Moon Dance, 15th in the series of Forever Knight fan fiction





 
Author's note: This story is a cross-over fiction with "Bewitched". The witches 
in it are of the "Hollywood" variety. No insult is intended to Wiccan beliefs. 
#15 Moon Dance 
By Lorelei Sieja
  Copyright December 2000 
  "What are you going as," Tracy begged. "Come on, you can tell me!" 
  "I don’t know that I’ll go, Tracy," Nick said, trying to silence her. 
  It didn’t work. The car swerved when she turned to look at him. "Nick! You 
  have to go! Don’t be a party poop!" 
  "Tracy, drive!" he scolded, but the words fell on deaf ears. He sensed an 
  increase in speed to accompany the flow of words that fell from her lips. 
  "Nick, this is my first Halloween since my conversion! It’s like a landmark or 
  something! You’ve just got to come. It won’t be the same without you!" 
  Nick rested his head in his hands. He was so tired. All he wanted was to sleep 
  - forever. 
  He was not getting better. Nick had lost his eyesight last February in a freak 
  accident, but he had been suffering from a strange stomach ailment for nearly 
  a year. He could not keep anything down. Cow blood came back up immediately, 
  and human almost as soon. Only vampire blood kept him going. Although he found 
  a host of willing partners, it seemed that only LaCroix’s ancient elixir could 
  calm the fierce pain and sooth his savage hunger. Nick loved his master and 
  was closer to him than he’d been in centuries, but he hated being so dependent 
  on him. He could not live like this. 
  Tracy slugged his shoulder. "Come on, partner. Don’t zone out on me now!" 
  "I’m sorry, Tracy," he said, although he really wasn’t. 
  "If you don’t agree to come right now, I’ll- I’ll- I don’t know what I’ll do, 
  but you won’t like it!" 
  Nick chuckled. "Okay, Baby. You win. I’ll be there, but I will not, absolutely 
  will not, tell you what my costume will be. I haven’t decided yet, anyway." 
  She seemed to take his capitulation in stride, as if she’d expected it all 
  along. "Vachon and I can’t agree on costumes," she confessed. "We wanted to go 
  together, like "Mark Anthony and Cleopatra" or something, but so far, we 
  haven’t decided. I suggested Robin Hood and Maid Marion, but he said he would 
  never wear tights again. He suggested Tom and Huck, but I will not be a boy. 
  What do you think?" 
  "Maybe you should think about Gomez and Morticia Adams?" 
  Tracy screamed. "Oh, Nick! You’re a genius! I can just see Vachon as Gomez!" 
  She let go of the wheel to give Nick a sound kiss. The car swerved again and 
  somebody laid on their horn. Nick scolded her sharply, but Tracy was too 
  excited to care. She chattered non-stop, as she drove through the traffic to 
  bring Nick to his loft apartment. 
  "Are you sure you won’t come to the Raven, Nick? I worry about you being here 
  all alone." 
  "I’m not alone, Baby. Perry’s with me." 
  Perry barked in agreement. 
  "I know, but I mean, I wish you’d spend more time with LaCroix. He thinks you 
  are avoiding him and I’d have to agree." 
  Nick grunted. "Drop it, Tracy! I’m not avoiding any one. He knows where I live 
  and he drops in whenever he feels like it. I just need a little space. You and 
  Nat are suffocating me." 
  Tracy shifted into park. "Right, Nick. You haven’t spent a night at the Raven 
  since returning from Chicago. But go. Sleep alone. That’s what you do best." 
  Nick got out, slamming the door after Perry leaped beside him. He didn’t even 
  say good-bye. He tapped in the code to unlock the door and escaped inside his 
  private sanctuary. 
  For a moment the weakness came over him. He swayed and reached out, trying to 
  find the wall to support him. His hands came up empty. Nick took a step, 
  panicking until he felt Perry’s sturdy body against his shin. He bent down and 
  touched the golden retriever, then wrapped his arms around Perry’s neck. Nick 
  knelt on the cold cement floor and hugged the carouche. "I’m not alone," he 
  whispered. 
  Perry whined sympathetically and licked Nick’s cheek, surprised to taste his 
  tears. His charge was often moody, but this depression had been growing worse 
  for weeks now. Perry did not know how to help. * It is cold here,* he thought. 

  "I know," Nick said with a sigh. He leaned heavily on the carouche as he got 
  to his feet. "Take me home." 
  Perry led him to the lift, which should have been unnecessary. Nick knew his 
  way all around the warehouse loft he called home. Perry was more concerned 
  when Nick just leaned against the wall in the lift. Perry stood on his hind 
  legs and pressed the up button himself. The door clanged noisily closed as the 
  lift began to creak its way to the top. When the door opened again, Perry had 
  to tug on Nick’s hand to get him to move. Nick seemed so weak that Perry took 
  him straight to the couch. Then he went to fetch a bottle of blood from the 
  refrigerator and brought it to Nick. 
  Nick was almost too weak to pull out the cork. His fangs only partially 
  descended and he spilled some of the blood in the process. He tipped the 
  bottle and took a few swallows, grimacing as he did. Then he held the bottle 
  out for Perry. The carouche nudged the bottle to tip it lower, then he drank 
  the stream that flowed forth. Some spilled on the floor, but Perry would lick 
  that up later. When he’d had his share, he nudged the bottle upwards again. 
  *Your turn, Nicholas.* 
  Nick took another sip, but then he set the unfinished portion on the table. 
  "I’m sorry, buddy," he said. "I’m not much company tonight. Perhaps you’d 
  rather go out on your own? You could hunt a little?" 
  Not a chance, Perry thought. He would not leave Nick alone. *Let’s take a nap 
  and I’ll think about it later.* 
  Nick nodded, turning to lie down on the couch. "Just a little nap, I guess." 
  Perry tugged on the afghan that was draped across the back of the couch and 
  spread it over Nick. Then he took his usual place, sleeping on Nick’s feet, 
  his head resting on Nick’s thigh. He breathed in deeply. Nick didn’t smell 
  right. This was more than depression. Perhaps he could convince his charge to 
  visit his master soon. 
  ***** 
  Patrick smiled as the newcomer. "What can I get for you?" he asked in his 
  naturally pleasant manner. 
  "Direct me to LaCroix," the stranger replied. 
  Patrick hesitated. The boss did not take kindly to visitors. "Um, LaCroix is 
  not available right now," he hedged. "If you’d like to leave a message, I’ll 
  see that he gets it." 
  The stranger glared at the young bartender, a mere fledgling less than two 
  hundred years old. He let down his barriers and allowed his ancient aura to 
  pour out, radiating from him in menacing waves. Patrick sensed his age at once 
  and trembled, but still he did not immediately give out the information. 
  The stranger smiled, revealing even white teeth in a face that was blacker 
  than the night. "Tell him that Zuhayr awaits." 
  Patrick gulped, nodding so fast it was a wonder that his head didn’t bob right 
  off. Zuhayr again shielded himself from the others, before the fear he could 
  instill emptied the bar completely. It wasn’t his intention to intimidate 
  anyone tonight. This was purely a social call. It’s just that LaCroix was not 
  known to be very sociable. 
  A back door flung open and LaCroix stepped into the nightclub. His expression 
  was carefully concealed. His ice blue eyes gave not a hint of the animosity he 
  bore the ancient vampire and his words were polite, if a little clipped. 
  Still, no one in the bar would be able to guess the undercurrents that arced 
  between them like high voltage from a blown transformer. 
  "Come with me," LaCroix said. 
  Zuhayr nodded at young Patrick, letting the fledgling know that his service 
  was no longer necessary, then he followed LaCroix up the stairs to his private 
  apartment above. 
  LaCroix pushed the door open and waited for Zuhayr to enter first. Then he 
  shut the door behind him. He turned around sharply. "What is it that you 
  want," he demanded. 
  Zuhayr laughed lightly. "Ah, LaCroix. Your manners have not improved much over 
  the years. Perhaps I should take over your training?" 
  "Your presence is not welcome, Zuhayr. State your business and move on. 
  Please." 
  The polite word tacked on the end of an otherwise rude remark only made Zuhayr 
  laugh all the harder. He laughed, even though it made LaCroix angry. Then he 
  loomed over the Roman General, almost dwarfing him. Zuhayr was taller, and 
  heavier by half. He was a massive Nubian and he had been an ancient back when 
  LaCroix was still mortal. 
  "My business is Nicholas," he said clearly. 
  LaCroix hissed, fully fanged. "He is MY SON! You have no authority here, 
  Zuhayr!" 
  Zuhayr grasped LaCroix by the throat and lifted him off the floor. Flying 
  across the room, he pinned the Roman vampire against the far wall 
  effortlessly. "Mind your manners, cur!" he warned. Tightening his grip, he saw 
  bruises form on LaCroix’s neck before he released him. 
  LaCroix struggled for a breath, but quickly composed himself. "Get out," he 
  said. "This is MY home, and you are not welcome." 
  Zuhayr ignored him. He surveyed the sparsely furnished apartment and settled 
  in the leather chair that he was certain must be LaCroix’s favorite spot. 
  Crossing his legs at the ankles as though making himself comfortable for a 
  long stay, he smiled easily. 
  "Sit down, Lucius. You don’t look well," he said. "It must be tiring, taking 
  care of a dependent vampire like that." 
  LaCroix closed his eyes and he struggled to compose himself. So this was it. 
  He had worried about protecting Nicholas from the Enforcers ever since his 
  favorite child became afflicted with this strange illness. Vampires must be 
  able to take care of themselves. While infants were under their master’s 
  protection, a fledgling as old as Nicholas would be expected to be more 
  self-sufficient. He had drilled Nicholas over and over to get back up when he 
  was in a fight. Always get back up. Never lay down and concede the match, or 
  it might be his last. He had beaten the younger vampire severely on more than 
  one occasion and always he commanded him, "Get up! Get up and fight!" 
  "I am not tired," he lied. "I care for my fledglings as any father should. 
  Nicholas is much better." 
  Zuhayr scowled. "Do not lie to me, vampire. You aren’t very good at it. I have 
  seen Nicholas myself. I know how he is, even if you are too blind to see it 
  for yourself." 
  LaCroix sat on the couch. His legs felt weak suddenly and that was 
  inexcusable. This was the biggest confrontation of the century. He had to 
  convince Zuhayr that all was well and to leave them alone. "Nicholas does tend 
  toward the dramatic," he drawled. "He’s always been rather excitable. 
  Incredibly passionate one moment, and in the depths of despair the next." He 
  overacted as he imitated his son, laying the back of his hand against his 
  forehead with a moan of misery. Then he sat up smartly. "But perhaps that is 
  what I find so entertaining about him. He would not be half as amusing if he 
  were like my other children." 
  Zuhayr chortled. "No, no, you’re right there.. Nicholas is quite unique." 
  The door opened and Natalie came in. She smiled at LaCroix before she saw the 
  dark stranger. Her lover seemed tense, which alarmed her. The stranger must be 
  a dangerous vampire to affect Lucien so. Nervously she closed the door behind 
  her. "If this is a bad time," she hedged, "I could come back later." 
  LaCroix rose. "No, my dear. Not at all. I believe Zuhayr was just leaving." 
  Zuhayr rose, chuckling as he did. "Good evening, Natalie Lambert," he said. 
  "It is grand to finally meet the mortal about whom I have heard so much." 
  Natalie quickly moved to LaCroix’s side, unashamed to draw upon his strength 
  for comfort. "It can’t all be true," she said, forcing a weak smile. 
  Zuhayr grinned, showing white teeth in a dark face shielded behind a short 
  black beard. "Ah, but I’m afraid that it is. Tristan works for me. He was 
  quite taken with you. When you choose to come across he has volunteered for 
  the honor. As do I. You should consider your choice of master carefully." 
  LaCroix put a proprietary arm around her shoulder. "She has already chosen, 
  Zuhayr." 
  Nat felt a moment of irritation at LaCroix’s arrogance, but now was not the 
  time to argue with him. She put an arm around his waist to show this ancient 
  threat a united front and forced a brighter smile. "Can I get you anything?" 
  she offered politely. 
  "Yes," Zuhayr said. "I should like to see your research regarding young 
  Nicholas." 
  Nat’s mouth dropped. "I was thinking more on the lines of something to drink, 
  sir," she stammered. 
  "That too, will be fine." 
  LaCroix squeezed her shoulder before releasing her. "Zuhayr is under the 
  impression that Nicholas is a burden," he said lightly. "I have assured him 
  that this is not the case." 
  Nat nodded, finally understanding the significance of this visit. She had to 
  throw the interest off Nick’s illness and on to safer ground. "I need to have 
  a cup of tea, Zuhayr. Would you like to come into the kitchen with me and we 
  can chat? Nick told me about meeting you in Montreal. You made quite an 
  impression on him." 
  LaCroix watched the ancient one follow his mortal lover. He should go with 
  them, but he felt such a sense of relief when Zuhayr left the room that he 
  took the moment to recompose himself. Zuhayr was only one council member. It 
  would take more than one negative referral to condemn his son, but Zuhayr’s 
  word carried a lot of weight. Whatever he said, others would follow. 
  "Hi, Dad, I’m home!" Tracy shouted as she blew into the room with a whirlwind 
  of energy. "I wish you would go see Nick, though. Something’s really up-" 
  LaCroix flew to her and clamped his hand over her mouth with a warning hiss, 
  but not fast enough. Zuhayr peered around the corner. 
  "What’s this?" he asked. "Ah… this must be the younger sister Nicholas spoke 
  of. LaCroix, introduce me to this delightful creature at once!" 
  Tracy beamed at the polite flattery. The older vampire was devilishly handsome 
  and if he was a guest in LaCroix’s house, then he must be okay. She held out 
  her hand to shake, but he took the fingertips and placed a courtly kiss upon 
  them. She giggled nervously. "I’m Tracy Vetter," she said. 
  LaCroix glared at his youngest, sending a sharp reprimand through their bond. 
  Tracy glanced at him and pulled her hand away. "I’m sorry," she said. "I have 
  something I need to do." 
  "Nonsense," Zuhayr boomed congenially. "I am a friend of Nicholas’s. I was 
  merely inquiring as to his health. You are worried for him?" 
  Tracy looked at her master. LaCroix’s angry features promised a severe 
  punishment later. She moved closer to her master, unsure of the undercurrents 
  in the room. 
  "Zuhayr, I will take care of my son," he stated firmly. "Whatever needs to be 
  done." 
  "Will you?" he asked curtly. 
  "I will." 
  "This conversation is not over," Zuhayr said. 
  "I ask that you do not visit Nicholas alone," LaCroix added. 
  Zuhayr’s bushy eyebrows raised up almost to his hairline. "And why is that?" 
  "Because I ask it. He is my son. I have a right to be present when you are 
  considering his fate." 
  Zuhayr chuckled. "Oh, Lucius. It has not come to that yet. Tell your precious 
  son, then, that I will be in town for a few nights and I wish to see him. Good 
  day." 
  The door thudded shut behind him. Tracy didn’t move or breathe, unsure of the 
  confused messages she was getting from her master. Then his hand shot out and 
  she was sent sailing across the room into a wall. The force of the blow 
  knocked the wind from her lungs and it was several moments before she could 
  speak. 
  Natalie ran to the ancient Roman and scolded him. "LaCroix, leave her alone!" 
  "It’s all right, Nat," Tracy said, getting to her feet. 
  "Tracy must learn to think before she speaks!" LaCroix stated furiously. 
  "I’m sorry, sir," Tracy stammered. "You’re right, of course. I’m really 
  sorry." 
  "Do you feel better now," Nat snapped at LaCroix. "Nicholas needs your help. 
  Focus on the real issues!" 
  LaCroix glared at them. He needed to clear his head. Without a word he flew 
  through the skylight and left. 
  ***** 
  "How do you know this couple again," Jonathan asked absently as he fidgeted 
  with the cigarette lighter in the back of the limousine. Samantha hid a modest 
  smile behind graceful fingertips. Men were all the same, she thought. It 
  didn’t matter what century they were from originally. Jonathan, her new 
  husband, was quite comfortable at a game of Polo or an English hunt, but was 
  out of his element visiting the mortal friends of his wife. 
  "Denise and I have been friends for years," Samantha said. She wasn’t going to 
  give him the whole story again. If he’d really been interested, he would have 
  remembered the first three times she’d told him. 
  After Darren had died of a massive coronary, Sam was overcome with loneliness 
  so thick it hurt to breathe. Her own two children seldom came home to visit, 
  so she started renting out rooms to students. 
  The young mortals were full of life, filling her home with their crazy ways. 
  They kept her current on subtle changes in vernacular, clothing and hairstyles 
  and she joined them in fighting for every cause from save the whales to safe 
  sex. 
  Denise had come to her in the 80's. A shy, young girl of barely seventeen, it 
  was her first time being away from home and the overprotective shelter of an 
  adoring, widowed father. She knew nothing about men, young men in particular. 
  Sam had taken the girl under her wing and mothered her, aching for the 
  opportunity to fill her empty nest again. Denise grew and flourished in the 
  relationship, but she had a special gift of her own. She was sensitive to the 
  mystical. Sam found it impossible to keep her secret. 
  "What’s her husband like?" Jonathan asked. He scratched behind his ear, a 
  gesture that further showed his nervousness. 
  "Joe Reese is pretty basic. He’s a captain of the Toronto police department. 
  He’s a good father and he’s honest. But Denise hasn’t felt comfortable telling 
  him the whole truth, so I’d guess that we need to be discreet." 
  "Great," Jonathan muttered. 
  Sam took his hand in her own and patted it soothingly. Gradually she felt the 
  quivers fade away and he relaxed. He gave her a winning smile, reminding her 
  again of the reason she had married him. 
  When she'd married a mortal, she had known that she would out-live him and had 
  thought she was prepared for that, but she had hoped to enjoy at least a few 
  decades with the man of her heart. Darren had been a type-A personality. He'd 
  had a bad temper and a short fuse. His mother-in-law had always known which 
  buttons to press to raise his fury and Sam had been forced to play the 
  peacemaker all through their short marriage. It was a role of which she 
  quickly tired. 
  Her children did not bring her much comfort, either. Tabitha appeared to be a 
  lovely young single woman of perhaps twenty, although since witches aged more 
  slowly than mortals, she was nearly twice that. She was enrolled at UCLA and 
  working towards her fourth degree. Playing the scatter-brained blonde college 
  student was a role she enjoyed, often at the expense of the mortals with whom 
  she associated. 
  Adam had foresworn mortal contact. He had moved out at the close of the 
  Vietnam Era, and she had hardly heard from him since. He was studying under 
  Wiccan masters and hoped to earn a place at the high council. He was a 
  handsome lad, but he had little tolerance or understanding for his mother and 
  her need for mortal acceptance. 
  Jonathan had been an answer to many prayers. While not exactly mortal, neither 
  was he a witch. He was an innocent young werewolf, naïve of the ways of the 
  world. He was impetuous and inquisitive, sensuous and joyful, as different 
  from Darren as two people could be. He loved her, he fairly worshipped her. 
  And she benefited from feeling needed again, for unlike her mortal renters, 
  his adolescent period could last another forty years. The fact that he'd 
  recently inherited a fortune wasn't ever an issue, although, she could get 
  used to riding in a limousine! The limo stopped. Sam saw that they were in a 
  middle class neighborhood away from the noise and congestion of the downtown 
  metropolitan area where Joe worked. The driver opened the door and offered her 
  a hand. 
  "I hope you brought a good book," Jonathan told the driver, who would wait for 
  them. "This is going to take a while, I can just feel it." 
  "Oh come on and quit complaining," Samantha said with a touch of exasperation. 

  The front door flung open and a pretty black woman waved at them, the hall 
  light behind her casting her face in shadow. "Samantha! You're here! Joe- the 
  Stevens are here! Come in! Come in! It’s been so long! Oh, but I remember that 
  it isn’t ‘Stevens’ any more - hello!" 
  Sam hooked her arm through her new husband’s and half dragged him forward. 
  "Her name is ‘Denise’," she whispered, a note of warning in her voice. 
  "Hello, Denise," Jonathan quickly said. "Yes, I nabbed her as soon as the 
  widow’s garb hit the dust. Now it’s Whiltierna. And I’m Jonathan." Denise 
  enveloped him in one of her famous hugs that nearly took his breath away. She 
  released him before he passed out and went on to embrace Samantha. "It’s been 
  so long!" she exclaimed, tears of joy slipping down her face. 
  "Yes, eight years is a long time," Sam agreed. "Let me see those girls! The 
  oldest was little more than a baby when I saw her last." 
  Denise brought her inside, holding the door for Jonathan. "Joe," she called 
  again. "Come and meet our guests." 
  Sam smiled as Joe came into the living room. The years had been very good to 
  him. He had grown since the college years when he had first met and dated 
  Denise. She saw more of the warm, gentle kindness that was as much a part of 
  him as she remembered the first time she saw him at the local Toys For Tots 
  Christmas drive that she and Denise had spear-headed. 
  "Sam! Why you haven’t changed a bit," Joe exclaimed, giving her a bear hug 
  that rivaled Denise’s in intensity. Sam quickly glanced at Denise, but her 
  friend shook her head and smiled. Sam had artificially aged herself with 
  make-up and hair coloring. Denise knew the truth, but she let Sam know that 
  Joe was simply being polite. 
  "Joe, I’d like you to meet my husband, Jonathan Whiltierna," Sam said, giving 
  the introductions. 
  Joe grabbed the young werewolf and herded him over to the bar for a thorough 
  cross-examination under the disguise of friendly interest. Jonathan gave Sam a 
  hopeful look. She winked at him. He would do fine; she wasn’t worried much. If 
  it didn’t go well, she could always change the outcome of events with a magic 
  twitch. She was much more comfortable using her powers now since Darren’s 
  death. 
  The evening was pleasant. Sam caught up on the changes in Denise’s life and 
  Jonathan survived the grueling human male ritual of introduction. They had a 
  fabulous dinner served family style, which meant the conversation was often 
  interrupted by the Reese daughters. Tammy was a charming girl on the verge of 
  young womanhood, but Shania was far more interesting. She bubbled with 
  childish enthusiasm and her sharp mind came up with the strangest ideas. 
  Samantha hadn’t laughed that hard since her uncle had turned his favorite 
  geisha into a grain of sand and lost her on the beach. 
  There was that one incident where the escargot turned into live snails. Joe 
  hadn’t noticed, but Denise was about to give out an ear-splitting scream 
  before Sam realized it in time. She zapped the snails back into harmless fare 
  and took the scream right out of Denise’s throat. "I’m sorry," she apologized. 
  "It must be mother." 
  Denise gasped until her breathing returned to normal. "Is she still bothering 
  you? I thought that would be over after Darren-" 
  Sam shrugged. "Once a mother, well, you know. Jonathan isn’t enough of a 
  compromise. And truthfully, I would have married a nice witch, but after 
  living with Darren for twenty years, no one wanted me." 
  Denise gave a disapproving grunt. "Sam, you’re the prettiest witch I ever met. 
  They have to be awfully stupid not to notice you." 
  Sam laughed. "I’m really happy with Jonathan. He’s a little young, but he’ll 
  learn." 
  The men joined them then, as they sat around a friendly little fire laid in 
  the family room. Sam knew her mother was near when everything Joe said came to 
  be. He talked about cold feet, and his own size thirteens became encased in 
  huge blocks of ice. He talked about this one detective of his that was a 
  little strange, and he was certain his father was into something illegal, or 
  he was a monkey’s uncle. Then he turned into a little squirrel monkey. Denise 
  only laughed, but Samantha was getting irate. 
  "Mother! Mother, come here right now!" 
  With a soft tinkle of music, the air parted and Endora was gracefully 
  ensconced on top of the spinet, a long, tapered cigarette holder dangling from 
  gloved hands. "Yes, child? Oh, hello, Jo-Jo." 
  "'Jonathan', Mother. His name is Jonathan. And what are you doing here!" 
  Endora’s eyebrows raised into her hairline. "Why, talking with you, my dear. 
  And it was you who summoned me." She puffed on the cigarette and glanced away 
  with a wounded look. 
  "You know what I mean. You turn Joe Reese back the way he was and leave us 
  alone!" 
  "Or what," Endora said calmly, her voice dripping with unspoken threat. 
  "Mother!" Sam threw up her hands in frustration. "I want you to stop 
  interfering in my life! Or I’ll- next year, I’ll have an entire litter of 
  little werewolf cubs all calling you ‘Granny’!" 
  "You wouldn’t," Endora gasped, visibly paling. 
  Sam nodded. 
  Endora hesitated, as she considered her options. "Oh, very well, then," she 
  conceded. With a wave of her arm, Joe Reese became himself again. He stared, 
  dumbfounded, at the strange older woman who had not been there a moment ago. 
  "Your promise, mother. You will stay out of my life!" 
  Endora sniffed. "You used to be so much more interesting, Sammy," she said. 
  "Good-bye!" Then the air shimmered and lightning streaked, thunder shook the 
  little house, and she was gone. The girls came screaming out of their room, 
  wondering if they should head into the storm shelter in the basement. 
  Sam tweaked her nose, blanking a few memories in Captain Reese’s mind. She was 
  surprised to find that the task was not as simple as it should be. He 
  complained of a headache then, and she felt obligated to call an early ending 
  to the evening’s get-together. 
  Denise walked them to the door. "Do you think it’s over between you and your 
  mother?" she asked. Sam had told her about the awful pranks Endora used to 
  play on Darren. 
  "No," Sam said, nervously chewing on her lower lip. "She capitulated too 
  easily. And it is her favorite time of year. She’s up to something, and I’m 
  sure it’s no good." 
  Denise nodded sagely. "There's enough strange stuff that goes on in this city, 
  I don't think her pranks will arouse much suspicion." 
  "Like what?" Sam asked, mildly concerned. Was there more than witch to worry 
  about? 
  "Oh, the usual," Denise said wryly. "Headless corpses in nightclub freezers, 
  cow blood in refrigerators, reports of police officers seen flying - and 
  there's one detective on my husband's force that always seems to be in the 
  middle of it. But he saved Joe's life. I still don't know how he did it; that 
  man must be indestructible." 
  Samantha wracked her brain wondering what might be going on. None of it 
  sounded familiar. Witches didn't go around leaving bodies, and she didn't know 
  anyone who drank cow blood... except a certain vampire, but she hadn't heard 
  from him in decades. He must have found his cure, she thought wistfully. 
  "Maybe you would stop by and visit this detective for me?" Denise asked. Her 
  tone was light, but the way she avoided looking at Sam made her think that 
  Denise was very worried. 
  "Why?" Sam asked. "You know the police can't help where Endora is concerned." 
  "Oh, don't worry, maybe it's nothing," she said. "Just a feeling I get when 
  I'm around him. Like I said, he saved Joe's life. Joe had his finger on a 
  bomb, and this man took his place. I'll love him forever for that. But I've 
  never been able to do anything for him. I've invited him to dinner countless 
  times; that man doesn't eat. I've made him scarves, but he doesn't seem to 
  feel the cold. Now something's going on with him. I don't know, but I'd really 
  appreciate it if you'd look in on him for me. And maybe he can help with your 
  mother, maybe not." 
  "I’m not much good at helping others these days," Sam said, frustrated. 
  "Nonsense. You’re just going through a difficult period right now. You’ve had 
  a lot of changes and maybe you’re still grieving." 
  "I’m not grieving. I’m angry!" Sam quickly denied. 
  Denise agreed. "I know that, honey. But please go see him. Here’s his address. 
  His name is Nick Knight." 
  Sam sputtered. "Nick? Nick is here? In Toronto?" 
  "You know him, then," Denise commented. Her eyes narrowed as she considered 
  that. 
  "Oh, he’s not one of us," Sam said quickly. 
  Denise wasn’t completely convinced. "There are a lot of times I am convinced 
  that he’s not one of us, either." 
  Sam giggled nervously. "I’d be glad to go see him. Thanks, Denise. And I hope 
  we can get together again soon." "I’d like that. Maybe we can do lunch, just 
  the two of us, while you’re in town." 
  Sam agreed. Then, waving good-bye to the girls, she and Jonathan stepped in to 
  their waiting limousine. 
  "Nice people," Jonathan said, when the door was closed. "I like your friends. 
  But I feel exhausted." 
  Sam gave the driver the address over the intercom. "I can’t remember the last 
  time I saw Nick," she said. "Thirty, forty years, anyway. Maybe it was New 
  Orleans." 
  "Tell me about him," Jonathan asked. 
  "His true name is Nicholas de Brabant. He’s a vampire, the favorite of the 
  ancient, LaCroix." 
  Jonathan groaned. "Just great. You really want to ruin this trip for me, don’t 
  you?" 
  "You don’t believe those creation stories, do you?" Sam asked incredulously. 
  "About Lillith being the mother of all creatures of the night, and vampires 
  are her first born?" 
  "It doesn’t matter what I believe," Jonathan complained. "It's what the 
  vampires believe. They are so superior and the rest of us- werewolves, 
  witches, carouche, are all a lower life-form." 
  "Nick’s not like that," Sam insisted. "For one, he doesn’t like being vampire. 
  Actually, I’m a little surprised to hear he’s still around. When I hadn’t 
  heard from him in ages, I’d assumed he’d found his cure." 
  Jonathan shrugged, not entirely convinced. Sam watched as he filled a 
  wineglass and drained it. She winced and turned away. Darren had been a heavy 
  drinker, which had contributed to his heart problem. Jonathan wasn’t Darren. 
  She had to remind herself of that. 
  Jonathan set the glass in the cup holder on the door and pulled her onto his 
  lap. "I am not Darren," he repeated. 
  "Were you in my mind again," she said, mildly irritated. 
  "Not intentionally, love. But let me show you just how sorry I am." Then she 
  was glad for the soundproof, curtained glass that separated them from the 
  mortal driver as Jonathan made love to her in erotic, feral werewolf fashion. 
  ***** 
  Nick ignored the buzzer as long as he could. Someone outside wanted him badly. 
  When Perry nipped his toes and dragged the quilt from him, Nick staggered to 
  his feet. "All right, I’m coming," he groused to the empty loft. Jabbing the 
  button, he spoke gruffly into the intercom. "It’s open, come up if you dare." 
  Perry growled. *Not your best manners, Nicholas. * 
  The elevator groaned and squealed, then the door opened and two beings 
  entered. Nick stiffened, not recognizing their scent at all. He should have 
  checked before giving them admittance! Perry picked up on his discomfort and 
  placed himself between Nick and the strangers, growling with his hackles 
  raised. 
  "Uh, hello, Nick," said a woman’s voice. "It’s me, Samantha." 
  Nick cocked his head, remembering something familiar in the woman’s voice. 
  "Perry, it’s okay," he said slowly. 
  Perry quieted, but he remained protectively at Nick’s side. 
  "Samantha? Stevens? From California?" Nick asked, the confusion beginning to 
  clear. He hadn’t seen her since the mid-sixties, and she wasn’t mortal. That 
  explained why her scent was different. 
  The man was not familiar at all. Nick’s nostrils flared as he caught the 
  animal scent. The man growled softly. Nick heard him hiss a warning at the 
  carouche, but Perry bravely stood his ground. 
  "Jonathan, down boy," Samantha chided. "Nick is a friend. A very good, old 
  friend of mine." 
  Nick gestured towards the couch. "I’m sorry, Samantha. I was sleeping, I’m not 
  usually so rude. Please, won’t you sit. May I get you something to drink?" 
  "Yes." "No." Jonathan and Samantha spoke at once. 
  "No," Samantha repeated. Jonathan shrugged. He followed Samantha to the couch 
  and slumped into it. Meeting her friends was a chore, but she had been a good 
  sport when he’d had to subject her to his relatives. 
  Nick touched Perry’s head affectionately. "You may stay with us," he 
  whispered. 
  *I have every intention of doing just that, * the carouche thought 
  disdainfully. 
  Nick took the chair and settled down, casually crossing one leg over the 
  other. "Gee, Samantha, it’s been a while. What brings you to Toronto?" 
  Sam smiled. Nick looked great. He was too pale, but that always took her a 
  while to get used to. He hadn’t liked to visit her in California very often, 
  where his pale complexion stood out among the throngs of deeply tanned 
  mortals. And Nick hadn’t liked Darren at all. How odd, she thought. No one had 
  liked Darren. What had she ever seen in him? 
  "I was just here on a social call," she said. "Jonathan and I were married 
  last year and we’ve been on an extended honeymoon, while we decide where we 
  want to live." 
  "Jonathan," Nick said. 
  "Yes," Sam said, wondering at Nick’s strange manner. "This is my husband, 
  Jonathan Whiltierna." 
  Jonathan half-rose and extended his hand. When Nick didn’t immediately take 
  it, he was about to lose his temper, but then he saw the detective raise his 
  hand and extend it. He took the cold hand in his and pressed it lightly. Nick 
  didn’t look right at him, but the vacant blue eyes warmed slightly as he 
  smiled. 
  "Ah, Jonathan. Are you perhaps related to the Whiltiernas of North Wales?" 
  "The very," he said. 
  Nick grinned. "I knew Douglas Tanin Whiltierna, years ago. Cantankerous old 
  coot. Boxed my ears once, I didn’t hear for days." 
  Jonathan chuckled. "Yep. That was my grandfather. He passed away a few years 
  ago." 
  "I’m sorry to hear that," Nick said politely. 
  "I’m not," Jonathan replied. "He grew more cantankerous, as you put it, with 
  time. He would have sold me into a loveless marriage to honor some pact that 
  had been made before I was born. His death gave me freedom." 
  "Ah yes, the ways of the ancients don’t keep up with the times, do they," Nick 
  said wisely. 
  Jonathan relaxed. This vampire did seem different. He seemed perfectly 
  comfortable with a witch, a werewolf, and a carouche. There was something very 
  strange about the vampire, though. 
  Sam mentioned something about her long-standing friendship with Denise Reese. 
  "So when Mother left, I was afraid that she might stir up trouble elsewhere in 
  the city. Denise thought I should warn you. I didn’t even know you were in 
  town." 
  "Denise? Why me?" Nick asked, concerned. 
  Sam laughed. "Look, Nick, she knew about witches before I ever met her. She 
  has sort of a sixth sense about us. She may not know what you are, but she 
  knows you are more than mortal." 
  "Great," Nick groaned. Then he grinned. "So, once again I get to do battle 
  with your mother. I’m rather looking forward to it." 
  "Be careful," Jonathan cautioned. "She zapped me to six inches tall and kept 
  me in a birdcage for a month before Sam finally found me." 
  Nick wasn’t concerned. "Her magic doesn’t work on vampires," he said calmly. 
  Jonathan blushed, embarrassed at the reminder. It was part of the reason for 
  vampire superiority. Vampire hypnotism was fully effective on all the 
  creatures of the night, but vampires were impervious to the magic and gifts of 
  the others. Such logic would place werewolves only one step above mortals. He 
  felt his canines itch and longed to Change, to roam the city streets, to feel 
  the wind in his fur as he terrorized a mortal or two. 
  Perry glared at the young werewolf, his eyes glowing golden. 
  "Perry," Nick warned. "Now who’s not minding their manners. Why don’t you take 
  Jonathan and show him around?" 
  Perry reluctantly rose, his tail riding low between his legs. He trotted 
  towards the stairs and turned to see that Jonathan followed him. The werewolf 
  glanced at his new wife nervously. 
  Sam laughed. "Go ahead, love. I’ll be fine." When they were alone, Sam perched 
  at the edge of the couch. "I’m really very worried," she said. "Mother has 
  been beside herself since the marriage. I’m afraid she’s really going to hurt 
  people, - Jonathan most of all." 
  "Do you have a photo of her," Nick asked. 
  Sam twitched her nose and one popped into her hand. "This isn’t really recent, 
  but she hasn’t aged," she said. "Not in looks, anyway." 
  Nick pocketed the photo without looking at it. "I’m sure it will do fine. 
  Where are you two staying?" 
  Sam told him the name of her motel. It was one of the nicest in the city. He 
  nodded his approval. "Oh, LaCroix is throwing his annual Halloween Party," 
  Nick said then, half-concealing a fanged yawn. "I'd love it if you are 
  Jonathan would be my guests." 
  "LaCroix’s in town?" Sam asked curiously. The last she’d seen Nick, he’d been 
  fleeing for his life from the often brutal master. 
  Nick smiled. "Yes, it’s okay. A lot has changed lately. I have changed." 
  Sam looked at him again. There was something different about him. A calm 
  acceptance, a tranquility she had never felt before. He was still devilishly 
  handsome, still the same boyish smile and Old-World charm that had stolen her 
  heart over two centuries ago. He had been her first love, and perhaps, her 
  only one. He had spoiled her for ever settling for "one of her own kind." 
  She’d found other witches to be too ordinary by comparison. Nick never knew. 
  She had only been a pleasant diversion at the time. Nick couldn’t give his 
  love until he first loved and accepted himself. She wondered if he was indeed 
  changing and beginning to discover that for himself. 
  Nick rose from his chair. His motions were stiff, causing her a moment of 
  alarm until she realized how late it was getting. "I’m sorry, Nick," she said. 
  "We’ve overstayed our welcome." 
  "Never," Nick answered. "You are always welcome, but you must excuse me. It is 
  time for all good vampires to be asleep. Will I see you at the party?" 
  Sam gathered her purse and sweater. "Certainly, Nick. I wouldn’t miss it for 
  the world." 
  Nick held out both hands. She stepped closer and returned the embrace. "It was 
  good to see you, Nick," she said. 
  Nick’s hand moved slowly upward, reaching her face tentatively. She saw faint 
  red tears in his eyes. His thumb and forefinger touched her chin, a gentle 
  caress. She held her breath, unsure of the meaning of the gesture, and hoping 
  her young husband would understand. 
  The fingers touched her cheeks then, across her eyebrows and up to her hair. 
  She used to wear it in a bouffant style with lots of hair spray, as was the 
  custom in the sixties, but now it was softer. It was still shoulder-length and 
  golden blonde, but far more feminine. 
  Nick’s hands moved back to her shoulders where he held her. "What color are 
  you eyes again?" he whispered. 
  "Brown," Sam replied. She was beginning to realize what Nick was telling her. 
  He could not see. She didn’t understand why, for vampires possessed miraculous 
  healing ability, but for whatever reason, her friend and one-time lover was 
  blind. 
  "Nick, I… I’m so sorry," she said. 
  He gave a wistful little half-smile. "It seems that my quest is over." 
  "You're becoming mortal?" she asked, a little unsteady. Although she knew it 
  was what he wanted, she found it hard to be happy for him. 
  Nick hesitated. He wasn't really reverting to mortality. He was still a 
  vampire, still had the unholy craving for blood. But he knew he was slowly 
  dying. Perhaps that was as close to mortality as he could come? He forced a 
  smile, burying his melancholy with a warm hug. 
  "Congratulations on your marriage," he said, putting his hands back at his 
  side. "Jonathan is a lucky wolf." 
  "Hmm. I wonder," she said. "Sometimes I’m afraid that I married him selfishly. 
  Though I am fond of him." 
  "Samantha. You were never a selfish woman. Enjoy the city while you’re here." 
  Sam impulsively reached up on her toes to give him a sisterly peck on the 
  cheek. "Good day, Nicholas de Brabant." 
  Jonathan and Perry were waiting for her outside. She waved to the carouche as 
  she slid into their limo. 
  "You have interesting friends," Jonathan said. He put his arm around her and 
  gave her a squeeze. The carouche hadn't been overly friendly, but Jonathan 
  sensed that he was devoted to the vampire. Such close feelings were unusual 
  between the two species. 
  Samantha sniffed. A stray tear escaped. Jonathan flicked at it with his 
  tongue. "What is it, love?" he asked, instantly solicitous. 
  "I told you that Nick was seeking a cure to become mortal again? I'm afraid 
  that he's found it." 
  Jonathan shrugged. "Then why aren't you happy for him?" 
  "I'm sure that this isn't quite what he had in mind. Blind, weak, dying by 
  inches... it just seems so tragic." 
  "Be careful what you wish," Jonathan whispered, stroking her hair with a 
  finger. "Our wishes seldom bring us happiness, only the pursuit of them." 
  Sam dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I know. I just wish there was 
  something I could do for him." 
  "Be his friend, Sam. Maybe that's all he needs." 
  She smiled at her young husband, at his golden eyes filled with compassion, 
  and for the first time saw a glimpse of the great man he would one day become. 
  "Thank you, Jonathan," she said. 
  ***** 
  Endora flew to the top of the highest tower. It was drafty up there, 
  especially this time of year. Rather a pretty tower, as buildings went. She 
  pouted as she tried to get more comfortably situated. Life was so very dull 
  right now and being alone at the holidays was depressing. 
  Once she had found it exciting, when she’d been a pretty young witch and all 
  the young males desired her. Perhaps she’d married too hastily? She had loved 
  Maurice so very much, and thought he had loved her. Only, he had not been 
  faithful. She'd suspected him several times, and finally, when her daughter 
  Samantha was about six years old, he confessed. She did what was best for her 
  daughter and threw him out. How much better to raise a child alone than to 
  expose her to such debauchery and selfishness? And most of the time she could 
  convince herself that she was better off without him... only in the small 
  quiet hours when she slept alone did her traitorous body reveal the truth. She 
  still loved him. 
  Samantha became her whole life. She did everything for that child, but 
  Samantha had grown up, as children do, and no longer wanted Endora to be a 
  part of her life. She had turned her back on her own kind and dallied among 
  mortals! It was the gravest insult. Now no self-respecting witch would have 
  her. 
  Teasing Darwood had given Endora some pleasure. He was such a hot-head and so 
  gullible; he was easy to tease. Too bad he hadn’t lasted longer. Now he was 
  dust, like all mortals eventually became. The werewolf her daughter had 
  recently married was not half as much fun to taunt. He hadn’t lost his temper 
  once the entire month he’d spent in her bird cage. The only amusement he’d 
  offered was to Change in front of her. He’d undressed and turned into a 
  miniscule wolf, howling in a shrill voice at the moon he could not see from 
  his birdcage. There was something almost endearing about him, like an 
  overgrown, hairy Oliver, wanting only to be loved. She could see why Sam was 
  attracted to him. 
  But Endora was still an outsider in her daughter’s life. She was getting 
  older, and she was so very much alone. Well, she could make her own 
  amusements. This Halloween she would ensure that as many couples as possible 
  would suffer with her. She flew down from the tower and zeroed in on one 
  couple necking on a park bench. With a twitch of her nose, she changed the 
  girl into monkey. 
  ***** 
  "Nicholas, my son, wake up," LaCroix called gently. He smiled at his sleeping 
  child. Nicholas lay on his couch, one hand gracefully across his breast, the 
  other dangling over the edge. He was still in his clothes from the night 
  before. LaCroix worried a little at how thin his son was looking these days, 
  but there was such a pleasant expression on the angelic face of his favorite 
  child. He gazed a moment longer, feeding his hunger for this one, before he 
  reached over to shake him. 
  "Come, Nicholas. It is past time to rise." 
  Nick awoke with a start and rolled right off the couch. He landed face down on 
  the floor. Quickly pulling into a crouch, his fangs full and lethal, Nick 
  looked at him quizzically. 
  "LaCroix?" 
  The ancient chuckled. "Yes, my son. It is I. Now get up. I have something I 
  wish to discuss with you." 
  Nick reached out a hand and let his father pull him to his feet. He swayed for 
  a moment, concealing his weakness as he stepped into LaCroix’s arms for an 
  embrace. When he felt more stable, he stood straight. "Good evening, LaCroix. 
  What brings you here?" 
  LaCroix went to the refrigerator and poured his son a drink. He handed it to 
  him and watched until the boy attempted to drink from it. Then he smiled. 
  "Zuhayr is in town." 
  Nick’s hands trembled and the blood was in danger of being spilled. LaCroix 
  helped his son to a kitchen chair. "He led me to believe that you and he were 
  friends," LaCroix said, struggling to keep his voice calm. 
  "Um, I guess," Nick answered. "He makes me nervous. I’m not sure what he 
  wants." 
  "Perhaps you had better tell me more about your first meeting with him?" 
  Nick nodded. It was time. He had been intentionally vague until now, as he was 
  unsure of LaCroix’s reaction. Zuhayr had basically offered him a seat on the 
  council, only, he didn’t want Nick to accept it now. He implied that Nick 
  wasn’t yet old enough. 
  LaCroix’s eyes narrowed at the tale, his anger seething just below the 
  surface. His son sensed his ire and reacted to it, rushing into the bathroom 
  barely in time to vomit down the toilet. LaCroix growled angrily. 
  "Nicholas, stop this at once," he scolded. "I am not angry with you. Zuhayr 
  has overstepped the bounds of propriety. He had no right to offer this 
  position to you without first consulting me." 
  "I have no intention of accepting," Nick said unconvincingly. "But, I was kind 
  of honored that he would ask." 
  "Come, Nicholas. Let us shower together before you leave," LaCroix suggested. 
  He knew Nicholas would need his blood to strengthen him. For the briefest 
  moment he saw a look of resentment on his son's face, but then it was gone. 
  Nick blanked his mind, schooling his features into total non-expression. Anger 
  would only prolong LaCroix's untimely visit. It was getting harder to pretend 
  that everything was fine -- sooner or later his master would discover the 
  truth. 
  ***** 
  The precinct was humming when he arrived later. The Halloween season always 
  seemed to bring out the crazies. He thought back to last year at this time... 
  Divia's return and cremation, Urs and Vachon had both nearly died, Nat's 
  girlfriend had killed herself... So much suffering and heartache. Now the 
  world seemed to have settled down and only he was left behind. Nat was in 
  love, with his master no less, Urs was discovering herself, Vachon was 
  learning to face his responsibilities, and Tracy was contented with her new 
  life. So much had changed. 
  Then he heard a strange commotion. A man's voice, sounding almost hysterical, 
  and Officer Haskins ordering him to leave. Samantha's warning the night before 
  came to mind. 
  "What seems to be the trouble," Nick asked, urging Perry forward. 
  Haskins grunted. "The guy's missing a few French Fries, you know, Nick? Claims 
  this monkey is his girlfriend." 
  "I'll talk to him," Nick offered, enforcing his words with suggestion. The 
  officer shrugged and backed away. "Come with me," Nick told the man. 
  Inside a private room, Nick grilled the man on what he had seen. 
  "I was just sitting there with Bonnie, that's my girl. We were just doing a 
  little necking- well, a little petting, too, but then there was a tingly 
  feeling, like mosquitoes landing on you but not biting, and then, she was 
  gone, and there was just this monkey in the car with me. I screamed, and the 
  monkey screamed, and I don't know what to do!" 
  Nick heaved a sigh. That certainly sounded like Endora. "You are drunk," Nick 
  told the man. "You're going to sleep it off in a cell, and when you awake, you 
  will remember none of this." 
  The man slumped forward onto the table. The squirrel monkey shrieked, escaping 
  from the man's hold to race angrily around the room. Nick held out a hand. 
  "Come to me, Bonnie," he said calmly. "I can help you." 
  The monkey jabbered loudly, picking up a pencil from the table and throwing it 
  at Nick. 
  "I know this is all very confusing for you," he said. "But you'll have to 
  trust someone. I didn't do this to you, neither can I undo it. But I know who 
  can." 
  The monkey quieted. Nick waited, listening, until he felt the tiny hand in 
  his. The hand trembled. Nick sensed her terror. He couldn't imagine how it 
  would feel to be turned suddenly into an animal. Witchcraft was ineffective on 
  vampires. 
  "Would you like to ride on my shoulder, Bonnie?" he asked politely. The monkey 
  squeaked once, then climbed up his sleeve. She perched on his shoulder and 
  took a firm grip on a lock of his hair. Nick chuckled, feeling the monkey's 
  breath tickle his ear. Samantha might be able to undo Endora's magic, but how 
  many couples had been similarly affected? It was going to be a long night. 
  Nick called an officer to escort the man down into holding before he left. 
  Tracy hurried to catch up with him. "Where are you going, bro?" she asked. 
  "It's a long story, kid. And I can handle it alone." 
  "Not on your life," she vowed. "And before you give me any flack, remember, 
  I'm your partner and we have to work together!" 
  Perry barked in agreement. 
  "Fine," Nick growled. He gave her the address to Sam's hotel. 
  "So what's with the monkey?" she asked, as she drove. 
  "She isn't a monkey. This is Bonnie Braeden, under a witch's spell." 
  "A what!" The car swerved when Tracy turned sharply to stare at him. Another 
  car laid on it's horn demanding she pay more attention to the road. 
  Nick sighed. Tracy's education was far from complete. Infant vampires were 
  usually protected from the other creatures of the night. "There are more 
  things in this world than you know about," he said quietly. 
  "Yeah, I figured that out when Amaru showed me his fangs." Her tone was 
  biting. 
  The monkey shrieked again, right in Nick's ear. He winced. "Tracy, I'll tell 
  you all about it, LATER. For now, please just drive. Bonnie's been upset 
  enough for one night." 
  Samantha didn't immediately respond when he knocked. He knew she was there, 
  but suspected the newly weds were rather busy. He regretted that he had to 
  interrupt. Sam deserved a little fun in her life. 
  "Sam, it's Nick. I really need your help." 
  Moments later the door was opened, letting him, Perry, Bonnie, and Tracy 
  enter. Nick gave a short introduction. Tracy stared, reaching out with her 
  untrained ability but she couldn't sense anything different about the woman 
  who appeared to be mortal by all accounts. Samantha was mid-thirties, 
  shoulder-length hair that cascaded around her shoulders, and a forest green 
  silk robe tied at the waste. A long, bare leg suggested that the robe was all 
  she had on. 
  A large black and silver wolf sat on the unmade bed. His yellow eyes bored 
  into Tracy as if he could read her soul. She stared at him unafraid, yet 
  wondered why he was there. His hackles raised and he growled at Perry. 
  "Jonathan, knock it off," Sam snapped. "Go put some clothes on, we've got 
  guests." 
  The wolf slunk off the bed, his tail between his legs. With a parting glare at 
  the intruders, he trotted into the bathroom and kicked the door shut with a 
  slam. 
  "Sam, can you help Bonnie?" Nick asked. 
  She reached out a hand to the skittish little animal. "Yes, I think so. It 
  seems like a simple spell. Set her on a chair." 
  Nick coaxed Bonnie to release her hold on his hair. Perry helped him to the 
  chair where he set Bonnie down. Then Sam swirled her arms with a flourish. The 
  air snapped, and the little monkey became a naked young woman, too startled to 
  scream. Sam waved her arms again, cloaking the woman in contemporary garb. 
  "What - what is going on!" Bonnie demanded. 
  Nick caught her in his power and commanded her to forget the entire incident, 
  then he put her to sleep. Sam flung her arms and the woman disappeared, 
  transported to her own home. 
  Tracy muttered under her breath. 
  "Anything else I can help you with," Sam snapped. 
  "I'm guessing that she is not the only victim," Nick chided gently. "Your 
  mother never did things by halves." 
  The bathroom door banged against the wall. A handsome young man emerged, 
  dressed in snug-fitting black jeans and a silk, full-sleeved shirt that was 
  unbuttoned but tucked in. His dark hair had a touch of silver, although he 
  looked to be only about twenty. His motions were fluid and graceful and he 
  slunk into a chair with the same dejected huff as the wolf. Tracy wondered if 
  he was a witch as well. 
  Sam smiled at him. The look wasn't exactly that of a moonstruck newlywed, 
  Tracy thought, but more like a hungry hawk eyeing a delicious rabbit. What an 
  odd couple they were! 
  Perry urged Nick to a couch with concern. Nick seemed exhausted already, and 
  the shift had barely begun. Then he flopped on the floor at his feet to wait. 
  "May I get you something?" Sam asked. 
  Nick hesitated. He didn't usually drink on the job, but this was going to be a 
  long, trying night. "Yes," he said. "That'd be fine. But pure and uncut, for 
  both my little sister and me." 
  Sam's eyebrows lifted as she gazed at the pretty young vampire. "What an 
  honor," she said. "Somehow you don't seem like LaCroix's type." 
  Tracy was irritated by the woman's perusal. "Yeah, well, people change. Even 
  ancients." 
  "Yes, they do," Jonathan purred, his voice deep and sensual. 
  Sam shot him a glare. Then she twitched her nose. Four wineglasses appeared on 
  a silver tray. The two red "wines" she passed to her guests, while she and 
  Jonathan took the Chablis. Tracy sipped hers, surprised at the quality and 
  flavor of the treat created by magic. Maybe keeping a witch around wouldn't be 
  such a bad idea? 
  "How can we find her victims quickly," Nick asked. "I'd like to find them all 
  before anyone gets hurt." Sam tapped her nose as she thought. "Well, I could- 
  no. That won't work. I could - but that's risky-" 
  Jonathan rolled his eyes and gave a gesture of impatience. 
  "Jonathan, I can't think when you do that," Sam complained. 
  "Tracy," Nick said. "Sam and I have a busy night ahead of us. Perhaps you 
  could help best by showing Jonathan around the city?" 
  "Nick, I can't play tour-guide! I'm on duty!" 
  "This is duty," he countered. "Sam and I will fix it with Reese when we're 
  done." 
  Tracy stared at the young man. There was something wild and untamed about him, 
  yet he was beautiful to look at. "I guess we've been dismissed," she quipped. 
  "The 'Old People' want to be alone." 
  Jonathan barked a laugh. "True, but perhaps the evening will not be a total 
  waste." 
  He rose and held out a hand to Tracy. When she offered hers, he made a courtly 
  bow and kissed her fingertips. She glanced at his bride, but the witch was 
  unconcerned. 
  "Run along, Jonathan. I'll see you tomorrow." 
  When the door had closed behind them, Sam heaved a sigh and rubbed at her 
  forehead. 
  "What's wrong, Sam," Nick asked quietly. 
  "Oh, nothing. Everything." 
  "Come here," he commanded. He pointed to the space on the floor between his 
  feet. "Let me help. I owe you more than a few." 
  Sam giggled nervously. She moved to sit in front of him. His strong hands 
  found her shoulders and began to massage expertly. She rolled her head forward 
  and murmured a contented sound. 
  "I like Jonathan," Nick said. "He seems a little puerile, but nothing that age 
  and wisdom won't fix." 
  "I like Jonathan, too. That's the problem." Sam groaned again as his thumbs 
  worked at an especially tense knot. 
  "I don't follow." "I like him," she said again, stressing the verb. "But he's 
  my husband, my chosen mate. I should do more than merely 'like'." 
  "How does he feel about you?" Nick asked. 
  Sam shrugged. "I'm not sure." 
  Nick moved to her forehead, stroking the skin and worries away with a firm 
  touch. "Then you have nothing to worry about. Neither of you is really ready 
  for a permanent relationship. You are still getting over Darren, and he is 
  just too immature." "What makes you say that?" 
  "Simple," Nick said. "Werewolves mate for life. If you were his true mate, he 
  would never consent to leave you here with me." 
  She winced. "I hadn't thought about that." 
  "Some time he will find his life-mate, Sam. You will have to be prepared for 
  that. One day he will leave you." 
  "Don't you all," she murmured. 
  "Sam, I," Nick started to apologize. 
  "Don't. I understood, Nick. You were hurt and lonely, and I was available. 
  I've never regretted our time together." 
  A comfortable silence fell between them. Nick continued to work his own magic 
  as she relaxed in his hands. She had missed him. Endora's biggest complaint 
  about her marriage to Darren had been that she ignored her own people. It had 
  been necessary, as she and Darren had chosen to live in the mortal world, but 
  now she understood her mother's concern. The mortals in that life she had 
  created were all dead or nearly so, and she was left with nothing. Perhaps, in 
  some small way, her mother had been right? 
  "I could try a summoning spell," Sam blurted. 
  "Yes?" 
  "It will summon anyone in the city who's under a spell. Or, the victims who 
  are capable of movement. If she turned someone into a table or tree, they'd be 
  stuck." 
  "Okay, then what?" 
  "I change them all back, you wipe a few memories, and it's over?" 
  "It's not over until your mother says it is," he grunted. "We're going to have 
  to find out what she wants and get her to quit, but the summoning spell is a 
  good start." 
  "We need a place. I'm sure that a stream of animals pouring into this hotel 
  will attract unwanted attention." 
  "The Raven," Nick said. "It already attracts the weirdoes, no one will notice 
  a few more. But I'd better go and warn LaCroix." 
  "I suppose," Sam murmured. She turned around and put her hands on Nick's 
  thighs. "All in good time. But first you'd better finish what you interrupted 
  earlier." 
  Nick laughed as his fangs descended. "I guess I can handle that." 
  ***** 
  Tracy punched the elevator button, then leaned against the wall with her arms 
  folded across her chest. She glared in the direction of the hotel room they 
  had just left. "So where to?" 
  Jonathan smiled charmingly revealing perfect teeth, his canines slightly 
  elongated. Tracy stared, wondering if he was vampire, but she didn't sense him 
  at all. 
  "Feel like dancing?" 
  Tracy shrugged. Hey, dancing while on duty, she was getting in deeper shit by 
  the minute. "Sure." 
  Jonathan's eyes widened in surprise when she led him to the little black 
  sports car, which annoyed her. Why did everyone think she was the stodgy 
  good-girl type? She trounced on the accelerator just to show him. Jonathan 
  said nothing, but she saw his fingers tighten around the seat belt. Before 
  long she slowed to a safer speed. It wouldn't do to get a ticket while on 
  duty. 
  As they stopped at a red light, the deep bass notes of a band pulsated from a 
  nearby tavern, "The Wilderness Retreat". It was an odd name for a place 
  located in a metropolitan area, Tracy thought. Jonathan perked up and turned 
  in the direction of the music. Nothing wrong with his hearing, she thought 
  idly. 
  "Let's start here," Jonathan suggested. "And bar-hop." 
  She turned the corner and parked. "Fine with me. I've never been here before 
  though. I can't vouch for the clientele." 
  The bar was dark, as most were. The walls were paneled in rough boards, with 
  an elk head mounted above the bar. Dozens of huge, potted plants separated the 
  tables, giving a feeling of being outdoors, and ceiling fans created a gentle 
  breeze. Jonathan stared at the elk head, his strange yellow eyes unblinking. 
  "Does that offend you?" Tracy asked, indicating the head. 
  Jonathan shook his head slightly. "I prefer venison myself," he said. "Elk are 
  too big, too much waste." 
  The music that had first attracted them renewed as the band returned from a 
  short break. Away from the tables and plants was a small, crowded dance floor. 
  A Country-Western melody overpowered the background noise as couples pressed 
  their belt-buckles together in a foot-stomping dance. Jonathan pulled Tracy 
  close and joined in. 
  An hour later they hit Shannahan's Hot Spot, The Body Shop, The Wet Spot, and 
  then on to Trails End Saloon. Tracy couldn't remember the last time she'd 
  danced as much. Her feet were tender and she was beginning to feel hungry. "I 
  think it's time to go," she said, tip-toeing up to his ear to make herself 
  heard. 
  "Oh, that time came a long time ago," hissed a woman's voice. 
  Jonathan emitted a low, fierce growl as he tugged Tracy behind him 
  protectively. "Endora," he said. "Sam is looking for you." 
  "Ah yes," the older woman crooned, waving a lethal-looking fingernail at him. 
  "But she should have been looking for you! The ink is barely wet on your 
  marriage license and already you fool around with such a - a - cheap little 
  tart!" 
  Tracy lunged forward, fully intending to slap the woman, but Jonathan stopped 
  her. He wrapped both arms around her and held her effortlessly. "It isn't like 
  that, Endora," he said. "Tracy is just showing me around, while Sam visits 
  with an old friend." 
  Endora snapped her fingers and Jonathan disappeared. Tracy stumbled forward at 
  her sudden freedom. Endora cupped her hands together. "You will do exactly as 
  I say, or your lover dies," she warned. 
  Tracy paled. She wished her brother had told her more about witches. How much 
  power did they have anyway? Why wasn't Nick afraid? She thrust out her chin 
  defiantly. "He isn't my lover, lady," she sneered. 
  Endora lifted the top hand and displayed a minuscule replica of Jonathan. 
  "Then you won't mind if I crush him," she said slowly. Deliberately her long 
  fingers closed in around him, pressing on him. With Tracy's enhanced hearing, 
  she could catch his pleas. Jonathan wasn't begging for his life, but for her 
  and Sam. She had been attracted to his spectacular good looks before, but now 
  she found an admirable character as well. 
  "Don't hurt him," Tracy said with a touch of defeat. 
  "Tracy, don't!" Jonathan shouted, but Endora clamped her other hand over him 
  again, shutting him out. 
  "Go outside," Endora commanded. She followed closely behind Tracy and directed 
  her to continue around to the back and step onto a platform. Endora stepped on 
  beside her, and then the platform began to rise. Tracy wasn't afraid of 
  heights now that she could fly, but she was uneasy. 
  Still clutching Jonathan, Endora swung her arms and the platform took off 
  abruptly. Tracy would have fallen off the end, but the platform transformed 
  into a small room. Still, Tracy could tell from the discomfort in her ears 
  that they were traveling very fast at a high altitude. 
  Suddenly the platform-room dropped. Tracy felt her stomach lurch and she sank 
  to her knees. Just before crashing, their downward movement ceased and then 
  resumed to a soft landing. Endora glared at Tracy. "You and Jonathan should be 
  right at home here. You're quite a pair of cold fish. Ta-ta!" 
  Tracy looked at the place where Endora had just been. A disembodied hand 
  opened up and threw the tiny man before vanishing all together. Tracy flew, 
  catching him and cradling him from a fatal fall. She lost her balance and fell 
  hard on her forearms, eliciting a cry of pain. 
  "Tracy, you shouldn't have done it," Jonathan said, his tiny voice sounding 
  concerned. 
  She shrugged, getting back to her sore feet. Jonathan was shaking. She knew he 
  wasn't vampire, but it surprised her to think that he might be overcome with 
  nerves. Then she realized that it really was cold there. She looked around. 
  The room had one curtained window and a door that would not open. Tracy pushed 
  back the curtain to look. What she saw made her scream. The room sat on a 
  glacier. 
  ***** 
  "You want to do what in my nightclub!" LaCroix hissed, glaring at his child. 
  "It will just be tonight," Nick said calmly, ignoring his master's irritation. 
  "I don't know where else to send them." 
  "Into the lake would be my first suggestion." LaCroix glanced out over the 
  Raven with proprietary concern. 
  "LaCroix! We have no idea how many mortals she may have changed! You know how 
  even one disappearance brings too much unwanted attention on us. I'm going to 
  have a hard time explaining this as it is." 
  LaCroix opened his mouth to reply, but he closed it again. He reconsidered the 
  options as a slow smile spread on his patrician features. "Very well, 
  Nicholas," he purred. "Bring them here. But leave Endora to me." 
  It took nearly half an hour to suggest to all the mortals that it was time to 
  leave. Diggon was the bouncer that night. He effectively blocked the entrance; 
  no one wanted to argue with the tall, dark, muscular European in black denim. 
  The vampires hung around though, as they sensed something was up. They were 
  charged with excitement. Samantha was led into a private room, where she 
  arranged a circle of black candles on the floor. Inside the circle was a 
  five-pointed star also created from the black candles. When the lights were 
  dimmed the effect was eerie, as the little flames seemed to dance suspended in 
  midair. Samantha sat in the center of the pentagram, her back straight and her 
  shoulders relaxed. She breathed deeply, letting the air exhale in a slow, 
  cleansing breath. 
  Her magic was rusty. All the years she'd lived with Darren she had tried to 
  live mortal. It annoyed her now. Darren claimed he had fallen in love with 
  her, but he hated the magic. Now she realized that he could not have ever 
  truly loved her, since he had not loved all of her. When she was denied her 
  magic, she was only half alive. 
  "Nick," she said abruptly, just realizing that he was still there. "It is 
  forbidden for outsiders to watch." 
  He chuckled good-naturedly. "Then I'm all right. I promise I won't see a 
  thing." 
  She smiled. "You have a point. Actually, I'd appreciate your help. Come sit 
  here and hold my hands. Focus your thoughts on me, help me to concentrate." 
  Nick sat opposite her inside the pentagram. He felt a tingle all over, 
  touching his skin like a caress. He extended his hands, palms up, and waited 
  until she placed hers in his. Holding her it was easier to focus on her. Her 
  thoughts filled him, but unlike the pain that was usually part of this new 
  skill, it was like soothing rain. He relaxed fully, his own troubles were 
  forgotten as he felt that he was sitting in a forest glen, surrounded by magic 
  and comforted by it. 
  Samantha began to chant the ancient words of the summoning spell. The words 
  were foreign, in a language Nick had never even heard before. He would 
  remember them, but he would not know what they meant and without the visual 
  context of the spell, they would be ineffective. He felt weightless and 
  oblivious to the passing of time. 
  Slowly Samantha brought him back through the mists of magic until he became 
  aware again of the backroom. Then his legs felt cramped and his fangs itched 
  from hunger. An expression of wonder and joy filled him as he smiled at her. 
  "Thank you," he whispered. 
  She helped him to his feet and with a wave of her arm the candles were 
  extinguished. Witches could see fairly well in the dark, not like vampires, 
  but with almost cat-like eyes. The candles were more for ambiance. She opened 
  the door and stepped out, gasping in shock. The hallway was crowded with 
  creatures! More squirrel monkeys, dogs, wolves, hawks, even a Bengal Tiger 
  were pressing around her. They were frightened and lost, aware that their 
  realities had been altered, but not quite sure just how. One by one she 
  touched them, freeing the lovers from their entrapment. Nick adjusted their 
  memories and then Sam transported them back to their homes. When the last 
  animal left, dawn had already arrived. 
  "I believe you have tired my son enough for one night," LaCroix snapped. 
  Samantha jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of the vampire master. As a 
  whole, vampires made her edgy. They were an arrogant, domineering lot, acting 
  as though the night belonged to them alone. Nick was different, but LaCroix 
  was the epitome of all that she disliked about them. Such a shame that they 
  often came as a package deal. 
  "It is my fault," Nick said evenly. "I lost track of the time, Father." 
  That one term of endearment seldom failed to calm him. He felt a wave of such 
  love and desire overtake him that he would have promised Nicholas almost 
  anything. He shook himself hard. He must be spending too much time among 
  mortals. Their disgusting proclivities were beginning to rub off. "You will 
  spend the day with me," he said formidably. 
  Nick hesitated only a moment before he nodded his assent. Taking Samantha's 
  hand one last time, he brought the fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to 
  them. "Good day, my friend," he said. 
  Sam touched his cheek tenderly. "Sleep well, Nick." 
  Diggon escorted her to the door, bolting it securely behind him. With a nod at 
  LaCroix, he descended to the basement for the day. LaCroix hooked his arm 
  through Nick's to guide him upstairs. He would ensure that Nicholas was well 
  fed - several times - before the day was over. His blood quickened at the 
  thought. 
  ***** 
  Tala heard him crying. He was always crying these days... she should get up 
  and do something. Her mind was fuzzy. Couldn't think well. Nothing mattered 
  any more now that her mate was gone. 
  A sharp stab opened raw wounds in her soul. Berti's dear face was inscribed on 
  her heart and in her mind. With his warm brown eyes and sable hair, he had 
  captivated her from the first. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance. He 
  proposed on their second date, they married on their fourth, and she was 
  expecting a child not long after that. Life had been perfect then. For three 
  years she had lived in paradise. 
  Berti and she had been inseparable. They worked together at the game preserve 
  in St. Lawrence Islands National Park. When Cody came along, he had ridden on 
  her back in a canvas carrier and when he grew too heavy, then his father had 
  carried him. Their child had thrived under their constant, devoted care. His 
  first word had not been "mama," or "dada", but "wolf". Tala shut her eyes, 
  trying to drive away the mists that shrouded her in darkness. 
  The child was all she had left, but Tala was afraid that he was not enough. He 
  deserved a home, two parents that loved him. She could not provide that, not 
  ever again. Still, to honor the man who sired him, she must see that he was 
  provided for. Struggling to her feet, she went to the crib and stared 
  unblinking at her son. 
  Cody's crying stopped and he grinned at her with tear-stained cheeks and a 
  wide, friendly smile. His hair was golden and curled, so unlike her own dark, 
  straight braids. His eyes were blue. He looked nothing like Berti either, but 
  he had the same sweet disposition. 
  "Mama," he squealed happily. "Hungry! Hungry now!" 
  "Bath first," she said. "You stink." 
  Cody had just turned three years old. She had not been very diligent in his 
  toilet training and since she'd neglected to rise when he first began to cry, 
  she had no one but herself to blame for the mess. She kicked the catch under 
  the crib rail to lower the side, then lifted him, holding him away from her as 
  she marched into the bathroom. It might just be easier to throw away his 
  pajamas, she thought, as she hosed him off with the shower attachment. 
  Cody shrieked, struggling in her grasp. Tala smacked his bare butt once to get 
  his attention. The startled boy started at her with tears quickly filling his 
  innocent, round eyes. "Stop fidgeting," she scolded. "And this will go much 
  faster." 
  He nodded solemnly. Tala bit her lower lip, angry with herself that she had 
  struck him. He had never been slapped when Berti was still alive. It only 
  strengthened her resolve. Cody deserved so much more than she could give. 
  Grabbing a fresh towel, she wrapped him up and carried him back to the bedroom 
  they now shared. She couldn't stay at the park without Berti. She had moved to 
  the city away from everything that reminded her of him and had tried to live 
  for Cody's sake, but now she knew it was useless. 
  Flipping through the dresser drawers, she looked at the few things Cody hadn't 
  yet outgrown. He would need to look nice. She took a yellow tee-shirt, which 
  brought out the golden lights in his hair, and a pair of blue corduroy 
  overalls with a yellow Big Bird on the bib. Blue socks and white high-top 
  shoes went on last. Cody hated to wear shoes and was always pulling them off. 
  She'd learned that he couldn't do it if she bought baby shoes that came up 
  over the ankles, tied the strings in double knots, and clamped on plastic 
  child-proof shoestring caps. She didn't blame him, really. She much preferred 
  to go barefoot herself, but the weather was too cold now. She grabbed his red 
  hooded sweatshirt and pulled it on over the wet curls. 
  "Go bye-bye, mommy?" he lisped, his thumb finding its way into his mouth. 
  "Yes, honey," she said, wishing she could find the loving feelings she had 
  once had for him. "We're going to a very nice place. You must behave yourself 
  and be a very good boy." 
  Cody nodded. 
  Tala tugged on some clothes haphazardly, her own grooming unimportant. Then 
  she grabbed a pen and scribbled a note, pinning it to the back of Cody's 
  sweatshirt. She stuffed the remainder of her money, only a few bills at most, 
  into his pockets. Then, slinging him up on to her shoulders, she loped at an 
  easy pace. 
  St. John's was not far away and it had a day care. Any priest that sponsored a 
  day care had to like children. That's where she'd take Cody. She shivered as a 
  cold wind blew threw her thin shirt, but it didn't matter any more. 
  "Fasther, fasther, Mommy," Cody urged, kicking those solid baby shoes in her 
  face. 
  "Sit still or I might drop you," she growled. 
  Cody grabbed on to her braids and clutched them tightly. 
  St. John's was a big red brick building. Massive, gothic style doors marked 
  the entrance to the sanctuary. Tala turned away. She would go to the rectory. 
  That door was smaller, marked only by a simple plaque beside the doorbell, 
  "Father Pierre Rochefort." She set Cody on his feet. Holding his shoulders 
  firmly, she reminded him of her warning to be a good boy. "I want you to 
  remember that your mother loved you," she whispered, feeling the melancholy 
  steal over her again. It was almost finished. Her suffering would end soon. 
  She forced a smile. "Now give me a kiss." Cody wrapped his arms around her 
  neck and kissed her cheek. "Wuv you, Mommy," he said. 
  She pulled his arms away. "Now, you stand right here, and don't move!" 
  He trembled fearfully, sensing something was very wrong. "Wanna go home," he 
  began to whine. 
  "Not now, Cody. This is going to be your home for a while. Be a good boy! Make 
  your daddy proud!" 
  "No!" he wailed, tears spilling down his cheeks. 
  Tala shook him, stopping her hand in mid-air before she could strike him 
  again. "Stop that! No crying! You must be good!" 
  He blinked, wiping his tears on his sleeve. 
  Tala patted his head. Then she rang the doorbell. It was done. Quickly she 
  dashed away, striving to put as much distance between her and the child. It 
  was for the best. She just couldn't care for him any longer. 
  ***** 
  Nick tried to move, but the arm draped across his chest imprisoned him. 
  "LaCroix, let me up," he said. 
  The ancient ignored him. Nick knew he wasn't really asleep. He tried again, 
  unsuccessfully. "Come on, LaCroix." 
  Still no response. Nick heaved a sigh. He was still tired, but that was 
  normal. He was still hungry, but he'd learned that was better. If he drank his 
  fill, he wouldn't keep it down anyway. Still, he felt much better than he had 
  in weeks, which annoyed him. He would never get well - why should he go on? 
  Why would he want to? 
  He could not drink human blood any more, and even vampire blood was no longer 
  enough. Only LaCroix could nourish and comfort, his ancient blood soothing 
  Nick's tortured stomach. At first he had thought it was LaCroix's age, but 
  Zuhayr's blood had not helped him. Nick knew he loved his master, was closer 
  to him now than he had been for centuries, but he did not want to be that 
  dependent on him. Still, the arm was there. Nick brought it to his lips and 
  bit, sinking his fangs in the soft flesh. 
  LaCroix sighed contentedly. He placed a paternal kiss on the head of his 
  favorite. "Do not overtax yourself tonight, my son." 
  Nick licked the last drops as the twin wounds closed. "I won't. But I do need 
  to go now." 
  The arm released him. Nick patted the back of the hand, then rose and went to 
  shower. Before long he felt LaCroix's presence. "I don't need your help," he 
  growled in frustration. 
  LaCroix thrust a phone into the shower. "How reassuring," he said stiffly. 
  "This is for you." 
  "I'm sorry, LaCroix," Nick apologized. "And thanks, for everything." 
  LaCroix sniffed, then shut the door firmly as he left. 
  "Hello?" Nick said into the phone. 
  "Nick? This is Father Rochefort," said the young priest. He sounded upset. 
  "What's wrong, Father?" 
  "Everything," he said. "Could you come here today? For a few hours, before you 
  go to work? Something's come up. Something urgent." 
  "Sure," Nick said. "I'll be there shortly." 
  The priest even forgot to say good-bye, he just hung up. Nick dressed quickly, 
  worried for his mortal friend. 
  He'd begun volunteering at the parish-sponsored day care facility last spring. 
  Unlike most day cares, this one was open twenty-four hours a day to help 
  parents who worked shifts other than nine-to-five. The late night shift also 
  had two options, a quiet room for the children who were supposed to sleep 
  while their parents worked, and the play room for the children that were 
  supposed to remain awake. Nick found that he really enjoyed the kids. He found 
  their brutal honesty refreshing and their open acceptance of him was 
  heartwarming. 
  Perry and he took the bus tonight. The parish wasn't far from his loft, but 
  from the Raven it was just quicker to ride. Besides, Nick needed to conserve 
  his energy. If he walked there, he might arrive too tired to be of much help. 
  The bus allowed him more time to worry, though. By the time he was knocking on 
  the front door to the rectory, Nick was a wreck. 
  "Oh, Nick! Finally, come in," Father Rochefort said, as he opened the door. 
  "Come quick." 
  He led Nick and Perry through the familiar hallway to the day care, located 
  beneath the sanctuary. "There was a ring on my doorbell earlier, and a child 
  was left there, abandoned," he said, his words coming out in a rush. "I ran 
  after her- but she was fast. I think she would have got away, except for the 
  traffic. She was hit by a cab driver. I feel just awful! She wouldn't have 
  been hit if I hadn't been pursuing her! I need you to watch her son for me. I 
  have to get back to the hospital." 
  Nick nodded as he listened. "It isn't your fault, Father. It was an accident." 

  The priest made the sign of the cross. "It is, it is my fault. I shouldn't 
  have tried to catch her. She was desperate. The note she pinned on her son was 
  tragic!" 
  "So how can I help?" Nick asked as the day care noise loomed before him. 
  "It's her son," he said. "I was at the hospital, but the day care staff called 
  me back. It seems that her little boy is quite a handful. If you'll just keep 
  him amused and away from the other children - he likes to bite - then I can go 
  back to the hospital." 
  Nick shuddered. "How old is he?" he asked hesitantly. 
  "About three, I'd say. His name is Cody." 
  Nick grabbed the priest's hand. "How is she doing? The mother?" 
  Father Rochefort shook his head. "Not well, Nick. The doctor said her injuries 
  are not that serious, but there is something more going on with her. She just 
  doesn't want to live. They are feeding her intravenously. She just lies there. 
  I can't seem to reach her." 
  Nick released him then. "Don't worry about Cody, Father," he said with more 
  confidence than he felt. 
  A day care teacher, a young woman named Lori, grabbed Nick's hand and half 
  dragged him along. "He's over here, Nick," she said. "In the reading center. I 
  don't know what to do with him! He drank the paint in the art corner and threw 
  blocks at the other children. He bit three kids and a teacher and drew blood 
  once! I just don't know what to do with him!" 
  The reading center had an oversized rocking chair, a carpet, several beanbag 
  chairs and floor pillows, and a rack full of picture books. Some of the books 
  were on cassette tapes, with little bells ringing to tell the children when to 
  turn the page. There was one book of fairy tales though, that the day care had 
  only recently added. The pictures were beautiful, full-color plates and the 
  stories were printed in Braille. 
  "Where is he?" Nick asked. 
  Lori helped Nick to the rocking chair. Then she grunted as she lifted a bundle 
  and set it on his lap. "He's all yours." 
  The bundle in his lap started to squirm. Nick grabbed quickly before he could 
  escape. Then sharp little baby teeth sank into his hand and bit hard. 
  Nick acted without thinking. He took the child's hand and bit it back, careful 
  to keep his fangs concealed. It was probably contrary to all the current 
  advice of popular child psychologists, but it was generally very effective. 
  The boy screamed, but stopped in his efforts to break free. 
  "Owie, owie," he cried. 
  "It hurts, doesn't it," Nick agreed. "If you don't bite me again, I won't bite 
  you either." 
  The boy turned on his lap and looked at him. Nick touched the boy tentatively, 
  memorizing his facial features. The boy imitated him, touching his cold face 
  with warm, soft baby hands. 
  "Scratches," Cody said, as he scrubbed the stubble of Nick's beard. 
  Nick laughed. "Yes, it does. I didn't take the time to shave tonight." 
  Cody wrapped his arms around Nick's neck then and nearly strangled him with a 
  loving hug. "Daddy!" 
  "No," Nick said quickly. "I'm not your daddy. But I will read to you if you'd 
  like." 
  The boy turned around and plopped down, nestling in to Nick's lap. "'kay," he 
  said. Then his thumb went to his mouth and he was quiet. 
  Nick opened the book to the first story, "Jack and the Beanstalk". Cody 
  remained attentive through "Snow White and Rose Red," and "The Three Bears", 
  and three poems, and two of Aesop's tales. Nick read until his voice felt 
  hoarse. It was hard to imagine this cuddly little tot was the same demon child 
  Lori and Father Rochefort had warned him about. 
  Finally Cody fell asleep. Nick closed the book and set it on a shelf. He 
  leaned back and rocked, just enjoying the moment. Cody smelled of shampoo and 
  baby lotion and something else he couldn’t quite place. Nick touched the 
  child's hair again. "What's going to happen to you, little one," he whispered. 
  "I wonder what was going on with your mother." 
  He rocked until he was almost asleep himself. Lori came then and took the 
  toddler. "I'll lay him in a crib, Nick. I think maybe he's out for the night." 

  Nick scrubbed his eyes. "Huh? What time is it?" 
  "Nearly ten," she said. "Only one more hour and I'm off!" 
  Nick bolted to his feet. "I'm really late," he said. "I'd better run. Did 
  Father Rochefort call at all, about Cody's mother?" 
  "No," she said sadly. "He's been there all night." 
  He nodded and whistled for Perry. The carouche was a favorite guest at the day 
  care, but he was always eager to leave. "Have him give me a call when he 
  returns," Nick said. Not that he could do anything, but he needed to know what 
  was going to happen to the little child he'd held all evening. 
  "Sure thing, Nick," she said. "Thanks for coming over. You were a life saver." 

  He grinned at the young woman. "No problem. Good night." *At last! * Perry 
  thought, breathing in deeply of the cool crisp night air. 
  "Were the kids bothering you?" Nick asked, without much sympathy. 
  Perry didn't dignify that with a response at all. He tugged on the lead, 
  forcing Nick to quicken his pace. Even desk work was beginning to look 
  interesting. 
  ***** 
  "Jonathan, you're shivering!" 
  "Very good, Tracy," he said sarcastically, as his teeth chattered. "Unlike 
  you, I am very sensitive to the changes of the weather. Endora knows that." 
  "So why is she so mad at you?" 
  "Because I married her daughter, because I'm not a witch, because she's a 
  lonely old witch with nothing better to do - take your pick." 
  Tracy started to go through her purse. She pulled out the black silk 
  handkerchief Nick had given her after warning her of the dangers of using 
  white facial tissues to dab at vampire tears. "Here, it's clean," she said. 
  Wrap up in this." 
  At only four inches tall, the handkerchief folded in half still wrapped around 
  him three times. "Hmm, soft as silk," he remarked, and gave her a winning 
  smile. 
  "Aren't you angry?" Tracy asked curiously. "I mean, your mother-in-law yanked 
  you out of reality and whisked you off into a frozen wasteland for who knows 
  how long. You should be spitting nails by now." 
  Jonathan shrugged. "What good would it do to get angry? I would still be here 
  and be just as cold, but where's the fun in that?" 
  "You think this is fun?" 
  Jonathan laughed. "Sure! I'm alone with a beautiful lady, completely encased 
  in the finest silk, and there isn't even a telephone to interrupt us." He 
  sneezed. "This is great." 
  "You know what? You are really strange, Jonathan." 
  "So grandfather used to tell me. What else have you got in that purse? I'm 
  kind of hungry." 
  Tracy dumped the contents of her purse onto the ground, being careful to keep 
  anything from bouncing in to her miniscule date. It had been over a year since 
  she'd given it a good cleaning anyway. Lip stick and gloves, three sets of car 
  keys, her checkbook, wallet, a pair of handcuffs, two pens, a disposable 
  camera, a peppermint candy from Pizza Hut, a comb, and a small notebook 
  completed the inventory. 
  Jonathan grabbed a pen, straining tiny bulging muscles. "Open the notebook," 
  he said. 
  Tracy turned back the cover and the first few pages to find a blank sheet. 
  Jonathan climbed onto the notebook and began to draw long straight lines. He 
  drew five lines, a space and nine more. Then he drew a simple scaffolding. 
  "Okay. You go first. Guess a letter." 
  She giggled. "Hangman! I haven't played that since high school English Class! 
  Oh, um, um, an A I guess." 
  Jonathan penciled in an A in each word. Tracy picked up the piece of 
  peppermint and pounded it with her fist. When it had crumbled sufficiently, 
  she unwrapped it and set it beside Jonathan. "Sorry it isn't a three course 
  meal, but at least it's something." 
  "Hey, darling! It's every kid's dream come true! I can eat my own weight in 
  candy." 
  Tracy continued to play and for each wrong letter she guessed, he drew a body 
  part on the stick figure that was about to be hanged. She had to guess the two 
  words before she "died". It was very close. Her body was only missing one eye 
  before she guessed correctly. "Happy Halloween!" 
  Jonathan laughed hard. "Bingo! I thought that was too obvious. You should have 
  had it long ago!" 
  "My turn!" Tracy grabbed the other pen and began to draw lines. They played 
  Hangman, and then Connect the Dots, and Battleship, and then tic-tac-toe. 
  Jonathan munched on the candy, but as the night wore on, his shivering 
  increased. 
  "I'm so sorry, Jonathan," Tracy said. "I don't know how to help you. I'm not 
  that warm myself." 
  "It- it- 's okay," he blurted through lips that were blue. "I think I should 
  Change. I'm sorry, as I won't be able to play any longer. But maybe we should 
  rest a while?" 
  "Change? Into what?" Tracy stared at him curiously. 
  He smiled. "Into my true form. This is a private thing among my kind. Few ever 
  witness it for themselves. But I would like you to watch." 
  She nodded, a little unsure. "I'd be honored," she whispered. 
  Jonathan then stepped out of the silk handkerchief. Slowly he removed his 
  belt, undid the buttons on his shirt and stepped out of all of his clothing 
  until he stood before her completely naked. Tracy couldn't help but notice 
  that he was incredibly well built, even in his diminutive size. Then the air 
  around him began to shimmer. His skin glowed, his hair lengthened, falling in 
  soft waves around his shoulders. His eyes glowed - not amber or crimson like 
  the eyes of a vampire, but like the eyes of a deer caught in the headlights of 
  a car. They were wide and luminescent and wild. 
  Then something began to change. Right before her eyes, Jonathan transformed 
  into a magnificent wolf, his thick, black coat tinged with silver. Tracy was 
  speechless. 
  Jonathan walked on all fours to her and gently nuzzled her hand. Then he sat 
  on his hind haunches and stared at her unblinkingly. 
  "You're beautiful," Tracy whispered. 
  The wolf seemed to smile. His head raised in regal acknowledgement, as though 
  her adoration were only to be expected. Tracy folded the silk handkerchief 
  twice and laid the square on the tablet for his bed. The wolf stepped on the 
  silk and circled around several times, just as she had often seen Perry do. 
  Then Jonathan lay down, resting his chin on his paws. He glanced at her once 
  before closing his eyes. 
  "I am kind of tired, too," she said, yawning. She lay on her side and curled 
  around the square of silk, as though she could shield the tiny wolf from the 
  cold and wondered how long until anyone knew to look for them. 
  ***** 
  "Nick, where the Hell have you been," Reese roared when Nick entered the bull 
  pen. 
  "I'm sorry, Captain," Nick said. "I was helping a friend out and lost track of 
  the time." 
  "How many times have I heard that one," the Captain muttered. 
  Nick caught the erotic images that flashed in Reese's mind. "It's not what you 
  think," he quickly denied. "I was doing something for Father Rochefort." 
  Captain Reese calmed then, somewhat mollified. "Okay then, but a phone call 
  would have helped. And where is your partner? Was she helping a friend, too?" 
  Well, yes, sort of, Nick thought, but decided not to mention sending her out 
  to amuse a visiting werewolf so he and a witch could catch up on old times. 
  "Isn't she here yet?" he asked, surprised. It had been last night that she 
  went out with Jonathan. Even if she'd spent the day with him, which would have 
  sent LaCroix into orbit, she had no excuse not to be to work on time. 
  "No, she isn't. No phone call, and her cell phone says she is out of the 
  dialing area." 
  Nick scowled. "I'll find out where she is, Captain." 
  "Good. And quickly! You're off any cases until November first, I need you and 
  Tracy just to be out on the streets. I don't know what it is about the 
  calendar, but every time October thirty-first rolls around, the crazies seem 
  to multiply and come out in full force. We have a three hundred percent 
  increase in missing persons, reports of wild animals - someone even called to 
  say that there was a tiger at the Raven last night! And you know what LaCroix 
  said when I called him? He said, "Oh yes, Nicholas will take care of it." He 
  has one strange sense of humor, Nick." 
  Nick gave a wry grin. "I'll agree with you there, Captain. Just let me make a 
  few calls and I'll be out shortly." 
  Reese grunted. His eyes narrowed as he studied his detective closely. 
  Something was different. Nick had lost weight this year, but it was something 
  else. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked with concern. 
  Nick shrugged, unsure of what had upset his captain this time. "Yes, sure. 
  Why?" 
  "You seem, I don't know. Tired. Maybe you should knock off early tonight?" 
  "Captain, I'm fine," Nick said firmly. 
  "Yeah, fine," Reese muttered as he returned to his office, grumbling to 
  himself. 
  Nick hurried to his desk and called LaCroix's apartment first. He got no 
  answer, but he hadn't expected any. Then he called the Raven and had Patrick 
  put his call through to LaCroix's office. 
  "LaCroix? It's Nick. Where's Tracy?" he asked. 
  "I have no idea," the ancient snapped with irritation. "She never came home 
  last night. I was ready to tear Vachon apart, but he has not seen her in 
  several days. What do you know about this?" 
  Nick hesitated. What did he really know about Jonathan anyway? He had sent her 
  out with him, trusting him because Samantha did, but Nick had been 
  irresponsible. Unwittingly, he had placed Tracy in danger. "I'm sorry, sire," 
  he said, slipping into the familiar pattern of submission. "I sent her out 
  with Samantha's husband last night, while we dealt with Endora's mess. I don't 
  know where they went. Could Endora have done something?" 
  "Of course not," LaCroix hissed, his irritation mushrooming. "Witches are 
  powerless against our kind, you know that Nicholas." 
  "But Tracy is so young-" 
  "It doesn't matter. Endora could not have harmed her. I suggest you deal with 
  this irresponsible werewolf before I find him, or Samantha will be a widow 
  again!" 
  Nick winced at the loud noise as the line went dead when LaCroix slammed his 
  end down. He dialed the hotel next, but Samantha was not there. Grabbing his 
  coat, he and Perry quickly left. 
  Outside a cold wind blew through his hair, but Nick was oblivious. "Perry, 
  take me to the roof," he said, as he reached out with his senses. No one was 
  around. 
  The carouche leaped into the air, cautious not to lose his vampire ward. They 
  landed gently, surrounded by black night, for clouds concealed the moon and 
  stars. 
  Nick remembered a night last winter when he and Tracy had been on this roof. 
  She had caressed him, soothing away the ache after one of LaCroix's more 
  severe beatings and then they had shared incredible sex. He had been so angry 
  with Tracy and yet as she touched him, he forgave her completely. Now he 
  focused on her, on the bond they shared as vampire siblings, and on the new 
  power he had to sense the thoughts of others. 
  There was nothing. The new power was turning up nothing, which was not 
  surprising. It only seemed to work in close proximity and he already knew 
  Tracy wasn't at the precinct. The vampiric sibling link though was faint. He 
  sensed her enough to know that she still existed, somewhere. There was 
  something else, as well. She was restless and cold. 
  Nick shuddered. Vampires were almost never cold. When he'd lain at the bottom 
  of the lake last winter, it had taken hours of exposure before he began to 
  suffer. Then, when he'd been rescued, it had been weeks before he felt truly 
  warm again, but that could have just been him. He had already been suffering 
  from the strange stomach ailment that kept him weak. 
  If Tracy was cold now, then she had been in a cold place for many hours, for 
  although winter was coming to Toronto, it wasn't here yet. He tried to reach 
  her again, to sense if she was also wet, but the bond was too faint. 
  He called to Samantha then, as Jonathan might know where Tracy was. Summoning 
  the lesser creatures was a simple task for a vampire, but Nick hated to use 
  it. He knew how the others were offended and intimidated by his kind. It 
  wasn't his fault that Lillith had created vampires to be her chosen first 
  born… but neither would he rub it in to the other creatures who shared the 
  night. But this was an emergency. If he didn't find Tracy soon, LaCroix would 
  do serious harm to Jonathan. 
  He touched Samantha's mind and spoke her name. He felt her worry at once. * I 
  am coming, Nick, * she answered, and moments later she appeared beside him. He 
  loved flying, but at times he envied her ability to transport like that. She, 
  however, could not really fly. She could enchant an object to carry her, like 
  the proverbial broom, or a more modern conveyance, but it was not the same. 
  She could still fall off, could still be injured in the experience. 
  "Where did they go?" she asked. 
  "Where is Jonathan?" Nick said, almost simultaneously. "Didn't he come home 
  last night?" 
  "No. And when the sun rose, I didn't expect him, knowing he must have decided 
  to spend the day with Tracy. But when night fell again I began to worry. 
  Endora must have taken them." 
  "Not possible," Nick said, remembering LaCroix's caustic remark. 
  "Yes, it is," Sam said. "If Endora threatened Jonathan, Tracy might have 
  chosen to go with her. I know Mother and she can seem quite heartless; 
  although I don't believe she would actually kill my husband, she wouldn't mind 
  hurting him considerably." 
  Nick nodded. Yes, Tracy - like he - would have gone willingly to protect 
  another, something LaCroix would never understand or forgive. He and Tracy 
  were both likely in for it now. "I sensed she was cold," he said. 
  "Well, they won't still be in Toronto. It's unlikely that they are even in 
  Canada any more. Mother never does anything by halves." 
  "How can we find them?" "We'll have to find Mother." 
  Nick shuddered. They would have to go to LaCroix and get his help, for while 
  any vampire was physically stronger than the elderly witch, her evil and 
  conniving ways made her more of a match for the ancient. He shuddered, 
  remembering only too well the power of LaCroix's wrath. Still, the thought of 
  being chastised by the ancient was almost a relief, as it was preferable to 
  the eggshell treatment he'd endured for almost a year. 
  Nick took Samantha's hand. "Let's go to the Raven," he said. 
  "My treat, or yours?" 
  He laughed. "Yours, this time. My headlights are burned out." 
  She was uncomfortable and stammered awkwardly as she apologized. She hadn't 
  thought how challenging flying would be for a blind vampire. 
  "It's okay," Nick said lightly. "I'm used to it by now. Let's go, time's 
  wasting." 
  Sam twitched her nose and the three of them appeared on the roof of the Raven. 
  Nick then called to his master. This confrontation would be best held out of 
  the way of furniture and mortals. 
  "What is it, Nicholas," LaCroix snapped. 
  Nick explained their beliefs that Tracy was with Jonathan somewhere, at 
  Endora's scheming. 
  "You did this," LaCroix stated, swinging the back of his hand at Samantha's 
  face. 
  Nick lunged to intervene, pushing Samantha out of the way and taking the full 
  force of the blow. 
  "Nick!" she screamed, as he was sent sailing into the steel storm door of the 
  stairwell. 
  "Nicholas!" LaCroix shouted, anger and fear warring for dominance. 
  Nick slumped to the rooftop, stunned. Blood gushed from a split at the corner 
  of his lip. One of his teeth felt loose. His shoulder was hurting, but he 
  didn't think anything had been broken. As far as LaCroix's beatings could go, 
  this was nothing. He looked in the direction he sensed his master, wondering 
  if the ancient would go after him or Samantha next. 
  Sam rushed to his side. "Nick? Are you all right?" 
  "Get back, Sam," he warned. 
  LaCroix glared at her. "You would do well to heed him!" He came to Nicholas 
  then and touched his shoulder. Nick flinched, putting his hands up defensively 
  to protect his face. LaCroix growled, his anger growing out of control 
  "Nicholas, stop this at once! It was not my intention to hurt you. You did 
  this!" 
  He pulled Nick to his feet, supporting him. Then he leaned forward and licked 
  at the blood dripping from his mouth. It was such wonderful blood, a shame to 
  waste a single drop. 
  Nick endured the public ministrations of his master in stoic indifference. 
  LaCroix pulled him into the victim embrace, holding Nick's back to his chest 
  and wrapped his arms around him. It was also the position of power and 
  dominance. Submissively, Nicholas remained still. 
  Samantha glared at them both. "Jonathan and Tracy need us now while you two 
  are wasting time with this nonsense!" 
  "You don't know what you're talking about," master and child said together. 
  She rolled her eyes. 
  "Do you have a plan, Nicholas?" LaCroix asked. 
  Nick nodded, momentarily leaning into the comfort of his master's arms. "We 
  have to lure Endora. Yesterday we were just dealing with damage control, but 
  we should have gone straight to the source first." 
  "Yes, a trap," LaCroix murmured, an evil smile beginning. 
  "You won't hurt her!" Samantha gasped. 
  "I'll do as I please." LaCroix eyed the young witch, Daring her to disagree. 
  "Father, please," Nick asked. "For my sake, don't harm her mother?" 
  LaCroix hesitated. He kissed the top of his child's head. "Only for you, 
  Nicholas. I fear you are taking advantage of my feelings for you. But if Tracy 
  is returned unharmed, then I shall spare the witch." 
  Nick sighed with relief. It was as much as he could hope for. And if Endora 
  had harmed Tracy, he would kill her himself. Killing a witch was messy 
  business. Traditionally mortals bound a witch and burned her, but it took 
  strong faith to overpower a witch. Since vampires had no faith, they had to 
  physically tear the witch apart. 
  "We will need to find something that Endora values and threaten to harm her," 
  LaCroix said, eyeing Samantha with evil intent. 
  "No," Nick said, guessing his master's thoughts. "Endora would never believe 
  that I would let any harm come to Sam." 
  "One of her grandchildren, then." 
  "No!" Nick and Sam shouted in tandem. 
  LaCroix tightened his hold on Nick. The younger vampire bowed his head. 
  "Please, master," he whispered. 
  Slowly, LaCroix released him. "What do you suggest, my son?" 
  Nick thought, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Someone she loves," he said. 
  "Someone she still has feelings for, but not someone I already care about. 
  Does she have sisters, Sam? Brothers? Other family?" 
  Samantha shook her head. "No, just Daddy." 
  Nick's eyes widened. "Maurice! That's it! He's the bait!" 
  Samantha hesitated. Her father was a harmless witch. She still had unresolved 
  issues with him and felt like strangling him herself sometimes, but she never 
  intended to hurt him. "Please, Nick," she whispered. 
  Nick waved a hand. "He's the real cause of this, Sam. He needs to face up to 
  it." 
  "How so," LaCroix asked, his voice sharp. 
  Nick shrugged boyishly. "He's the one Endora's really mad at. He left her and 
  she still loves him. She's a lonely old witch feeling her age. If he would 
  make things right between them, she wouldn't torment Samantha any more." 
  "Nick, you can't be serious," Sam said. "Mother would never take him back. Not 
  after all he's done. He's a womanizing, unfaithful flirt!" 
  "And she's just as bad. You grew up blaming him for the break up in their 
  marriage, but she had affairs too. Who's to say what really happened two 
  hundred years ago. I doubt either of them remembers, either." 
  Sam opened her mouth, but shut it again. She shrugged. Worry for Jonathan and 
  Maurice tore at her. She loved them both, but, she realized, not as much as 
  she probably should. When Darren had died, a part of her had died, too. Now it 
  was as if she didn't really love anyone. She might mourn for Jonathan a while, 
  but it wouldn't touch her - not like Darren had. 
  LaCroix called Vachon and Diggon to join them. Then he summoned Maurice. 
  Moments later the elderly witch appeared, sputtering angrily. His fly was open 
  and his elegant black silk suit was askew. "What is the meaning of this!" he 
  ranted, outraged. 
  The vampires surrounded him. His hands were shackled and ropes of chain were 
  draped around him again and again. Diggon and Vachon held on to the chain. If 
  he tried to vanish, he would drag the two vampires with him. Such would spell 
  certain death for the witch. He gulped, swallowing his indignation as fear 
  became very real. 
  "What, master, am I accused of?" His voice trembled as he faced the ancient 
  vampire. 
  "Nothing." 
  "Daddy," Samantha began. 
  "Silence," LaCroix commanded imperiously. 
  "LaCroix!" Nick pleaded. 
  "Silence!" 
  Nick shut up. LaCroix was enjoying himself entirely too much, but there was 
  little Nick could do at this point. He was afraid that before the morning 
  came, some one would die. He prayed that it would not be Tracy. He heaved a 
  sigh as he sat wearily on the rooftop and folded his legs. Perry sat beside 
  him, laying his head in his lap. 
  "You have done nothing that interests me in the slightest," LaCroix said. The 
  silk was back in his voice. That was a dangerous sign. "But this young witch 
  has something to say to you, I believe." 
  "LaCroix, now is not the time. I can talk to him later." 
  "Now is just fine," he insisted. 
  Sam shifted awkwardly. Maurice had abandoned her when she was growing up. She 
  was angry, hurt, at times she wanted to scream at him, and beg him why he 
  hadn't loved her enough to stay… but she didn't want to say a thing in front 
  of the vampires. She remained silent. 
  "Very well," LaCroix said. He neared Maurice, drew back a hand and struck him 
  full in the face. The elderly witch cried out as blood immediately began to 
  flow. Twice more LaCroix struck him. Maurice begged for mercy. 
  "Stop it," Sam pleaded. "Please, stop!" 
  LaCroix held his hand and glanced at her. She hesitated and LaCroix hit 
  Maurice again. 
  "All right!" Sam rushed to her father's side. One cheek was swollen with a 
  purple bruise and blood dripped onto his suit. "Daddy, why did you do it? Why 
  did you leave Mother, and me! Wasn't I worth your time and attention? You 
  never came to visit! Not even on my birthday! I mean, other parents get 
  divorced, but they don't abandon their own children! What did I do to drive 
  you away!" 
  Samantha was weeping, centuries of anger welling forth. 
  "Oh, my baby," Maurice said, reaching for her, but stopped by the chains and 
  vampires that held him. "I wanted to come! You have to believe that!" 
  "I don't," she shouted. "If you had really wanted to see me, you would have 
  found a way. Mother wouldn't have shut you out forever." 
  "I couldn't," he said, the words coming harder now. "Samantha, baby, I am not 
  the man you think I am." 
  She glared at him. "I know about your little "indiscretions", Daddy. Everybody 
  does." 
  "Sam, no. I was never unfaithful to Endora while we remained married." 
  "I don't believe you. She would not have divorced you otherwise." 
  "She doesn't know the truth," he whispered. 
  "Do you, Daddy? What is the truth, according to Maurice?" 
  He winced. "I don't expect you to forgive me, baby. But it is time you know 
  what really happened." 
  "Oh, this will be interesting," LaCroix sighed. 
  Samantha zapped a chair and shoved LaCroix in it. "Shut up," she snapped. 
  The ancient was too surprised to be angered. He stared at the younger witch in 
  mild amusement. 
  "Samantha," Maurice began. "I was a criminal. I broke one of our most serious 
  laws. My magic was revoked. I was forced to live as a mortal for half a 
  century." 
  Sam's mouth dropped. The only sound she could make was an "Oh, Daddy!" 
  "It is the worse punishment among our kind," he said sadly. The lines of pain 
  sharpened around his eyes. "Endora would have been disgraced. She loved my 
  magic most, I think, more than me. I couldn't bring that upon her. I let her 
  think that I had strayed, and I granted her the divorce. It... hurt. She had a 
  string of lovers then, but I never stopped loving her. Only, I knew I didn't 
  deserve her. Later, when my magic was restored, there was too much pain 
  between us for a reconciliation." 
  Samantha hesitated to ask. There were few crimes among their kind, and only 
  one she could think of that would herald such a severe punishment… murdering 
  another witch. "Who was it, Daddy? Whom did you kill?" 
  Maurice started to shake his head. "Does it matter, baby?" 
  LaCroix gestured to Diggon, who tugged hard on the chains. Maurice groaned. 
  "It was Lawrence," he whispered. "The fool made a pass at Endora. He insulted 
  her, on more than one occasion. One night I was a little drunk and I attacked 
  him. I never meant for it to get so out of control. But hours later he was 
  dead and I was guilty." 
  LaCroix rose and approached the witch. Maurice flinched, stealing himself for 
  more abuse, but LaCroix did not strike him. "You are a fool," he said. 
  Maurice glared at him, but wisely remained silent. 
  Nick arose. Slowly, he approached the witch and touched his face, tracing his 
  features with a soft touch. He had never met Maurice before. He only knew what 
  Samantha had told him of the witch and none of that had been pretty. Now he 
  felt sorrow and pity for the elder who had lost so many opportunities through 
  his own deceptions. 
  "I agree," he said. "You are a fool." 
  Maurice started to object, not as intimidated by the younger vampire, but Nick 
  interrupted him. 
  "You had love! A woman who adored you, a child who needed you, and you threw 
  them away." 
  "I was protecting them!" 
  "No, you were protecting yourself. You couldn't bear to let them think you 
  were less of a man. And so you let them think you were a sleaze, instead of 
  jealous, loving father. Endora might have been angry for a while, but she 
  loved you too much not to forgive you." 
  Maurice blinked and shook his head. "No, maybe she might have forgiven me, but 
  she did not truly love me. Not the way I loved her. All we had between us was 
  our magic, and without it, I was not even half a man." 
  "Daddy, I don't know what to say," Sam sobbed. 
  "The time for talk is over," LaCroix said calmly. He rose from his chair and 
  approached the witch. "You must call your ex-wife, Maurice. I need to speak 
  with her." 
  "No." 
  LaCroix struck him again and again. Sam begged him to stop, Nick tried to stay 
  his hand, but they were no match against the ancient power. Maurice clenched 
  his lips, refusing to summon Endora as he groaned and suffered in silence. 
  "What is the meaning of this?" Endora demanded, appearing from nowhere. 
  LaCroix smiled as he turned to her. "Endora," he said, almost purring. "What a 
  surprise to see you!" 
  "You never could keep your pants zipped, Maurice," Endora said disdainfully. 
  "Whom did you offend this time?" 
  "Mother, it's not what you think," Sam cried. 
  "I'm sorry, Endora," Maurice whispered. "The vampire wants you. I am only the 
  bait. I did not think you would come." 
  Her eyes narrowed at him. "Believe me, I considered not coming more than once. 
  I'm only here for Samantha's sake." 
  Maurice nodded sadly. 
  "You have something of mine and I want her returned immediately," LaCroix 
  said. 
  Endora faced him, arching one eyebrow. "The blonde is your get? Somehow she 
  doesn't seem your type, LaCroix? Or perhaps it is merely your age - a sort of 
  midlife crisis?" 
  LaCroix slammed a fist into Maurice's stomach. Everyone there heard ribs crack 
  with a loud pop. Maurice cried out, tears flowing down his face in his agony. 
  Even Endora winced, belying her seeming indifference towards the one she once 
  called husband. 
  "I don't remember where I left them," Endora said, eyeing her fingernails with 
  a cool expression. 
  "Then I shall kill him, one bone at a time," LaCroix promised. 
  "Mother! Please!" Samantha begged. "Daddy! Tell her the truth now!" 
  "I can't," Maurice groaned, gasping for air. 
  "He doesn't know what the truth is," Endora hissed. "Any more than he knows 
  about such things as honesty, integrity, faithfulness. These intangibles are 
  quite beyond him." 
  "Mother! Daddy was never unfaithful to you," Sam blurted. "Tell her, Daddy! 
  Tell her how you killed a witch and were punished for it! Tell her now!" 
  Endora turned around slowly, all pretenses dropped. Her mouth opened, ready to 
  deny what she suddenly realized was true. "Lawrence," she whispered. "You 
  killed him? For me?" 
  Silence filled the rooftop like thick fog, broken only by a pained gasp as the 
  witch struggled to breathe. Endora stared at her ex-husband, her mouth open 
  and her eyes filling with emotions she couldn't explain. 
  "Maurice," she exclaimed at last, her arms gesticulating expansively. "That is 
  about the nicest thing anyone ever did for me! Why, I'm, I'm speechless!" 
  Maurice's eyes bugged open. "You're not angry?" 
  "Lawrence was scum. The high council should have thanked you for taking out 
  their garbage." 
  "I was disbarred," Maurice confessed. "I couldn't use my magic for half a 
  century! I… was ashamed. I didn't want you to know." 
  Endora flung her arms around him, neglecting the blood and chains and kissed 
  him. "Maurice, I would have gotten over that. I thought you didn't love me any 
  more. That I wasn't pretty enough for you! You don't know how much that hurt." 

  "Endora, there has never been another love for me. Oh, I know I got around, 
  but only after the divorce, I swear! But they never meant a thing. Only you." 
  She was crying hard now as she pressed kisses to his hair and battered face. 
  "What a disgusting display," LaCroix hissed. 
  Nick ignored him. "Endora," he said. "Tracy and Jonathan? Please, bring them 
  back." 
  "Oh, yes," she said almost as an afterthought. She snapped her fingers, never 
  turning away from Maurice. A cloud of air whooshed and then Tracy appeared, 
  shivering slightly. 
  "Where's Jonathan?" Sam said. 
  Tracy opened her hands, and there, curled into a small, shivering mass of fur, 
  lay a black wolf. He could barely raise his head, but whimpered pathetically. 
  Sam directed Tracy to lay the wolf on the roof, then she twitched her nose to 
  undo the magic and restore him to his natural size. Perry sniffed at the wolf, 
  but sensed no danger from him. Jonathan was half-dead with cold. 
  "I'm so sorry," Tracy blurted to Sam. "I didn't know how to help him. All I 
  had was a silk handkerchief, but I think we were in Antarctica." 
  "Siberia," Endora corrected, returning to kiss her ex-husband, heedless of his 
  swollen jaw and bleeding lip. 
  "He'll be all right," Sam said. "As a wolf, he has amazing healing abilities - 
  not quite what you're used to, but certainly super-human, anyway." 
  "So, he won't Change?" Tracy asked, a little let-down. 
  Sam smiled maternally. "No. Not until he is well again." 
  LaCroix cleared his voice. "What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?" 

  Tracy blanched and turned to face her master. "I'm sorry, LaCroix! But I 
  couldn't let her kill him! I had to go with her. I didn't think I was in any 
  real danger." 
  "You didn't think," he corrected her. 
  Tracy hung her head. LaCroix would not understand. 
  "I shall deal with you later," he promised. 
  Anxiety stirred in her gut. She knew what that would mean. Pain followed by 
  intense pleasure. She feared him, feared the suffering he would inflict, but 
  already she was warm just thinking about him. "Yes, sir," she said humbly. 
  "Endora," LaCroix commanded. He called her again, his voice chilling, until 
  every creature on the roof trembled in the wake of his anger. The elder witch 
  turned, her face wet with happy tears and her makeup running into a gooey 
  black mass. 
  "Yes, master?" she asked, addressing the ancient in the traditional manner. 
  "I place this witch in your custody. Keep him out of trouble and out of my 
  city or I shall tear him limb from limb." 
  Endora was about to argue, but wisely snapped her mouth shut. Grudgingly she 
  nodded her ascent. 
  Diggon and Vachon unchained him then. The witch crumpled to the roof, too weak 
  to stand. Endora gathered him into her embrace and kissed him, muttering terms 
  that might have been endearments. "You foolish bastard," she said, kissing and 
  crying at the same time. "You wonderful idiot!" 
  Then, with a wave of her arms, they disappeared. 
  Samantha came to LaCroix. She hesitated, swallowing nervously. "Master, I 
  thank you," she said. 
  LaCroix sniffed arrogantly. "You have nothing to thank me for," he insisted. 
  Nick grinned. His vampire master had shown compassion in his handling of the 
  couple - a century ago he would have destroyed them both, but to point that 
  out to him now would not be a wise choice. 
  "Say good-bye to Samantha," LaCroix ordered, "and go to your room. You have 
  much to account for, Nicholas." 
  Nick shuddered involuntarily. Then forcing an indifferent shrug in the 
  presence of the others, he led Samantha a few steps away. "I'm sorry, Sam," he 
  said. "This has been a hell of a honeymoon for you." 
  She smiled. "Actually, it worked out pretty well. I think that I got my father 
  back, and maybe Mother will stop tormenting my husbands now. Jonathan and I 
  will stick around at least until after the holiday. After all, we have a party 
  to attend. You're still going, aren't you?" 
  Nick shrugged. He was so tired that he would just as soon forget the whole 
  thing. His weakness was consuming him, it even hurt just to stand. 
  LaCroix interrupted. "Yes. He is. You and your husband may attend." His tone 
  of voice implied that the rest of her family was not included. 
  Sam nodded. That was fair enough. Besides, if Endora were planning to come, 
  Sam would not enjoy herself at all. 
  "Good. It is at the Alaskan," LaCroix said. "By invitation only." 
  Nick smiled. "The Alaskan is great," he told Samantha. "You'll like it." 
  "So long as it isn't as cold as Alaska," she said dryly. "I don't think 
  Jonathan is ready for another wintry party." 
  The werewolf barked his agreement. 
  The gathering dispersed then. Diggon and Vachon returned to the nightclub. 
  Samantha touched Jonathan and transported them back to their hotel. Tracy flew 
  to her room to await LaCroix's justice, and Perry led Nick to his room in 
  LaCroix's apartment. 
  LaCroix remained on the roof for a while, reflecting on the night. The mayhem 
  created by the witch had been brought to an end and both his children were 
  awaiting him. He smiled at the power he commanded. He liked being a vampire! 
  Perhaps his son was finally beginning to realize how great a gift he had been 
  given? 
  He went first to his private suite and filled a glass with his favorite blend. 
  It never hurt to let penitent children suffer pangs of anxiety while waiting 
  for chastisement. He sipped slowly as he reached out to them. 
  Tracy was appropriately upset. She was weeping already and he had yet to lay a 
  hand on her. He smiled. The summer had been well spent. Her training was 
  coming along so much easier than Nicholas's had. Then he reached out to his 
  son. 
  Nicholas seemed indifferent! He was aware that the younger vampire had acted 
  that way on the roof, but had assumed that it was only a show put on in front 
  of his friends. Nicholas was always more obnoxious in public. But now in the 
  privacy of his room, awaiting his master, he should have shown a shred of 
  contrition! Perhaps even began working on his speech where he would explain 
  his lapse in judgement and beg for mercy! But instead, the boy seemed not to 
  realize the predicament he was in at all. 
  LaCroix seethed. It had been wrong to treat Nicholas so gently this past year. 
  It had been only because of his illness, for he recovered so slowly. Still, a 
  good thrashing to the posterior never really harmed anyone. It was time to 
  rectify that mistake. LaCroix drained the glass and slammed it on the counter, 
  unbuckling his belt as he headed into his son's room. 
  Nicholas lay on the bed, fully clothed. He was on his side, an arm draped 
  around the carouche and holding him close, his legs sprawled, taking up most 
  of the bed. One shoe was still on and the other lay on the floor at the foot 
  of the bed. His lips were softly parted. The bruise where LaCroix's hand had 
  struck him stood out in vivid color against the pale complexion. LaCroix 
  winced. He hadn't meant to hit him. At least, not in the face. 
  "Nicholas," he said firmly, folding his belt in half. 
  The younger vampire didn't stir. The carouche raised his head and looked at 
  LaCroix with sad eyes, whining softly. 
  "Nicholas!" LaCroix said, more loudly this time. 
  "Hmm?" he mumbled. 
  "I am very angry with you! That was quite irresponsible, placing your sister 
  in danger. Don't you agree?" 
  "Hmm." 
  "I should give you a thorough beating, you know that?" 
  "M-hmm." 
  The small dimple in LaCroix's cheek made an appearance as he was reminded of a 
  foolish nursery rhyme. "Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John," he murmured. 
  Then he shook his head. "I am an old fool." 
  "Hmm." 
  LaCroix chuckled. "Consider yourself whipped, Nicholas. Good day." He paused 
  at the door to gaze again at the golden vampire. "I love you," he whispered. 
  He was quite overcome with emotion. Perhaps he would be lenient on his 
  daughter as well? He smiled as he let himself into her room. 
  ***** 
  Samantha turned off the taps. The Jacuzzi had filled with steaming fresh 
  water. She lit candles all over the master bath, and a romantic CD of 
  Pacabel's Canon on violins and harp came through the speakers. She glanced 
  over to the bed where her young husband lay, still in wolf form, curled into a 
  tight, shivering ball. 
  "Come on, Jonathan. This will warm you up. Please join me?" 
  The wolf raised his head sorrowfully. 
  "Please?" 
  He sat up and began to Change. Samantha smiled, feeling a warmth spread 
  through her at the familiar sight. She never tired of watching him. It was so 
  sensual, so unusual. He glowed and shifted, like the mists of dawn over a warm 
  bay, until he took human form, gloriously naked and incredibly beautiful. His 
  lips were still blue though and Goosebumps still pimpled his flesh. 
  Sam gathered him into her arms and tugged him towards the bath. He climbed in 
  quickly and sank down in water up to his neck with a deep sigh. Sam laughed as 
  she dropped her own satin robe and joined him. 
  "I'm so sorry, Jonathan," she whispered in his ear. 
  He snuggled into her warm, wet hug and sighed. "It wasn't your fault. But I 
  forgave your mother a long time ago. She's a little weird, but she loves you. 
  I guess I'm a little jealous." 
  "Of what! My mother?" Sam asked incredulously. 
  Jonathan nodded. "My parents love only each other. They've seldom ever 
  acknowledged that they even had children. Grandfather raised me and he was 
  always very strict." 
  Sam thought for a moment. Yes, she had grown up with out a father, but Mother 
  had always been there. She'd had birthday parties, Halloween parties, and 
  celebrations every time she had mastered a new spell. Although her mother had 
  been overly demanding and jealous of any young witch who dared to ask her on a 
  date, Sam had always known she was the center of her mother's world. Still, 
  the center was often the eye of a storm. There had to be a happy middle 
  somewhere. She kissed Jonathan again, deeper this time. There was more than 
  one way to warm a lover. 
  ***** 
  Nick groaned as he rolled over in his bed. His shoulder was very painful. 
  Nothing was broken, but he must have torn ligaments when he collided with the 
  steel door last night. He sat up feeling a moment of dizziness which quickly 
  passed. Tentatively he touched the shoulder, wincing as he explored the extent 
  of the damage. Still, an injured shoulder and a swollen jaw were nothing 
  compared to pain he had expected his master to inflict and wondered how he had 
  escaped relatively unscathed. 
  Perry nipped his leg, urging him to hurry. Nick lifted the crystal on his 
  watch and touched the hands. Yes, it was getting late. He dialed Father 
  Rochefort's number while he turned on the taps to the shower. "Hello? This is 
  Nick," he said, when the young priest answered on the third ring. "How is it 
  going tonight?" 
  "The staff are wondering if you'll come in again and put Cody to sleep? 
  Apparently he's been a real handful all day." "He didn't seem like such a bad 
  kid to me," Nick said. 
  "Oh, he isn't!" Father Pierre insisted. "He's adorable. I really like the 
  child. But I don't think he has ever been around children before in his young 
  life. The mother isn't very communicative, so I'm not getting the whole story, 
  but it sounds as though she and her husband were both Park Rangers and the 
  child was with them all the time. The father died a while ago and the mother 
  seems to have lost the will to go on. I've been trying to make her see how 
  much the child needs her, but I'm afraid I'm not helping." 
  Nick thought quickly. Reese would probably lay in to him if he were late 
  again, but he felt drawn towards the little boy. He didn't really know why. 
  The child needed him, and it had been a long time since Nick had felt that. 
  "Sure," he heard himself tell the priest. "I'll drop in for a while, but I 
  can't stay as long as I did last night." 
  "Thanks, Nick, God bless you," the priest blurted. "I'll tell them at once! 
  Good-bye!" 
  Nick chuckled as he switched the phone off. He was in a good mood tonight and 
  he wasn't sure why. Even the blessing of the priest had not splashed gloom on 
  his spirit. He hurried through his shower and dressed quickly. The faster he 
  got out of the apartment, the more time he could give the child. 
  LaCroix stopped him before he could leave, though. "Nicholas!" he said firmly. 

  Nick flinched, angry with himself that the ancient could still intimidate him 
  so easily. Surely LaCroix would not beat him now, moments before going to 
  work? He would have a hard enough time explaining the bruise on his cheek as 
  it was. "Yes, LaCroix?" he asked. 
  The master noted his son's discomfort with pleasure. "You fell asleep last 
  night," he said by way of explanation. 
  Nick lowered his face and waited. 
  "What am I going to do with you?" the ancient asked. 
  "Is this a rhetorical question, LaCroix? Or do you expect an answer?" 
  LaCroix flew at him, pinning him to the door and held him there. "Mind 
  yourself, Nicholas," he hissed. 
  Nick swallowed. "Of course, Father," he conceded. 
  LaCroix held him a moment longer, then slowly released him. He pulled Nicholas 
  in to his arms. "I shall expect you at my party tomorrow night. And you shall 
  stay the entire time." 
  Nick groaned. 
  "That shall be your penance. And an apology to Tracy." 
  "Done, LaCroix," he said quickly, grateful to get off so easily. "Good night, 
  then." LaCroix released him. 
  Nick gave him a hesitant smile, before departing. 
  Natalie came up behind and wrapped her arms around him. "Wasn't that easier 
  than bullying him?" she asked. 
  LaCroix turned in her arms. "I do not bully," he said firmly. "It is my duty 
  as his master to keep him in line. If I failed the council could take him away 
  from me." 
  Natalie hadn't known that. "You mean, being someone's master isn't necessarily 
  permanent?" 
  "Yes, it is permanent," LaCroix insisted. "If I were declared an unfit master, 
  I most likely would not survive. Then the orphaned fledglings would be adopted 
  by other vampires or destroyed." 
  Natalie shuddered. The ways of the vampire culture were so violent. She knew 
  she was not ready to join them! She wondered if she ever would be. 
  ***** 
  "Daddy!" Cody shrieked, when Nick and Perry entered the Day Care. 
  Nick braced himself, as he sensed the little boy's attack. Cody ran towards 
  him and jumped at the last minute. As if by magic, Nick caught him, although 
  he was not sure how he could manage such a feat. The child's arms went around 
  his neck and squeezed. 
  "I am not your Daddy," Nick said firmly. "But you may call me Uncle Nick." 
  The child didn't respond. He continued to cling to Nick. A mortal might have 
  fainted at the lack of oxygen. Nick just held him, swaying gently from side to 
  side. The small boy trembled. Nick could sense he was frightened and lonely. 
  "We are so glad you could come," Lori exclaimed. "He's cute, but boy, he needs 
  to be watched every single minute! And he loves to put things in his mouth. 
  Amanda's mom couldn't find her car keys, and guess where they were? Halfway 
  down Cody's throat! I don't know how he got them all in there. It isn't that 
  big a mouth." 
  Nick smiled at her. "I guess it is a lot for him to learn all at once. Father 
  Pierre said he's never been around children before." 
  "I can believe that. Well, I'd better get back to the other kids." 
  "Perry, the rocking chair," Nick said. The carouche guided him there, then lay 
  at his feet to wait. Nick settled Cody more comfortably. "Would you like me to 
  read again?" he asked. 
  Cody held on tightly, unwilling to release him. Nick was nearly overcome with 
  emotion. The child's mother was dying. He must sense that. Instead of reading, 
  he just held the child and rocked. Then he started to sing a lullaby, 
  substituting only a few words here and there. 
  "Sleep my child, may peace attend thee, All through the night. Guardian angels 
  He will send thee, All through the night. Soft the morning hours are creeping, 
  Hill and dale in slumber sleeping While thy guardian's watch is keeping, All 
  through the night." 
  Slowly the tension left as Cody relaxed in his arms. By the end of the third 
  verse, Cody was sound asleep. Again Lori came to place the child in a crib. 
  "You've got a magic touch," she told Nick. 
  Nick winced. "Just take care of him," he snapped. He was going to be late 
  again. 
  Captain Reese leaned out of his door and bellowed. "Nick! In my office! Now!" 
  Nick and Perry entered slowly, closing the door although if Reese yelled loud 
  enough, the entire precinct would hear anyway. 
  "I don't know what you think this is," Reese started to complain. "Oh my God, 
  Nick! What happened?" 
  Nick stopped, surprised by the change in conversation. He didn't understand at 
  first. Then he remembered his face. "Oh this. It's nothing," he said. 
  "I won't take that crap from you, Nick and you know it. Your father did that, 
  didn't he? Didn't he?" he repeated, when Nick didn't answer immediately. Nick 
  shut his mouth. Some nights it just didn't pay to get up. 
  Reese came around and laid a fatherly hand on Nick's injured shoulder. Nick 
  winced painfully and pulled away. 
  "Nick! This has to stop," he said. "He has no right-" 
  "Captain, stay out of it," Nick warned. 
  "Nick-" 
  "No," he said. "Just let it drop." 
  Reese grunted and mumbled something under his breath. "Nick, I like you. I 
  care about you. But this isn't right." 
  "I believe you said it was a busy night. Should Tracy and I go out again?" 
  Reese didn't respond immediately. He stared at his detective, as if willing 
  him to press charges against his father, but saw the determined set to Nick's 
  jaw and realized it was useless. For now. But the matter wasn't over, not by a 
  long shot. 
  "Yes, Nick. I'm putting as many cars on the street as I can spare, although 
  compared to the past few nights, it seems relatively quiet right now." 
  Nick tried not to laugh. Yes, with Endora out of town, it might be a quiet 
  Halloween after all. He turned and reached for the doorknob, but a moment of 
  weakness made him stumble. His knees buckled and he leaned against the wall 
  for support. 
  "Nick?" Reese exclaimed, worriedly. 
  "Just clumsy," he muttered as he straightened. "Guess I should watch where I'm 
  going." 
  Captain Reese did not laugh at the poor joke. "Nick, I want you to see a 
  doctor, immediately. You're relieved of duty until I have the results signed 
  and back in my office." 
  Nick's face grew hard. "That isn't necessary, Captain," he hissed. 
  Reese went to a tall filing cabinet. He withdrew a form, tri-folded it and 
  stuffed it into an envelope and handed it to Nick. "Yes, it is. Dismissed." 
  Nick considered altering Reese's memories, but he'd given his captain such a 
  migraine the last time that LaCroix told him never to attempt it again. He'd 
  have to whammy Nat instead. He turned and left the confining office. Tracy saw 
  him head towards the door. 
  "Nick?" she called, grabbing her purse and hurrying to catch him. "Where are 
  we going?" 
  Nick took her arm, half leaning on her for support, but his face was hard and 
  angry. She opened the car door for him, then climbed behind the wheel and 
  waited for directions. 
  "Coroner's." 
  She smiled at Perry. "Natalie's it is, then. Please make sure your chairs are 
  in an upright position. Fasten your seat belts. We are experiencing a little 
  turbulence, so just hang on!" She revved the engine and tore out of the 
  parking lot. 
  "Wait here," Nick said angrily, when they had arrived. "I'll only be a 
  moment." 
  Tracy shrugged her shoulders. He was sure in a stew, and she hadn't been able 
  to tease him out of it. He could take all night for all she cared. Men were so 
  hard to live with sometimes! She had a new sympathy for her mother… just a 
  little. 
  Nick ignored Grace's greeting and pushed open the door to Nat's lab 
  forcefully. 
  "Hello, Nick," she said pleasantly. "What can I do for you?" 
  Silently he drew the envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. She opened 
  the paper and glanced up at him. "Is there a problem, Nick? Are you feeling 
  all right?" 
  "I feel fine," he snapped. "Just sign the damn form and I'll be out of here." 
  Nat was not intimidated by his temper. She stood slowly. Reaching out, she 
  touched his swollen, bruised jaw tenderly. "That's a real shiner, Nick. It 
  might have helped if you'd let someone cover that up before you went to work." 
  "I'm not wearing your makeup again!" 
  Nat took his elbow and guided him to a table. "Fine. Have it your way. But 
  before I sign your "damn form", I'm going to pretend that I am a doctor and 
  you are my patient. All right?" 
  Nick felt the nausea swell. He swallowed forcefully, tasting blood. He was 
  almost too weak to lift himself the short distance to sit on her table, and 
  she was sharp enough to notice. Nick reached out for her with his other 
  senses, focusing on her heart beat. It grew in volume, thundering in his ears. 
  His fangs tingled in spite of the nausea that made her blood unappetizing at 
  the moment. 
  "I am fine!" Nick said firmly. 
  Nat blinked. Her mind felt foggy. She drifted, nearly losing her balance, when 
  suddenly she jerked awake. Nat stared at the vampire on her table. "Don't you 
  dare pull that hypno-whammy crap on me, Nick!" she said, furiously. 
  "I don't know what you're talking about, Nat. You know I can't do that 
  anymore," he denied. 
  Nat took a syringe out and prepared to draw a blood sample, swabbing his elbow 
  with alcohol. "LaCroix is right," she said. "You are a lousy liar." 
  Nick winced when she drew his blood. It didn't used to hurt. She put cotton 
  over the tiny wound and ordered him to hold it firmly. Then she labeled the 
  sample and set it aside. 
  "So why are you suddenly too weak to lift yourself?" she asked, touching his 
  forehead. 
  "My shoulder hurts," Nick said. It wasn't a complete lie. 
  Nat unbuttoned his shirt and examined his shoulder. It was tender and bruised. 
  "You might have a torn rotator cup. An MRI would be helpful. For mortals, this 
  requires surgery, and six months of therapy." 
  Nick forced a winning smile. "I'm sure it isn't that bad," he said. "Can't you 
  think of something better to tell the boss?" 
  Nat put her arm around his waist, supporting him and helped him off the table. 
  "Fine. I'll sign it. But take it easy with that arm for a while, okay?" 
  Nick pulled her in for a hug and planted a kiss on the top of her head. 
  "Thanks, Nat." 
  She wrote a few notes on the medical form. "I'm giving you a slightly elevated 
  blood pressure, but still within the normal range, as it would be expected 
  when one is under stress. The shoulder I've described as a mild hematoma…" 
  "What?" 
  "A bruise, Nick. It isn't contagious." 
  Nick chuckled. He took the form from her and smiled again. "See you later," he 
  said. Then, concentrating very hard, he walked straight and sure out of her 
  office. 
  Back in the car, he ordered Tracy to return to the precinct, where he gave her 
  the letter to deliver to the captain. He'd known that her natural curiosity 
  would force her to open the envelope and read it, so he didn't bother to 
  explain. Ten minutes later she was back in the car. 
  "Okay, bro. Now that you've satisfied the powers that be that you are a 
  healthy red-blooded Canadian, what do you say we get something done tonight?" 
  "My thoughts exactly." 
  ***** 
  The night finally arrived: LaCroix's Halloween costume ball. Nick had 
  considered his costume carefully and finally settled on Marlon Brando from 
  "The Godfather". He wore a suit, a buff-colored trench coat and a forties felt 
  hat. He held an authentic looking weapon in his lap that was really a water 
  pistol and got to sit in a wheelchair. It would help to conceal his weakness 
  and make it easier to survive the night. Perry yipped appreciatively when Nick 
  was ready. 
  "Brando had a favorite horse," Nick said, "But tonight he'll have a dog 
  instead. Besides, the horse gets it's head cut off, I believe." 
  Perry barked again. Nick had a strange sense of humor at times. 
  Tracy knocked on his door and let herself in. "Ready to go? Gee, you look 
  great!" 
  Nick stretched out a hand. Tracy moved closer and stood still, letting him 
  touch her. He felt the slinky fabric of her mermaid gown, the long tails on 
  her sleeves and the plunging neckline. Then he touched the long, black wig she 
  wore, all part of her "Morticia Adams" costume. 
  "You look great, too, sis," Nick said at last. 
  "Thanks. Now, let's go!" 
  Nick put an arm around her shoulders, pretending an affectionate gesture to 
  cover the fact that it was increasingly harder for him just to stand, as he 
  followed her out of his loft to the waiting limousine below. He sensed Vachon 
  in the back with him. "Who's driving?" he asked. 
  "Diggon. He decided to join us, going as Lurch." 
  Nick laughed. LaCroix's older brother as the tall, silent, homely Lurch? It 
  fit, in a way, although Diggon was a good deal more muscular. 
  The trip to the Alaskan was rather long. Nick felt his head nodding. He had 
  gone to the Day Care again to calm the little boy to sleep before returning to 
  his loft to prepare for the party. There hadn't been time for a rest, but Nick 
  was really very tired. He would have loved to blow the whole thing off and 
  just stay home, but LaCroix would not permit it. 
  Parties began to blend together in his memory. There were so many of them. His 
  End-of-School-Year party celebrating his term as a substitute teacher, and the 
  Welcome-Back party, and numerous birthday parties thrown by his mortal 
  friends, and the Conversion-Day parties thrown by LaCroix... and a few 
  Christmas parties, Company picnics, Policeman's Balls-- Nick's head was 
  swimming. He really didn't like parties at all. 
  But Halloween parties were different. It was the one holiday that was entirely 
  pagan in its origins. It was a time when all the creatures of Lillith could 
  roam freely, could revel in their ways and rejoice, and they had been 
  celebrating the holiday since the dawn of time. 
  Because the night had always been associated with the undead, the Celtic 
  Druids set aside October 31st - the eve of their New Year - as a time to pay 
  tribute to Samhain, the Lord of the Dead. They believed that the souls of the 
  wicked would possess the bodies of living people and travel about the 
  countryside to be entertained. Carrying lighted, carved turnips, the possessed 
  would destroy property of the frightened country folk. 
  Such was just nonsense. It wasn't evil spirits possessing bodies, but only the 
  undead who played the pranks. It was the one night a year when vampires, 
  carouche, witches, goblins, and all other creatures of the night would join 
  together to celebrate their common heritage. 
  Later, when the Christian missionaries to England and Wales tried to erase the 
  pagan celebration by moving their holy All Saints Day from May to November 
  1st, they didn't quite succeed. Instead, the "hallowed eve" became a miasma of 
  custom and ritual and any religious significance was lost in bags of candy. 
  Nick's teeth itched. It was past time to feed, but he was avoiding it as much 
  as possible as that only prolonged his suffering. He knew it was nearly over 
  now. 
  The limousine slowed and came to a stop. Perry sat up. His tail thumped 
  excitedly, whipping Tracy in the face with every wag and his tongue lolled out 
  the side of his mouth as he panted. 
  "What is it, boy?" Nick asked, stroking the soft, golden fur. 
  "Knock it off," Tracy complained, trying to grab the moving tail. 
  "Lurch" opened the door and stood on ceremony as Vachon and Tracy stepped out. 
  Perry bounded out after them, nearly knocking them over. Nick stepped out 
  last, slightly annoyed that Perry hadn't waited for him. "I don't know what's 
  got in to him," Tracy said. 
  Diggon took the wheelchair- part of Nick's costume - from the trunk and set it 
  on the sidewalk. Nick sat down gratefully, adjusting his trench coat and water 
  pistol. 
  "Do you want a push?" Vachon asked. He wasn't sure he liked Nick's costume. 
  "That'd be great," Nick said. 
  Diggon closed the door and went to park the limo. 
  "I wonder where your dog went?" Tracy said. 
  Nick shrugged. It didn't matter. He wouldn't really need him tonight. Perry 
  should take the night off and celebrate as well. 
  The music within was wild. It was not so loud as to hurt vampire ears, but it 
  was nearly so. The mix of scents was a powerful aphrodisiac to the vampire. 
  There were so many vampires present in one place, unlike anything he had 
  experienced in centuries. There were a few witches, with their nearly-mortal 
  blood, and werewolves, who were too close to carouche to be appetizing. And 
  the carouche! Perry bounded over the Nick to introduce a friend of his. Nick 
  reached out a hand to meet the massive Rottweiler bitch. She licked his hand a 
  few times, then nipped it gently, getting a small taste of him. 
  "It is nice to meet you, too, Jezebel," Nick said, stroking the fur behind her 
  ears. She was far older than Perry, perhaps dating back a century or more. 
  Perry barked again. "Go ahead," Nick said. "Enjoy the night. I'll be fine." 
  "What a surprise to see you here, Nick," spoke a soft, familiar voice. 
  Nick cocked his head, puzzled for only a moment. He recognized nearly everyone 
  by their scent, but this voice had none at all. It was disembodied, yet he 
  could see it almost as plain as a dream. "Erika," he said. "It's good to hear 
  your voice again." "It is time, Nick. You belong to me now." 
  He nodded slowly. There was a warmth spreading in his loins. He had loved her 
  so very much. Erika, the actress who had found such joy in her unlife. But one 
  day that joy had faded. She grew tired of her existence and she walked into 
  the sun. 
  "I told you I would not die by my own hand," he reminded her. 
  "Ah, but you won't. Still, it is not long now, is it, my love?" 
  Nick shook his head with a heavy sigh. "No, I don't think so." 
  "Then I shall wait!" The ghost pressed a kiss on his lips. Nick felt her 
  presence although there was nothing corporeal about her. 
  "Who are you talking to?" Natalie asked. 
  Nick forced a smile. Nat wouldn't see the ghost, because she didn't believe. 
  Even when her own grandmother had visited her from beyond the grave, Nat had 
  not believed. "Come here," he said. "Let me touch your costume." 
  Nat complied, waiting for Nick to discover whom she was meant to be. He felt 
  the stiff fabrics of a Turkish gown, the style from the later half of the 
  fifteenth century. "Ah, you must be the mistress of Vlad the Impaler," he 
  guessed. 
  Nat laughed lightly. "Yes, it was LaCroix's idea. I'm sure you can guess his 
  costume then, as well." 
  LaCroix had always enjoyed that particular historical figure, Nick thought. 
  Vlad had been evil as a mortal. Later in life he was brought across, perhaps 
  by LaCroix himself. His cruelties were widely publicized, though, and he was 
  destroyed by an assassin in 1476. Centuries later he was immortalized in 
  literature as the original Count Dracula. 
  "They say his mistress committed suicide," Nick commented dryly. 
  "I know," Nat said. "LaCroix denies it, though. He said she chose to follow a 
  different path and left him, but only through faking her own death could she 
  escape his vengeance." 
  Nick had heard that one too. Historians at the time were not entirely 
  accurate, though, so there was no way of ever really knowing. Unless, LaCroix 
  had been the one to help the mistress escape? He hadn't really thought of that 
  possibility before. 
  "You know, most people see our costumes and try to guess our real identity," 
  Nat said dryly. "But we can't fool you, can we?" 
  Nick grinned. "Nope. I recognize almost every one here, but I'm not sure just 
  how. It is more than just their blood scent." 
  He found he enjoyed his backward game though, as he attempted to guess each 
  one's costume. Sam and Jonathan came as Czar Nicholas and Alexandra, Urs was 
  dressed as Berengaria, the Queen of Faeries. Dozens of famous couples were 
  represented, including Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. Nick laughed at the 
  werewolf in the wheelchair, glad that he wasn't the only one with such a prop. 

  Nick had to celebrate as vampires do with the drinking of blood, but only a 
  bite. He tasted from many that night, from the witches and faeries and goblins 
  and vampires, and even from a few werewolves. Having survived so many years on 
  Bovine, their animal blood was not so repugnant. The party was still tiring 
  though and the blood did little to revive him. He was not able to keep it 
  down. Gradually he worked his wheelchair to a quiet corner where he slept. 
  Tracy could never just let him be, though. She pushed a table over and drew up 
  a chair. "Nick, wake up! You're missing it! This is fantastic! I've never had 
  more fun at a Halloween Party!" 
  He smiled sleepily. "Tell me about it." 
  Vachon joined them, staggering into a chair. Nick smelled the potent bloodwine 
  on him and felt a moment of envy. It had been too long since he'd been able to 
  drown a few nights away. 
  Samantha and Jonathan joined them, as did Urs, Janette, Amaru, and Aristotle. 
  Nick was surrounded by friends, all eager and excited and chattering too loud. 
  He rubbed at his forehead, wishing LaCroix would release him. It was so hard 
  to keep pretending. 
  He felt a tremor in the air as an ancient approached. The earthy scent of his 
  powerful blood coursed through Nick's memories with tidal force. He was 
  grateful he was sitting, or he surely would have collapsed. "Zuhayr," he 
  whispered. 
  "Good evening, Nicholas," the ancient boomed in a cheery voice. "It's good to 
  see you again!" 
  The others moved back, clearing room for the larger vampire. He took a seat 
  and gestured the others to sit back down as well. Nick felt their discomfort 
  magnified as if it were his own. He clutched at his stomach. 
  "I'm surprised to meet you here," Nick said, trying to make conversation. 
  It must have been the wrong thing to say, for he felt Zuhayr's irritation 
  sharply. "LaCroix should have told you I would be here," the ancient said. 
  His stomach twisted. Nick swallowed, forcing the blood to stay down. He 
  reached for a glass with a trembling hand. 
  A comforting, cool hand wrapped around his. Nick felt such a wave of relief at 
  his master's touch. "LaCroix," he said. 
  LaCroix moved his hand to Nick's shoulder, a gesture that was both soothing 
  and proprietary. "Forgive me, Zuhayr," he said, although his tone was not 
  penitent in the least. "I knew that knowledge of your presence would unduly 
  stress my child." 
  Zuhayr's eyes narrowed at LaCroix and his ire grew. "You speak as though you 
  care, LaCroix. You have brainwashed him into believing you!" 
  Nick didn't know what they were arguing about, but he felt the air snap 
  between them as though all the magic and power of the night were concentrated 
  into six small feet of space. Blood sweat broke out on his brow. He gulped 
  again, swallowing cold blood. "Please," he whispered, unsure of what he was 
  asking. 
  "Nicholas is MY child, Zuhayr," LaCroix hissed. "You have no jurisdiction 
  here." 
  "I may assume his care if you are failing him," Zuhayr threatened. 
  "I have never been lax in my duty!" 
  "Then why is he sick!" 
  Silence spread through the Alaskan like a plague. Conversations died in 
  mid-sentence. Nick felt the eyes of every creature present staring at him, the 
  freak, the blind vampire, and he wished the ground would open up and swallow 
  him. 
  "Leave at once," LaCroix demanded, moving to stand between Nick and Zuhayr. 
  "You overstep your bounds. If you have grievance with me, take it up before 
  the council. I shall not let you in my city again." 
  "LaCroix," Nick pleaded. 
  "Silence, Nicholas," his master said calmly, not even turning around. 
  Zuhayr rose slowly, his larger size almost dwarfing the most ancient vampire 
  resident of Toronto. The other guests who had not known of his stature in the 
  community now sensed fully the power he commanded. 
  "LaCroix, I will ignore your rudeness, as I know you truly think to protect 
  your progeny. But you are a fool. He is dying and you do not even see." 
  For a brief moment, LaCroix wondered if the ancient was correct. He reached 
  for his son through their bond, a gesture he did a hundred times a day almost 
  without thinking and was comforted to sense his child there. That Nick was 
  worried now was obvious, but he sensed nothing else, not even the pain and 
  nausea that had become so much a part of Nicholas this past year. 
  "Nicholas is fine," he answered confidently. "It is you who are a fool." 
  "Nicholas," Zuhayr ordered. "Stand up!" 
  Nick froze. There was no way his knees were going to support him now. Maybe 
  later, when Zuhayr had left, and he had fed from LaCroix, and perhaps had a 
  cane or at least his carouche, but right now, with everyone watching, Nicholas 
  had no strength with which to move. 
  LaCroix half turned, still protectively keeping himself between his child and 
  the ancient. "Rise, Nicholas. Show this old fool, who takes a costume too 
  seriously." 
  Nick clenched the arms of the wheelchair but he did not move. 
  "Rise!" LaCroix commanded. 
  Nick felt Tracy's presence, as she was chanting encouragement in her mind. 
  "You can do it, Nick. I know you can!" 
  He felt the thoughts of many others as well. Some were curious, some were only 
  frightened. He felt Samantha's gentle urging, and even discovered a cane as it 
  materialized quietly in his lap. 
  Nick set his water pistol on the table. Then, gripping the cane in one hand 
  and the wheelchair in the other, forced himself to rise. LaCroix smiled 
  approvingly and turned back to the ancient too soon. 
  Nick couldn't do it. He'd been sick for too long. He was so tired of being 
  sick. He saw Erika calling to him. She was clearer now, more than just mist. 
  Why everyone couldn't see her, he could not understand. "I'm coming," he 
  whispered. 
  Zuhayr scowled. "He is dying, LaCroix," he repeated. 
  Nick's knees buckled and he lost the cane. It clattered to the floor, 
  uselessly out of his reach. "I'm sorry, LaCroix," he whispered. 
  His master whirled around and caught him before he hit the floor. "Nicholas! 
  What is it?" he demanded. 
  Zuhayr felt his shock. At first he had thought that Nicholas's illness was 
  some sport developed by his sadistic master to torture and punish him, but now 
  he realized how deeply LaCroix truly loved him. He was sorry to have brought 
  such unpleasantness to their party, but LaCroix had prevented him from meeting 
  with Nicholas all week long. He was running out of time. 
  Nick felt LaCroix's strong arms around him. He didn't have to pretend any 
  more. Erika brushed at his hair and kissed him. He smiled. He had forgotten 
  just how lovely she was. "I missed you," he murmured. 
  "Nicholas, I am here," LaCroix said, his voice trembled. 
  "Forgive me, master," he said. "But do not grieve for me. I cannot go on like 
  this." 
  LaCroix crushed him to his breast. "Yes, you will!" he shouted. "Nicholas, you 
  must!" 
  Zuhayr parted the onlookers with a wave of his arms. "Let us through," he 
  boomed. "And let the festivity resume!" 
  LaCroix stood, carrying his precious cargo to the door, with Zuhayr leading 
  the way. Tracy, Vachon, Urs, and Natalie quickly followed them. Diggon stopped 
  anyone else from leaving, though. "You heard them," he said. "Back to the 
  party, everyone!" 
  LaCroix flew Nicholas back to the Raven, forgetting about Natalie entirely. 
  Vachon had to give her a lift. She was irritated with her lover, but was too 
  worried about Nicholas to make much of an issue. LaCroix laid Nicholas on his 
  bed and sat beside him. 
  "Tell me, my son, what is happening? Why are you suddenly too weak to stand?" 
  Nick tried to turn away, but his master's gentle hands held him firmly. "It is 
  worse," he said. "My stomach hurts all the time. I cannot keep anything down, 
  except you. And I do not want to live like this. I could accept being a 
  vampire. I am no longer sure about my quest for humanity. But I cannot accept 
  being this tied to you for all my needs, for my nourishment, forever. Even you 
  would find such an arrangement confining, LaCroix. You can not deny it." 
  LaCroix brushed at his forehead, concerned at the amount of blood that coated 
  his hand. "Hush, Nicholas. We shall find a cure. Natalie still searches." 
  "There is none," he said with a sigh. There was such defeat in his voice, that 
  LaCroix gasped, blinking back blood tears. 
  Zuhayr stood behind LaCroix and rested a hand on his shoulder. He felt the 
  younger vampire stiffen, but he did not pull away. He meant the gesture to 
  show that he would support him now. "Nicholas," he said. "We need time. I am 
  gathering the finest minds and bringing them to our capital in Romania. That's 
  what brought me here. There is a mortal, known only as 'Jarod', who is said to 
  be the most intelligent man alive today. I have Dr. Luca Kovach and Natalie, 
  as well, and twelve other learned men and vampires of science. They are all 
  studying your condition to find the cure. You must give us a little more time. 
  That is all I ask." 
  Nick turned his head away. He only wanted to sleep. LaCroix stretched out 
  beside him and gathered him into his arms. "Please, leave us," he said. "Let 
  us continue this discussion tomorrow." 
  Zuhayr followed the young vampires and Natalie out into the living room. He 
  sank into LaCroix's leather chair and accepted the glass Urs poured for him. 
  He was weary. Nicholas was such a jewel, he had to be saved, if even from 
  himself. 
  "I had no idea his condition had grown so much worse," Nat murmured. She 
  glared at Tracy. "But you knew, didn't you!" 
  Tracy stammered nervously. 
  Vachon put an arm around her shoulder. "If she knew, Nat, and said nothing, it 
  was at Nick's insistence. You know what an ass he can be." 
  "Please," Urs said. "Remember, he feels all our negative thoughts. For his 
  sake, you must stop!" 
  They sat down then and waited in silence. Each thought of the golden vampire, 
  and how much their lives would change if he were to leave them. Natalie blew 
  her nose, and Tracy dabbed at her eyes with the black silk handkerchief. 
  "He wants to die," Zuhayr remarked then, with surprise. "How does one fight 
  that?" 
  "Yell at him," Vachon volunteered. 
  Tracy shot him a scowl. 
  "I think we should call Father Rochefort," Urs said. 
  Zuhayr didn't like that suggestion at all, but Tracy explained that the priest 
  was a good friend of Nick's, and would not be coming to give him Last Rites. 
  "Then perhaps you should call him. But for now, I sense that Nicholas is 
  asleep. We should be likewise." 
  Tracy and Vachon slipped into their bedroom, Urs went to Janette's empty bed, 
  but Natalie sat up a while longer. She was too distraught to sleep, and she 
  knew LaCroix would not be joining her tonight. It irritated her, that he was 
  comforting his son and ignoring her, and it distressed her that she felt so 
  peevish about it. She needed a drink. She fixed herself a stiff Gin and Tonic, 
  consuming it in large swallows. 
  "Natalie," Zuhayr began, his rich voice rumbling through the quite room. "You 
  will come to Romania to help us, won't you?" 
  She nodded. "Of course. I'll do anything for Nicholas." 
  "I don't mean 'sometime', Natalie. I mean, NOW." 
  She nearly choked on her drink. "I can't go now. I have commitments. I have a 
  job. What about LaCroix? Or Nick? They need me here." 
  "You have done more research on our kind than any other mortal. We do not have 
  many doctors in our ranks, and some of them were brought across too long ago 
  to have much useful knowledge." 
  Nat had a sudden image of leeches being placed all over Nicholas. The thought 
  would be amusing at any other time, but now she felt a protective streak that 
  bordered on maniacal. 
  "Dr. Kovach is there already. He has some suggestions, but he is at a 
  disadvantage, for although he has known about our kind for longer than you, he 
  has not been able to study us. I think that you would help Nick the most by 
  leaving him now and joining Kovach. If you lose your job, I will see that you 
  find suitable employment when all this is over, unless, of course, you care to 
  complete your conversion then." 
  Nat shifted uneasily. She hated the thought of leaving her job, of turning 
  away from the familiar, and yet, she owed Nick. He had brought such life to 
  her existence. She tried to imagine going away on her own, though. She didn't 
  even speak Romanian! And what about the other vampires? What languages did 
  they speak? She had planned to go to the Feast of Lillith in the spring, but 
  she had expected LaCroix to be there, to protect her and guide her. Going all 
  alone was so scary! 
  "Kovach speaks fluent English, although he has an accent," Zuhayr said, as if 
  reading her thoughts. "Most vampires also understand some English. While it 
  isn't truly a universal language, it is widely spoken." 
  "Yes," Nat said, coming to a decision. "I will come." 
  Zuhayr smiled brightly. His white teeth were in sharp contrast to his dark 
  complexion. He was a decidedly handsome vampire, she acknowledged. 
  "You should also consider your conversion carefully," Zuhayr said. 
  "I know. I do, over and over. Do I want to become a vampire, or am I not quite 
  ready for this," Nat blurted. 
  Zuhayr scowled slightly. "That was not what I meant. Your conversion now is 
  not a matter of debate. It will happen. You should only consider your master 
  carefully. You can chose anyone at the feast, but your master will stand above 
  you forever. You must obey him or her in all things, without question. You 
  should therefore chose a master whom you admire, that such obedience will not 
  be burdensome." 
  "And I suppose you're volunteering," Nat bristled. 
  Zuhayr grinned widely. "I would be honored, Natalie." 
  "Well, I'll keep that in mind. Now, I do need to get some sleep. Good night." 
  Then suddenly Zuhayr was alone. There was still an hour or two before dawn. 
  Perhaps he would find Jarod yet tonight. 
  ***** 
  Nick felt his master all around him. LaCroix's left arm was beneath his head, 
  the right arm wrapped protectively around his waist. The ancient's right leg 
  was draped over him, and he snuggled into the cocoon of LaCroix's larger 
  frame. He felt protected, but he still felt the journey ahead, the one that he 
  would have to make alone. Erika would be there to greet him, but she could not 
  walk with him. He was frightened. He wasn't really ready to die. Erika would 
  not tell him what it was like. Was there really a hell? He knew if there were, 
  she would be there. She had broken too many commandments to gain admittance 
  into God's Holy place. But she had loved him! Surely she would not seduce him 
  to share in her eternal torment? His stomach rebelled. Nick sat up suddenly, 
  vomiting into the container LaCroix quickly thrust before him. 
  "Nicholas, what is it?" LaCroix asked softly. 
  How could he tell him? His master believed in nothing of an afterlife. It 
  would only annoy him. Nick lay back down. "I’m tired, Father," he said. "Let 
  it wait until tomorrow." 
  LaCroix brushed at his hair, tightening his embrace. "As you wish, my child," 
  he soothed. His right hand moved in slow circles, comforting his tortured 
  stomach. Soon Nick fell asleep. 
  LaCroix remained awake the entire day. He did not rest his vigil once, for 
  fear that his favorite would slip away from him to the place of no return. He 
  struggled to maintain his control, that his worries would not disturb his 
  golden child, but it was tiring. Twice he summoned Tracy from a sound sleep to 
  bring him blood. 
  Finally, as daylight faded from the sky and he felt the others rise, LaCroix 
  hoped that a corner had been turned. Nicholas was still there. 
  LaCroix bit into his wrist and held the wound before his child's mouth. 
  "Drink, Nicholas," he said. 
  "No." Nick was not belligerent or disrespectful, but his tone sounded final. 
  "Please, my child. You need this. Let me do this for you." 
  "No." 
  LaCroix shut his eyes. "I could have Nat force you, giving you my blood 
  intravenously." 
  "Please don't." 
  LaCroix blinked back cold tears. "Why do you despise me so?" 
  Nick turned in his arms until they lay face to face. "I do not despise you, 
  LaCroix. You are my oldest, dearest friend. I love you too much. This is not a 
  life, this shell that I have become. If you love me, you will release me from 
  this." 
  "I cannot let you go! Surely you must know this!" 
  "But I cannot live like this!" Red tears trailed down his pale face. 
  LaCroix kissed them, then drew his son closer. "Oh, my son. What are we going 
  to do." 
  A knock sounded at the door, then the door was opened. Zuhayr entered, with 
  the rest of their vampire family hovering nearby. "Nicholas," he said. 
  "Natalie has agreed to join me in Romania. She will leave yet tonight." 
  Nick did not respond, but LaCroix glared at the ancient who was tearing his 
  family apart. 
  "Nicholas, we need your help. We are working to find the solution, but you 
  must give us more time. Please, fight this thing. Do what you must, but give 
  us a chance to help you." 
  "I don't want to any more," Nick said quietly. "I'm sorry, Zuhayr, but I just 
  can't do this. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way. Just let me die." 
  "Nick, I hate you!" Tracy blurted. 
  "Get her out," LaCroix hissed. 
  Nick didn't flinch. He lay listless and unaffected. 
  Urs cleared her throat. "Excuse me, LaCroix, but I took the liberty of calling 
  Father Rochefort. He is here and would like to see Nicholas alone." 
  LaCroix touched his child once more. He wasn't able to reach him. Zuhayr 
  hadn't been able to reach him. He despised the mortal priest, but if he could 
  succeed where better creatures had failed, then he would have LaCroix's 
  protection for the rest of his mortal existence. "Let him in," he whispered. 
  With a last kiss, he rose, and ushered the other vampires from Nicholas's 
  room. 
  Father Rochefort nodded at the vampires, but he had learned not to extend his 
  hand in the friendly mortal gesture. The vampires kept a distance, not wanting 
  to touch him. He went into Nick's room and shut the door behind him. 
  "Nick," he said. "I thought we were making progress. I haven't seen you this 
  depressed in many months. Tell me what set this off?" 
  "Go away, Father," Nick whispered. "I'm tired." "Cody's mother died last 
  night," the priest said. 
  Nick winced. He wondered for a moment what would happen to the little boy. 
  Infants were easy to place, but the older a child grew, the harder it became, 
  until finally, the child just grew up on his own. Cody was only three, but he 
  was a difficult child. He would need constant care from a patient, loving 
  parent. A group home would be the worst possible place for him, and yet, it 
  was probably where he would be sent. 
  "There was nothing wrong with her," the priest said, filling in the silence. 
  "She wasn't injured in the traffic accident, nothing more than a few bruises. 
  She just didn't want to live any more. She quit eating, quit bathing, quit 
  doing anything. She even quit caring for her little boy. Who knows how many 
  months that child went hungry, unloved, and unwanted? He is a precious child!" 

  "She did what she could, bringing him to you," Nick said, defending the 
  unknown mother. 
  "Not enough," Father Pierre countered. "Unless I can find a home for Cody, 
  before the state takes over, he will be sent to an institution." 
  "No!" Nick shouted. He hadn't meant to. He didn't care, not really. Cody was 
  only a mortal, and not his concern. Nick tried to block him out of his mind. 
  "I want you to take him in," the priest said. 
  Nick ignored him. That suggestion was preposterous. 
  "You have a way with him and he already adores you." 
  "I'm blind, Father. I can't adopt a child." 
  "Other blind people have children, Nick." 
  "I am not human. He should have a human parent." 
  "Yes, he should," Father Pierre agreed. "He should have his mother, but she 
  didn't care to live. She turned her back on him. Are you going to do the 
  same?" 
  "Leave me alone," Nick said, tears streaming down his face. "I'm tired, 
  Father! I can't do this!" 
  "Nick," called another voice. 
  He turned, looking for her. "Erika?" 
  "Who is Erika?" The priest looked around the empty room worriedly. Suddenly 
  the temperature had dropped and he felt cold. 
  "No, Nick. You remember. Look at me, Nick." 
  Nick looked and he could see! She was brilliant in her white wedding gown, the 
  blue velvet cape draped around her alabaster shoulders. She was just as he had 
  seen her at Kestral House a little over a year ago. "Alyssa," he whispered. 
  She smiled at him and her whole face glowed. He wondered how he could see her, 
  for he saw nothing else. Somewhere he knew Father Pierre was still present, 
  listening, not understanding, but it was as if he didn't even exist. Nick 
  could not see himself, either. Only Alyssa, his mortal bride, whom he had 
  killed on their wedding night. "I'm so sorry, Alyssa," he whispered. 
  Her smile brightened. "Sh, my love. I know. I know. I forgave you a long time 
  ago. Shush now, my beloved. You must listen." 
  "But, where are you? Why are you here?" 
  "You never could follow orders well," she said, laughing lightly. "I am a 
  messenger. You must not follow Erika! If you do, you will never see me again. 
  We do not live in the same place. It is one or the other, Nicholas, but I must 
  warn you. If you chose her way, you will regret it for eternity." 
  "But I want to die," Nick whispered. 
  Alyssa touched his cheek. She felt warm and alive, unlike the shade of Erika, 
  who had brought a chill with her. Nick leaned in to her caress. "Alyssa," he 
  whispered again. It felt so good just to say her name. 
  "You must live, my knight. You will find your way to me. But Erika's path is 
  not for you. Live!" 
  Then the ghostly messenger faded. Nick cried out for her to stop, but it was 
  Father Pierre who touched him now. "Nick?" he called, his voice thick with 
  worry. 
  "She's gone," Nick moaned in misery. 
  "She wanted to die," Father Pierre said, touching him to reassure him. "But 
  you still have a chance. You can live! Please, Nick! Live! Live for Cody, and 
  for LaCroix and Natalie and Tracy and Vachon and Urs! Live for me! For all of 
  us who care about you!" 
  Nick buried his face in the pillow and wept. 
  Father Rochefort rubbed his back, whispering words of comfort and 
  encouragement all the while. Finally, his grief spent, Nick struggled to sit. 
  "Help me stand, Father," he said. 
  Rochefort assisted the vampire to his feet, alarmed at how frail Nick had 
  become. 
  "Take me to the door," Nick said. "I will speak to them now." 
  The priest complied. He opened the door and faced the room full of startled, 
  worried vampires. He gestured them to remain where they were. 
  Nick grabbed the doorframe, to take some of his weight off the young priest. 
  "Six months," he said. The words came slowly. He was so weary. Somewhere he 
  could still see Erika frowning at him, but he could not hear her now. "I will 
  give you six months, Zuhayr. If you fail to find a cure, then I beg you to end 
  my life. I realize now that it is too much to ask from LaCroix." 
  A collective sigh of relief went around the room. Nick waved off their words. 
  He wasn't interested. They could be glad if they wanted to, he was only very 
  tired. He had hoped that death would bring eternal rest, but Alyssa had said 
  otherwise. 
  LaCroix came to him then. "You will let me nourish you now, my child?" 
  Nick nodded wearily. 
  Rochefort passed him to LaCroix, for he was too weak to stand alone. Nick 
  collapsed into his master's arms again, but this time he felt that he was 
  truly home. LaCroix fed him only a little at a time throughout the night. The 
  pain in his stomach remained, but gradually the weakness left. He felt like 
  such an invalid. It was almost unbearable. Only his promise that in six months 
  it would end, one way or another, made it possible for him to face a new day. 
  Father Pierre called on him often over the next week and said that he was 
  caring for the child himself, anticipating the day Nick would realize how much 
  he had to offer the little boy. "I hope you will come to see him soon. He asks 
  about you," he said. 
  "LaCroix hates children," Nick said in his own defense. It was as good an 
  excuse as any. 
  Father Pierre laughed. "Yes, but you have him so thoroughly wrapped around 
  your little finger, that he would do anything for you right now. Even to 
  accepting a mortal child into your family." 
  "This isn't right," Nick said. "Natalie considered having a baby, but even she 
  knew that this was no place to raise a child." 
  "Perhaps," the priest said. "But she was considering bringing a child into the 
  world. This child is already here. While you may think that two parents and a 
  home in the suburbs is the ideal, the reality is that he is here now. He needs 
  someone, and you are available. Please reconsider it, Nick." 
  Nick shrugged. It was nearly impossible to say no to the young priest. 
  "I need to get back to the Day Care," Pierre said, sighing. "I don't quite 
  have your knack with Cody, but the teachers have threatened to quit if I don't 
  help them with him." 
  Nick gave a weak smile. "Good night, Father." 
  Zuhayr came into his room then. "I leave tonight as well, Nicholas. I have not 
  been able to locate Jarod. I have a lead that he might have left Toronto now, 
  and is somewhere in Buffalo." 
  Nick shrugged indifferently. No mortal would be able to help him. 
  "Natalie called from Romania a few hours ago. She said, 'Tell Nick Dr. Luca is 
  a dreamboat', and she was annoyed with you for not telling her so." 
  Nick wondered what LaCroix thought of that. He cocked half a smile, which 
  faded shortly. 
  "Nicholas," Zuhayr said quietly, sitting down beside him on the bed. "I 
  promise, we will find a cure." 
  Nick shrugged. "What ever." 
  "I always keep my promises," the ancient said. Then, with a friendly pat to 
  his still sore shoulder, Zuhayr rose and left. 
  Nick was alone in the room, but he knew he was never truly alone. He felt his 
  master's presence all the time, as if the ancient were afraid to leave him for 
  even a moment. He felt Tracy's presence as well, and even Janette had 
  returned. He was again surrounded by family, whether he wanted them or not. 
  Perhaps it was not yet time to leave this place. The final dance would wait 
  for him. It was the one thing he could be assured of. Sooner or later, all 
  must pass through. Even vampires were not saved from it, for Divia, Daniel, 
  and Erika had shown him that. 
  Nick felt LaCroix enter his room again, to offer his wrist. Nick suckled at 
  the gift, feeling like an infant again, feeding only on his father's "milk". 
  "I do not mind, Nicholas," LaCroix whispered. 
  "I do," he said quietly. 
  LaCroix had no answer to that. He just held him. Nick made a mental tally. 
  There were 182 days in six months. Five were down, only 177 more to go. He 
  snuggled into the comfort his master offered and smiled. He could make it. 
  The end. 
I would like to thank my beta readers, Kylie and Laurie of the Isles. You two 
are great! return to: Main Page 
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