Missing Scene #1: Nocturne #1
By April French 
 
Valentine's Eve, 1997

Carefully cradling his precious cargo, Lucien LaCroix landed in the
living room of his apartment above the Raven. The young woman, Miranda
Thorn--little more than a girl, truly--had not woken during their
short flight from Kai's home at the Corvina, despite the bitter wind
that was whipping through Toronto. She was still sleeping deeply in
his arms. Her dark blond head was burrowed into his chest, and one
hand had crept up to rest trustingly over LaCroix's heart. Her scent
of white roses--LaCroix hadn't thought that white roses smelled any
differently from red--mixed enticingly with heather and a touch of
cinnamon, enveloped him. It... intoxicated his senses. LaCroix sat
back in his couch and, with frigid lips, painted kisses from the crown
of Miranda's head to the top of her left ear. 

It had been surprisingly easy, he reflected, to stop thinking of the
woman in his arms as Fleur de Brabant. Or rather, as just Fleur.
Miranda was a part of Fleur... or Fleur was a part of Miranda, LaCroix
wasn't sure which was the correct sequence of personalities.

<<Reincarnation? Well, I have seen stranger things in my time. Men who
walk through fire, children born speaking long-dead languages... and
Harry Houdini had rather a nifty trick with handcuffs and a tank full
of water.>>

<Men who walk through fire... How did Kai accomplish *that* little
escapade? Surely not with holy water...>

"I've never been able to figure that out either." Miranda looked up at
her... what was Lucien to her, exactly? "I wouldn't put him past
cheating though; his clothes are probably flame-retardant."

"That's not cheating, that's being sensible." 

Miranda sat up and discovered that she was in Lucien's lap... in his
living room? "Is this your home?"

"Yes. It is also yours, now. You seem surprised."

"My father?"

"Kai has given his blessing." LaCroix brushed the backs of his fingers
against her cheek. Miranda raised her hand to grasp his.

"Every night for six weeks, you've come to see me. And I still can't
believe that you are real, that you're not the dream you've been for
my entire life." She smiled lopsidedly. "My impossible dream... You're
crying."

"Mere tears of relief," said LaCroix dismissively. "We seem to be
feeling the same doubt." He put his hands on her shoulders, and with a
knowing smile, asked "What can I do to convince you?"

Miranda's own expression was resolute. "Bring me across."

Yellow eyes shining, LaCroix kissed her deeply. The feel of her mouth
against his for the first time in eight hundred years-- <No. No, they
are two different people-->

<We are one and the same, mon beau Lucien.>

<Ma belle fleur, ma Miranda...>

He lifted her up and carried her into his bedroom, laying her gently
on his own bed. LaCroix caught her hand as it fell from his heart, and
brought her wrist to his mouth.

<To be my fledgling, my lover...>

<To be consumed by you.>

With the greatest delicacy, the tips of LaCroix's fangs pierced the
thin flesh, and a warm rush of nectar filled his waiting mouth.
Miranda arched, as LaCroix sipped slowly from her wrist, savoring her
scent, her taste, every cell and memory. Soon he would move to her
throat and make her his completely--

But he found himself stopping after the first few mouthfuls. LaCroix
blinked, licking his lips in confusion. Miranda was unconscious
against his pillows--from ecstasy, not from blood loss--and a sudden
draft of cold permeated the link, now strengthened by the new blood.
With barely a thought, LaCroix slid out of his coat and lay down
beside her, wrapping Miranda in his arms.

*** 

She started awake. For a split second, Miranda had no idea where she
was or who she was with, and a wordless cry of panic escaped her
throat.

"Hush." A cool pair of lips brushed over the crown of her head.
Miranda sighed, the tight cords of muscle relaxed, and she collapsed
even further into LaCroix's embrace. Idly, LaCroix noticed that their
legs had somehow become entangled as she slept and he drowsed. It
hadn't been all that long of a nap, but he felt strangely relaxed
and... peaceful.

He could not recall ever feeling so at peace.

"Why did you stop?"

LaCroix reveled in the sound of her voice for a moment. "I don't
know," he admitted. "I was going to do as you wished but... I
couldn't. Absurd as it sounds, it didn't seem... right." 

Miranda just nodded against his shirt. She had a vague, half-conscious
desire to remove it, but was too sleepy to act on the thought. "Maybe
it's not right, not at this moment..."

"Kai never mentioned this."

"He doesn't always see everything," she murmured. "And sometimes he
sees too much. Time's fluid."

LaCroix looked at his companion with some surprise. "You do not also
possess Kai's precognitive ability, do you?"

Miranda snorted sleepily, still experiencing a form of afterglow from
LaCroix's sipping. "Goddess, no!"

"'Goddess'?" 

"My mother was a Pagan, she raised me in the same tradition. Kai's
technically Roman Catholic, but it's a bit difficult to be Catholic in
Black Falls. Bit dangerous, too." Her hair called to him, so LaCroix
tangled his hands in it.

"It sounds like a fascinating place... for one of my people." He held
her closely. "Miranda. In your blood, there is a subdued... but
tremendous anger... and grief, directed at your father..." LaCroix
trailed off when Miranda stiffened in his embrace, now fully awake.
"Would you rather I not ask you this tonight?"

"Just... ask carefully." She sounded as though she was trying not to
weep.

LaCroix asked in the only way he knew how. "Did Kai kill your mother?"

"I... don't know. I don't know. I just... I know he feels responsible.
He just kept saying over and over, 'It's my fault, it's my fault.' It
was the only time he really spoke of her death, how she died. I was
eleven. What else was I supposed to think? I don't think I spoke to
him for six months."

"How did she die?"

"She was... <ripped> to death, for lack of a better explanation. There
wasn't much left to bury, or so I was told. I was five when she died.
I wasn't allowed to see her." Her quiet tears were soaking through
LaCroix's shirt, but he let her cry. "Her name was Diana."

<Diana. Goddess of the moon. The moon. Selene. How strange...> "Did
she know?"

"About Fleur?" Miranda shook her head. "No. The memories didn't come
back until after she was dead. I think... I think her death triggered
the memories. Dad was sick for... weeks afterward. It was almost three
months before he could walk again. He knew what my 'daydreams' were,
but he never told me."

"He wanted to protect you. And keep you," murmured LaCroix,
remembering Daniel and Alexei. And Nicholas. "For as long as he
could."

Miranda chuckled. "And now he's turned that job over to you."

"And I shall carry it out to the best of my abilities." LaCroix's
smile was twisted but sincere. "For as long as we both shall live." He
pressed a fervent kiss to the pulse in her throat.

"Mmm. Careful. Don't say the vows until you propose." LaCroix
chuckled. "Lucien... Can I ask you a question? About what I saw?"
LaCroix waited patiently. "The little girl..."

LaCroix closed his eyes. "It is... painful to discuss." Miranda just
cocked an eyebrow at him. He supposed that if she could share her
pain, so could he, but... <I don't share.> He kissed Miranda's throat
again, and sank his teeth into her skin, and instead of drinking, he
poured into her blood every agonizing memory.

<<Live or die. You only have moments to decide...>>

<<What is your decision?>>

<<To live, Divia. To live...>>

<<We are free to do as we please. To kill as often as we desire, bathe
in mortal flesh and blood. Nothing can stop us! Everything we lust
after can be ours. Including love... Let us do what must not be done!
Make love to me, Father.>>

Miranda choked and gasped.

<<Divia, no!>>

<<Come to me, Lucius. Do as I say!>>

<<You're my daughter!!>>

<<Daughter, mother, lover. Why can't I be all three? You need someone
to love, Lucius, and I need you...>>

<<I put her remains in the sarcophagus. The sun god on the lid acted
on her in much the same way as a cross does on us. That grave robber
must have broken the seal...>>

<<I never imagined that you would rise to the lofty position of...
innkeeper...>>

<<I want you to live with the knowledge that you destroyed everyone
who was dear to you. Your friends-->

<<I'll bury you next to Screed-->

<<--lovers-->>

<<Urs is dead.>>

<<You see what my young friend is doing? One by one, people around me
will be killed, until I am left alone, and as isolated... as I once
left her-->>

<<--daughter, mother... and now your son.>>

<<What do you mean?>>

<<Nicholas, I believe was his name. One always recognizes family. But
he was your favorite, wasn't he?>>

<<Where is he? If you've harmed him-->>

<<He's gone, Father. He's dead. At my hand...>>

<<You pathetic old man, I've taken him from you! Your son is dead! How
does that feel? Tell me how that feels...>>

<<Father... Don't let me die...>>

<<I shall stay with Divia until her body has turned to ashes and then
commit them to the wind. I may even say a prayer...>>

There was blood on LaCroix's face when he finally drew back, but it
was his own red perspiration. LaCroix's muscles abruptly gave out, and
he dropped onto the bed beside Miranda. 

He was shivering. And she was shaking. 

Hesitantly, LaCroix touched her skin and found it to be very warm,
feverishly so. <Miranda. Miranda!> She did not respond. The unfamiliar
panic blinded LaCroix, and instinctually he did the first thing that
came to his mind--he undressed her, hurriedly took off his own
clothing, and pulled the covers over the both of them, holding her
overly warm body against his own cold skin. LaCroix kissed her
forehead, and fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

*** 

Now we share this humble path alone
How fragile is the heart
O give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars
Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes
Etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares
Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me...

*** 

<I never forgot.> LaCroix smiled into Miranda's hair. <Lovely. Do you
always sing in your sleep?> he asked, still half-asleep himself.

<I dream of singing all the time. Songs, music...> Miranda snuggled
closer. <You're cozy, did you know that?>

LaCroix frowned. <I... don't think I've ever been called that before.
Disturbing, deranged, criminally insane-->

<Sexy?>

<Actually, *that* appellation I'm quite familiar with. But don't tell
Nicholas. No point in making him ill... I seem to have given you a
fever. I do apologize.> 

<Image overload. It happens.>

<Are you feeling better?>

<Yes. And I salute your treatment for fever.>

A rich, deep strip of velvet tickled up and down Miranda's spine as
LaCroix laughed through their link. <Old Roman remedy.>

<But I understand why you can't talk about it. Those memories make you
sick as well.>

"I buried my memories of Divia when I put the cover on the
sarcophagus," he murmured. "And then I tried to burn them with her... 
It... didn't work as well as I had hoped." LaCroix sighed. They lay
together for a time, not speaking, not thinking, just content in each
other's presence.

"Something else," LaCroix said suddenly, "that I saw. About Black
Falls."

"Hmm?"

"Marriage is the exception, rather than the rule?"

"Mmmhmm. It's a liberal town."

"Yet Kai married your mother."

"Only way he could keep us from becoming someone's midnight snack.
Why?"

LaCroix pursed his lips. "Something you said before. That I should
'propose before I said the vows.'"

Miranda sat bolt upright in bed, heedless of her nakedness. "Lucien,
you told me three weeks ago that you don't believe in marriage."

"I don't. But in our case, it would serve a useful purpose." LaCroix
paused to admire the view. "Namely, to keep Nicholas off our backs."

"Nicolas has not interfered--"

"Yet. His injuries--and his fiancée--have been occupying his time.
Once he can think straight, Nicholas's altruism may fade in the face
of reality. Our bond makes us as man and wife in my world. I fear that
it will take a judge and a piece of paper in your world to satisfy mon
Nicolas."

Smiling, Miranda shook her head. "You are a cynic, Lucien."

"And you are a dreamer, Miranda." LaCroix reached out and brushed her
cheek tenderly with the ball of his thumb. "An impossible dreamer."
Miranda leaned down and kissed him. Somehow, in the midst of their
caresses, LaCroix slipped the ancient ring off his little finger, and
onto Miranda's hand.

~Finis - December 3rd, 2002~

--Lyrics from "Dante's Prayer" by Loreena McKennitt