Episode 113: Red is the Color of Darkness
By April French

~~~ 

A Kai-centric story, and darker than normal. This story refers
directly to events that took place in the FK first season episode
"Only the Lonely." As usual, I know nothing about Canadian police
procedure. Also, if anyone's noticing a small trend in these episodes
(that of one of the characters going completely ballistic or ending
up in hospital), it's all for a larger purpose and I apologize for
the monotony.

~~~ 




Part One

Toronto: March, 1998

LaCroix hovered nearby while Julian checked Daniel's condition.
Well, perhaps 'hovered' was too kind a word. "Stop looming!" Julian
snapped over his shoulder. "Christ, I don't need you breathing down
my neck, too." Gentling his voice, Julian turned his attention back
to his patient. "I need you to sit up now, can you do that?"

Daniel nodded. "I think so." His normally chipper voice was subdued.
There were deep purple circles under the child's eyes, a ring of
crusty red skin around his mouth; Julian slipped an arm behind his
thin shoulders and helped the boy to sit and take off his pajama top.
He listened with a stethoscope to the heart and lungs, looked closed
at his eyes and nose, and paid special attention to the inside of
Daniel's mouth.

"Let me know if this hurts," he instructed, gently prodding the fang
beds. It hurt immediately, but Daniel held his peace for almost
fifteen seconds before wincing. "That ought to have cleared up by
now. Does it hurt when you feed?"

The boy hesitated. Julian felt LaCroix's hand on his shoulder. "Just
lie back and relax for a minute, okay?" He followed LaCroix into the
hall.

"He hasn't been feeding," said LaCroix quietly, and Julian noticed
for the first time the tired, unhealthy tint to the ancient's normal
pallor. "The only blood he can stomach is mine. His conscience
torments him."

"Poor little bastard," Julian murmured. "But he's got to feed.
Master's blood is a great cure-all, but it lacks vital components for
everyday nutrition. His iron and glucose levels are far too low. I'd
prefer not to give him supplements, but if he won't feed..."

"He can't keep anything down. He keeps remembering."

"And I can't help him with that." Julian scrubbed a hand through his
hair. "All right. I'll go get the supplements. I should be right back."

LaCroix caught his arm as he moved to leap out the window. "Have you
seen Nicholas recently?"

"I work with the man's wife; I see him almost every night."

"I mean have you examined him."

"About three weeks ago. He's fine. Why?"

LaCroix shook his head. "Just bring the supplements." 

The doctor nodded. Halfway out the window, he stopped with his foot
on the sill, and gave LaCroix a piercing look, as though he meant to
say something important. Then he sighed and shook his head. "I'll be
back in a half hour or so," and was gone.

LaCroix went back into the boys' bedroom. Daniel had been moved from
the top to the bottom bunk for the duration of his illness, and
LaCroix sat now on the edge of his bed. He passed his hand over
Daniel's forehead, lightly smearing the reddish-purple perspiration.
"Do you see this color, mon enfant?"

Daniel moistened his lips. His eyes flickered from his father's
fingers to his father's face in acknowledgment.

"You will not recover until it is its proper color again, and that
will not happen until you feed properly."

"I can't," Daniel whispered. "I can't drink, and see all those
memories..."

"But it is what we are," LaCroix rumbled softly, stroking his son's
blond hair. He had always been a striking child; now, he presented an
eerily similar picture to one of the darkest night in LaCroix's life--
the night he had stood outside a window slit and watched Fleur die.
"It's not just our food; it's how we feel life."

"All I feel is death, LaCroix." Tears began streaming, unbidden,
down Daniel's cheeks, wasting what little blood he had to spare. "I
taste their fear, feel their bones crunching between my teeth..." An
old man's words in a little boy's mouth, and LaCroix had never felt
as ashamed of himself as he did at that moment, for destroying a
child's life to please his own vanity. 

A small ripple in the room, and a knock at the open door alerted
them to Julian's return. LaCroix moved aside to allow him to give
Daniel the supplements. Afterwards, he walked Julian to the door of
the apartment.

"He's in terrible shape, isn't he?"

"You're in pretty bad shape yourself, General." Julian stuffed a few
pills into LaCroix's hand and closed the ancient's fingers around
them. "Take them," he ordered. "And then go downstairs and let this
boy get his sleep. Go," he repeated, all but shoving LaCroix out of
the room. "Go do a creepy monologue or something."

*** 

Nick Knight made his way through the tables in the forefront of the
Corvina book-and-coffee shop, through the stacks and to the back
shelves. "Come in, Nicholas," came a response to his knock. Kai was
wrapping up a conversation with someone when he entered, a tall woman
with a wild and unruly shock of black hair, whom Nick could sense was
an enosh although he didn't recognize the woman herself. "Just a
moment, Nicholas. Tell Monaghan to keep a close eye on the
waterfront," he instructed the woman, gathering up a mess of files.
Some he handed to her, the rest he locked in his desk. She tucked
them into her coat and brushed silently past Nick, not looking at
him. "Shut the door behind you, Nicholas."

"I don't remember seeing her in the theatre," said Nick, closing the
bookcase firmly.

Kai eased himself into a chair, wincing. "She's a Red Branch,
another separate division within the enosh." He rubbed his forehead.
"Tenebres assigns more and more of them here everyday. It worries me."

"But why are they here at all?"

"You know that forty-foot gorilla Natalie's so enamored of? Well,
Tenebres is like that gorilla, and you and I and every other vampire
currently in this Community are like the little biplanes that fly
around his head. If we do something he doesn't like, he swats us.
I've learned it isn't wise to investigate his reasons for doing
things." He glanced up at Nick. "If I might ask, what makes you think
I would know what the enosh are doing in Toronto?"

"Because at one time," Nick reminded him, "information was your
business. And because the enosh appear to obey you without
question... Tyree."

Kai continued to massage his forehead as though he had not heard.
"Are you all right, mon pere?" 

Nick blinked. "Fine."

"Anxious?"

Oh... "A bit."

"Bloody liar," Kai retorted, with a weak grin that was more of a
grimace, and for once, Nick thought he could understand the nameless
pain he sometimes saw in his son. "Julian told Nat... about your
children. Nat told me. I'm so sorry."

Kai snorted softly. "Save your pity for those who deserve it. For my
children, all either lost, or dead at my own hands. It's not meant
for me. I'm not worth it." The long brittle fingers moved from
forehead to temples. "When Daniel woke up," he murmured, "he was so
overcome with self-loathing... with hate for what he did..."

"It wasn't his fault. No more than it was yours. You were drugged."
Nick was adamant. He had to be; he needed to believe it himself.

"That doesn't help very much," said Kai quietly. "It never goes
away. I killed my child, Nicholas, and the love of my life, in the
kind of mindless bloodlust that not even vampires like to admit
exists. And for men like you and I who pride ourselves on our
restraint..."

Nick stiffened. "'You and I.' Kai, what is it?" He dropped to his
knees beside the chair and clamped vice-like fingers on his son's
leg. "Is Natalie in danger from me? Kai, what have you seen? Kai,
tell me--!"

The snow-grey eyes flickered, met Nick's own with brief but searing
disdain. Nick's fingers loosened. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I
forgot."

"I was just making a general comparison," said Kai stiffly.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine."

"Bloody liar."

"My head hurts." His hands dropped into his lap. "Go to work,
Nicholas. You're hurting me."

Deflated, Nick got to his feet. But when he put his hand briefly on
his son's shoulder, Kai didn't shrug him off.

Once Nick was gone, Kai took some very deep breaths, trying to stop
the pounding in his head. His office felt hot and stuffy. He gripped
the arms of his chair, his nails scoring the wood. He sensed Tracy
sitting out in the shop, enjoying her night off with a drink and a
book. 

Making an abrupt decision, Kai stood and made his way into the shop.
It was just busy enough to be interesting, and the general,
monotonous din of unconcerned minds was soothing to his throbbing
brain. He went behind the front counter, nodded to his assistant
manager and began to serve coffee and ring out customers.

*** 

"There is... an enormous difference between what humanity looks
like, especially in the upper circles," the Nightcrawler mused,
"coaches, tapers, cummerbunds--and what humanity actually is: a
raving beast."

*** 

Nick followed Natalie with possessive eyes, carefully noting every
movement she made. It had been three weeks since he'd been taken off
his sexual probation, three weeks since he and Natalie had shared in
the experience of horrific pain that Julian had warned of, and ever
since that night, Nick had been watching his wife for signs of
success. Signs of pregnancy.

The frustrating thing was that he just couldn't tell. He thought he
knew what to look for: changes in Natalie's biorhythms, her heartbeat
and her scent. He thought he would have been able to hear his child's
heartbeat--if there was a child at all. But there had been nothing.
Perhaps, he tried to comfort himself, he had just been looking too
hard. Or maybe he'd only been going through the motions of looking,
afraid that they'd been unsuccessful. Natalie had been feeling on the
peaked side, these last couple of weeks, and her stomach had not been
cooperating at all--that gave Nick some hope. But he still had not
told Natalie. He didn't want to get her hopes up. He did wonder,
though. She was a doctor, after all, and a woman, and her next
menstrual cycle was rapidly approaching. If she skipped a period,
Nick knew she'd be suspicious; she was normally regular as clockwork...

But he didn't want to wait that long. He was tired of being patient.
He would confess everything-- he vowed silently.

Natalie noticed the determined expression on her husband's face.
"What's on your mind, Nick, hmm?"

He smiled the endearing schoolboy smile that always melted her
heart. "Oh, the usual. Eternity. Immortality. The future." He made
his voice studiously casual. "Have you been feeling okay lately, Nat?
You've suddenly gone on a strict diet of tea and soda crackers."

"Just a stomach bug," Natalie shrugged. Nick came up behind her and
put his arms around her, kissing her temple before resting his chin
on her shoulders. It wasn't fair to keep her in the dark any longer.
And, he wanted to know for certain.

"You sure?" he asked innocently, large hands rubbing her stomach in
soothing, circular caresses. He thought he could feel some slightly
unfamiliar vibrations emanating from her... if he tasted her blood,
he would know for sure, but he hadn't done that for three weeks...
"Is just a bug?" He turned her around, and his heart softened at the
uncertain look she was giving him.

He took her hands in his, lightly rubbing her knuckles with the pads
of his thumbs. "It's going to sound a bit stupid of me to ask this,
but do you remember what happened when we made love a few weeks ago?"

"I'm supposed to forget something like that? Are you finally going
to explain what happened, because you promised--"

"I'm explaining it right now, love. When I..." He took a deep breath
to steady his nerves. "When I asked Julian about the possibility of
us having a child together, he... Nat, he told me something he...
'neglected' to tell you." Nick paused, his mouth dry. "For a male
vampire of my bloodline to have an increased chance of having child
with a mortal, the vampire has to climax without taking blood,
because blood will taint the seed." Natalie's eyes widened.

"Nick... you did climax without biting me."

Nick managed a weak smile. "Yeah."

"But right after was that horrible pain--"

"Julian warned me that would happen. It's a reasonable progression;
that was the first time in eight hundred years I'd had a natural
orgasm." Nick braced himself for the blow."

"And you didn't tell me anything." Natalie clamped her lips together
and looked away. "You know, every time I think we've made some
progress, I come to find out you're still keeping secrets from me."

"I know," said Nick quickly, "I know, and I'm sorry--"

"You're always sorry, but you never change--!" Natalie broke off,
biting her lower lip to keep her temper from bubbling over. 

"I know I was wrong, Nat, there's nothing else for me to say."

"So you're just going to stand there and let me rail at you."

"I'm an honest man, I'll take my punishment." He was so solemn and
sincere, it was almost comical, but Natalie had never felt less like
laughing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly.

"Because it's a reflex. Secrets are a way of life for me, Natalie.
I've tried, but after eight hundred years, I can't discard them just
like that. Because I didn't want to give you false hope. And because
I never thought that you would have to share the pain of conception
with me." Nick's eyes were cobalt-blue and vividly expressive, and it
was obvious for Natalie to see as well as sense that he felt terribly
about deceiving her.

She wasn't letting him get off that easily, though. "I'm not made of
porcelain," she reminded him, emphasizing her statement with a sharp
slap on his chest. "And I'm not your love from afar anymore, so take
me down off that damn pedestal. You think false hope or pain is
anything new to me? After six years of trying to make you mortal with
absolutely no success, with nothing but disappointments, I am very
well acquainted with false hope. And pain? What about losing Richard
and Cynthia? What about Roger Jameson? And did we forget childbirth?
God, if you thought I was too weak to stand fifteen minutes of
secondhand hell, I'll hate to see what you're like when I actually go
into labor."

"I'll be like any other father," said Nick simply. "Scared out of my
mind, and in the presence of a miracle." 

Natalie chewed on her lower lip, her eyes darting from Nick's face
to the floor and back. "My period is a couple days late," she admitted.

Nick smiled gently. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed, clasped
Natalie's face in his hands, kissed her lips softly, and opened his
mind. Natalie gasped, overwhelmed by the emotions of love, longing,
apology and excitement. The anticipation alone was overpowering. When
Nick finally stepped back, he reached into his coat and pulled out a
small box. Without a word, Natalie took the pregnancy test and went
in search of a bathroom.

Nick waited.

He knew the moment the test was complete. He felt Natalie's heart
drop into her shoes, felt her feet leave the floor, and the giddy,
elated, frighteningly uncertain laughter rising in her throat.

He enfolded her in a tight hug as soon as she reentered the room. "I
love you," he whispered into her hair. "I'll never be able to thank
you... for everyth... Oh, God..." His breath shattered in his throat.

Natalie clutched at his shoulders, near to crying herself. "I've
always loved you, Nick. I always will."

The door of the morgue opened and Grace walked into see Natalie and
Detective Knight sobbing in each other's arms. "Umm... is this a bad
time?"

They broke apart, Natalie dabbing at her eyes and Nick shielding the
red tears from sight. "It's okay, Grace," Natalie assured her shakily.

"Are you guys all right?"

Nick scrubbed a hand across his eyes and nodded. "More than all
right." He put an arm around his wife's shoulders, and though he
spoke to Grace, his eyes were seeing only Natalie. "We're pregnant."

"You're--Well, it's about time!" she exclaimed, giving them both a
huge hug. "Oh, that's so great!" She kept going on in this vein for
some time, while Nick and Natalie, still in shock, just let her
praise and good wishes flow over them like a warm rain. "Oh, I almost
forgot." Grace held out an envelope. "This was in the mail."

Curious, Natalie opened it. "It's a birthday card." Feeling Nick
tense beside her, "Don't panic--it's not til April!" Nick sighed in
relief; Grace chuckled. "'Happy Birthday, Natalie. See you soon.'
Huh." She flipped the card over, but there was no signature, no sign
to indicate where the card had come from. "Really weird..."

*** 

The Nightcrawler was warming up to his topic, a personal favorite.
"Morality is an invention, designed to keep the fundamental animal
inside humanity at bay. For centuries, men in positions of public
power have held their moral purity up to the populous as a shining
example of virtue, to be emulated and praised."

*** 

Nire, his assistant manager, gave him a not-so-gentle nudge in the
ribs. "You all right? You look like hell."

"Thanks," said Kai shortly, handing a customer her change.

"And you're acting like a dick."

"Well, ain't you just a bucket of sunshine tonight?"

"Kai, I'm serious. Are you tanked or what? You just gift-wrapped
that woman's blueberry muffin."

Kai blinked. "Ah, well, um... okay, I'm off my game."

"Thousand points to you, Einstein."

"Unemployment's on my speed dial for a reason, Nire." Kai slid a
medium hazelnut coffee down the counter, took a deep breath,
plastered a smile on his lips and turned to help the next customer.

His headache got sharply and progressively worse.

*** 

"But when that good and glorious example of morality is exposed for
what it is--a leprous sore--then the bars will break. The cage will
shatter, and the animal will bite!"

*** 

"That'll be $26.50, sir." Kai bagged the hardcover, while the tall,
dark-haired man pulled out a checkbook. Out of habit, Kai watched him
write it out. Date, business, price. As he wrote out his signature,
Kai had to grip the edge of the counter to keep from passing out.
"Nire... can you finish with this gent? I don't feel very well..." He
stumbled off to the side, all but dropping onto a vacant table.

Tracy was instantly beside him, gripping his shoulders. "Kat, what
is it?" Her voice was strong, calming.

"My head," he ground out hoarsely, fists clenched as tightly as his
teeth; his fingernails were scoring grooves into the wooden tabletop.
"My eyes... feel like I'm on fire..."

"Kai, I don't feel a thing."

He barely heard the door of the shop close, before his brain exploded.








Part Two

"What the hell happened?" Nick bellowed into his cell phone.
"Where's Kai?"

"He's upstairs," Tracy tried to soothe him over her own jitters.
"Julian's with him."

"Christ, is the man a superhero?"

"Kai trusts him with his own life, remember?"

"All right, all right. Just... what happened?"

"He was ringing out customers and he just collapsed."

"Passed out?"

"No, he had some kind of seizure."

Nick scrubbed a worried hand through his hair, his fingers coming to
rest on his scar. "Is there anything there that might have set it off?"

"Hang on. He took a check from the customer."

"What was the name?" Tracy read the name off the check. Nick's
stomach collapsed. "Are you sure?" he asked, carefully modulating his
voice. She read the name again and even spelled it for him.

Natalie leaned on her elbows on the dissecting table and watched her
husband's body movements. Nick got very fidgety when he was nervous.
He'd rub his lips, his chin, his scars, run his hands through his
hair, play with his rings or his crosses or the zipper on his jacket.
She'd always thought of Nick as outwardly calm, with a dangerous
streak beneath it; this core of nervous energy was something she'd
never expected of the dark, passionate Nick Knight.

His eyes met hers abruptly. "Thanks, Trace. Stay with Kai, I've got
some things to take care of. I'll be there soon." He clicked his
phone shut and stowed it away. "Get your coat."

Strong nineties woman notwithstanding, something in Nick's tone
stopped her from arguing. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you in the car." He held her arm very tightly as he
escorted her from the Coroner's Office. Natalie's alarm mounted when
Nick not only helped her into the Caddy, but buckled her seat belt
for her.

"Why do I get the feeling this has nothing to do with solicitousness
for a newly pregnant wife?" Nick curled his fingers around the
steering wheel like he was trying to break someone's neck. But when
he reached out and hugged her, she felt the undercurrent of fear. His
hands on her shoulders, he held her at arms' length and looked at her
steadily. 

"Nat, Kai's had a seizure." He held up a hand to keep her from
interrupting. "Apparently, one of his customers brought it on. I
don't know how, exactly, but I know that sometimes, certain people
can cause him to have violent reactions. Tracy gave me the name off
the check the customer paid with." He swallowed. "Nat, it was 'Roger
Jameson.'"

He watched the emotions flash across her face, felt the powerful
sensations suddenly begin churning through her brain. She was having
trouble gathering the mental capacity to speak. "He... Oh, my God,
Nick, the birthday card! He must've sent it. And the check... he
signed his own name. Nick, he wouldn't do that unless--"

"Unless he was out on parole." Releasing her, Nick gunned the
ignition.

*** 

Natalie was glad for the couch, and for the coffee that the
bartender had conjured and sent up. Her legs felt weak. Nick and
LaCroix hovered nearby, talking too quietly for her to hear. Daniel
was sitting at the other end of the couch, wrapped in a big quilt and
looking very sickly and skeletal. "How are you feeling?" Natalie asked.

"Bad. You?"

"About the same."

"We're two peas in a bloody pod, then, eh?"

"Seems like." Nick was handing LaCroix a four-year-old photograph of
Roger Jameson--his police mug shot. "Someone's trying to kill me." 

"Really now?" Daniel grinned and shifted, causing the quilt to slip
down, revealing his bandaged shoulder. "Thanks be for a kindred
spirit."

Nick came and sat on the couch between them. He kissed Natalie and
hugged her hard, now feeling with certainty the subtle changes in her
vibrations and scent. "I'll call when we've found something." Then he
hesitated. "Nat."

"Nick."

"You don't think I've overreacting, do you?"

"Considering that I don't remember how to use my legs right now, not
really, no."

He sighed. "Good." He kissed her again. "I love you." He rose,
tousled his younger brother's hair, and went to speak to LaCroix once
more before he left. Noticing that Natalie was shivering despite her
hot coffee, Daniel offered her an end of his big quilt.

She accepted, gratefully.

Nick, speaking earnestly to his sire, did not see. LaCroix saw,
catalogued, analyzed, but said nothing about it. "You are certain
it's the same man?"

"It has to be. There's no other reason for Kai to have had this kind
of reaction just because of one of his normal customers. I owe you,
LaCroix," said Nick sincerely, standing on the threshold of the
Raven's upstairs apartment. "I never thought I'd be glad to be
beholden to you, but I'll walk to the moon, so long as you keep her
safe." He put a hand on his father's shoulder. "And I wanted to thank
you."

"For what?"

"For not treating this as a joke."

LaCroix smiled slightly at his son's vehemence. "Thank you for the
sentiment, but there's no need. She's Family, Nicholas."

Nick looked worriedly at his wife. "I hate seeing her so afraid."

"She's afraid now. In a day or two she's going to be furious and
desirous of revenge."

Nick started, and narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"This man robbed her of something precious--her trust. You gave it
back to her. Will you take revenge for her, or give her the
opportunity to take it for herself?"

"LaCroix, the trial was hard enough on her. And it's only been four
years. Why do you think I brought her here? He might come looking for
her. I'm certainly not going to let her go confront him."

"Isn't it her right to confront him?"

Nick was becoming increasingly confused; this was not the LaCroix he
knew, nor was it ground he was used to walking. "Yes," he admitted.
"But not right now." LaCroix raised an eyebrow. "Natalie's... she and
I are having a child," Nick blurted, "and I'm not going to do
anything or let her do anything to jeopardize that." Out of habit, he
braced himself for a snide remark--any kind of acerbic response.
LaCroix simply nodded. Nick blinked, returned the nod and turned to
go. "LaCroix. Why the speech about rights and trust?"

LaCroix looked down, and then regarded his son balefully under
hooded eyelids. "You know of Janette's past."

"Yes, of course, but it's never affected you like this before." Nick
tilted his head to one side. "Miranda."

"She shared with me her memories of her violation. I've been on the
delivering end of a few rapes but never on the receiving end. And,"
he continued, apparently unaware that he had just made a horrendously
dirty pun, "I know first hand the private devastation that comes when
trust is destroyed."

For the first time in months, Nick looked--really looked--at his
father. "You miss her."

LaCroix felt keenly the emotion behind those simple words. "Yes," he
said hoarsely.

Nick put his hand on his master's shoulder. "Take care of her,
LaCroix."

"I will, Nicholas."

Making his way out of the nightclub, Nick got into his car and drove
to the precinct.

*** 

Tracy held Kai's hand as he lay in bed, unconscious, twitching and
sweating. "I can't feel him," she said to Julian, who was standing
over her shoulder. "It's not even like he's blocking me. Even without
seeing him, I know he's alive, but it's like he's not there otherwise."

"It's a defense mechanism. Without it, every time Kai has a vision,
the whole Family shares it, and that kind of destroys all the
inherent crypticism, doesn't it?" It was a poor joke, and Julian knew
it. "There's nothing you can do for him, Trace, except be here."

"There never is." Tracy stroked her master's thin, brittle hand as
it lay quivering on his chest.

*** 

By any stretch of the imagination, Nick Knight was no computer
wizard. But he could use one adequately and managed very well... when
the damn machine behaved itself. But right now, it wasn't cooperating
with him at all. It was not telling him what he wanted to know.

Natalie ought to have been notified. Nick ought to have known that
Roger Jameson had been paroled. The higher-ups had a responsibility
to tell the man's only surviving victim that he'd been released!

Nick flexed his fingers and attacked the computer, intent on
pummeling it into submission, and God help the person who interrupted
him.

*** 

Captain Reese looked at the computer print-out that had been slapped
onto his desk. "Care to explain this?" He looked up at his star
detective, who was absolutely livid. "Mind telling me why I had to
find out that my pregnant wife's would-be rapist and murderer is out
on parole--for good behavior!--from a goddamn police file?!"

Stunned, the captain picked up the paper and skimmed over the text.
"Mary, mother of God," he muttered.

"Did you know about this?" asked Nick, dangerously quiet.

"Of course I didn't know about this," retorted Reese, annoyed and
insulted. "You really think I would've kept something like this from
you and Natalie?"

"Well, y'know, Cap'n, I don't know anymore." Nick leaned back
against the doorjamb, his piercing blue eyes staring down at his
seated captain as though from a great height. "When a captain sets a
rookie to spy on his best detective, well, I start to wonder."

Reese half-stood up from his chair, seething, but before he could
start a tirade, Nick grabbed the print-out from under his nose and
was halfway out the door. "Where the hell d'you think you're going,
Detective?"

"To see a captain I can trust," Nick flung back, and slammed the
office door with a bang.

Reese dropped back into his chair, calling his detective some very
hard names. Then he picked up his phone, planning to warn Joe
Stonetree of the incoming Hurricane Nick. He stopped in mid-dial.

"Pregnant?"

*** 

Natalie was curled up in a corner of the couch, and not inclined to
talk to him, and that suited LaCroix just fine. It gave him time to
order his thoughts, and to tend to his son.

He helped Daniel to bathe and dress. The boy ought to have been back
running wild through the city by now, but he was listless and always
tired, prone to black moods and periods of weeping. LaCroix
understand, as Julian perhaps did not, that it was not sickness, but
guilt, that was keeping his young son an invalid. Julian had been
born a vampire, and no doubt had an inbred moral code completely
different from those of more average vampires brought across during
their mortal lives.

Daniel had never killed on such a scale before. He was disgusted and
afraid, and he needed time to recover, all of this, LaCroix understood.

But he was worried about the amount of time it was taking.

Carrying Daniel into the master bedroom, LaCroix sat on the edge of
the bed, cradling the boy carefully. His flesh was almost waxy,
almost translucent from his improper feedings. LaCroix knew that he
was not doing his duty as a master and care-taker; he should be
forcing the boy to feed correctly, by whatever means necessary.
Instead, he unfastened his collar and relaxed, allowing Daniel's
needle-sharp fangs to pierce his throat.

*** 

Shutting the door, Joe Stonetree ran a hand over his thinning hair,
and sighed. "It's a horrible thing, Nick, but it does happen."

Nick leaned on his knees, feeling very old. "And there's nothing I
can do?"

"Like what? You and Natalie just got lost in the red tape."
Stonetree nudged a file on his desk. "I just found out about it
today, too."

"This is insane," Nick muttered. "A serial killer out on parole
after just four years." He shook his head slowly from side to side,
wrapping his arms around her body and hunched over, rocking.

"You okay, Nick?"

"Not really, Joe," said Nick hoarsely, "no."

Alarmed, Stonetree moved to the relative safety of his desk; from
that angle, he could see, unmistakably, that Nick's eyes were
glowing. "Nick--"

"Just give me a minute." He was shaking with the effort to hold in
the Beast, the instinctive reaction of both humans and vampires to go
out and eliminate the threat to his family. "How did he get off?"

Stonetree opened the file. "His sentence got reduced on a
technicality about eight months ago, and then he was paroled at the
beginning of the month. You just got lost in the shuffle, Nick."

"He should have been in a mental hospital in the first place," said
Nick forcefully, jumping up from his chair. His eyes were blue again,
but they were still glittering and hard.

"How did you find out about it?"

"Through the grapevine," Nick replied with an unbidden sneer. He
stopped in the middle of his pacing, and turned his gaze on his
former captain. Stonetree returned the stare, almost without flinching.

"What're you thinking of doing?"

"I don't know yet," Nick said lowly. He grabbed his coat and his
papers and left without another word.

*** 

"He's conscious," Julian said without preamble, meeting Nick at the
door of the clinic, "and resting comfortably, for the most part."

"Will he recover?"

"Don't know yet. For once, his body isn't the problem. It's his
brain--whoever this Jameson creep is, he's knocked Kai's precog
abilities into high gear. He's having a mind storm, trying to process
all the images." Julian cocked an eyebrow. "Nick, who is this guy?"

Nick kept his eyes fastened directly ahead. "He's a serial rapist
and murderer. Four years ago, he almost killed Nat." Julian offered a
commiserating growl. "He got out a few weeks ago on a technicality."
As with Reese and Stonetree, Nick didn't mention the early birthday
card.

Coming to Kai's room in the clinic, Julian ducked inside for a
moment, and emerged with Tracy. Nick gave his partner and
granddaughter a tender kiss on her forehead. "You holding up all
right?" he asked, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

"I'm a big girl," she said firmly, making an effort to smile. Nick
stepped back, and she passed by him and turned down a different
hallway.

Before he could walk off, Nick caught the doctor by the arm. "Do me
a favor?"

"Shoot."

"Go check on Natalie for me. She's with LaCroix."

"Will do. Want me to pick you up a box of cigars?"

Nick managed a sickly grin.

Pushing open the door, Nick found his fledgling lying face up on the
hospital bed, staring at nothing. There was a thin transparent sheen
on his skin, where Tracy had wiped away the red perspiration. His
fingers were twitching; his thin lips were moving imperceptively.
Nick bent down. He said his son's name.

The grey eyes, blank and empty, flared to life; the claw-like
fingers twisted themselves into Nick's shirt. "He's going to kill
her, Nicholas, he's going to kill her--"

Nick gripped Kai's wrist. "He has to find her first," he tried to
soothe. "Jameson will never think to look at the Raven."

"The whole city knows that LaCroix's your father. He'll figure it
out."

"LaCroix will keep her safe--"

"Aren't you listening to me? He's going to kill her!" Kai labored to
breathe, his eyes now bright and wet. "You've got to stop him."

"What?"

"You've got to kill him first. He has to be killed, Nicholas!"

Nick shook his head. "No. Kai, no. I won't do it. I can't! I've
given up killing."

"You are a vampire, you live for killing. You live off of death!"
Kai sat bolt-upright. "I can see it in your eyes, Nicholas," his
voice caressed. "In your mind, in your soul--you want him dead!"

Nick looked up sharply. "Yes."

"Then do it!" Kai hissed.

"No!"

Kai snarled in disgust. "You're worthless." He all but threw his
master from the bedside with one weak arm. "Now go away."

Massaging his chest where Kai's nails had dug into his flesh, Nick
left.





Part Three

He found Tracy downstairs, in Kai's apartment, rooting around in a
low cupboard. Hands in his pockets, Nick strolled over and stood
beside her. "What're you looking for?" he asked, trying to be casual.

Tracy's response was muffled but audible. "Cat food."

"Cat food? I didn't know Kai had a cat..."

"Two of them." Tracy backed out of the cupboard, holding a box of
cat food in one hand and a lean white cat in the other. "My Christmas
presents to him. Hold her for a minute, will you?"

Nick scrambled to get a hold of the kitten. She studied him for a
moment with solemn blue-and-yellow eyes, before rubbing the length of
her spine under his chin. "She's very friendly..."

"Oh, yeah, Noël likes everyone. It's Nik you've gotta watch out for.
He's either invisible or right under your feet."

"Nik and Noël? Very Christmas." He put the cat down next to the food
bowl she shared with her brother--who was nowhere to be found.
"Trace, are you all right?"

She stood up, wiping the cat food crumbs on her jeans. "I've been
better." Then, "He's scaring me, Nick," she blurted out. "I can't
feel him, I can't sense him in my mind, and he doesn't even seem like
himself."

Nick's chest throbbed. "No, he doesn't." He took Tracy by the
shoulders and drew her close. She relaxed into her grandfather's
comforting embrace.

"I thought death was the one thing I'd never have to deal with
again. Not like this. But the last year and a half seems like nothing
but death, and watching and waiting and hoping that the people I love
will hold on just a little longer." She buried her face into Nick's
silk shirt, taking deep breaths of the oranges, sumac and wood smoke
of his personal scent, hearty and robust, but nothing like the
smooth, warm smell of her master. "I know he doesn't have long, Nick,
but I can't think that his time is up already."

Nick laid his cheek on her butter-blond head and rubbed her back
with soothing strokes. She was crying, the thick red tears leaving
her eyes without effort. "It's like I've lost an arm, like half my
body's gone numb. I love him, Nick. It's not like you love Natalie or
like Julian loves me, but I love him just the same and I know I'm
going to lose him."

"I know," he whispered. There was nothing else he could say. "I know."

*** 

Natalie submitted meekly to the examination, and then exploded, "Why
didn't you tell me it would hurt that much?!"

"Wasn't my place to tell you," replied Julian, taking the
stethoscope out of his ears. "It was Nick's place, and his choice not
to say anything." He grinned. "Just like it was your choice not to
mention the bit about the possibility of multiple births." He waited
for that to sink in.

Natalie gulped. "You're kidding," she breathed.

"Nope."

"Just tell me it isn't triplets."

Julian shook his head. "It's twins, Nat."

She was elated for about twelve seconds. "Twins... oh, God." She
pressed her fingertips into her eyelids. What had she gotten herself
into? "Julian, I'm thirty-seven years old."

He sat back on his heels. "And?"

"I can't believe I never thought of this before--"

"Nat, Natalie. You've been preoccupied," Julian pointed out
reasonably. "If I thought severe complications were an immediate
problem, you would be the first to know." He was so earnest and so
sincere, Natalie had no choice but to believe him.

"Does the fact that Nick's a vampire change anything?" Natalie
insisted. "The chances for complications, birth defects, Down's
Syndrome?"

"For a vampire child, it makes no difference, and if you and he were
successful, that was what I expected you to have. For a mortal child,
it makes a slight difference. Not large, but maybe large enough."

Natalie's hands went involuntarily to her stomach. "Are they mortal?"

"It's too soon to tell with absolute certainty, but from what I saw,
there's a good chance that one of them is, yes. Natalie, I have to
tell you, this is extremely unusual. Even vampires who sire or dam
children don't usually produce mortals. I know of only two who've
done it before now: Janette--who I've already said I can't explain--
and Kai. If one of your children is mortal, it'll be even more
fantastic, because Nick is so old." Julian pursed his lips in
thought. "The consensus among my colleagues is that for one of us to
have a mortal child means something special, something big."

"Special how?"

"Special in that it takes a special vampire to sire a mortal. Both
of Kai's children were mortal, and you will admit that Kai is among
the most spectacular of vampires that you've ever encountered." He
leaned forward. "I can't tell you there's nothing to worry about.
There's always something to worry about in a pregnancy. But you're
relatively young--you're strong--you're in good shape--and the fact
that you're Nick's lover does offer certain boosts to your immune
system. I've never seen a vampire's child born deformed or retarded.
Doesn't mean it couldn't happen. There's a good chance it won't. But
there are no easy answers. There--"

"--never are," Natalie finished, gnawing fretfully on her lower lip.

*** 

The door was locked; Nicholas had locked it on his way out. Kai
threw a snarl at the offending door and continued to pace.

He had to get out.

His master should know better than to put a vampire into a cage...

It was nearly morning. Another night gone.

There wasn't much time. He had to get out.

*** 

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Roger Jameson sat down in the
kitchen of his newly-rented apartment to read his morning newspaper.
Leaving aside the local and national news for the moment, he turned
to the Life & Arts section and immersed himself in a very interesting
article by Steve Tate, about a recent production at a newly renovated
theater.


Celebrating Detective Turns
to the Stage

"As if being a homicide detective was not public service enough,
reclusive local hero Nick Knight has taken up acting as a charitable
side endeavor.

"'I was sort of roped into it,' admits Knight, who is normally very
reticent about speaking to the press. 'But I haven't acted in years,
and certainly never is a production of such high calibre--this isn't
amateur theatrics, this is professional. So it's been an interesting
experience.' 

"When asked about the production itself, Knight groans. 'The whole
rehearsal schedule had to be rearranged at least eight or nine times.
The renovations were still being completed, there were casting
problems, set problems, the kinds of things that affect any
production, but I had cases to investigate, calls to go out on,
family problems, so it's a miracle the thing got produced at all.'

"The 'thing' is Jekyll & Hyde, music by Frank Wildhorn, book by
Leslie Bricusse, based on the novel by Robert Louis Stevenson, and is
garnering praise from all over the province for its excellent cast,
innovative direction and exceptional orchestra. Although most nights
the title role is performed by understudy Sebastian Straub, Knight
continues to be the real draw, portraying Dr. Jekyll as a fervently
driven man and Mr. Hyde with an almost vampiric intensity. It's no
surprise that each night the detective performs, the majority of the
audience continues to be women. (Sorry, ladies. He's married.)

'I had no intention of acting, even in just an amateur show. But my
uncle, who owns the Eidolon, was directing the production, and I owed
him a favor. There was no audition--he didn't even give me a chance
to say no. But it's for a good cause.'

"A very good cause. All proceeds from the Eidolon production of
Jekyll & Hyde, from cast recordings and video cassettes as well as
from ticket sales, are being donated to the multinational children's
charity, The DeBrabant Foundation. 

"'My entire family supports the Foundation,' says Knight. 'Even my
father, to a small extent.'

"Neither Detective Knight's father, owner of the Raven nightclub and
voice of the infamous Nightcrawler Lucien LaCroix, nor his uncle,
Étienne Le Mort, could be reached for comment.

"For ticket information, contact..."

Thoughtfully sipping his coffee, Jameson picked up a pencil.
Carefully, he underlined several words, among them 'married,'
'Eidolon,' 'Raven,' and 'LaCroix.'

*** 

Nick spent the day tossing and turning in a cold, empty bed, his
mind filled with worry and bloody dreams. At some point, memories of
his past conflicts with his fledgling began weaving into his dreams,
small fragments of arguments and confrontations, things Kai had said
to him before taking off on his own...

"Why are you afraid of what you are now? Why have you never been
appalled at what you were before?"

"Your greatest problem, Nicholas, is that you love feeling sorry for
yourself. You need to stop blaming yourself for other people's
faults, stop blaming others for *your* faults, and above all, stop
whining!"

"You are a vampire, you live off of death!"

Nick bolted upright, breathing heavily. The scars on his face and
chest were throbbing terribly. He stumbled to the bathroom and washed
the stinking sweat from his body. Grabbing his robe from the foot of
the bed, Nick slowly made his way downstairs.

Someone was standing in front of his refrigerator, examining the
Munch painting above it. "Julian," said Nick with a note of surprise,
"what are you doing here this early? It's not even twilight yet."

"I know, but I wanted to talk to you about Natalie. Don't worry," he
said with a quick grin, "it's good news. Here," he reached into the
fridge and pulled out a bottle, which he handed to Nick. "Eat
something."

Nick pulled the cork from the green bottle with his teeth, spit it
into the trash and took a swig. "Well? She's all right?"

"Oh, she's fine. Still in a bit of shock, of course, but otherwise
fine. No, I wanted to tell you about the babies."

"What's wrong with--what? Babies. Babies, plural?" 

"Babies, plural. One mortal, one vampire; at least, that's my best
guess at this point."

Nick's knees gave way. "Holy shit," he moaned, sinking into a
kitchen chair.

"You okay, Nick?"

"Yeah... yeah. Just had a massive reality check, that's all. Another
one," he added darkly.

Julian nodded in commiseration. 

"But Nat's all right?"

"Yes. I said that already. You going into work tonight?"

"No," said Nick shortly.

"Okay, okay. Don't bite my head off."

Nick scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Julian, I
just..." He pressed his fingertips against his eyelids. "Kai's
right," he said hoarsely. "I want Jameson dead. Christ, I dreamed all
day about ripping his throat out and licking the last dregs of blood
from his spine."

"Ick..."

"But I'm not going to kill. I can't just throw away everything
Natalie and I have worked for."

Julian leaned on the back of another chair. "I'm not standing in
judgment of you, old man. You have to do what you think is right for
your family. And for yourself," he added strongly. "Listen, I need to
get going; with Nat gone, they need all the help they can get at the
office." He got up, hesitated, then put his hand on Nick's shoulder.
"Just do what you think is right. I know my good opinion or advice
doesn't mean much in this city, but it's what I'd do."

Nick had no clear idea of why Julian was so ostracized, but of all
people, he certainly knew what it was like to be outside the
mainstream. "Thanks, Julian."

"Take care, man."

Nick waited until the elevator door closed, then got up and went to
the phone.

*** 

"Hey," came Nick's voice over the answering machine. "Nat, if you're
awake--" She picked up the phone immediately. "Hey. How're you doing?"

"Surprisingly well, considering."

"LaCroix's behaving himself?"

"Oh, a perfect gentleman."

"Where is he?"

"Downstairs, getting the club ready for the night. Nick, I can't
stand it."

"Can't stand what?"

"He's too polite!" Nick's chuckling only annoyed her more. "I don't
know him when he's like this."

"When he's not trying to kill you."

"Or win some kind of contest with me. I don't know how to react."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's had his feet kicked out from under him, these last few months.
Me, Miranda, Daniel--LaCroix's never been one to adapt well to change."

"Well, I hope it doesn't last. An angsty LaCroix has to be against
the settled order of nature."

That made Nick laugh long and hard, a sound Natalie cherished all
the more for its rarity. There wasn't much that could make her
husband laugh like that. It was so infectious, she laughed with him.

"So," he asked when the giggles finally subsided, "how are you?" The
warm caress that came to Natalie through their bond told her exactly
what Nick was referring to.

"I'm holding up," she said finally. "I'll feel better when something
gets done."

"I know." A pause. "I won't kill him, Nat. I can't."

Maybe you can't, she wanted to scream at him. As angry as his
statement made Natalie, on some level she understood. But she
couldn't admit that out loud, not to Nick and not to herself, so she
just hung up. Taking the oversized blanket that Daniel had given up,
she went and curled up in the corner of the couch that she'd claimed
for her own, and that was where her father-in-law found her when he
came to check on her and Daniel.

"Thanks," Natalie said, gratefully accepting the cup of broth that
LaCroix offered her. He sat down at the opposite end of the couch,
his fingers worrying absently at his lips. In Nick, it was a nervous
gesture; in LaCroix it was a thoughtful one. Natalie sipped her soup
to cover her unease. It was a reflex action: whenever LaCroix was
nice to her, her defenses went up. "Good soup."

He chuckled. "My culinary skills may be far behind Nicholas's, but I
can still boil a can of condensed soup." He thought for a moment.
"That's the first time I've ever had to use the stove."

"I've heard that before," Natalie grinned, remembering the first few
months of her acquaintance with Nick. "It surprised the hell out of
me the first time he cooked me dinner. I had no idea he could cook at
all."

"He once earned an honest living for three entire years as a chef at
a two-star bistro in Lyon. When he left, it was a four-star bistro."
He had a dry way of saying certain things that made Natalie cautious
of trusting his word. "He never leaves anything unchanged. He either
runs away from a pile of rubble or walks away in triumph from a
shining success. Never does anything by halves."

"No, he doesn't." Unconsciously, Natalie rubbed her stomach, not
realizing it until noticing how LaCroix was staring at her. She
stopped immediately, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her
shoulders.

"Nicholas told me. May I offer my congratulations?"

"Only if you mean them."

"My dear, I abhor a hypocrite. I wish you and Nicholas nothing but
happiness. If that is what this child will bring you, why should I
not hope for your joy?"

"Because my life is dependant on it."

LaCroix blinked a slow blink. "I don't think I follow you."

"You told Nick that you'd leave me alone if I gave him a daughter."

He frowned, his dark eyebrows drawing together. "Is that was he told
you?"

"Not in so many words, but that was the impression I got..."

"No. No. I told Nicholas that I would leave the two of you alone,
and allow you to be together, if he did not try to shut me out of his
life. That was the condition, not the life of a daughter that--at the
time, you'll recall--no one was sure was even possible. All I asked
was that if you and he to have a daughter, that she be named for
Fleur. It was a request, not a condition. I don't care whether or not
the two of you have children, except as it affects Nicholas's
happiness."

"It all comes back to Nick, eh?" asked Natalie with a slight smile.

LaCroix nodded. "In the end, he's all I have. In the end, I've lost
everything except Nicholas. Over and over and over... If I could
explain his hold on me otherwise, perhaps I could fight it."

"Now you sound like me."

His face broke into a genuine smile. "Actually, I sound like
Nicholas, when he's talking about you."

Natalie blushed, and took a big drink of her cooling soup. "Did,
um... did Nick tell you how this came about?"

"My dear, I am almost two thousand years old, I have a fair idea of
the steps leading to conception."

"All right, now you're just making fun of me."

"My dear, I wouldn't dream of it."

"I'm not 'your dear.' I meant, did he tell you about the bloodlines."

"No. What bloodlines?"

"Julian told him that there are two vampire bloodlines that are
biologically capable of having children with mortals, and that Nick
is a part of one of them, which means that he inherited the ability
to conceive from you." Natalie stopped, seeing LaCroix's stiff
expression.

"Natalie, I understand where you're going with this, and I
appreciate the warning, but it's not necessary. I daresay at this
point I'm too old and too far removed from my mortal origins to be
capable of fathering children. Besides..." He spread his arms wide,
encompassing the whole of his empty apartment. "There's no danger."

She'd never thought of that, that a vampire's age might compromise
his fertility. Then again, maybe she just couldn't think straight
right now. "Damn. Can't count on anything in this world, can you?"
Natalie had meant to make a joke, but LaCroix saw it differently.

"No," he said, eminently serious, "you can't. You can't even depend
on eternity anymore."

That led into a long conversation on the dependability of
intangibles like time and family and love, and at some point during
the course of the discussion, Natalie realized with a start that he
was talking to her as he would talk to Miranda--open, honest,
wickedly funny, and with a flagrant lack of defenses. It was
enlightening, and very uncomfortable.

When he finally excused himself, told Natalie that he had to leave
for a few hours and not to stray from the building, it was all she
could do not to sigh in relief.

*** 

From across the street, Jameson watched as the Nightcrawler left his
club. A small smile played about his lips. There was rather too much
security around that building for just another nightclub. He might
not be able to get in, but at least he knew that what he was looking
for was here. Jameson strolled away, whistling 'My Love is Like a
Red, Red Rose.'

*** 

Kai, lying flat on his back in his hospital bed, did not open his
eyes. "What are you doing, Miranda?"

She stopped short, her hand hovering above his forehead where she'd
been about to stroke it. "I came to see you."

"Why?"

Still worried by the sound of his voice--gravelly and hoarse and
coming from the roots of his fangs instead of the bottom of his chest-
-Miranda wasn't sure how to answer. "I was told you were sick."

"I've always been sick."

"Well, that there was something wrong with you."

"Nothing's wrong." His eyelids opened, but Kai refused to look at
her; his snow-grey eyes were staring blindly at nothing.

Miranda tried to smile anyway. "Does a daughter need a reason to
come visit her father?"

"I'm not your father, Miranda. I've always wished I was, but a
creature like me isn't worthy of siring a flower like you."

Miranda was more annoyed than hurt; she'd heard it all before. "Da-
ad," she mock-whined, using her best exasperated-teenager voice. He
didn't respond. A strand of his ash-blond hair had become trapped in
the corner of his mouth, and it stretched and moved in time to the
motions of his lips, as he mouthed words she could not hear. "But I'm
still your daughter."

"No," he said quietly, "you're not."

For a moment, her heart stopped. "But, Dad..."

"You're not my daughter. You might have been once, but you're not
anymore." Kai turned his head, his grey eyes animal-bright. "And you
never will be again."

Miranda withdrew her hand, backed away from the bed, turned and ran.
There were several people in the waiting room, but the person she
happened to slam into was her husband.

Both were quite startled. 

LaCroix would not meet her eyes, but slowly ran his gloved hands
over the sleeves of his coat. Miranda, who knew his mind as well as
he own, realized that he was searching for the imprints of her
embrace. "Is there a problem?" he asked quietly.

"Kai. He... he renounced me."

Quickly, LaCroix took her by the shoulders, steering her through the
waiting room door and down the stairs, into the coffee shop. He sat
her at a secluded table and ordered strong black coffee for them
both, one with a shot of AB-. She sat ramrod-straight with a
miserable expression in her fine blue eyes. Neither spoke until the
drinks came.

"He might as well be my blood," Miranda said, with a sound that was
more bark than laugh. "He's all I have. All I've ever been able to
count on... I'd go to Hell for him."

"He is fortunate to have such a daughter," murmured LaCroix,
absently stirring the spoon in his drink. "And you to have such a
father. Were I a more sentimental man or a younger one, I might envy
you."

Miranda, who like everyone else knew very little of LaCroix's past,
did not know what to make of his words, conditions or not. "Lucien...?"

He straightened abruptly. "Nothing."

*** 

At last, Kai got up. He felt... marvelous. For the first time in
perhaps his entire two hundreds years of life, his mind was clear. He
walked over to the window. All the windows in the clinic were made of
sheet glass, embedded into the walls. There was no way to open them.

He laid his hand on the glass and smiled. 

No matter.

***

In the waiting room, the enosh started at the sound of shattering
glass. Many of them moved to go after Kai, but several snarls from
their superiors held them back. "Return to the Eidolon," Tenebres
ordered, "at once, and stay there. You're not to leave until I say
so." The enosh looked at him uncertainly. "Move."

They moved, scattered and were gone in less than a minute. Tenebres
made swift to follow their example. With Kai on the loose, it wasn't
safe for anyone to be alone.

All that remained was the shattered window.





Part Four

Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean, 'he's
gone'?"

LaCroix bit back a snarl of impatience. "Nicholas, I have known you
for eight hundred years, I have supervised your instruction in
several languages, English among them, so I trust you know well that
when I say 'he's gone,' I mean he's gone!"

"But... why? The Corvina is his home, why would he leave?" 

There was a pause, a slight sound as LaCroix turned to look over his
shoulder. "Perhaps Miranda might be able to clarify matters."

"She's there with you? Er," stuttered Nick, quickly trying to cover
his gaffe, "I'll be right there."

*** 

On his way out the door, Tenebres turned slightly. "No one is to
leave this building," he repeated, "under any pretext. Is that clear?"

The enosh, from their places on chair and shelf and shoulder and
cushion, obediently murmured their assent. It did not escape the
ancient Enforcer's notice that the members of the Red Branch division
acquiesced only with sullen faces and great reluctance, but he had no
time for their discontent. He swept out, leaving the other two
commanders to tend to their people.

The leader of the Dragons spoke first. "Right," said the wraithlike
Irishman briskly. "Well, since we're stuck here, we'd best make the
most of it."

"That's well enough for you, Daomir," Sebastian snarled, "but while
we're here 'making the best of it,' Tyree's out there running ragged
and maybe getting himself killed!"

A bulky figure appeared at his side. Scowling, Sebastian looked up.
"Then that's Tyree's business," said Cyprus sharply, glowering at his
young subordinate. The leader of the Red Branch division was
physically imposing and mentally brilliant, but he couldn't
intimidate a stale slice of bread and every enosh knew it and sneered
at him behind his back. He had won his place over Tyree's strenuous
objections, and was not about to risk his position by encouraging
dissention in the ranks, not for Tyree's sake. "And you'll be
following Tenebres's orders like a good boy or I'll bash in that
pretty blond head of yours."

"If anyone's to bash Bastian's head, Cyprus," came the beautiful,
cold voice of Leda Rimer, "it'll be me." She laid her hand on the
young enosh's shoulder. "Being as I'm his mother and all."

The commander's brown eyes narrowed dangerously, but Leda was not
going to step aside, not for a subversive young upstart like Cyprus.
At the same time, she was not going to disobey a direct order from
Tenebres, the leader of all the enosh, not even for Tyree, who was as
good as family to her. She looked around at the other members of her
division: grey Corona, the second-in-command and the oldest member of
the Branch, a crony of Tyree's since their Edinburgh days; wild-maned
Stella and her son Monaghan, whom Tyree had saved from a life on the
Baltimore streets; Sebastian, the son she had never thought possible
and the son that Tyree had fought tooth and nail to let her keep when
her husband left the division for good.

Her eyes left her close companions, straying to all the enosh in the
echoing hall of their barracks. The Bloodhounds: her brother
Tamerlane would no more think of disobeying Tenebres than he would
consider cutting off his right arm; the twins Scott and Lyssa had
been placed in the care of the Enforcers on Tyree's orders, and might
well enjoy the thought of his death; the rest, Prydain, Tiburon,
Rochester, Ahvel and all the others could barely remember their
mortal names, let alone their lives before the enosh. 

Her nails dug into Sebastian's shoulder so hard she drew blood.
There was no choice. Leda met Cyprus's eyes again, and then looked
away.

*** 

"This is all Jameson's doing," Nick growled, quick and quiet, not
turning away from the shattered window. "This would never have been
set off--"

"His powers of perception would have returned eventually," LaCroix
pointed out, trying as always to be the voice of reason. "And perhaps
in an even more violent manner. Stop being responsible, none of this
was your fault!"

"If not mine, then whose? I should've just done what Kai said and
killed him when I had the chance."

"And exactly when did you 'have the chance,' Nicholas? Be sensible!
Both your present and former captains know the strength of the
animosity that you bear for this mortal. If he turns up dead and you
are not totally beyond suspicion, you'll be ruined."

"I should've killed him years ago!"

"But you didn't," LaCroix said shortly, "and for the same reason. To
hell with the 'mortal purity' rubbish you love to espouse, you didn't
kill Jameson because you knew you'd be blamed." He stepped closer to
his son, heedless of the glass shards snapping under his shoes. "And
because killing him for Natalie would have destroyed her. Her
confidence in you, her independence, her freedom--it would have all
vanished--"

"Who are you?" said Nick bluntly. "And what have you done with
LaCroix?"

"What?"

"Why are you acting like this? I don't know you when you act this
way, LaCroix. Almost human."

"There's no need to be insulting," the ancient retorted. "I am
simply speaking from experience."

"Ah, yes, the accumulated knowledge of nearly two thousand years of
championing female rights..."

"I could have killed Teal Ramsey," LaCroix interrupted him, "if
Miranda had let me. But she wouldn't--she wanted to do it herself--so
I didn't, because it would have damaged the trust that was still
forming between us. It is every person's right," he continued, "to
take revenge on those who have wronged them. I've done it. You've
done it."

"You mean we've done it to each other."

"Yes." LaCroix reached out a hand and ran his fingers over the
remaining shards of window still embedded in the wall. Gentle, clear
red trickles of blood ran freely from the sliced flesh, and he
offered the wounds to Nick. Feeling the weariness for the first time,
Nick grasped his master's hand and raising the pale hand to his lips,
sucked the sea-salt drops delicately. "Find Kai," said LaCroix when
Nick was finished, "then worry about Jameson. Leave Natalie to me."
He felt rather than saw Nick's apprehension. "She is carrying a piece
of you, mon fils; more than that, she is a part of you. Would I be so
careless as to let you come to harm?"

Nick straightened, swallowing the last few drops of his master's
blood with difficulty.

Tracy was with Miranda in the waiting room. As he entered, Miranda
was curled into a ball in one of the hard plastic chairs, worrying
away at a piece of her long blond hair and looking dazed and unaware
of her surroundings, while Tracy was pacing up and down, rubbing at
her temple nervously, and it struck Nick for the first time that the
two women were, in a strange way, sisters, and that Miranda--who was
the younger woman--was in fact the older sister. Tracy was Kai's
littlest child, and she was acting it; in a controlled and adult
fashion, she was nonetheless panicking. 

"All we have to do is find him," Tracy was saying, more to herself
than to anyone else. "He's sick, he won't be able to go far. All we
have to do is find him. Once we find him..." She looked up, directly
at Nick, and he read fear in her eyes. "If we can just find him, we
can talk him down." She looked from Nick to LaCroix. "Right? Nick,
he'll listen to you--"

"No, Tracy," said Nick woodenly, not looking at her. "He won't."

"You have never seen your master at his wild best," LaCroix said
quietly. "No one can stop him. He won't let himself be stopped until
he's finished."

"And it's been a long time," Miranda added shakily, "since he let
himself go."

"How long?" asked Nick quickly.

"Sixteen years." She kept her eyes trained on a corner of the
waiting room's coffee table. "That was when he killed my mother."

LaCroix shut his eyes; the walls between them rocked with her
emotions.

"The drug that Julian had given him, to make him mortal, wore off
that night. They had gone for a walk by the waterfall... the hunger
just flooded back, he said. There wasn't much left for a funeral...
He's never really recovered from it," she said quietly, winding the
same strand of hair around and around her finger. "The guilt is
horrible."

"Yes," said Nick hoarsely. "It is."

"And it was worse for him, because she was pregnant..." Miranda bit
her lip, thinking of her own lost child. "To cause the death of your
own child, to be responsible for it... I sometimes wonder if that
isn't what's been killing him all these years."

Nick swore under his breath. So that was it... LaCroix heard his
thoughts and grabbed his bicep sharply, making Nick wince. "Don't you
dare," he growled. 

"Look, I don't care why he's gone crazy," Tracy snapped, "the point
is, we need to find him before he gets hurt!"

"Or before he hurts somebody else... or a lot of somebodies..."

"Nick!"

"LaCroix's right, Tracy, you don't know Kai! You've never seen him
when he's hunting." Nick ran a futile hand through his hair. "Look,
Trace, I'm not saying that he's a murderer, I'm saying that he is a
hunter and a dedicated one. There's nothing we can do. If we get in
his way, he'll kill us. Yes, both of us. He won't be stopped. Not by
you, not by me... not by anyone."

"Maybe by someone, Nicolas." Miranda looked up. Nick could see a
struggle playing across her face but he couldn't understand why.
"Maybe by the enosh."

"The enosh." LaCroix barely managed not to sneer the word. "The same
people who nearly killed our son?"

Miranda stared at him coldly. "They only kill who they are told to
kill, and Daniel was a danger. If they think Kai poses the same
danger, they will go after him as well. Nicolas, if you go to them,
ask them for help, there is a chance that you may be able to bring
him back alive." She stood up, approaching Nick, ignoring her
husband. "Some of them don't give a damn and some of them would
gladly see him dead. But some of them owe him. They'll help you."

She grabbed him by the collar. "Find him, Nicolas," she whispered.
"Find him for me."

Nick kissed her forehead. "I will, ma soeur, I promise." He looked
at his partner. "Come on, Trace."

"The Eidolon?" 

"Yes." 

"I'll go with you--"

"LaCroix, he's run you into the ground before, he'll do it again.
Please. Just go back to the Raven." And though LaCroix hated being
the defensive line in a battle, he stayed while his son went, because
it was his son who was asking.

Slowly, he pulled on his gloves. "Will you come with me?" he asked
Miranda.

"No. No, Lucien, I'll stay here."

"Are you certain?"

"I'll be fine. Lucien, wait." She took something from around her
neck, and folded it into LaCroix's hand. He sighed silently in relief
when he felt the rough warmth of a leather string; he had thought she
was giving him the chain on which she, like himself, kept her wedding
ring. Opening his fingers, he saw, tangled in the narrow brown
leather, a small clay pendent, with Hebrew lettering carved into it. 

He looked up at Miranda, puzzled. "I have seen this before. This is
the same amulet Kai gave to Janette, for Jesse. For his protection." 

"It's for Natalie," she clarified. "Make sure she wears it."

Miranda left the room before her husband could speak again. Wisely
or unwisely, he decided not to follow her.

*** 

Having an enosh for an understudy was a useful thing; Sebastian had
more than once taken Nick to the barracks, to fetch a book or to show
him a drawing, so Nick knew exactly where in the Eidolon he was going.

Following a corridor far below the city streets, the two vampires
turned a corner and stumbled onto Étienne, looking rather disheveled,
leaning his forehead on his wrist against the wall. He glanced at
them. "If you're looking for Sebastian, Nicolas, I'm afraid you've
come at the wrong time."

"No, we're here to see Tenebres."

"He's not here either."

"The Dragon division commander, Daomir, then. Or Tamerlane. We need
to talk to someone."

"There's nobody. They've closeted themselves away; they won't see
anyone right now. I've been trying to get in all night..." He sighed.
"Is there a problem?"

"Kai's gone off the deep end," said Tracy, working her hands in her
coat pockets. Nick was rubbing furtively at his lips, his normally
fluid movements turned abrupt. Étienne listened gravely, an
expression of the utmost concern blooming on his angular face.

"I wish I didn't know what he was going through," he told his
'niece' and 'nephew' mournfully. "But I'm afraid I'm quite acquainted
with the all-consuming urge to wrap my fingers around someone's
throat. And with the sudden return of a long-absent talent." His eyes
met Nick's in a look of understanding, a moment of their shared past
that Tracy did not possess. "At the moment, he is quite mad. He has
always been dangerous, now he is only more so."

"Will you help us?"

Étienne's gaze flickered down the corridor. "I can't leave right
now. I can't explain. I'm sorry."

Nick clasped his arm. "Will you at least keep an eye out for him and
Jameson? Or an ear? Etienne. Etienne?"

The younger man started, visibly shaken. "Y-yes, Nicolas?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No, Nicolas." Etienne was staring off into the shadows. Nick
looked, but he saw nothing except some heavy dust moving faintly
before subsiding into motionlessness. "Nothing."

*** 

"Kai? Killed Miri's mother?" Daniel was dumbfounded. "You're playing
me." 

"I wish I was. He loves her dearly; I can't see Kai doing anything
to purposely hurt Miranda." LaCroix's small son was lying back
against his chest and he was working his fingers rhythmically on the
boy's scalp. "But he did."

"LaCroix, I've known them since Miranda was seven--"

"Oh, so that's when you fell in love with her."

His son's ears flushed a delicate pink. "Kai always said I was a
dirty old man in a little boy's body. But he never meant anything by
it. He's always been so... so gentle. I can't believe Kai would do...
anything like that," said Daniel slowly. "It just goes against
everything he's ever said he believes in."

"Everything he's said he believes in," LaCroix repeated pointedly.
"Kai's personal philosophies, like Nicholas's, have changed over the
years."

Daniel sighed. "So he's out there somewhere, rampaging just like--
just like I was."

"You were completely out of your wits, garçon. Kai is a danger but
he is not mad. He is well aware of what he is doing; he just doesn't
care about the consequences." He paused, but the boy beat him to the
thought.

"Like Nicky."

LaCroix smiled humorlessly. "Yes. Like Nicky. They're alike in so
many ways. Driven and pig-headed and utterly blind." He trailed of,
mulling that thought over. "They're definitely Family."

*** 

"Well, that was useless."

Nick nodded. "Listen, Trace, the sun's coming up. Go home; get some
sleep. We'll try again tomorrow."

"I'm supposed to sleep? While he's running insane through the city?
Nick what if something happens to him? How can you not be worried--?!"

Nick took her by the shoulders. "I am worried, Trace," he said
earnestly. "I'm petrified, and repulsed, and disgusted with myself
for letting this happen, but there's nothing I can do about it right
now." He would have hugged her, but sensed she would not appreciate
it. "Go home."

*** 

LaCroix had given up his bedroom for Natalie--another thing that was
frightening her to death--and was sleeping in the living room, so
Natalie had the entire big bed to herself... and it bothered her. She
curled into a ball, hugged a pillow to her face and pretended it was
Nick. The big bed was too big, too empty, too cold without her
husband's deliciously cool skin, loving arms, comforting presence. It
was amazing, how warming he could be.

Strictly speaking, she reminded herself, she wasn't actually alone... 

A hot zip up her spine alerted her to the presence of a vampire, and
one that she knew well. Natalie sat up, straight into Nick's embrace.
He said nothing, just hugged her, just as loving as ever but not
quite as tightly as usual. 

Natalie smacked his shoulder. "I'm not bone china," she muttered,
kissing him thoroughly. Nick framed her face in his hands, brushing
her lips and cheeks with his thumbs, looking deeply into her soft
blue eyes.

"I know you're not," he said softly.

She took his hands and held them between her own. "What are you
doing here?" she asked. 

Nick understood the question for what it was. "I can't look during
the daytime," he teased her, "unless you prefer me with the sunburned
look."

"Um..." she pretended to consider, "no, no, definitely not.
Suntanned, maybe, but I like you fine just the way you are."

"Good," he grinned. He traced the line of her eyebrows, felt the
powdery softness of her eyelids. "I couldn't stay away anymore. One
day alone was too much."


"You look tired."

"I am." She helped him undress, then settled into the circle of his
arms with a satisfied sigh. Nick spooned around her and kissed her
hair tiredly. "You're not still mad at me are you?"

"... about what?"

"The phone call."

"Oh... Nick, I understood why you had to make that decision. I have
to understand. But with what Jameson did to all those women, what he
almost did to me, you can't blame me for hanging up."

"No, I can't." Nick pulled her closer, his large, skillful hands
wandering over her breasts, down her stomach, searching.

Natalie was amused. "There's nothing there yet."

"Yes," Nick corrected her. "There is. Now that I know what I'm
looking for." He gently pressed his palms to her abdomen. "I can feel
the vibrations. One mortal... one vampire..."

His wife turned over, eyes darting over his face uncertainly. His
eyes were closed, but she knew he was listening. "How do you feel
about that, Nick?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "This wasn't supposed to be able
to happen. I don't know what I think of any of this yet. But I can
feel them, Nat," he continued. "They're you and me and something
more... I can't help but..."

"But what, Nick?"

He opened his beautiful, tired blue eyes. "But be afraid."

***

Tracy shut the door of her apartment and leaned her forehead on it
tiredly, thudding her skull on the wood once or twice. The feeling of
aloneness, coupled with the sensation of a complete uselessness, was
horrendous. She missed Kai. He'd been gone for barely a day, and she
missed him dreadfully. Her mother, her father, she barely even
thought of anymore. Kai was everything to her, and if he was gone...

"Lass..."

Tracy froze. Her master was standing behind her, his breath cool and
sharp on her neck, but she was afraid to turn around. "Kai, you need
to go back to the clinic..."

"When I've done." He moved his hands up her spine, splaying his long
fingers against her shoulder blades. "He's gone to ground on me," he
rumbled, as he massaged away her jacket and blouse. "I tell you,
lass, it's a good hunt."

Tracy had never been able resist Kai's advances before--she'd never
wanted to before--yet, this was not really Kai, not her Kai, her
lover and father. She didn't know the vampire who was trying to
seduce her--this predator, who was every bit as dangerous and
unprincipled as the man he was hunting.

Hastily, she snapped away from his hands.

He growled and caught her around the shoulders with one arm,
pinioning her against his body. "Everything around me is draped in a
beautiful red shroud," he murmured, brushing her throat with his
fangs. "I wish you could see it..." Tracy tensed; she would only have
one chance.

He lowered his mouth.

Grabbing the arm that held her, Tracy ducked, pulling with all her
strength. The sudden movement caught her master off-balance, lifting
him on her back and then throwing him across the room. Kai slammed
into the wall, rattling the shelves.

Baring his fangs in a snarl, he flew at her, tackling and pinning
her to the floor. Tracy struggled fiercely, terrified, pleading with
him.

Kai said nothing, only growled at her again, a long low sound that
came from the very pit of his being. His fangs were extended to an
agonizing length, and they glistened as wet and red as his eyes as
they came closer... and closer still...

One of Tracy's hands knocked against a side table, and a wooden
picture frame fell to the tile floor and shattered. Fumbling, she
grasped one of the broken pieces, ignoring the bite of wood and
glass, and with a sharp, wordless cry, slashed with all her might at
the face of her attacker.

He jerked at the sudden injury, and reared back with a roar. A
searing red wound had appeared across his nose, cheek and forehead.
Cradling his face in his hands, Kai stumbled to the open window and
vanished once more into the night.

Trembling with adrenaline, Tracy slowly sat up. She didn't see the
mess that had been made of her apartment. She had seen through the
dripping blood and the fingers the red eyes of the Beast, and beyond
them, just a wisp of tormented snow-grey.

Cold, she wrapped her arms around her knees and, rocking back and
forth, began to sob.




Part Five

"Tracy... Tracy, can you hear me?"

She tried to open her eyes, but they felt queerly weighted.
"Julian...?"

A cool hand gently caressed her forehead. "It's all right, Trace,
love," said a comforting voice. "I'm here."

"Where..." She licked her lips; her nose tingled fiercely and her
mouth tasted like cotton. The slick rim of a glass was pressed to her
skin, and she took the water into her mouth and then spat it back
out. "Where am I?"

"You're at my home."

"At the Corvina?"

"No, my apartment, on Southwark. My fortress of solitude." An arm
slipped behind her shoulders to help her sit up.

"How did I get here? I was at home..."

"You were brought."

"Why can't I open my eyes? I feel so tired..."

"You've been sedated." A thumb pushed up one of her eyelids and
burned a bright light into her retina.

"Ow..."

"Do you remember what happened?"

Tracy choked on a breath. "Yes..." She realized she was shivering.
Groping for Julian, she clung to him blindly, until the body-wracking
shudders subsided. 

"It wasn't him," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Just keep telling
yourself, it wasn't him."

"But it was him, Julian, I saw him. He was trapped inside that...
that thing... why?"

"It's the hunt, Trace. Hunt, blood, death, sex... most vampires get
off on the kill, but for Kai, it's always been the hunt."

Tracy remembered vividly her time with Kai in Black Falls, the time
he had spent teaching her to hunt, the almost animalistic ferocity of
his lovemaking afterwards... she had thought it was the rush of
blood, the wave of emotions. That was what it had been for her. But
he had never been brutal. He had never, never tried to hurt her before.

"Are you all right?" As he asked, his fingers were probing her neck
searchingly.

"I... stopped him."

Julian didn't ask how. "You need to sleep," he told her. "The
sedative will wear off more quickly that way." His arms began to draw
away.

Tracy grabbed his wrists. "Don't leave," she whispered.

Julian swallowed.

She felt him shift, so that he was sitting behind her, and laid her
head back against his chest. 

*** 

Growling softly in the back of his throat, Kai knelt by the edge of
the stream and, scooping up handfuls of the stinking water, gingerly
bathed his bleeding face. The part of him that was still civilized
was screaming "This is a fucking cesspool!", but that part was no
longer in control, and this was the only safe place for him right now.

He had managed to remove most of the tiny fragments of glass and
wood from his wound and the bleeding had stopped--though his face
would be scarred for a few months--but his body was still raging.
Kai's lips parted, and a sobbing moan escaped from his throat. She
had put up a rare fight, his lass, and taking her would have been a
delight. No use crying about it now, though. He would just have to
find someone else to slake his thirsts.

And then, back to the hunt, for the hunt... was everything.

*** 

Jameson hated smoking, hated the acrid scent of the smoke. But he'd
been so bored in prison that he'd become addicted just for the sake
of doing something. He tapped a cigarette against his palm and stuck
it between his teeth. He didn't light it, though; he just chewed the
end nervously.

He leaned against the battered steel doors of the Raven, using the
dark awning to hide from the weak setting sun.

No good trying to get inside through the front, and the back door
was rigged with a very sophisticated alarm system. Jameson was sure
that, with a little time, he would be able to charm, bribe, or force
his way into the club. Natalie hadn't shown any signs of leaving the
building; in fact, Jameson had only gotten one glimpse of her,
through an upstairs window. She hadn't seen him.

It was all about timing, Jameson reflected, chewing harder on his
cigarette. Hanging around Richmond Avenue night after night, he'd
heard the regular customers chatting, random harmless bits of
conversations; the owner was having marital difficulties; the owner
had a very sick son--the owner, Jameson reminded himself, was the
father of Detective Knight. Natalie's husband.

His teeth bit through the sodden cigarette and unexpectedly found
his lip. Jameson yelped, then looked around sharply.

For the past few days, he'd sensed--he knew--that he was being
followed. He had no idea by whom--it wasn't Knight, that he knew; he
hadn't seen heads or tails of the homicide cop. But someone was
following him, tracking him like a damn deer. 

It was getting late; the club was going to be open in an hour or
two, the staff would be coming and he knew better than to be seen by
any of them.

*** 

When Tracy woke up, Julian was gone, and she was prepared to panic
until she heard his voice coming from the next room. "No, Nick, she's
fine. Badly scared, but unhurt. No, she's sleeping." There was a
pause. "I'm not sure. I think one of the single agents might have
found her; they have a bit more freedom for disobeying orders than
those in the divisions." Another pause. "I don't know. If she's
feeling up to it." Tracy watched him walk back into the bedroom. "How
are your eyes?"

"I can see you. What kind of sedative was it?"

"A sulfur-based compound, lots of garlic. Nasty stuff. Shuts down
the retinas." Julian sat on the edge of the bed. He took her face in
his hands, clinically searching her eyes, probing her temples with
his sensitive fingertips. "It's gone now." He didn't drop his hands.
"Are you hungry?"

Drowning in his chocolate eyes, Tracy slowly nodded.

Heart skittering in his chest, Julian did what any honorable vampire
would do for another who was in pain. 

He unbuttoned his collar.

*** 

Nick crawled back into bed. "She's all right," he muttered, more to
himself than to Natalie. "He didn't hurt her. I was so afraid, for a
moment, that he might've..." He couldn't finish. "Nat, what've I
done? What have I made him?"

Natalie thought about slapping him, but decided she was too sleepily
comfortable to move. "You're not responsible for the wind if it blows."

"Kai's my son, Nat. For all his wisdom, pain, experience... for all
his independence, his stubbornness..." He groaned and buried his face
in her hair. "I sound like LaCroix, don't I?"

"Mmmhmm."

"But I can't help but feel that I could have prevented this--"

"You could have. By doing something you'd sworn not to do. You stick
by your principles."

"Even to the ruination of all."

This time, Natalie did smack him. "Stop it," she ordered. "No, don't
say anything," when Nick opened his mouth. "Tracy's fine--we're all
safe--Kai will be all right. For God's sake, Nick, the world goes on
in spite of you!"

"Then is Kai innocent of his crimes because he can't control what
he's doing? Is Daniel? Are any of us really without blame? Where does
responsibility lie for what we do in our lives?" Nick sighed. "I'm
sorry." He kissed her shoulder. "Expounding blame. After eight
hundred years, it's become a nasty habit." He noticed the thin brown
string around her throat. "Isn't that Jesse's?"

Natalie's hand crept around the clay. "It's mine. Miranda gave it to
LaCroix, to give to me." Her nails caught on the carved letters. "An
amulet of protection."

"I'm glad you have it," said Nick after a moment.

*** 

LaCroix, as was usual lately, had not slept much. The heat of his
small son's body was too great to his own comfort; he could not hold
the boy long, before a nightmare would seize Daniel and he would
begin thrashing violently, silent cries issuing from his cracked
lips, LaCroix's arms becoming a prison.

LaCroix never let himself feel self-loathing. But... If nothing
could be done, perhaps he should just put the boy out of his misery.
Yes, perhaps.

Carefully veiling his thoughts from the Family, LaCroix spent the
rest of the day in serious contemplation of that thought. It was
beginning to look like a viable option... but he was determined that
it be his very last resort. 

He felt the sun sinking below the horizon. With gentle strokes of
his fingers, LaCroix soothed his son's mind into a deeper sleep, as
healing a rest as he could induce. Then he swallowed his pride--he
was going to give himself a stomach-ache soon, he was sure--and went
to the Eidolon.

*** 

"Étienne? Are you all right?"

The Parisian was leaning his head on the keyboard of his piano. He
turned slightly. "Not really, Alexei, no." The boy, tall and slender
for his apparent age, porcelain-pale like the royalty he was, had a
concerned expression on his face that touched Étienne very deeply. He
had often remarked on the eerie similarities in appearance between
Daniel and Miranda, and therefore Nicolas, but now for the first
time, he became aware of a striking resemblance between Alexei and
what LaCroix must have looked like as a boy. Thick brown hair,
crystalline-blue eyes--a greater sharpness of facial features,
perhaps--but everything else, down to the erect spine and military
carriage, was the same. 

It was profoundly odd.

"What can I do for you, my boy?"

Alexei shrugged. "LaCroix asked me to stay here and 'take care' of
Miranda while Daniel's sick--" Étienne chuckled. Oh, she must have
appreciated that. "--but she's been spending all her time with the
enosh, and they won't have anything to do with me."

"So, you're bored," Étienne finished, deadpan.

"Something like that. And I'm worried. And," he added sourly, "I
haven't seen Amy in a month. She's visiting her mother's family in
Montreal or somewhere. I thought about going to see her, but I
thought it might look suspicious if I just turned up on her
grandparents' doorstep."

"Just a tad."

"What's wrong with you?"

Étienne sighed, straightening his bent spine. "Aidon's here."

"Oh... oh." Alexei drew forward a few paces. "Have you seen him?"

"I haven't seen any of them in days. They've been in seclusion since
Kai took off. I tried to get in. I couldn't." His feline head and
proud back were bowed. "If you're looking for something to do,
prince, you might take Lori and her little beast out to the park.
Tal's been busy, and I'm not a fit playmate right now."

"Sure," agreed Alexei softly. "I can do that." The boy slipped out
quietly to find Étienne's daughter and her dog.

*** 

When Tracy awoke, sated and still warm with the last flush of sleep,
it was with a cool breath on her cheek. She lay very still, enjoying
the feeling of the unfamiliar bare skin pressed to hers, and tried to
sort through the thousands of images that Julian's blood had given her.

The immediate impression was that there were too many. Julian was
only seventy or so; he could not possibly have lived this much.
Scenes from the Great Depression, the Roaring Twenties--he would have
been only a baby. Intense memories of the American Revolution--whose
life was this?

His memories of Kai troubled her. The relationship between the two
men had always been strained--Tracy saw Julian's fawning over her
master and how Kai hated to be venerated--but there was a frightening
animosity, almost a resentment, in Julian's blood that she had never
suspected before. 

They had been lying together in silence for some time before either
spoke. "Thank you. I only wish... it could have been something more
for both of us."

"I know."

There was another silence. "Trace? Do you think it could ever be
anything more?"

"I don't know." Kai might love her, but Julian was in love with her,
with an intensity that both flattered and frightened her. He had been
cherishing with her today, his touch a bit clumsy yet so unimaginably
tender... But there was so much that was strange about Julian; it
wasn't so much that he was an unknown quantity, but that he was not
willing to be known. Tracy wasn't entirely sure where that last
notion had come from; nevertheless, it was there. She stroked his
chest gently. "I don't know. There's so much about you that's hidden
from me..." She looked up at him. "And it has to stay hidden, doesn't
it?"

"Yes," said Julian hoarsely. "For your own good."

"I hate it when people tell me that."

"Tracy? We're still friends, though, right?" His chocolate eyes were
almost puppyish in their pleading. "This hasn't changed anything?"

"It's changed a lot, Julian," Tracy murmured. Then she smiled. "But
yes, we're still friends. And yes," she added before he could ask,
"you've still got a damn better chance than Ian ever had." Julian
chuckled; his arms tightened around her, and Tracy found she rather
enjoyed the sensation. "Do you remember when you first kissed me last
year, and I said it was too soon for me to give you a chance?"

He nodded solemnly. 

"I think... once Kai's safe... I'd be ready to give you, give us,
that chance."

Julian's expression brightened. He drew her close, kissed her
forehead. "That's all I can ask for."

*** 

A small hand was laid on Étienne's knee. He looked down. A solemn
pair of crystal-blue eyes stared back up at him. Étienne's face broke
into a smile. Aidon grinned back, and scrambled up into his father's
lap. Étienne hugged the child tightly. "I've missed you, mon petit
garçon. Are you well?"

"Oui, papa." The silky black head butted against his chest, trying
to burrow into his shirtfront.

"Have you seen your mother at all since you left us?"

"Non, papa." Aidon curled into a tight ball, one hand clutching a
bunch of cloth over his father's heart.

"Well, since it looks as though you're going to be here for a while,
shall we write to her?"

The boy nodded, snuggling closer. The soft, steady rhythm of his
breathing soon told Étienne that his son was asleep. He sat very
still, just listening.

He remembered vividly when he and Shosha had been offered this
child. They knew then--they had been warned--what they would be
getting into. They hadn't cared. Now, Étienne wondered if he and his
mate had done the right thing. They loved this child, would gladly
give their lives for him; they had raised him from infancy, but Aidon
wasn't really theirs. He never had been, and what was worse, he never
would be. Étienne laid a long-fingered hand on the boy's head,
feeling the insipid, creeping energy lying just under the skin.
Étienne swore softly under his breath; Kai had warned him this might
happen. And then there were four. No wonder the enosh insisted upon
keeping him. Aidon was too young now to be much of a danger to
anyone, but in ten years... even five...

He understood the logic of the system, the training of assassins
from young childhood--it was the best way to ensure not only loyalty
but silence--but it was still barbarous. However, that did not change
the fact that the enosh had Aidon. They had had him almost since the
moment of his birth. Étienne only had his child on loan.

He sighed. Chloe and Tal, at least, he had been allowed to keep.
Lori he had found for himself. He and Shosha had been more fortunate
than most vampires who volunteered or were duped into the Enforcers'
fostering program. Others hadn't been so lucky.

Someone was standing behind him. "Is it right?" Étienne asked quietly.

"To put children through this life?"

"To subject parents to children they know will die before their time."

Daomir walked into his field of vision. He was a striking individual-
-lean and flexible to the point of seeming boneless, as many of the
enosh were, but his face was unusual. High-cheeked, with a Roman
nose, it looked both ancient and infantile, aged while still
retaining baby fat. His long black hair was very curly, tied back and
draped down between his shoulder-blades like a corkscrew. His deep
eyes were grey, possessed of a peculiar molten silver quality, and
oddest of all, he had pointed ears. He was, in a word, elven, and
overall looked less than seventeen, though in reality he was over
sixteen hundred years old.

This then was the man to whom Aidon truly belonged, and Étienne
loathed him with cold dispassion. He could not hate him--he knew too
much of Daomir's history to hate any who had suffered half as much,
and was in too much admiration of the good things the Irishman had
done. But Étienne, who belonged to so many, could not abide a person
who belonged to no one, and such a man was Daomir Darkfell.

"Is it right?" Daomir repeated softly. He covered Aidon's head with
his hand, long and delicate like Étienne's, but roughened with sword
calluses. "I cannot tell you.

"He's doing well in his training," the commander continued. "But
sometimes, that can be a fluke, especially in one so young. He is
perhaps too young to be taken from his parents for such long periods
of time." Étienne looked up hopefully. Daomir smiled. "I like my
people devoted, certainly, but I prefer them to be level-headed as
well. The last thing I want to see is this child turn into someone
like, say, Tamerlane." He shuddered. "My division is going to be
stationed here for some time, and I agree with Tyree--a child should
remain with his parents."

Étienne's eyes began to burn. "Daomir, I... Thank you."

Daomir nodded. "Provided," he amended, "that your mate returns. He
has to stay with both parents, or I have to take him back; that is
the Code, and I cannot disregard it."

"I was planning on writing to her. She'll want to see her boy.
She'll be thrilled, Daomir." Étienne's smile faded when he saw that
the enosh was not returning it.

"I had to do something," Daomir muttered. "Tenebres refuses to let
us look for Tyree, or even to leave the premises. Those of us who
want him returned... we don't like feeling helpless. And he..." His
lopsided smile was bitter. "Aidon's mother is one of my people, my
true family; he is my own sister's boy. We both wanted to keep him,
but it was not allowed; my sister's mate is human, and I have none of
my own; as I said, the Code demands a set of vampire parents."
Étienne knew better than to ask how the boy had come about; those of
Daomir's bloodline were not as other vampires. "We were not even
allowed to select his new family; Tyree insisted he be given to you.
My people and I were furious; now I understand why he fought so hard.
He loves you, Aidon does. It takes a rare man to inspire such loyalty
in so divided a child. Tyree... whether he foresaw it or simply knew
it in his heart... he knew.

"If there's nothing I can do to help my friend, the least I can do
is make certain his wishes are respected."

He nodded to Étienne, and left him alone with the child.

*** 

The wild-eyed sub-commander of the Bloodhounds blocked LaCroix's
entrance to the barracks. "Ye're not wanted 'ere, General. Git awa'
w' ye."

I will not be intimidated by this puppy... LaCroix stood his ground,
narrowed his eyes, and attempted once more to barge into the enoshs'
quarters. With a burning hand, Tamerlane shoved him back. "I need
your help!"

"Aw, the puir auld man--!"

"That's enough, Thomas," rang out a stern voice. The dhampir cringed
at the admonishment from his superior. "Go about your business."

"Aye, sir," Tam muttered, slinking off.

The two vampires stared at each other. "Lucius."

"Dermot."

A pointed ear twitched. "Daomir now."

"Interesting name. Gaelic for... 'diamond'?"

"For my eyes, I suppose. How long has it been, fifteen centuries?"

"Sixteen. You and Mallory were still mortal when Shosha and I met
you." Ice blue eyes met silver-grey ones in a brief sharing of
ancient memories. "How is your son?"

"Mikael's doing well for himself. He was here, for a short time,
while you were 'mending in Paris' a few years back; got into a lively
little spat with Nicholas."

"Yes," LaCroix managed a very slight smile, "so I heard. I owe him a
favor. Do pass on my thanks."

"Of course. But enough small talk. What do you want of me, LaCroix?"

"I've done everything I can for my son. There's nothing left; he's
dying."

Daomir shrugged his thin shoulders. "And what does that have to do
with me?"

"His condition is the fault of the enosh. The least you can do is--"

"Kindly don't tell me how to do my job." He paused, then grinned
like the devil himself. "Balbus."

@}----- 

Marcus sliced up the lesson vellums with a knife and threw them in
his son's face. "Sloppy work. You know the penalty for sloppy work,
Lucius."

"N-no! F-f-f-f-ather, d-d-d-d-on't--!"

@}----

LaCroix shook off the memory. "How do you know about that?" he
asked, his voice gruff, dangerous and very deliberate.

Daomir's smile widened. "Your friend Vincent is very talkative when
he's in his cups, and not especially delicate."

LaCroix gritted his teeth, trying to swallow the insult. "I want
your help."

"Hm. And if I refuse, what do you plan to do then?"

"The only thing that I can do--kill him. He can't go on like this."

And neither can I.

Daomir made that considering noise once more in the back of his
throat. "I'll see what can be done for him--on one condition."
LaCroix tensed. "Stay here until I return."

"What? But I--Nicholas's--"

"Lucius." The enosh's voice dripped with icy scorn. "It is against
every code of mortal and immortal to harm a woman with child, and I
trust I haven't fallen that low yet." He brushed past LaCroix with
all the subtlety of an angry summer storm.

The Roman looked up and down the dim hallway, shoved his hands into
his pocket and settled in for a long wait. 

A door cracked open. "He won't mind if you come in, you know."
Miranda opened the door wider to admit her husband. "You could be
standing in that hallway for days."

With some slight trepidation--he was entering the home of thirty-
plus vampire hunters--LaCroix followed her. Had she heard his comment
about Daniel?"

"I heard what you told Daomir about Daniel."

Shit.

"Did you mean it?"

"I never say anything which I do not mean." There's a double meaning
in that, Miranda thought. The man was practically holding out his
bleeding heart to her. "Why did Daomir want me to stay here?"

Miranda's smile was sour. "He's trying to play peacemaker."

"Sorry?"

"I'm a daughter of the regiment, so to speak. Tyree's daughter, the
sweet rose with the hidden thorns. The enosh are more protective of
me than Kai is; they like my knack for subterfuge. I think Dao's
trying to get us to kiss and make up."

"I see. And what are the chances of that happening?"

"I don't know, Lucien."

He caught her arm. Growls erupted from every corner of the seemingly
empty room, but Miranda put her hand over his and the menacing sound
subsided. "I don't know what else to do to make you forgive me."

She let his cool fingertips graze the skin of her cheek. "I told
you. I've already forgiven you."

"Then how can I regain your trust? Restore your faith in me?"

"You can't," she said softly. "I have to find it. I'm afraid to
trust you again." She pulled away from his touch.

"Miranda... please..."

"No, Lucien. I still love you. But you broke off a piece of my
heart, and I'm not the same person I was before."

LaCroix held her eyes in place of the rest of her. "You ask so much
of me," he said roughly. "In that first moment I set eyes on you,
eight hundred years ago, I knew you had the power to destroy me. And
here you've done it. Do you know how long it took me to rid my heart
of the agonies you inflicted? I cursed myself for being a fool, for
allowing myself to fall in love with a mortal girl whom I thought had
not even the mental strength to withstand an infant vampire's
hypnotic trickery."

Miranda closed her eyes, breaking contact with her husband, and
feeling the soul of the woman she had been crashing over her like a
wave. "I never forgot you, Lucien, you know that."

"Yes. So I discovered, when I returned... and you sent me away." His
callused thumb brushed over her cheekbone, his rough fingers cupped
her face, the only sign of affection he sensed she would allow. "I
had to leave you twice, mon amour. Don't make me do it again."

*** 

As soon as Tracy climbed into the Caddy, Nick leaned over and hugged
her hard. "Thank God you're safe," he muttered. "I've been waiting
out here for an hour; what were you doing in there?" Then he caught a
scent on her that even his weak nose could recognize. "Tracy!"

She punched his shoulder, turning very red. "Shut up and drive," she
snapped.

"Y'know, I really wish people would stop hitting me..."

*** 

Natalie quietly brushed her wet hair. Except for herself and Daniel,
the apartment was empty, and it was an eerie feeling. She could feel
her skin crawling; whether it was from Nick's distance or from the
early stages of pregnancy, she couldn't say. She fervently hoped it
did not mean she was becoming fond of LaCroix's company...

The brush froze in mid-stroke. There was someone else in the home,
and he was in Daniel's room. The quiet certainty startled her; how
could she possibly know that? But her brush was wooden, and might
serve as a weapon if needed, provided she gave it a good shove.

Holding the hairbrush like a club, Natalie crept to the bedroom door
and, as silently as she could, made her way to the boys' bedroom.

A lean, dark figure was kneeling next to the bottom bunk. He didn't
turn, didn't look up, but Natalie knew he was aware of her being
there. "Dr. Lambert." He had a soft Irish tenor, but there was an
additional cadence that Natalie couldn't identify; it gave her the
same vague tingles that her father's fairy tales had given her when
she was a little girl. "Don't be afraid. I am called Daomir; I am the
commander of the Dragon division of the enosh." As proof, he held out
a long white wrist, showing the three tell-tale drops of blood
tattooed there. "LaCroix sent me to see to his son." He passed a hand
over the boy-vampire's forehead.

Natalie lowered the hairbrush. "Is there anything you can do for him?"

"You have to understand, Doctor, what is actually wrong with
Daniel... It's the guilt," Daomir said quietly. "That's why he won't
feed." 

Guilt... Natalie wondered if, like the Fever, guilt was a contagious
disease among the Family... The commander's lack of presence was
somehow more than vampiric. "Do you know what he needs?" she asked.

"Yes. Blood. From a willing donor." The emphasis placed on 'willing'
left no doubt in Natalie's mind as to whom he was referring. "My
people caused this. I would repair it if I could, but my blood would
do very little for him that LaCroix's hasn't accomplished already.
And you, Doctor, are Family." A small dagger appeared between his
fingers. "Just a few drops."

And the irony was that, as a doctor, Natalie could not refuse. 

She held out her hand.

Holding her wrist in a firm but oddly gentle grasp, Daomir expertly
cut a shallow line diagonally across her palm. Natalie bit her lip,
as Daomir produced a small vial and tipping her hand, collected a
small amount of the fresh blood. Carefully corking the vial, he then
bandaged her hand with a strip of clean cloth, again found from
someplace Natalie could not determine.

"Where are you keeping all this?" she asked. "You don't have any
pockets."

"In thin air," said the enosh with a straight face. The cat-like
inscrutability of his silvered eyes actually extended over his entire
angular countenance. Natalie had never met anyone so unreadable. She
was fascinated.

"Is it a defense mechanism?" she asked without thinking. "Your...
control over your emotions?" She had almost said 'lack.'

Daomir was cradling Daniel's head and slowly upending the vial into
his mouth. "In part. There's also something of a cold streak on my
father's side of the family, so I come by it honestly enough." He was
now massaging Daniel's throat to make certain the boy swallowed. "But
the training does intensify it." He sat back on his heels, studying
Daniel intently. Already, Natalie could see his color improving.
"Does the Roman keep blood?"

"Yeah, there's some in the fridge."

"Bags or bottles?"

"Bottles."

"Two bottles, then, should suffice."

Natalie got them. She sat in the boys' desk chair and watched the
wand-slim enosh administer to the sick vampire with such real care,
one would have thought the two brothers, or very old friends. She
thought of Daomir's carefully subdued anguish as he spoke of guilt...
had the enosh gone through a similar ordeal? "Can I ask you a
question?"

"You may ask."

"How does one become an enosh?"

"Different ways. Tainted orphans, mostly, who can't be left on their
own, but one can be born to it, unintentionally." He glanced over his
shoulder at her, his eyes resting pointedly on Natalie's stomach.
"The few mortals who are born into the Community are most often
claimed for the enosh." Natalie paled. Daomir shrugged and turned
back to Daniel. "Not always. But most often." His tone changed,
becoming darker. "One can also be specifically bred for it, but there
aren't many of those."

Although still unconscious, Daniel had finished most of the blood,
and already his color had improved dramatically, a thin layer of pure
red glistening on his forehead. Satisfied, Daomir nodded. "He'll be
all right now." He went and knelt by Natalie's chair, placing one
hand lightly on her stomach and the other on the clay pendent. "And
so will you." He blinked, flushed and quickly got up. Natalie thought
he looked slightly embarrassed. 

"I'd be very much in your debt if you didn't mention that I was
here. Tenebres has put us in lockdown, and it could mean my skin if
he knew I'd left the theatre."

Natalie nodded. "You were never here," she promised.

The narrow face split in a bone-white smile; the silver eyes
sparkled. Then he went out the open window, slipped down the outer
wall, and was gone as silently as he had come.

Natalie took the empty bottles into the kitchen and washed them.
Then she got a warm washcloth, and gently cleaned the red sweat from
Daniel's forehead. It was a strange thing, but not until she tried to
get up did she realize that the boy's hand had slipped into hers, and
would not let go.

*** 

In the depths of the Eidolon, Nick and Tracy jumped at the quiet
voice which suddenly spoke to them. "What brings you to our part of
the world, Nick?" A heart-shaped face peered down at them from the
shadows of an archway, nearly obscured by masses of blond hair. "I
didn't know there was a show tonight." Sebastian's black-clad form
slipped bonelessly from his perch and landed without a sound on the
floor in front of them.

"There isn't. We're here to see Tenebres." If Sebastian was
surprised, his training didn't allow him to show it. 

"Come on, then." He turned, and beckoned with his tattooed wrist for
them to follow. "I'd heard you were here a few days ago," he
admitted, by way of apology. The passage to the enoshs' barracks was
unadorned and dark, but Sebastian moved confidently with quick, light
steps.

Nick was struck by a sudden notion. "Sebastian? Are you a Hunter?"

Their guide made a noise in his throat that sounded insulted. "No,
I'm an enosh."

"But how did you become an enosh? Were you tainted by a vampire,
somehow?"

Sebastian paused. "I suppose, if you want to look at it that way,
yes. Several, in fact." He began walking again, swiftly, silently, a
black-and-yellow smudge in the charcoal-grey of the corridor. "But I
certainly don't consider myself 'tainted.'"

His tone told Nick very clearly not to ask any more questions. 

*** 

A presence intruded on LaCroix and Miranda's emotional standoff. 

"Go home, Lucius. Your son is safe." Daomir's voice brooked no
argument, even from an ancient who was older than he by almost four
hundred years. LaCroix was glad to leave; being around Miranda now
was causing him almost physical pain.

I should never have taken her back, he cursed himself. I should
never have looked for her. You knew she would change you--why else
did you strive so hard not to feel regret over her loss--try to feel
only anger, the desire for vengeance? You knew she would destroy you.

Daomir dismissed the retreating Ancient and clasped Miranda's chin
in his hand, tilting her face up. "You're breaking," he told her,
after searching her eyes for a moment.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped.

But Daomir was too old to be fooled by the petulance of a girl who
was barely twenty-one. "Just take that last step, Miri. Don't let
fear hold you back, not when you know he's what you want."

She choked back a sob and hugged him tightly. "That sounds like
something Dad would say."

"It is," Daomir murmured. "It's something he said to my sister
once." And a bloody lot of good it did her.

"He's all I've got..."

"Lucius?"

"Kai. He's too sick to be doing this. He's going to burn himself
out, I know it. If he dies, I'll have nothing."

"You have your husband."

"It's not the same. I'll never get Lucien back. He'll never have
faith in me again."

Knowing she could not see, Daomir allowed himself a dry smile. "I
highly doubt that. And you do still have him, just as you have Kai.
You're not afraid to trust Lucius, Miranda, you're afraid to rely on
him."

"It's the same thing--"

"No, lass." His quiet certainty battered at Miranda. Was that really
it? "You relied on Ramsey; he betrayed you. You relied on Manx; he
died. Now Kai has renounced you."

"It's not the same thing!" Miranda broke away from her friend.

"Would you trust Lucius with your first-born?"

"Yes," she said, without thinking.

"And if Kai died tonight, would you return to Lucius?"

She hesitated. "I... I don't know, Dao."

He spread his hands expressively. "You see?"

Miranda bit her lip til it bled, but couldn't come up with a
response. 

Daomir's left ear twitched. "I have to go," he said abruptly, and
disappeared down an inner passage.

*** 

When they reached the plain double doors, Sebastian hung back. "Go
in," he said, jerking his head at the door. "You are expected."

The room was dark. It didn't hinder their vision, but it did make
Nick uneasy. He saw three figures standing before the high arched
windows at the far end of the chamber, knew who two of them were, one
by reputation only, but he clearly recognized one of them.

"Tenebres."

The tall, dark-complexioned man nodded very slightly in
acknowledgment. "De Brabant. Another painting go missing?"

Nick blinked. "No," he said, put a bit off-balance by the unexpected
question. "We're here to ask for your help."

The unfamiliar vampire snorted derisively.

"Help with what?" Tenebres pressed, ignoring his colleagues.

Nick and Tracy traded an uncertain glance. Was it possible that the
Enforcer had not yet heard? "Help with Kai. He's somewhere in the
city, looking for Roger Jameson and he's... he's gone mad."

"And what does that have to do with us?" It was the vampire who had
laughed at their request. He was tall and broad, with thick brown
hair and a handsome but very unpleasant face. "He's your fledgling,
he's your business. Unless you want him dead..."

"No!"

"Then you'll have to deal with it yourself, because none of my
people are getting within shooting distance of--"

"That's enough, Cyprus," said Tenebres quietly, but it got the
message across. Cyprus subsided back.

The other vampire, who could be no one other than Daomir Darkfell--
tall, willowy, and almost transparently pale--had not yet spoken, but
his silver eyes fixed on Nick and then on Tracy with an eerie
intensity not unlike Kai's, and so familiar that Nick wondered if he
had in fact met the man before.

"As boorish as Cyprus is," Tenebres was saying, "I have to agree
with him. It's not our business to track down fledgling maniacs."

That was, to put it politely, bullshit. "But--"

"Not if you want Kai back alive."

"But Tenebres, we have to find him!"

"I see no such matter. Jameson has to be found, I agree, but Kai is
doing just that--and at no expense to you, I might add."

Nick blinked. "Tenebres, he's in no condition to hunt anyone down.
He's sick, dying--"

"And has been for sometime. I know that. And I remind you, de
Brabant, so does he."

The wraithlike vampire with the pointed ears chose this moment to
speak, in a soft, lyrical Irish voice. "He's known for years that his
time was running out," said Daomir quietly. "Better for him to go out
as a hero--doing what you would not--than lying on his back in some
hospital. Just let the boy burn himself out. It's better that way,"
he repeated. His voice made it clear that the business was concluded. 

Cyprus turned to Tenebres. "If you don't mind, I have to get back to
my people." He brushed past the visitors; Tracy caught a strong whiff
of a stench she could only identify as hauteur. Tenebres left as
well, though with much less self-importance; quicker than a blink, he
was gone, leaving Nick and Tracy alone in the room with Daomir.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "My hands are tied." With difficulty,
as if feeling the weight of his years, he walked slowly past them and
out of the room.

Nick was dumbfounded, open-mouthed in shock at the refusal. Just as
enraged, Tracy promptly put her fist through the wall.

"My God!" she shouted. "How can they do this, Nick? How can they
call this--"

Nick felt a presence in the room with them. "Tracy," he murmured,
catching her arm. They turned. "Sebastian?"

The tall enosh, slender as a willow wand, melted seamlessly out of
the shadow where he had been hiding. "Detectives."

"What do you want?" Tracy all but snarled. 

Sebastian blinked once, like a cat. "I heard everything. You asked
for help with Tyree. Here I am."

"But you--you're disobeying orders!" cried Tracy joyously.

"To blazes with Cyprus's orders," he snorted. "I take orders from
only three people: my parents, and Tyree. Tyree needs my help, and my
parents would never forgive me if I didn't give it." A vaguely
nervous look flitted over his face. "But we'd better get moving
before Cyprus comes back."

They hurried back up the corridors, Sebastian keeping up with them
without effort, but he didn't breathe easy until they were outside
the theatre. 

"It's a real shame the rest of the enosh don't have your integrity,
Sebastian," Nick growled, unlocking the Cadillac.

"You mean my stupidity. Whether we find Tyree alive or dead, I'll
probably have my head struck off for going against orders." Sebastian
climbed awkwardly into the car. "And how do you figure? You make it
sound like they made their decision lightly."

"Didn't they?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Cyprus is a barbarian. But the rest of
them? No. No way in creation. They worked together too long, Tenebres
and Tyree and Dao. They trust each other with everything, come close
to killing each other at least twice a year. They're friends, or near
enough."

"Then why do they want Kai dead?"

"They don't."

"But they won't help us!"

"Because they don't see the value in it. That's their way of living,
Nick, that's how all the Enforcers think--values, expenses, profit
and loss."

"And that's why you're here, because you see Kai's value."

"Yes."

"Well," he sneered, "that's very big of you."

"I pay my debts," said Sebastian quietly.





Part Six

The two Enforcers did not look at each other; Daomir was standing
before a large window, his legs apart and his hands behind his back
in a relaxed military stance. Tenebres was at the other end of the
hall, reading--of all things--a newspaper. "You're angry with me."

"Angry? Don't be absurd; I'm furious."

"Tyree is your friend," Tenebres conceded.

"A friend, the descendent of friends..." Daomir leaned his glowingly
pale forehead against the cool glass. "The son of kings, that boy,
long dead and lost to time. The last of his kind... how can you let
him slip away?"

"He's not the last. We have his byblow."

"But they're not him. They're not even like him!" Daomir's fist came
down on the glass with a sharp crack. "Nothing like him." Tenebres
ruffled his newspaper. "Why are you reading that trash?"

"What's a seven-letter word for a warrior monk?"

"Madman."

"No, that's only six letters."

Daomir's silver eyes scanned the city, searching for any sign of his
friend. "If you would just let me look for him..."

"What could you do that DeBrabant is not already doing? Tyree may be
blind as a bat--if you'll pardon the expression--but he can fly
circles around you." Daomir's pointed ears flushed all the way to
their tips. "You've disobeyed my orders in regards to Nicolas de
Brabant before," the ancient Enforcer reminded him darkly, "and I
intend to make absolutely sure that you do not do it again. You're
not going anywhere, Darkfell, so find something else besides brooding
to occupy your time."

Daomir stared very hard at the cracked glass, fighting the urge to
hit it again. Something was going to shatter soon. He hoped it would
be the window. Nothing else was quite as replaceable. "He has given
up his life and his line for the service of our kind. Does that mean
nothing to you?"

Tenebres folded up his newspaper. "It does. But what you told
DeBrabant was correct. The only thing that we can do for Tyree now is
to kill him." For the first time, his smooth-shaven, ageless face
betrayed a hint of expression, perhaps even of the smallest regret.
"I'd rather not have it come to that."

*** 

Not knowing the bowels of the theatre as well as some of his
acquaintances did, Julian had to be careful as he made his way
through the Eidolon's corridors and passageways. Out of habit, he
pulled the collar of his jacket up as high as it would go. Someone
might have been following him. Or his imagination could simply be
running on overdrive. But the shadows were playing tricks with his
mind, he was certain. He did have good reason to avoid this place,
after all... 

The back of his neck screamed, and he flung himself to the floor as
a bright green ball of electricity was hurled at his head. "Damn you,
Scott!"

Grumbling at his miss, the enosh oozed out of the shadows. "Can you
blame me?" he asked with innocence.

Julian's face had slammed into the hardwood floor with such force
that his nose was freely bleeding. "Son of a bitch. You have standing
orders not to--!"

"Not to lay a hand on you so long as Tyree lives," finished Scott in
a bored sing-song. "Sad, but true. But I didn't hurt you. Much." His
voice hardened. "What are you doing here, Julian?"

"None of your damn business."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "Then get out of my sight," he said
quietly, "before I forget my orders."

"And what?" Julian shot back. "You rip my head from my shoulders?"

"Among other things."

"I don't think your daddy would like that much."

"What do you want?" he repeated.

Julian shrugged. "Well, since you're under lock-down and can't go
out and murder under the guise of a public service--"

"Something you know all the ins and outs of. Why aren't you looking
for Tyree? I thought he was your friend."

"Look, I like Kai as much as the next vampire, but I'm certainly not
going to stick my neck out for my jailer. I'd've thought you'd be
glad, though."

"Glad."

"About Kai. There's a good chance that he'll burn himself out if he
keeps going like this. Or that Nick will have to kill him."

"I will have nothing but pity for DeBrabant if that happens. And I
don't want Tyree dead anymore than I want my father dead."

Julian regarded the enosh with a mixture of pity and nausea. "If it
wasn't for Kai, you wouldn't even be in this outfit."

"If it wasn't for Kai," Scott shot back, "Lyssa and I would be dead,
or trapped in Black Falls for the rest of time. That is the Code,
Julian."

"The Code shouldn't apply to us, Scott. Neither you nor I nor Lyssa
asked to be made this way. Why should we follow this ancient Code
developed for vampires who don't know their teeth from their
testicles?"

The cat-green eyes regarded him steadily. "Because without the Code,
there would be anarchy, and I mean that in the most violent sense.
Because if there were no laws, vampires like you would take advantage
of that." Scott arched a dark eyebrow. "Just as you are doing now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Kai made you promise--made you swear on your life--to take care of
his only fledgling if anything happened to him."

"How in hell did you know--?"

"So he goes off on a wild hunt and what's the first thing you do?"
Scott sniffed judiciously. "Jump into bed with her. You know, Julian,
you truly are a credit to your profession."

The doctor's eyes narrowed dangerously. "William Escott Gorey, don't
you dare take that tone of voice with me."

Scott just smiled, his mouth curling in the feral smile that the
enosh had perfected in his fifty years of life. "You have no
authority over me, Julian. And remember: you're only safe from me and
mine as long as Kai's alive. So you'd best be leaving now, before I'm
forced to disobey my orders beforetime."

*** 

Nick, Tracy and Sebastian listened in silence to the reports coming
over the police scanner. Body after body, their throats slashed,
their blood drained and gone without a trace, was being found all
over the city, in all precincts. All precincts except the 96th.
"Kai," said Nick simply. The others said nothing, Tracy out of
disbelief, Sebastian out of conviction. Who else could it be?

He gritted his teeth when the Caddy hit a pothole. "You all right,
Sebastian?" asked Tracy.

"Oh, sure, peachy." He swallowed his nausea and tried to get back to
the business at hand. "If Kai kills Jameson, what do we do with his
body? It'll be marked up one side and down the other, if it's even
recognizable as a body at all."

"Let's not cross that bridge til we come to it, all right?" replied
Nick grimly.

"Kai... Kai wouldn't do something like that," said Tracy, hesitant
with apprehension. "Would he?"

"No," said Nick, too swiftly. But the idea lingered. "Yes," he
amended. "He would, and he'd be creative about it, too. He's more
animal than man right now, and rabid, but when the Kai I know has a
vendetta, he gets very inventive."

Once again, Tracy got the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach
that meant she had no idea what they were talking about. But
Sebastian was nodding. "Did you check his collection yet?"

Tracy blinked. "Collection?"

Nick turned the car around. 

Pulling up in front of the Corvina, they took the side door that led
directly to the upper levels. Sebastian seemed to know exactly what
he was looking for; he darted directly for a door that Kai had never
opened in Tracy's presence. 

It proved to be a large walk-in closet, filled with fencing
equipment: rapiers, sabers, materials for the care of swords. On the
far wall hung an old portrait in a new frame, of a seated man with
flowing brown curls and aged brown eyes; behind him stood a
beautifully elegant blond woman. Both were richly dressed in
eighteenth century clothing. Beneath the portrait was a battered
wooden chest, dark with years but lovingly cared for. Sebastian
opened this box and rummaged around in it.

He sat back on his heels and looked up at Nick, who was frowning.
"It's missing."

Tracy had had enough. "What's missing?" she exclaimed loudly.

"His favorite sword. Kai's got a streak of pirate blood in him,"
Sebastian explained, gesturing to the portrait, "and one of his most
prized possessions is his great-grandfather's sword. And it's missing."

Nick growled. "Maybe there's more of Kai in this animal than we
wanted to believe."

*** 

LaCroix stopped on the threshold of his sons' bedroom. The easy,
regular pulsing of his bond with Daniel told him clearly that his
child was well again. Now an unfamiliar emotion was trickling through
his veins, and he wanted to identify it before he confronted his
youngest son. 

A hand laid itself on his coat sleeve. "I think it's thankfulness,"
said Natalie softly.

"Nonsense," replied LaCroix, his hoarse voice betraying him. He
looked down at the hand on his arm and saw the bandage binding it.
"What...?"

"He needed willing blood to heal him. I was willing."

"You were..." The ancient bowed his head, finally silenced. There
were no words, in any of the languages that LaCroix knew, to express
the depths of his gratitude and humility towards the wife of his son.
Even if he knew, he was not the manner of man to say such things
aloud... but the emotion was there, threatening to strangle him. "I
must see him," he murmured.

Natalie nodded, and pulled away.

Taking hold of the knob, LaCroix entered the room.

His son was sitting in bed, propped up by several pillows, reading a
book. He looked pale, weak and tired... but whole. He looked up at
his father, his great blue eyes so eerily like Miranda's, and smiled. 

"Mon pere."

LaCroix smiled back.

*** 

"What is our innocence," asked the Nightcrawler softly, "what is our
guilt? All are naked, none is safe. And whence is courage: the
unanswered question, the resolute doubt,--dumbly calling, deafly
listening--that in misfortune, even death, encourages others and in
its defeat, stirs the soul to be strong? So he who strongly feels,
behaves." 

*** 

Nick smiled weakly and turned off the radio. "Why are there so many
enosh stationed in this city?" he asked, forcing his mind back to the
task at hand.

"You're asking the wrong man. The Dragons are being quartered here
to keep tabs on some weird portal in the Eidolon, but why my division
and the Bloodhounds are here, I have no idea. But maybe the better
question to ask is, what are the three most deadly divisions of the
enosh doing in a city that, compared with the rest of the planet, is
a very low priority zone? Believe me, I'm just as curious to know the
answer as you are."

"Why do the enosh all call him Tyree?" asked Nick, changing the
subject slightly.

"It's short for Tiresias." Sebastian was still oddly ill at ease in
the Cadillac, making Nick wonder if this was the first time he'd ever
been in an automobile before. "The blind prophet. A lot of the enosh
have nicknames. A lot of the Enforcers, too, and a lot of their
priority targets."

"You're kidding."

"You didn't think Tenebres was the old man's real name, did you?"

"I figured it couldn't be..." 'Tenebres,' Nick knew, was a
corruption of the Latin word for darkness.

"Oh, yeah," Sebastian continued, grinning. "The Enforcers have even
given you a name. They call you 'The Gallant.'"

Nick squirmed; he had a sneaking suspicion that nickname had not
been given out of fondness. "I meant Kai. I knew he worked as a
trainer for Tenebres, but I didn't think he was in quite that deep."

"Deep? Before he got sick, Tyree was the commander of the Red Branch."

Nick's mouth dropped. "Kai was a division leader? Your division
leader?"

Sebastian nodded, his head out the window like a dog's. "He was one
of our best commanders." And then some, he thought wryly. His
nostrils flared, testing the wind. He gestured for Tracy to do the
same, but she could smell nothing. "I can't scent him either, and I
know his scent," said Sebastian. "I think we're looking in the wrong
place."

Nick stopped the car. "Where should we be looking?" Tracy asked. "If
he's running on instinct..."

"Not that kind of instinct." Grateful that the car had stopped
moving, Sebastian tumbled gracelessly from the vehicle. "You haven't
been in the game long enough, Tracy, and Nick's been out of it too
long. Tyree's not human."

"Sebastian," Nick growled.

"When a human is running on instinct, they go to ground and they
stay there." Sebastian backed into a nearby alley; Nick and Tracy
followed him. "It's the 'fight or flight' reaction. But the fight's
stronger than the flight in vampires, and that's the instinct he's
running on. You ever see your boy give in to his Beast, Nick? Because
that's what he's done. Whatever he's seen in his visions, it's scared
him badly enough to make him go au natural, if you get my meaning."

Nick and Tracy felt simultaneously ill. "So..." Tracy swallowed
hard. "So where do you think he's gone?"

Sebastian bit the back of his hand in thought. Nick shoved his own
hands into his pockets. "Kai's well thought of, then?" he asked,
trying to divert his brain.

"In most circles," confirmed the enosh absently. "Came in when my
dad was still a boy, took one of the sorriest divisions and made it
one of the best." He scowled. "Then he had to go and catch the
Nicolas."

"Eh--excuse me?"

"Went looking for his mortality. We call it 'catching the Nicolas.'"
Sebastian flashed him a grin. "You're not only famous, you're
contagious, too."

The sick feeling in Nick's stomach intensified.

"All right, Kai will have gone one of two places. If he wasn't
hunting a specific person, I'd ask where the red light district was.
But he is hunting someone in particular."

"So the question is, where is Jameson?"

"No..." He closed his eyes. "Even in his illness, even in his
madness, Kai can still move about in direct sunlight." Nick couldn't
repress a strong pang of envy. "He'll be following Jameson day and
night. The question is, where would he go to ground when he's not
hunting? Tracy, you injured him. How?"

"Wood. Why?"

"Every living thing, even vampires, have an instinctive need to care
for grievous wounds. He would have gone somewhere where he could tend
to his hurts, maybe somewhere..." His eyes popped open. "Somewhere
near water."

Again, Tracy was confused, but Nick's face immediately lit up. "Of
course! But would he go to the waterfront?"

"No, no, too exposed. He'll want to be hidden. He'll want to go--"

"Underground," Tracy and Nick said at the same time. 




**Nightcrawler monologue adapted from "What Are Years?" by Marianne
Moore.




Part Seven

Without warning, the high commander of the enosh burst into the
barracks. "Where is Sebastian?" he boomed.

No one answered. Tenebres's hard brown eyes turned yellow. "Where,"
he asked again, "is he? Leda!" The tall blond woman stepped forward
obediently, her green eyes hooded. "Where is your son?"

"I don't know. Sir," she added pointedly.

Tenebres growled softly. "Cyprus, where is your subordinate?"

The leader of the Red Branch came forward hurriedly. "I don't know,
sir. I suspect he's gone with DeBrabant and Tyree's fledgling--"

"'You suspect,'" repeated Tenebres flatly. Catching his tone, the
rest of the enosh moved rapidly to the other side of the room. "You
'suspect' that one of your people--whom I specifically instructed
were not to leave this building and whom I explicitly ordered to stay
away from Tiresias--has slipped from under your watchful eye to do
precisely what I ordered him not to? And this does not concern you?!"
His hand shot out and caught Cyprus by the throat, crushing his
windpipe.

"You could not have expected him to stay away," said Leda sharply.
Tenebres turned to face her, tossing Cyprus away like a forgotten
toy. "You of all people should have known that he would be the one of
us to disobey you. Tyree is Family to that boy. You should have known."

"So should you," he replied, dangerously soft. "You are his mother."

Leda remained unrepentant. "He is my son, my blood and my Family.
Kai is our Family. Family comes before all else. Sometimes, even
before the Code."

"And who taught you that?" Tenebres sneered. In the background,
Cyprus was gasping for breath as his airways repaired themselves.
"Kai, I suppose..."

"No, Tenebres. You did. Or had you forgotten?"

The molten yellow faded from Tenebres's eyes, replaced by something
very like chagrin. "Leda," he said slowly, "I want you and Lyssa to
go to the Black Madonna. I want you to keep guard over the DuCharme
boy. If the mother wants to leave to hunt for Kai or for the mortal,
let her. But the boy stays with you until I say otherwise."

Leda was startled. "Yes, sir," she replied, as Lyssa got to her
feet. "But why the Madonna? Why not the Raven?"

Tenebres offered no answer, only motioned for the women to depart.
When they were gone, he glared down at the prone commander of the Red
Branch. "Useless," he rumbled.

*** 

"Fausto! Give me the ball!" Lori threw up her hands. "Alexei," she
whined, "help me!"

The former prince was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed
over his chest. "He's your dog," Alexei grinned. "You wrestle him."

Meanwhile, the half-grown Newfoundland had dropped the ball and was
panting happily, almost laughing at his girl and her cousin. Lori
sighed. "I give up. Let's go home, Prince. We've been here all night."

Fausto's playful panting suddenly turned ugly, his deep chest
rumbling with growls, and he barreled forward, planting himself
firmly in front of his mistress. Alexei stiffened, reaching out with
his senses to try and detect what had angered the dog. "Someone's
coming," he muttered. A snarl bubbled from his lips. "Someone's...
here..." His yellow eyes narrowed when he spotted a man coming down
the path. "I don't like this... Lori, get into the bushes, now."


The girl didn't need to be told twice; with a silence learned from
years among vampires, she dove into the hedge. Alexei scooped up the
puppy before he could start barking and followed his cousin.

Soon, a mortal came past where they were hiding. He was tall, with
dark hair and eyes and a face that would normally have been fresh and
open-looking, but that was now haggard and pale--the look of a man
being hunted. He was hunched over, with his hands in his pockets, and
kept looking over his shoulders. But it was his eyes that made the
Prince look twice; resolute with purpose and shining with a mad light
Alexei was all too familiar with.

Lori held the squirming pup tightly, and Alexei gripped her
shoulders, until the strange mortal was out of sight. Only then did
he crawl out of the bushes and stand up, and let himself take a
breath...

"I'd go home if I were you, Prince."

Alexei shouted in alarm, slipped on a wet patch of grass and fell on
his back. The voice echoed in his mind, but he was certain the words
had been spoken aloud. He struggled to sit up. "K-Kai?"

"Go to the Eidolon. Go now. Tell Étienne to be on his guard."

Lori was still holding the puppy, her eyes wide and wary while
Alexei spoke to a voice she could not hear. "Prince?"

"On guard for what?"

"Trouble."

A hard smack of air pushed Alexei down again, and when he scrambled
to his feet, he saw Kai's rapidly dwindling figure flying away
towards downtown.

"Alexei?"

"You're right, Lori," said the Prince abruptly. "I think it is time
to go home."

*** 

"How do you know your way around so well?" Tracy asked, grimacing as
they picked their way gingerly through the city's sanitation system.

"Schanke and I had a case down here a few years ago," replied Nick
shortly. Like Tracy, he too was trying to breathe as little as
possible. The stench was overpowering; for a vampire with Tracy's
sense of smell, it was beyond nauseating. Sebastian's mere human
nose, though, was apparently unaffected, as he prowled through the
darkness ahead of them as silent and sure-footed as a cat.

A pipe somewhere on Tracy's left let out a blast of steam, making
her jump. "Thank God I don't have claustrophobia," she muttered.

Nick didn't respond. He felt eyes on his skin. 

*** 

"You have nothing to fear from us," Leda patiently repeated for the
fifth time, but Janette would not release her son. It wasn't
important; Leda and Lyssa were not there to steal the boy, they were
there to protect him and his mother--although from what, Leda had no
idea. She refused to contemplate that Kai might harm Janette or
Jesse, his own Family... but she knew, perhaps even better than
Tenebres, what Kai was capable of.

Janette might not have wanted anything to do with the two enosh, but
her seven-month-old child was another matter. Jesse's expression was
as curious as his age allowed him to be, and he was squirming
determinedly to be free of his mother's protective embrace. She
tightened her grip on her son. The enosh, Lyssa, was putting her
senses on guard; she was a dhampir--half-human, half-vampire--and the
twin sister of the one who had nearly killed Daniel... but Leda
seemed to be a decent sort, for a vampire and an Enforcer.

"What do you want with me?" asked Janette shortly.

"We are here because Tenebres has ordered your son's protection."

"From what?" Janette scoffed. "From Kai?"

I sincerely hope not, though Leda grimly. Aloud, she replied, "He is
to be one of us one day."

Over my decapitated body, Janette thought. "What is there that his
mother could not protect him from?"

Leda's face darkened, thinking of her own son. "Much." She stood
swiftly, turning away from the elder vampiress. "My own son is enosh,
as is my husband. Of the three of us, I was the only one who made the
choice to become what I am, a hunter of my own kind. My husband was
given to the enosh by his father, and my son was born into their
care." She glanced at Janette out of the corner of her eye. "As yours
was." 

Leda ran her fingertips around the cool edges of a tall, marble-
topped side table. "My husband is like your son, marked by the blood
of a vampire in his infancy. But my son is mortal... so young and
fragile... and there is nothing that I can do to keep him safe,
because he belongs to Cyprus, to Tenebres and the Enforcers." She
tilted her head and looked at Janette, the features of her lovely
face a blend of her Russian mother and her long-dead Scottish father.
"It is because you are his mother, that there is nothing on this
green earth you will ever be able to keep him safe from, and that is
the sad truth." Leda knelt at Janette's side, laying her fingers on
the small clay pendant around Jesse's neck. "Treasure the time you
have with him, because he will be one of us one day, and after that,
he will never be yours again."

*** 

Sebastian stopped short, just as Tracy's nostrils flared. They shot
a glance at Nick, who nodded. The two vampires willed the change to
come over them, and they began to see their dim surroundings in
shades of red. {Don't try and confront him alone,} Nick sent to
Tracy. {Just find him.}

She nodded, and to Nick's surprise, so did Sebastian. He was
crouched down on his haunches on the cement, leaning over a channel
of fast-flowing water, his body as frozen as a hare in the moonlight
but for his shallow breathing as he strained to hear even the
slightest sound over the running water.

Nick could still feel eyes on his skin, grey, icy eyes... {He's
close now. Very close...}

{He's watching us,} Tracy sent back, scanning all the dark, hidden
places between the pipes where Kai might be concealed. {But... from
where?}

Sebastian wasn't paying attention to them. He was intent on his
listening, leaning closer and closer to the surface of the water as
though searching for something in its depth...

A strangled scream and a splash made the two vampires whirl around,
but Sebastian was gone.

Not for long, though. Nick and Tracy suffered a few seconds of
frantic indecision before a column of water exploded from the
channel. Kai and Sebastian slammed against the concrete, the
vampire's fangs flashing in the darkness. Cloth and flesh tore with
equal ease, and to Nick's horror, it was over in less than a minute.

Sebastian was lying prone and limp on the concrete, and Kai was gone
again.

*** 

Leda's eyes darkened to gold and then faded just as quickly, leaving
her looking every second of her two hundred-plus years. In spite of
herself, Janette laid a hand on the enosh's shoulder. "What is it?"
she asked, just as a frisson of terror shot through her bond with
Nicolas. Leda did not answer, but neither did she brush away the
elder vampiress's touch.

It was Lyssa who responded. "Her son, most likely," said the
dhampir, never moving from her position at the window. "He probably
found Kai, and now he's regretting it." She was silent for a moment.
"Poor little whelp."

*** 

For a poor little whelp, Sebastian had the rejuvenation of a
vampire, if nothing else, and he was on his feet again quickly. But
Tracy couldn't stop shaking. "I've never seen anyone fight like
that," she whispered. "More like an animal..."

"He is an animal, Trace," said Nick quietly, draping his jacket over
his partner's shoulders. "We all are."

"This isn't the movies," Sebastian said shortly. "No wires, no smoke
and mirrors, no martial arts and no clean, ashy deaths. That's not
how it works." He was talking through his teeth as he peeled off his
soaked clothes and shed the excess water with several doggish shakes
of his torso and shoulders. 

"You're bleeding," Tracy realized. He stretched his arms behind his
back and winced.

"Yup. Damn Tyree got me but good," he grumbled, twisting to try and
see the wound. 

The sewer was dark even for a vampire's eyes, but a little sour
yellow light seeped through a grate from the street above their
heads, so that with their enhanced vision, Nick and Tracy could see
not only the new ragged tear in Sebastian's lower back, just above
his hip bone, but also the old, old wounds: deep runnels of fangs,
scrapes from desperate fingernails, a stab wound here, a bullet scar
there, covering back and front, arms and shoulders. 

"Sebastian," broke in Nick as evenly as he could. The younger man
was tearing a fairly clean sleeve from his filth-soaked shirt, and
looked towards the voice. "How long have you been with the enosh?"

"Hmm? Oh, about eighteen years or--Ow!"

"Eighteen years."

"Yep. Ouch... Tracy, could you hold that while I tie this?"

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three this June."

"My God... you've been hunting vampires since you were five?"

Sebastian stopped; there was a far-away, haunted pose to his body,
all that Nick could see. "Five years old in body, Nick. Not in
anything else."

"And Kai was your commander." Nick felt overwhelmingly nauseous.
"And he... My God... How could he... Sebastian, how can you owe him
anything?"

"If not for him, I'd have a lot more scars, and most likely be in a
box six feet under. He's done a hell of a lot for me over the years.
It's a bad life, Nick; I'm thankful for small favors."

"And what did your parents think of that?" Nick pressed.

"They worry, like any parents. But this is the only life they know,
too." Sebastian took his damp leather vest and carefully wiped it
clean, then held it up and let the garment slither onto his body.
"It's the family business."

"Career assassins," Nick mourned.

*** 

Étienne was communing with the muses, scribbling happily away at his
sheet music as he hadn't been free to do in months. So it was a rude
shock when someone kicked him in the shins.

"What," he snarled, jumping up and glaring at his son, "was that for?"

Aidon's five-year-old face looked up at his father without fear.
"I've been poking you in the ribs for the last fifteen minutes," he
said succinctly, his vocabulary years beyond his childish tones.
"There's someone in the Grand Foyer. You should see."

Étienne followed the boy through the Eidolon's secret passages, to a
spy-hole that looked down on the foyer from the ceiling. It was a
very nondescript mortal human, wandering around and admiring the
marble busts. Étienne glanced at his son. "So? The outer doors are
always open. If he'd gotten past the inner doors, that would be
something to worry about, but this, why...?"

But Aidon was shaking his head. "I recognize him, Papa. I've been
keeping my eyes and ears open, the way I'm supposed to, and I
recognize him. That's the human Nicolas has been looking for, the one
his mate is afraid of."

The vampire cursed himself for seven different kinds of fool.
"Jameson," he growled. 

"Alexei's been looking for you for hours, to tell you. He and
Lorelei saw him in the park."

Make that fourteen kinds of fool. "But why would he be here?"

For an answer, Aidon pulled a folded up piece of newsprint from his
pocket and handed it to his father. It was the review of 'Jekyll &
Hyde' that Nicolas had given an interview for last week, the same one
Étienne had declined to comment on. "I forgot all about this," he
murmured, his voice dull with horror. "And I never read newspapers..."

"I know," said Aidon quietly.

The worst part of it was that Étienne could do nothing. He was
trapped by his connection to Nicolas; if Jameson died or disappeared
while in his theatre, it could cause the downfall or even the
destruction of the entire Family.

Snarling silently, he stayed in his hiding place.

*** 

Despite his protestations of fitness, Nick and Tracy had to all but
carry Sebastian out of the sewer. Nick tossed Tracy his keys. "I'll
take him back to the loft. Meet us there, okay?" 

She didn't answer. Nick leaned Sebastian against a convenient wall
and took Tracy by the shoulders. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "You
need to think clearly right now, and not let your emotions get the
better of you. Understand?"

"Yes," said Tracy steadily, still not meeting Nick's eyes. It would
have to do. Nick picked up the enosh, mindful of the boy's injuries,
and flew off into the night.

His phone was ringing off the hook when he dropped through the
skylight. Nick deposited Sebastian on the couch and grabbed the
receiver. "Knight."

"I think it might be a good idea if Natalie were to be moved."

"Why?"

Nick heard Étienne's fingernails clicking on the receiver. "Jameson
came here, and not for a show. Doubtless, he was looking for her. He
saw the article in the paper last week. He'll be going to the Raven
next, if he hasn't been there already."

Nick thanked his brother and hung up the phone, rubbing his futilely
stinging eyes.




Part Eight

"Who was it?" asked Sebastian from the couch. His voice was oddly
slurred, as though he was drunk, or had been drugged. Concerned, Nick
ignored the angrily blinking light on his answering machine and
walked around to the front of the couch; the young enosh was slouched
against the leather arm, his hands pressed over his eyes. His color
looked horrible.

"Uh, Étienne. Jameson's getting too curious, he thinks Natalie
should be moved out of the Raven." 

"'S not a bad idea," Sebastian murmured. "Take 'er to the Madonna,
maybe..."

Nick nodded. It was exactly what he had been thinking; if there was
one person who would never let a man take advantage of a woman, it
was Janette. "Listen, why don't you stay here and wait for Tracy?
I'll go to the Raven and get Nat..."

"Nah, Ah'm awright... Mmm," he groaned, trying to sit up. Nick
gently pushed the boy back down.

"Maybe Kai got you better than you thought," he suggested grimly.
Carefully brushing aside Sebastian's thick blond hair, Nick checked
his temples and then probed the back of his skull for any head wounds.

"Nick, I'm fine! Just gotta get my second wind, is all." Sebastian
pushed the attentive vampire away and hauled himself upright. "The
night air'll wake me up."

"Can I get you something? Ice water, aspirin... brandy?"

"Just water, thanks..." Sebastian offered him a weak grin. "We're
not allowed any alcohol."

Nick got him the water, and watched as he took slow, measured sips.
He looked so tired, so drained... "Sebastian, turn your head this
way." The enosh obliged him, but his neck was unmarked.

"Nick, I'm telling you, I'm fine--look, my pronunciation's getting
better. Listen, I think I hear Tracy downstairs..." He turned
slightly green. "I think I'll just take myself to the Raven, okay?"

Nick grinned. "Don't knock my ride."

"I'm not knocking it. But I might just puke in it if you make me
ride in that thing again." Sebastian opened a back window and climbed
out, hanging on to the window sill. "I'm okay. I'll see you at the
club." He disappeared. Nick walked to the window, stuck his head out,
and watched in disbelief as Sebastian climbed down the brick
warehouse like a lizard, head first. 

He bit his lip and looked away. No matter what Sebastian might
claim, he wasn't quite as human as he pretended.

*** 

True to his word, Sebastian met Nick and Tracy outside the Raven--or
rather, they found him in the alley next to the Raven, holding his
head in his hands and glaring darkly at any vampire who got within
two feet of him.

"Don't even ask," he snarled at the two detectives. "I'm perfectly
all right. But I'm not going inside; I'd be torn to pieces in there.
Get your wife, Nick. I'll be here."

Their reunion was joyous but brief; Nick barely had time to hug
Natalie before LaCroix pulled him to one side. "You are relocating
her?" Nick nodded. "Good. The mortal has been seen in this area,
several times."

"Jameson?" asked Nick quickly, his panic rising. "Does she know?"

"Yes," replied LaCroix. "But I was not the one who told her." He
nodded his head at the now-familiar form of Daniel, buried in
blankets on the end of the couch. The boy still looked tired, but at
least now there was some health back in his pale cheeks. "I respected
your request, Nicholas; I have not... incited her to take the
vengeance that is so rightfully hers."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Caution and discretion? LaCroix, that's
unlike you."

"Hmm. In any event, when she does confront him, I'd rather it be
your hide she flays than mine. I've been thrashed quite enough
lately, thank you." 

Nick wasn't listening; he was watching his wife as she moved about
the apartment, collecting her things. His chest hurt when he laid
eyes on her, and a sour lump came into his throat. Desperately trying
to suppress his worry, Nick turned his head. His gaze fell on Daniel,
and to the rippled tissue that disfigured his throat.

"Daomir tells me that it will be quite some time before those marks
fade," said LaCroix quietly. "A dhampir's brand is all but permanent." 

The scars on Nick's face throbbed under their greasepaint. He
gathered up his wife and left the Raven in a hurry.

*** 

Washing the pervasive taste of Sebastian's blood from his mouth, Kai
laid on the stinking concrete of the sewer, shivering uncontrollably.
The boy vibrated through his brain, intoxicating him like the best of
Rivendell's wine. The civilized part of him wanted to vomit. Twice
now, he had attacked someone he loved in order to protect someone
whom, in comparison, he only mildly cared for. 

His daughter... and a young man he regarded as far more than a son...

{This ends tonight!}

With a roar, he slammed his fists into the concrete and fled,
leaving two deep, crumbling holes in the pavement.

*** 

Janette's reception was very warm, for her; she hugged Nick and
welcomed Natalie like a sister. Nick had a sneaking suspicion that
she was more gratified to no longer be alone with the two enosh that
had been assigned to her, than anything else. For his part, he was
intrigued by Sebastian's meeting with the vampire of the two women,
Leda, who turned out to be his mother. The resemblance between the
two was clear; that Leda was furious with her son was even more so.

She looked him over critically, meeting his eye without difficulty--
they were almost the same height. "You disobeyed direct orders," she
said without preamble.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You could have been killed."

"Yes, ma'am," Sebastian agreed, a bit wryly.

"Do not take that tone of voice with me," the vampiress said
angrily, her eyes flashing gold. The boy's throat worked in an almost
imperceptible gulp. "You could have put the entire division in
danger, to say nothing of this city's Community. Did you honestly
think you could have taken on Kai by yourself?"

"No, ma'am."

"Do you mind telling me what you were thinking?"

"All I wanted was to find out where he was hiding. I assumed he
would be out hunting Jameson."

"And instead, he was hunting you. And he gave you a thrashing for
your troubles."

"A hellacious thrashing," Sebastian agreed tiredly. 

Leda took her son's face in her hands. "You look drained," she said,
all seriousness. "Did he...?"

Sebastian nodded. "I think so."

"It's nearly dawn." His mother half-turned. "Janette, is there
somewhere for him to lie down?"

"In the basement," the French vampiress nodded. "Miklos will take
charge of him."

"Go," Leda told her son. "We'll discuss this more tonight, when
you've rested." She watched Sebastian stumble to the stairs, then
rubbed her forehead. "Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do with that
boy..."

From her position by the window, Lyssa snorted. Janette caught
Natalie's eye. "And this is what we have to look forward to," she
muttered, shifting her son on her hip.

"Leda," Nick asked quietly, "what happened to him? He looks so sick,
but Kai didn't bite him, I checked."

The Enforcer looked at him oddly. "Kai is your fledgling."

Nick blinked. "Yes..."

Leda's green eyes were narrowed on Nick in a way he had never seen
before, a mixture of awe, sadness and disgust. "Your son. And yet you
know so little about him. Fangs of ivory, a tongue of fire and blood
like poetry... and you know nothing." She shook her head. "Find him,
DeBrabant. Find Jameson before Kai does, or there won't be anything
left for you to find." She walked towards the door. "You and Tracy
will remain here today?" The expression on her face told Nick that
this was a question expecting the answer 'yes,' so he nodded. "Then I
will spend the day with my son."

Janette, Nick, Natalie and Tracy retired to the bedrooms in the back
of the apartment. There was a doorway connecting the two rooms that
Janette and Nick occupied, and when Janette entered her brother's
room, her sleeping son awoke and held out his arms for his 'uncle.'
"Evening, little man," said Nick tiredly, strong arms encircling the
child, who curled into a ball beside his chest and nuzzled his silky
brown head against Natalie's caressing hand. "Janette, I do believe
your child is purring."

"I can't blame him." The vampiress sunk into a chair, rubbing her
temples. "I haven't let go of him all night."

"You don't trust him with the enosh."

"I don't trust him around Lyssa." Her eyes met Nick's, communicating
something just beyond Natalie's ken. 

Nick shifted uncomfortably. "You can't honestly believe that..."

"I can and I do. Think about it, Nicolas--who do she and her brother
remind you of? Who do they look like?" An image flashed through
Nick's mind, of a tall, lean, dark man with a strong nose, hard eyes
and a cruel mouth. Janette narrowed her eyes. "You know precisely who
I mean."

Natalie was completely in the dark--not an unusual state of affairs
in the past few days, but it didn't mean she liked it. "He might, but
I don't."

Janette's expression was one of subdued disgust, though not directed
at anyone in the room. "I have no proof, but they do resemble
someone... someone Nicolas, LaCroix and I have known and despised for
centuries. A famous and infamous vampire, renowned for his cruelty--"

"And his massive ego," Nick muttered.

"We do not speak his name," Janette continued, adding darkly, "It's
too well known as it is."

Natalie shook her head. "I think I'm even more confused than I was
five minutes ago."

"Forget it," said Nick succinctly, handed Jesse back to his mother.
"Janette's just being paranoid." Janette snarled at him. "Justly,
justly!"

His sister stood. "I," she announced, "am going to bed."

They watched her go. "Nick, who was she talking about?"

Nick silently sent her a name.

"Holy--! Nick, you can't be serious."

"I don't believe her... but we did know him. And hated him. And
still do." He rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "Come on. Let's get
some sleep."

They got ready for bed, and the first thing Nick did when they were
safely under the covers was to kiss her firmly. He let his hands
drift down her body, stilling over her abdomen. {Are you all right?}

{I'm coping.} 

{You're sure?} he pressed.

Natalie raised a mental eyebrow. {You've been listening to LaCroix,}
she teased. {He honestly thinks I'm going to go after Jameson
myself.} Nick looked at her pleadingly. {And you believe him.}

{Nat, I wouldn't blame you in the slightest if you wanted to--and
I'd be mad at me if I was in you position for making me hide, but--}

She wasn't even going to try and sort out the pronouns in that.
{Nick, Nick. Shut up for a minute? If the situation was normal--
normal... If the situation was normal, I might do to Jameson what
Miranda did to Teal Ramsey. And I'm not going to deny that I want to.
But there's more to consider than just me.} She put her hands over
his. {I won't lie to you, Nick. What happened to Tracy and Sebastian
scares the hell out of me. If it wasn't for Kai's health, I'd say to
just let him take care of it.}

Nick looked at her, startled. It was unlike Natalie to be so... so
detached and matter-of-fact, at least where she was concerned. Where
he was concerned, on the other hand...

Natalie gave him a smack. {This is where you're concerned, Mister.
I'm not going to put our sons in danger because I want revenge, and
I'm counting on you to do the same.}

{All right, all right,} crooned Nick comfortingly, holding her
close. {I know.} Natalie raised a hand to his scars, and Nick nuzzled
his cheek into her palm, sending waves of love and reassurance
through their bond, and gladly accepting the same from her.

*** 

Miranda bounced nimbly on the balls of her feet, silently beckoning
to her opponent. "Come on, Scotty, you've got to be able to do better
than that!"

Scott spat a bit of blood from his mouth, his sharp green eye
following her every move. "You've been practicing," he noted
grudgingly, lunging forward. Miranda grabbed him by the shoulders and
fell back, trying to use a powerful kick to send the dhampir flying.
Scott, expecting the move, dug his fingers into her ribs and held on,
causing them both to slam to the padded floor. "Marriage hasn't
exactly settled you down."

"Please." A roll and a flip, and Miranda was back on her feet. "It's
sharpened my skills."

"Uh huh, right." Scott lashed out and kicked her legs out from under
her; Miranda landed in a handspring, then pushed herself into the air
with her fingertips, somersaulted, and landed in a split on Scott's
chest with a sharp wooden dagger at his throat. "Yield," said the
dhampir quickly, clearly impressed. 

"That was for the ripping you gave my son," Miranda whispered,
letting just the point of the knife graze his skin. "Orders or not,
don't let it happen again. Clear?"

"Clear." Magnanimously, Miranda helped him off the ground. "Maybe I
should get married." She chuckled shortly. Scott looked at her
critically. "You still look like hell."

"Scotty, isn't that what started this fight?"

"Why don't you go looking for your father?" he asked bluntly. "Or go
back to your husband? Instead of hanging around here and picking
fights with tired and irritable vampire hunters. What's stopping you?"

"Why don't you go looking for him?" Miranda shot back. "You've got
no more use for rules than Sebastian, and a lot more power at your
back."

The lean, dark hybrid scratched his scalp luxuriously with the long
fingers of both deadly hands, then stretched his tall body like a
cat, naturally silent and disdainful. "It's not quite as easy as
that, Miri, as you ought to know. Seb has Family, both blood and
flesh, to protect him. What do I have? My Family has no such long
standing among the enosh and the Enforcers. In fact, both branches of
my Family are in singularly poor standing, as far as legalities go."
His ordinarily cold voice hardened even further. "The only thing that
has kept us out of the courts all these years has been Kai, and the
fact that he took in my grandfather's brother in the same way he took
you in."

Sitting on the padded sparring room floor, with one leg drawn up to
her chest, Miranda, slightly shamed, nodded reluctantly. Kai's eldest
'son' and her eldest 'brother,' Gerard Horn was the first unwittingly
tainted and abandoned child that her father had taken in over one
hundred and thirty years ago. The taint of the vampire that Ger
carried had almost gotten him killed, but for Kai. And Ger was the
rock that Scott's entire family clung to. 

"Then why don't you go looking for him?" she asked again, honestly
curious.

Scott straightened and offered her his hand. "Because he wouldn't
appreciate my--or your--getting involved in his business. He never
did. His business is his business." Miranda let him draw her to her
feet. "Tenebres was all for killing Lyssa and I," he replied matter-
of-factly, "when we were born. Kai talked him out of it. When we were
five years old, he convinced our father to give us to the enosh,
giving us a freedom of movement, if not a liberty, that we would
never have had otherwise. Kai vouched for us, Miranda, that we would
be better than what Tenebres, what all the Elders believed we would
turn out to be." His green eyes, already old, softened slightly with
the irony of the situation. "If I were to disobey orders and go
looking for Kai, I would be proving him wrong, letting him down. And
I won't do that."

Then he did something completely out of character: he hugged her.
"Go home, Miranda. Go home to you husband and your sons. Whatever
Tenebres has ordered, that is what Kai would want."

*** 

{Hurry, Nicolas.} A pair of brilliant deep blue eyes bore into his.
{He's running out of time. You must hurry...}

Nick's eyes snapped open. Must be time to get up, he thought
nervously, and reached for his clothes.

"You look much better," said Nick critically when they met up with
Sebastian and Leda in the Black Madonna's bar area. The boy waved a
half-full glass at him.

"Eh, nothing a little sleep won't cure. And a lot of orange juice."
He downed the rest of the juice and attacked a bowl of oatmeal. His
mother shook her head.

"He's fine, thank God. But if he gets hurt again, stick him in a cab
and send him to the local hospital, because one family crisis a week
is my limit."

Nick ducked his head and hid a grin. "Yes, ma'am."

{This ends tonight...}

Nick looked up, startled, and Sebastian dropped from his stool into
a defensive crouch, eyes darting everywhere. "What the hell was that?"

"You heard it?"

"Heard it? It--it echoed..." Everyone looked around uneasily, but
the voice did not repeat itself.

"I didn't hear anything," said Leda thoughtfully. "Did anyone else?"
Natalie, Janette and Tracy shook their heads. The Enforcer leaned
against the bar and closed her eyes, deep in thought or perhaps in
communication with her two brothers. Calm and steady, Miklos broke
out bottles of bloodwine and goblets, as well as another bottle of
orange juice for Natalie. They drank, and Sebastian uneasily finished
his breakfast.

He got back into Nick's car only reluctantly, this time sitting in
front and putting on his seat belt with care. Just as Nick was
putting the car into gear, Leda came out and whispered something into
her son's ear. He looked at her in surprise. "Thanks," he said
gratefully. "What took them so long?"

She touched her son's face. "Wanting to stay out of Tyree's
business," she sighed. "The old story."

"What did she say?" Nick asked.

"Drive a bit, then I'll tell you." The young enosh spent the next
several minutes checking his well-hidden cache of weapons. 

Nick focused on his driving. Tracy was silent, still shaken up over
last night, but he felt too jittery to keep quiet. "Mind if I ask you
a question?"

"I can't promise any answers."

"Scott and Lyssa."

"What about them?" Sebastian was examining a set of blow darts with
great scrutiny.

"Janette thinks they look like a vampire we've known for, oh, five
centuries or so. Quite a well-known vampire, even among mortals." He
stopped; unless the boy was a simpleton, he would know precisely whom
Nick meant.

"They should. They're related." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
Nick blanch whiter. "I take it you're not friends."

"He murdered one of my brothers, back during the French Revolution.
LaCroix's sworn to kill him."

Sebastian shrugged. "Well, he'll have to look elsewhere for his
revenge. Scott and Lyssa have the great misfortune to come from some
very well-documented families, but as to that fellow, they've met him
maybe once in all their fifty years. We don't have much use for
vampires, outside our own circle." He grinned hungrily. "They're the
prey."

Nick shivered. "But Tracy and I aren't really in 'your circle,' and
you don't mind us. Why?"

"Because you're Tyree's. And," Sebastian added, laying a finger on
the older man's greasepaint-hidden scars, "because you're not exactly
most vampires." A dark shutter came down behind his eyes and he sat
back, staring out the window. "Leda contacted some people in the
ranks, and they got her an address. Jameson has an apartment near
Sherbourne and Dundas."

*** 

Kai lifted his head, sniffing and tasting the wind. Fear, paranoia,
the anxiety of the prey... It had taken him only a few hours to find
Jameson's home, but the allure of the hunt had proven too much for
him to bear, and so he'd dragged out the affair to more than a week.
But now the scent of blood, and the anticipation of the kill, was
pressing in on him, blinding his senses to everything but the red.

He licked his chops and slipped into the building, noiseless as a
shadow.

*** 

The intersection of Sherbourne and Dundas had been called the most
dangerous in Toronto, and Nick had been there several times in his
capacity as a homicide detective. But that familiarity did not make
him any more comfortable. He drove quietly to the side street
Sebastian had named, noted the building, and then parked a few blocks
down so that Jameson would hopefully not notice his highly noticeable
car. "Careful," he muttered to his two companions, as they took up
their positions near the apartments.

It was a good four hours of surreptitious movement and hiding from
passersby before Nick finally spotted the man he was looking for. By
luck or by unseen design, Jameson was alone and the street was empty.
Nick narrowed his eyes, worried the tip of one fang with his tongue,
and signaled his people to move forward.

Any person with a brain knew when they were being followed, and
Jameson was no exception. He sped up his footsteps and looked
constantly over his shoulder, but the whisper-quick movements of his
pursuers, even the enosh, eluded him... until Nick deliberately
stepped into his field of vision, eyes glowing. 

He had a split-second glimpse of eyes gone wide with terror. Nick
roared aloud, not caring what the man saw. "Jameson!"

The rapist turned, drew a pistol, and fired. Nick felt the bullet
plow into his side, temporarily shattering his right hip. He lost his
balance and fell back. Jameson disappeared into his building. Tracy
raced over to help her partner, and Sebastian, who had broken his
fall. The boy winced as he lowered Nick to the pavement--the bullet
had gone through Nick's body and embedded itself in the outside of
Sebastian's left thigh. "You okay?" he gasped.

"I'll live," Nick panted, eyes gone red with pain and outrage. Tracy
lifted her wrist to her mouth and ripped open a vein.

"Take it," she said shortly, and Nick didn't hesitate; he fed from
his granddaughter with gusto, her vampire's blood healing him far
faster than mere human blood. But not fast enough; he still couldn't
stand. Tracy grabbed his shoulder and began hauling him to his feet. 

A brilliant white light momentarily blinded them both, and Tracy
stumbled back, sending them crashing to the ground again. "Holy
Mother of... Nick, do you see that?"

Shielding his eyes, Nick looked up. A deep pair of deep blue, almost
violet eyes, like aged Roman wine, stared placidly back at him. A
glowing, translucent hand reached down and helped Nick to his feet.

{Hurry, Nicolas,} said the White-Blond Boy. {He doesn't have much
time.}

"You..." Nick had never seen the Boy outside of his dreams, but now
here he was in the... flesh? "I thought--"

{Nicolas, listen to me.} The voice of the spectral boy conveyed an
immediate sense of urgency, at least to the two who could hear him;
for Tracy, it was like watching a silent movie. 

"Who is he?" she whispered.

Sebastian shook his head, his mouth agape. "I have no idea..."

Nick's hand was still held fast in that of the Boy. {You cannot give
up, Nicolas,} the Boy was saying, {whatever comes, do you understand
me?}

{No,} Nick shook his head, not breaking eye contact. {None of this
makes any sense.}

{You must be strong, for your Family, for they will need you more
than ever in the coming years. You are the keystone.} The White-Blond
Boy looked back over his shoulder, seeing something Nick could not.
{My time here grows short. Hurry, Nicolas, before it's too late.}

"Wait!" Nick exclaimed aloud. "Who are you?"

{Who I am or who I was is not important now. All that matters is who
I will be.} The spectral boy looked towards the door of the apartment
building. {Go, Nicolas. Go now.} A strangled, piercing scream broke
the silence.

"Stay with Sebastian!" Nick shouted to his partner, and was inside
and halfway up the stairs before he spared a thought to realize that
the White-Blond Boy had disappeared. 

The door of Jameson's apartment was solidly locked, but no match for
a vampire with a strong shoulder, and Nick burst through the doorway,
teeth bared, fists balled, and taking a piece of the wall with him.

He was too late. 

The apartment was in shambles, torn and destroyed. Dangerously
sparking electrical wiring had been pulled out, pipes were broken and
spurting water all over the floor, furniture had been broken and
strewn about--the place had been gutted.

And in the midst of it all stood Kai, lank hair tumbling down over
his gaunt face, his thin lips pulling back from where they had been
buried in the rapist's throat to leer at his father, a rasping growl
escaping him with each heaving breath, the epitome of the vampire in
his natural habitat. He was a terrible sight to behold.

Nick was numb with sudden cold. "Kai..."

He dropped the torn body, blood still dripping from his snarling
mouth. Kai took one step towards his father...and then collapsed,
like a puppet whose every string has been cut, toppling over
Jameson's body and landing with his face in the water.




Part Nine

Limping on his one good leg, Sebastian swore up and down that he was
fine. "I'll take care of the body," he vowed through clenched teeth.
"Get Kai to the clinic." He covered them, watching for witnesses,
while they flew off, carrying Kai between them. Nick would just have
to come back for the car. Then he pulled a small device from an inner
pocket and flipped it on. It was not a cellular phone, but a simple
global positioning device. He was going to need some help on this
one...

*** 

Julian was nowhere to be found when they reached the clinic.
Instead, Leda's brother Leif took brisk charge of the wilted body.
"You'll stay here, Detective Vetter?" he asked shortly. She was in no
condition to go anywhere. Wordlessly, Tracy nodded. There was a
blank, deadened expression on her face that did not bode well at all,
and Leif figured he'd have her on his hands before long. "Good.
Detective Knight, I believe you have a wife?"

"You know I do."

"Then go to her. There's nothing you can do here."

"I have to go get my car--"

"It's been taken care of, as has the scene of the fight." As his
capable hands worked, Leif's face had a tight, satisfied quality to
it that made Nick suddenly regret he'd left the son and the nephew of
Enforcers on clean-up duty.

"Will he live?"

The doctor shook his blond head. "I wish I knew."

*** 

Sebastian dumped the last can of accelerant over Jameson's body.
"Monaghan, you finish opening the gas pipes?"

A stocky young man shoved a lock of wild black hair behind one ear
and gave a last tug with his wrench. "That's the last of 'em."

"Good, then let's get the hell out of here."

Corona had taken Nick's car back to his loft. Now he came back, and
helped Sebastian out of the building. "You'll need t' have that
looked at, lad," said the grey-haired Scotsman blandly as they
crossed the street and hobbled into an alley. Monaghan promptly
climbed up the brick building as nimble as a spider, while Corona
flew his injured comrade to the roof. "Run along, Monaghan, and tell
the sawbones we're comin'." The enosh nodded, and began hopping from
rooftop to rooftop en route to the Eidolon. 

The vampire leaned Sebastian against a convenient air vent. Then he
pulled a flare gun from his jacket, aimed, and fired through a window
into Jameson's apartment. Then he scooped Sebastian up and flew as
fast as he could, pushed along by the heat from the blast.

In three minutes the building was engulfed in flames.

*** 

Moving quietly, Nick sat down on the edge of Natalie's bed. Even
asleep, the worried look on her face would not fade away. He touched
her face.

She shifted slightly, her eyes opening wide at the sight of him.
Nick gathered her up into a fierce hug. "Hey," she murmured,
surprised. Their bond trembled with Nick's effort to suppress some
fierce emotion. "Nick, what's happened?"

Nick ran his fingers through his wife's chestnut curls. "You're safe
now," he whispered, kissing her tenderly.

"And Kai?" Natalie searched Nick's face. "Oh, Nick..."

He wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her hair and
began crying, deep racking sobs that echoed down their spines and
shattered them both.

*** 

The Raven was quiet, the music for once silenced by the outpouring
of grief in the Community. The few patrons clustered around the bar,
talking quietly.

Upstairs, a pair of boyish vampires huddled together, silently
crying, while a small spaniel tried to comfort them by licking away
their tears. 

In the darkened sound booth, a pale slash of a man listened as the
last notes of a mournful song died away. Slowly, he reached out and
switched on the microphone.

"We are always willing to make sacrifices," the Nightcrawler mused,
"to save ourselves. Our property, our family... our integrity and
self-respect. It is... human nature, to let others die for our
principles. But it is a rare soul who will abandon not only his life
but his beliefs, to save another." There was a pause. The
Nightcrawler took a deep breath. "Sic transit gloria mundi."

LaCroix turned off the microphone.

~Finis--August 15th, 2004~