," Tracy called to him, gently shaking him. "Come on. Help is 
  here."
  Father Rochefort blinked, wincing as even the slight movement hurt. With 
  Tracy's help he sat up and leaned against the wall. "Dear God," he prayed at 
  the war raging around him.
  Just then the tide shifted. The rogue vampires were losing their matches- 
  Vachon's target collapsed, then Patrick's, then the drummer's... LaCroix was 
  flat on the ground, bleeding from multiple small wounds, and Flavius hurled 
  himself on top of the ancient. Just at the last moment LaCroix raised a stake 
  and Flavius impaled himself upon it. The war was over. The victors staked all 
  of the fallen. The small cave became rank with the fetid fumes of the dying as 
  slowly they were reduced to ash. Father Rochefort made a sign of the cross as 
  he stared in horror. 
  "Father, you can still help Nick," Tracy said, hauling him to his feet.
  The priest gasped at the sudden pain, but one look at Nick banished all 
  thought of his own injury. Nick was barely conscious, but he was groaning 
  painfully. The priest went to his side and took Nick's hand. The vampire 
  became calm at once, the handsome features relaxed.
  Nat looked at him with surprise but Tracy just shrugged. "He's got a magic 
  touch, doctor."
  All the vampires hovered around her then. Nat inhaled deeply. "Okay, people. 
  Back up and give me some room. Move him to the bed. Tracy, can you get some 
  more lights in here?"
  Father Rochefort released Nick for the vampires to carry him. Nick cried out, 
  silencing again as the priest rejoined him. Nat pulled out her visor with the 
  magnifying lenses and proceeded to pick the pieces of sawdust from the gaping 
  wound. 
  LaCroix glared at the priest. He could not sense his son as long as the holy 
  man was touching him, but then he would not deny that the priest did seem 
  capable of relieving Nick's pain. Vachon passed him something to drink. Only 
  then did LaCroix notice his own wounds and discomfort. He took in the others 
  who had come to his aid. Although some were bleeding, and the drummer's arm 
  hung limply in its socket, none of their injuries were serious. He bestowed a 
  smile of gratitude on them all. He didn't know if they had volunteered their 
  help for Nicholas or for him, but it didn't matter now. He owed them. And he 
  always paid his debts. And Nicholas would owe him, for a long, long time. He 
  suspected though, that the debt would not be necessary to keep his son with 
  him. Nicholas now called him father. They were a family again.
  Natalie worked for less than half an hour. The little pieces of sawdust 
  mysteriously kept floating to the surface, making it easier to pick them out. 
  Finally, the wound ceased to flow and the edges began to fade. The healing 
  process was slowed because of the garlic, but at least she thought that the 
  wood was all gone. 
  LaCroix took over then. Slashing Nick's wrist and his own, he held the wounds 
  together. He winced at the discomfort Nick's poisoned blood caused as it 
  mingled with his. LaCroix's garlic-oil wounds were far less severe and already 
  healing. 
  Nick never awoke. He remained in a deep slumber, quiet as long as the priest 
  held him. "I guess, Father," Natalie said, "that if you don't mind, I'd like 
  to take you back to Nick's place."
  "He saved our lives," the priest answered simply. "What ever I can do, I do 
  gratefully."
  "Is Nick well enough to travel?" LaCroix was speaking to her much nicer now, 
  she thought. 
  "Yes, I think so." 
  She closed her bag and packed it again in the plastic. Tracy grabbed several 
  armfuls of dry clothing and tossed them in the bag as well. Then they took the 
  plunge back into the icy river. On the outside Nat was surprised to see that 
  the sun was just setting. The battle had lasted longer than she'd imagined. 
  They all changed quickly into dry clothing, even the vampires did not seem to 
  appreciate their cold wet things, although they said not a word of complaint.
  "Don't suppose you thought to bring my coat, did you," Tracy asked hopefully.
  Nat shook her head before scolding Nick's young partner. "No. And if you had 
  thought to bring your cell phone, help might have got here a lot sooner."
  "Yes, I guess you're right," she said sheepishly. "I really should have been 
  prepared for the possibility that seven insane vampires would want to abduct 
  me and my partner. What was I thinking?"
  "Ladies, shall we discuss this later," Vachon interrupted diplomatically. 
  The ride back to Toronto was silent. Natalie drove cautiously, as, except for 
  Nick, who had not yet regained consciousness, none of the vampires wanted to 
  bump up against the priest. Natalie caught the looks that passed between Tracy 
  and Vachon, and her heart was heavy. They obviously were moving much faster 
  into a relationship than she and Nick had in the past six years. Well, if Nick 
  didn't want her in his life anymore, then maybe it was time for her to move 
  on....
  At LaCroix's direction, she parked at the rear of the Raven, for all the good 
  it did. The rear door was flung open, and dozens of vampires hovered around 
  inquiring after Nick. They gasped in awe and kept a wide berth as the young 
  priest helped to bring Nick inside. 
  LaCroix was annoyed by their presence. He wanted everyone to go away, to leave 
  him and his child in peace. But something about their worry pleased him. For 
  the past century Nick had alienated himself from others of his kind with his 
  foolish quest. Their concern for him now was proof that not only had he 
  returned to the fold, but he had regained their respect as well. 
  "My children, thank you for your concern," he said magnanimously. "Please, 
  give the doctor some room here. I will let you know when my son regains 
  consciousness, and when he is ready for visitors. Patrick, free drinks tonight 
  for my gallant warriors."
  The mention of anything free drew the crowd away. They pulled Vachon, Patrick, 
  and the others with them, undoubtedly to pry more details from the returning 
  heroes. LaCroix smiled at the predictability of the young. 
  Upstairs, Urs turned down the covers on the bed she and Nick had been sharing. 
  She watched with quiet anxiety as LaCroix laid down his son. The priest's help 
  was no longer needed, it seemed. Nick remained in a deep slumber. She brushed 
  the soft curls off his face tenderly. "How may I help?" she asked.
  "Nicholas will awake very hungry," LaCroix replied.
  She averted her eyes, a faint blush staining her pale face. "Yes, of course," 
  she murmured. She went to the kitchen to have another drink.
  Natalie had seen the exchange. So the rumors about Nick and a new lover were 
  correct, she realized with longing. For some warped reason she could not 
  explain, she was grateful that the other woman was not Janette. 
  Tracy put a comforting hand on her arm. "Natalie, I'm sorry," she said.
  "Yes, well, I'm not really surprised. I felt him pulling away from me for some 
  time."
  "It's not that he's leaving you, Nat. It's that he needs a different sort of 
  relationship than what you can give him." 
  Nat shrugged. Nick was surrounded by creatures that cared for him- they had 
  risked their lives for him tonight. Nick didn't need her anymore. 
  Seeing Father Rochefort slumped on the couch in the living room, she went to 
  him and sat on the coffee table. "Let me look at you," she said in her 
  professional mode. "That's quite a bruise. Any dizziness? Nausea?"
  The priest shook his head, wincing slightly. "I don't think it's a concussion, 
  doctor," he answered. 
  "Here, I have something of yours," Nat said, pulling the rosary beads >from her 
  pocket. She poured them into his hands. He looked at her questioningly. 
  "You're the real hero, Father. Without these to follow, we might not have 
  reached Nick in time."
  Tracy leaned over Nat's shoulder and stared at the tiny glass beads. "You 
  could see those? They're so little! How could you have followed them?"
  Nat shrugged. "They glowed, Tracy. The sun hit them just right, even the ones 
  under the water. We might have wasted valuable time trying to find that cave 
  entrance, but for these beads."
  "The sun, right," Tracy remarked. 
  LaCroix turned toward the priest, glancing down his patrician nose 
  disdainfully. "I am - grateful- for your assistance to my son. No doubt, he 
  will want to tell you that himself. Will you spend the night here until he 
  awakens?"
  The priest stood slowly, then nodded at his host. "What about my memories?"
  LaCroix looked startled for a moment, then eyed Tracy. She must have said 
  something to him about the code. "I will let Nicholas handle that."
  A look of relief washed over the priest. He held out his hand to shake, then 
  stared at it awkwardly when LaCroix did not accept it. "Thank you, " he said, 
  putting the hand in his pocket. 
  Natalie closed her bag and stood. "Well, I'm beat. And I'm late for work. 
  Tracy, you'd better come up with something to tell Reese, before he puts an 
  APB out on you two."
  "You're right. LaCroix, I need to go. Thanks for coming to get us." She 
  reached up on her toes then, and kissed the ancient on the cheek. "I owe you 
  one."
  "You owe much more than that," he said smoothly. "And I always collect my 
  debts."
  Tracy grinned. "I'm counting on it. Sir." Then she hurried out the door. 
  Natalie shook her head. Everything was changing. She needed a vacation.
  Urs came back into the room. "Natalie?" she asked softly. "Nick is asking for 
  you."
  Nat hesitated. She wanted to just walk out to show Nick how angry she was. But 
  he'd been so hurt. She couldn't add to that now. Summoning her courage, she 
  slipped in to the bedroom.
  Nick lay in the middle of the bed, a pale shade on the black sheets. He looked 
  so tired. Nat moved closer and sat down on the edge. 
  "You came for me," he whispered. He raised a hand weakly, reaching for her. 
  She took it in hers and held it. His skin was losing the feverish touch, 
  slowly cooling to vampire normal.
  "You needed help," she answered lamely. "That's what friends are for."
  "Nat. You've been my best friend for six years."
  Tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but Nick had already 
  seen them. 
  "I've hurt you. Again. Nat, I'm so sorry."
  Nat touched his face. "We often do hurt the people we love, Nick. It's part of 
  the risk we take."
  Nick's eyes closed. For moments he didn't speak. Then his grip in her hand 
  tightened. "Still friends?"
  What would her life be like, if he had never come in to it? He'd opened her to 
  things she'd never known to exist. He'd taught her about herself. So she loved 
  a vampire. Unless he could become a man, they could not have the relationship 
  she wanted. But she didn't want to lose him. "Friends forever, Nick," she 
  answered, and kissed him chastely on the forehead. "Get some rest. Good 
night."
   
  Late the following night Tracy joined her future family in LaCroix's living 
  room. "I told Reese you were sick," she said to Nick with a grin. "He took it 
  pretty well, considering we were able to close the Rueben Maloney case. It was 
  the autistic kid. Father Rochefort is with both mothers now. They're working 
  on the funeral arrangements together."
  Nick nodded. It was such a tragedy. Yet, it sounded as though the mothers 
  would be able to move beyond their pain and grief, to find comfort. They had 
  both lost a son. One to a violent death, and one to an inexplicable chemical 
  imbalance in the brain. 
  Urs rubbed the back of his neck.
  "You still look kind of tired, Nick," Tracy commented.
  "He's had a constant string of visitors," Urs answered quickly. "I think 
  nearly every vampire in the province has been by tonight."
  Tracy's grin widened. "Didn't know you were such a popular guy, partner!"
  "Me neither," Nick said sheepishly.
  LaCroix handed his son a beverage. "You do look quite exhausted. I suggest you 
  retire shortly."
  Nick stiffened slightly, but Urs kept up her gentle massage. "That sounds like 
  a great idea," she whispered into his ear. 
  Nick pulled her on to his lap and nuzzled her neck playfully. Tracy stared, 
  still shocked to see her straight-laced partner behaving in what she thought 
  was an uncharacteristically forward manner. She watched his fangs, the golden 
  glow of his eyes, the movement of muscle through his silk shirt... and 
  realized with surprise that her future brother was incredibly sexy.
  Nick stopped teasing Urs and gazed at his master. There was something 
  unfathomable in that look. A history of emotions, forty lifetimes of 
  memories... 
  "LaCroix," he said. 
  The ancient sat down, crossing his legs casually. He waited for Nicholas to 
  speak that which weighed heavily on his mind, knowing that his son would sleep 
  better for it. LaCroix would have preferred to avoid yet another journey into 
  emotionalism. 
  "Flavius was Divia's brother, but not your son."
  LaCroix nodded. 
  "And he was just as insane."
  LaCroix closed his eyes. He could recall now brief images in Flavius's blood, 
  although there was a disgusting flavor of garlic in the memory. Yes, Flavius 
  was insane. And he had been held a prisoner by the enforcers for many 
  centuries, which was why their paths had not crossed before. The enforcers had 
  known that as an ancient, Flavius's blood had potent healing abilities. They'd 
  kept him, like a lab rat, for their own needs. Flavius's death had bought him 
  freedom, of a sort. 
  "Don't you see?" Nick was becoming more insistent. "They were siblings! They 
  inherited their mental weakness from their other parent! Selene made them 
  insane- not you. I thought that you would want to know."
  A heaviness clutched at him as he closed his eyes to the pain. His child... 
  his daughter, whom he had loved and killed. It was not his fault. "Thank you, 
  Nicholas," he whispered.
  Nick stood then and took Urs's hand. At the hallway he turned back and smiled 
  at Tracy. "Welcome to the family, sis." Then he disappeared.
  LaCroix eyed the pretty little blonde before him speculatively. She had an 
  annoying, "perky" smile, but she smelled wonderfully of lilies. She was 
  disobedient, yet duly sorry when she faced the consequences of her actions. 
  She had risked her short, mortal life to try to save Nicholas. And she was 
  highly intelligent. Although part of him hoped she would just let the Spaniard 
  do the honors, LaCroix knew that if she joined his family, his unlife would 
  never be dull again.
  "So, Miss Vetter. Have you reached a decision?"
  She nodded. "Yes, I have. I must tell you, it was touch and go there for a 
  while." 
  He offered her a slight nod of encouragement. It might possibly be the last 
  time she felt comfortable to just speak her mind. It would behoove him to 
  discover what was on it.
  "Yeah. I'm just now breaking away from my mortal father. He's still trying to 
  run my life, get me off the streets and out of danger into the desk job of the 
  corporate crime division. I really wasn't sure about taking on a master that 
  is cut from the same cloth."
  LaCroix bristled. He would have to meet this notorious "double" of his, and 
  show Miss Vetter just how different they were.
  "And I'm not sure about your sense of humor. It's a little dark, but at least 
  its there. Nick is really cool. I'm getting used to his quirky little habits, 
  like zoning out behind the wheel and drooling at crime scenes. He's much too 
  serious, though. 
  "I really like the way you came to rescue us. Not that my dad wouldn't rescue 
  me, if the chance presented itself, but, hell, he's just not very observant. 
  He's never around when I need him. I like this mind-link thing- it seems like 
  it would be really comforting- only Vachon claims he doesn't know anything 
  about it."
  Vachon had mentioned as much to him once. He didn't feel that it should be his 
  responsibility to train all the orphans of the community, however. Perhaps, 
  Vachon could learn from Tracy... LaCroix suspected that she would be a quick 
  learner. 
  "But, what really convinced me to join your family, LaCroix, is that you guys 
  need me."
  LaCroix snorted. "You can't be serious."
  "You may not even realize it, but you do. You love Nick, I know you do. But 
  maybe it wasn't fashionable when you were a child for a guy to learn how to 
  express himself. And Nick loves you. He listens to your creepy broadcast every 
  night. He mopes around when you are angry with him. But, you two spend more 
  time fighting than breathing, am I right?"
  "Our relationship has been, unpredictable," LaCroix agreed, a smile touching 
  his lips. She was audacious, but in a cute sort of way. He was grateful for 
  Vachon though. Cute could get annoying. 
  "So, I'm ready. I want this. I want to learn to be a vampire, and I want you 
  to teach me."
  "I see." LaCroix was silent for a moment as he considered one last time this 
  task before him. He'd made other children before, gave them a few quick 
  pointers and sent them on their way. He'd largely neglected their training, 
  but he knew that Miss Vetter would be different. Although he doubted he would 
  hold her reigns as tightly as he did Nicholas's, he knew that she was to be 
  part of his close, little family. Somehow, maybe having another woman at 
  family reunions would be a pleasant idea. He imagined Tracy and Janette 
  together... it would certainly give his older daughter another target for her 
  petulant moods!
  "In preparation for this event, I have made dinner reservations. Have you ever 
  been to Azures?" LaCroix stood, taking Tracy's arm and linking it through his 
  own. 
  "Wining and dining... sounds great. And much later maybe we can dance. Nick 
  still owes me one. Only, if you don't mind, Dad... could I call you "Lucien"? 
  Just for tonight?"
  LaCroix smiled at her indulgently. Soft golden flecks appeared in the cool 
  blue of his eyes. No, life would never be dull again.
  The End.
   
   
   
  Return to: Main Page 
  Continue with part three: Dance of the Undead 
  I'd love to hear from you! Send comments to: Lorelei Sieja 
  Thanks for reading!