This is a dark Christmas tale.  I have labeled the story as adult
for sexual situations which might be borderline though I hope, never
crude.  Unlike any of my other pieces, this one takes place sometime
after the second season ended.  Season three doesn't happen here. 
Permission granted to archive at the usual sites.

Vanessa St. Denis
dragonlady4@home.com

Silent Night (1/9)

     Silent night.  All was finally calm but she didn't feel
particularly bright.  Natalie stretched, arching her aching back and
surveyed the damage. Actually it wasn't all that bad considering she
had just crammed over 30 some odd people into her flat for what she
privately referred to as the first annual "Natalie Lambert Christmas
Lonely Hearts Yuletide Buffet". 'God, you sound so pathetic,' she
chided herself disgustedly as she picked up a forgotten plastic cup
and brushed the cookie crumbs off the top of the glass end table and
on to the floor with a careless flick of her hand.

     This was not the first time Natalie had found herself alone for
the Christmas holidays but this year was infinitely worse.  This
holiday season marked the end of yet another year of devastating loss.
Last year she had lost her only sibling, her brother Richard, not just
once but twice.  This year it had been the brutal murder of her
godchild. Around the first of December she decided she could either
wallow in abject misery alone or she could open her home and hearth to
others who, like herself, found themselves without family for the
holidays. Judging by the way her guest list had grown dramatically
from less than a dozen to nearly 3 dozen it became quite apparent that
being alone for the holidays wasn't really that unusual a phenomenon
anymore.  The dinner party had been a lot of work, but everyone had
enthusiastically pitched in and contributed a favorite holiday dish
that reminded them of home and happier times. There had been plenty of
good food, drink and old-fashioned holiday cheer. And thanks to the
nameless genius who had invented disposable plates, cups and utensils,
the aftermath wasn't all that bad.  Of course what her cleaning
service was going to say come the day after Christmas was another
matter all together.

     Yes, hosting a party had been infinitely better than sitting
around feeling sorry for herself she conceded as she unearthed yet
another paper plate shoved under the couch.  With so much activity
going on she'd been far too busy to become maudlin.  And even if she
had drowned her sorrows in an overindulgence of fattening holiday food
and spirits she at least hadn't had to do it alone.  Besides, she knew
that, even if they couldn't be there with her, there were people
thinking about her.   Many of her guests were not so fortunate, she
reminded herself sternly as her eyes swept over her mantle full of
gaily-colored greeting cards and the burgeoning pile of beribboned
presents that crowded around her tree.  Still, nothing made up for
being away from family and loved ones at this time of year, she
reflected wearily. No, nothing made up for the absence of a loved one.

       She had of course invited Nick to spend the holidays with her
as she did every year.  And as he had in every year past, he had
politely declined her invitation.  She knew from experience that Nick
had a difficult time with all the religious holidays. Hell, Nick had a
difficult time with anything that hinted at love, family or home
Natalie admitted as she knelt down and extracted one particularly
heavy, rectangular package, obviously a book, from under the tree and
read the card: To Nat From Nick.  No 'love, Nick' not even the usual
innocuous 'with affection'.   Nick had dropped the gift off at the
front desk of the morgue with the security guard yesterday evening
after booking off for the night.  It rankled that he hadn't even
bothered delivering it to her himself.

     'You're doing it again, Lambert,' she scolded herself silently
realizing that she was once again attempting to rationalize her anger.
It was all so much more complicated than the fact that Nick had sent
her a ubiquitous, one-size-fits-all, we're-just-friends Christmas
present.  The fact was, deep in her heart, Natalie could not forgive
Nick for not loving her. She still burned with humiliation every time
she was forced to recall their confrontation several months ago.
Chaos had seized the city and its inhabitants, both mortal and
immortal.  Almost everyone believed that the world was going to end,
destroyed by a rogue asteroid. With nothing left to loose she had
realized with sudden clarity that when it came to her feelings
concerning Nick she had been a fool and a coward.  She had finally
faced the fact that she had been guilty of using her humanity as a
wedge between herself and Nick.  It had always been easier to cling to
her mortality that he so worshipped than risk his rejection of her as
a woman.   And so she had gone to him and opened her heart, promising
him all the things she'd always been afraid to give.

     But Nick had refused her and Natalie discovered that there were
indeed far worse things than dying.  In her pain and humiliation she
had done the unthinkable, she had offered herself to another vampire
and she had almost ended up as the miserable thrall of a totally
repulsive monster.  It was Nick who had saved her from herself and
that unspeakable fate.  Because as it turned out, he had been right,
it was all a hoax, the world wasn't going to end.

     But then again, maybe her world had ended.  The following night,
in an attempt to save face, she had donned her best ice queen persona
and informed him that he had been right not to bring her across.  It
hadn't been a lie.  In reality she meant what she said. She had been
grateful, was grateful still.  She was grateful because it would have
been hell to live forever knowing that he did not and could not love
her.

      Natalie glared at the insultingly impersonal package clenched in
her hands.  For a moment she rebelliously considered opening it even
though it was not quite midnight and therefore not legitimately
Christmas morning.   But this was one time that Natalie had to admit
that in spite of everything, she was a hopeless traditionalist so she
put the package back with a heavy sigh. Besides as an equally hopeless
romantic she could, at least for tonight, dream that the book was a
lover's gift, something breathtakingly passionate or heartbreakingly
sentimental.

     Natalie rose and began to roam about the room turning off lights
until the only illumination came from faint glow of the dying embers
in the hearth and the tiny twinkling bulbs festooning her Christmas
tree. It was strange how eerily silent an empty room could become. Not
a creature was stirring; not even Sydney who was spending the evening
with his 'Auntie' Grace whose small family gathering was deemed to be
less stressful for the pampered and somewhat neurotic feline.   She
heard a gentle clink and only just managed to catch a half-empty
bottle of champagne that someone had left next to the armchair.  She
could try to find the cork, but the wine would go flat regardless.
'Might as well drink it,' she decided.  She carried the bottle with
her into the kitchen and retrieved one of her good wineglasses out of
the cabinet.  She never used her crystal or china or silver because
she was always saving it for a special occasion. Funny how after all
these years that special occasion never came and all of her beautiful
things sat forlornly on the shelf collecting dust.  'Just like me,'
she toasted herself fighting the stinging tears of self-pity pricking
her eyelids.

     Natalie flipped off the light switch as she slunk out of the
kitchen and back into the living room.  The clock on her mantle began
to sonorously toll the hour of midnight and she began counting down
the hours with each heartbeat.  Then just as the clock struck twelve
the French doors to her balcony burst open and blast of icy wind
gusted into the room billowing the sheer curtains like ghostly arms
that seemed to reach for her in the darkness. The air was bone
chilling and full of sharp shards of ice that stung like nettles
against her hands and face.  Natalie hurriedly set her glass down on
the end table and fought her way across the room to the doors. She
struggled past the clammy, clinging draperies until she managed to
grasp brass handles so cold they burned the skin on the palms of her
hands.  Panting with exertion she put her full weight against the
doors and finally pushed them closed, latching them securely against
the maelstrom. Heart pounding Natalie leaned weakly against the doors
and parted the curtains to peer out into the darkness.  But there was
nothing to see. The moon was full and bright and the stars sparkled
serenely in the heavens. All was calm, all was bright.

     "Damn it," she murmured aloud. There was no way she had imagined
what just happened.  Natalie kicked off her shoes and ran her bare
foot across the floor while tentatively fingering the drapes. The
carpet was definitely damp and the curtains hung limp, heavy with
moisture. Trembling with fear as well as cold, she backed warily away
from the balcony doors. Even her red silk blouse was soaked through
and through and the dank fabric clung to her skin like lascivious
hands, cupping her breasts, clinging to her sides and molding itself
to her stomach. "What the hell is going on?" she wondered out loud as
she rubbed at the gaggle of goose bumps that were erupting on both
arms.   Natalie reached out a shaky hand to turn on the nearby table
lamp and felt a second blast of icy air penetrate the room.  She
gasped as it first battered and then seemed to plunge through her.
For one awful moment the cold wasn't around her it was inside of her,
alien and yet somehow seductively sexual.   Her mind reeled with
terror but her body eagerly resonated with desire poised for one
heartbeat between agony and ecstasy.

     Natalie stumbled forward and rechecked the doors to the balcony
assuring herself that they were still tightly shut and locked.
Everything was secure.  But where had the wind come from?  Sh e
grabbed her wineglass, her teeth chattering against the crystal as she
gulped lukewarm champagne that had all but lost its effervescence. It
tasted terrible and did little to warm her flesh or calm her jangled
nerves. What she needed right now wasn't stale wine; she needed a real
drink followed by a hefty chaser of reality.

     The click of a doorknob and the almost imperceptible creaking of
her front door opening froze her in her tracks.  Natalie was positive
that she had locked the door after her last guest had left.  Someone
was breaking into her apartment on Christmas.  Of course, her rattled
brain gibbered idiotically, there was always the futile chance that
maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong to give up on Santa Claus at the
tender age of six.  Natalie turned slowly, her heart contracting in
painful anticipation. There in the doorway was the tall, broad-
shouldered silhouette of a man backlit by the harsh hallway light, the
long shadow extending into the room almost touching her. Even though
she couldn't see his face, she recognized the stance and the gleam of
light off dark golden hair.  Natalie grasped onto the back of the
nearest chair to keep herself from collapsing, her knees suddenly weak
with heartfelt relief. It might not be Saint Nick but at least it was
Nick Knight.


Silent Night (2/9)

Part 2

    "Nick," she gasped as she tried to remember how to breathe again,
"what are you doing here?"

    Part of her was relieved but part of her was bristling with
righteous indignation.  How dare he show up now?

     "You said you weren't coming tonight.  That you were busy," she
said already suspecting the truth. She had no doubts where and how he
had probably spent his evening.

     She waited for him to respond but he remained standing silently
in the doorway, a shadowy form clad only in shirt and slacks.   He
wasn't wearing his coat. Good, Lord, he wasn't even wearing any shoes!
Normally Nick was meticulous when it came to maintaining his illusion
of humanity.  Whatever had possessed him to go gallivanting about half
dressed in temperatures well below freezing?   Of course if he had
been in the company of vampires, why would he need to bother with
human conventionalities?  And why be encumbered by clothing at all if
he had spent the evening in the arms of a particularly comely vampire
of the opposite sex?

     "I take it Janette grew weary of your company so you figured
you'd drop in on good old reliable Nat?" she accused, crossing her
arms defensively.

     "I'm here because you invited me," he reminded her softly.

     "I invited you to my dinner party which, as you can see, is
over," she replied testily.

     "Am I no longer welcome then?"

     "No, no of course you are," she relented ashamed that she was so
starved for his attention and his company that she would gladly accept
whatever meager crumbs he was willing to offer after Janette had had
the best of him.  That part of him that he had always been unwilling
to share with her.

     "Then you must bid me enter," Nick insisted calmly.

     "All right, come in, enter, whatever," she said her voice raw
with exasperation.  "What on earth is the matter with you?  You're
acting particularly strange even for you."

     "Am I frightening you?" he inquired as he stepped across her
threshold.

     "No, of course not," she lied.  But the fact was he was
frightening her.  There was something different about him tonight;
something dangerous and fey.  She remembered the night after they
first met.  They had passed each other on a dark, deserted street. He
had brushed up against her ever so slightly, testing her to see if she
remembered the corpse that had miraculously come back to life in the
morgue.  He had warned her about getting too close to him and she had
asked him if he wanted to hurt her, kill her.  His reply had been,
'no, but I might anyway.'  She hadn't been afraid then.  In fact up
until now she'd never been afraid of him. But tonight, for the first
time, Natalie was acutely aware of the fact that Nick Knight was
indeed something very different from herself.

     He stalked into the room, pushing the door closed behind him.
Natalie jumped slightly as the door to the hallway swung close with a
definitive thump plunging the apartment back into near darkness,
illuminated only by the incongruously merry tree lights. She couldn't
see him, she couldn't hear him but she could feel him prowling about
the living room. She felt his breath tickle her ear from behind and it
took all of her willpower not to cry out. He buried his fingers into
the tangled disarray of her hair, cupping the back of her head. She
shuddered as Nick bent, nuzzling her nape of her neck gently like a
great cat taking her scent. Then his hands slid down over her
shoulders then down both arms and up again.

     "Nick, don't, please," she whimpered as one hand slid expertly
across her chest while the other found it's way to just below her
waist and pressed her body back against his.

     "Are you afraid?" he breathed.

     He'd asked her that exact same question before and yet she could
not remember where or when. She wondered what her answer had been
then.  She knew what her answer was now.

     "Yes, I am afraid," she gasped.

     The hand that had been cupped about her shoulder suddenly seized
her by the throat forcing her head up and back, compelling her to look
up into his eyes.  His grip was inexorable but not painful, yet.
Natalie had no doubts that this was Nick's less than subtle way of
demonstrating his superior strength.  He was making it abundantly
clear that if he wanted to he could snap her neck as easily as she
could a dry twig.

     "What are you afraid of?" he demanded his hand on her throat
tightening ever so slightly, his eyes glittering dangerously, "tell
me."

     "Afraid you'll stop, damn you" she admitted in shameful
surrender.

     His mouth came down on hers, hard, assaulting her with a ferocity
that both terrified and excited her.  Gone was the veneer of
restraint, the thin veil of humanity he always affected.  He was
hunger and she was all that he desired.  He forced her lips apart
devouring her mouth, sucking the breath from her body.   His cruel
urgency and naked need were all consuming.   If only he loved her,
Natalie knew she would willingly embrace his darkness or die in the
attempt.

     If only..

     But he didn't love her.  She knew he didn't love her.  It wasn't
love that quickened this brutal passion but cruel contempt.  In a
sudden burst of clarity or perhaps primal self-preservation Natalie
remembered the words she had tried so hard to forget.

     "I do not love this woman."

     Natalie went rigid.  Nick ceased his relentless attack on her
senses, freeing her mouth.  But he would not release her.

     "Stop it, Nick," Natalie commanded through bruised and swollen
lips.

     "Why," he taunted, "I thought this was what you wanted."

     "I said stop it," she repeated trying to steady her breathing as
his lips left a trail of feather-soft kisses down the column of her
throat.

     "Ah, I was right," Nick groaned with grim pride as he let the
tips of his fangs graze her throat.  "You do remember.  LaCroix
underestimated your strength, your will. He could not take from you
that which you would not willingly give."

     Nick loosened his hold on her just enough to allow her to twist
out of his arms.  She was shaking uncontrollably but her fury served
as a counterbalance to her terror.  Memories kept boiling and rising
to the surface of her consciousness, bursting before she could fully
grasp their meaning.  Something having to do with last Valentine's
Day.  A romantic rendezvous gone disastrously wrong.  A tall, lean
dangerous stranger with silvery blond hair and eyes as cold and pale
as titanium.  Nick proclaiming he did not love her.

     "You're so wrong," she denied vehemently, "I'd willingly part
with those memories.  I don't want them.  How you must have enjoyed
manipulating me, toying with my emotions, my mind."

     "I thought I knew what was best: best for you; best for me; best
for us," Nick replied stonily.

     "Us?  What about us?  There is no us!  Oh, how amused you must
have been when months later I was foolish enough to beg you to bring
me across," she accused with a brittle laugh.

   "Foolish, no, afraid yes.  I knew that it was fear not desire that
drove you.  You will never understand how sorely you tempted me when
you said that you were finally willing to give me everything that you
had been holding back," he responded ruefully.

     "And what about you, Nick?" she retaliated.  "Weren't you afraid
too? Afraid of having to endure an eternity of, what did you call it,
my infatuation?"

   "You're right, I was afraid.  I was afraid of losing you.  I
couldn't bear the thought of letting you die but how could I destroy
you by making you what I am? Then when you came to me and told me I
was right not to bring you across realized I had lost you anyway," he
shot back angrily.

     "But I was never yours to lose, Nick," she retorted.

     "Ah," he replied bitterly as he began to pace restlessly, "never
mine? Perhaps not.  No matter," he sighed as he stopped, stooping to
retrieve his present to her from beneath the tree. He weighed the
package, contemplatively then rose and turned towards her. "I came
here tonight to offer to help you reclaim all of your memories of
those hours we spent together.  But you have made in emphatically
clear that you do not want my gift or me.  I had anticipated this
reaction and so I offer you this in its place."

     "What is it?" she asked stonily.

     "You'll have to open it and find out," he said placing the heavy
parcel in her hands and then going to stand by the fire watching her
with the intensity of the predator that he was.

     Natalie held the package warily at arm's length and walked
woodenly over to the couch.  She sat down and placed the box down on
the coffee table with exaggerated care regarding it with as much
distrust as she did the giver who remained standing opposite her
absently prodding the embers with a poker all the while observing her
every move.  Nick's intense scrutiny was having its desired effect and
Natalie found herself trembling as her nerveless fingers divested the
object of its silver and gold wrappings.  It wasn't the book she had
been expecting. It was a wooden box, an exquisite wooden box: Italian
and obviously very old.  The entire surface was inlaid with a myriad
variety of contrasting pieces of wood forming an intricate design and
yet the surface was as smooth as glass.  It was a thing of great value
and beauty and yet there was something unsettling about the pattern.
And then she realized what it was. Instead of twisting vines and
ornate flowers, the tortuous, serpentine shapes were fantastical
agonized figures devouring each other greedily.   Natalie's eyes
widened in shock as the horrific design seemed to reach out and pull
her into it's demented world.  She stifled her cry of revulsion as she
jerked to her feet. The box tumbled onto the carpeted floor with a
muffled thud and the lid flipped open disgorging its sole content: a
long slender object ominously swathed in black silk.

     "Pick it up," Nick commanded.

     "No, I can't.  I won't," she said shakily regarding the
mysterious contents of the box with overwhelming dread.

     Nick flung the poker down on the hearth and closed the space
between them in two great strides.   He grabbed Natalie by her right
arm, his fingers digging into her flesh through the flimsy fabric of
her blouse.  It all happened so quickly that Natalie was aware of the
pain he was inflicting long before she perceived the sound of the
brass poker clattering noisily against the brick hearth.  Somehow he
had retrieved the sinister object and he now held it just inches in
front of her face.

     "Take it!" he commanded.

     Natalie cringed away from him, but he was relentless.   Nick
thrust the object into her right hand and then seized her left hand,
forcing it over her right, crushing her fingers, oblivious to her weak
cries of protest.  In her ineffectual struggles, the silk fell away
like limp, dead black petals, revealing it's mysterious hard core.
Natalie gaped in shock.  It was only a piece of wood, no more than 12
inches long at most and yet it radiated an evil that was palpable.
The shaft thrusting up from the silken wrappings like an obscene
erection was smooth and pale with a wickedly sharpened end.   Natalie
kept trying to tell herself that it was just a piece of wood, perhaps
an old French variation on the coal and switches theme. And then the
truth hit her like an epiphany of terror.  It was a stake, a weapon
for destroying a vampire, a weapon for destroying Nick.




Silent Night (3/9)

    "You seem shocked," Nick chuckled callously.

     "I, I don't understand," she stammered.

     "No, of course not, but then you never did," he jeered.  "Yes,
dear Dr. Lambert, it is time for us both to accept what I am.  Your
ineffectual efforts on my behalf have been mildly amusing, but they
have begun to pall.  It is time for me to embrace my true nature and
claim what is mine. You, after all, were the one who was foolish
enough to invite a vampire into your home, into your life.  Surely you
always knew that there was only one possible conclusion to our
charming but brief association?   You must destroy me or else I will
most assuredly destroy you," he stated with mock regret as he kissed
her lightly, tauntingly.  "I will drink your blood to appease my
hunger, I will steal your life to warm my body, but what shall I do
with your soul?  Shall I take that also or shall I leave it to
heaven?"

     "Nick, please, don't do this," Natalie whispered hoarsely as she
tried to pull way from him.

     "You are so very lovely, my sweet, but I wonder is there any
passion within you or is your radiance merely an illusion?  You have
always been so aloof, so cold, so indifferent.  Was I ever more to you
than a medical curiosity, a freakish monstrosity, a laboratory
specimen to prod and probe?   Is there any fire in your blood, or is
it as anemic as your emotions?  Is your blood rich with life or frigid
with virginal virtue?  I ask myself how such a bloodless creature
could ever be a fit consort, a worthy companion to light my eternity. 
I really wonder that I should want you at all," he pondered
contemptuously as he let go of her.

     Natalie sobbed softly, backing away slowly.  "Please, Nick, just
leave."

     "No, my lovely Natalie, it is too late for that.  You must stop
me or I will take you.  I will drink your blood and I will drain you
of your pathetic life," he sighed with feigned regret as he moved
towards her.

     Natalie gasped as she stepped hastily back and collided with the
arm of the couch.  She flayed at thin air for the briefest of seconds
before completely losing her balance, falling awkwardly backwards.
Draped with the small of her back across the upholstered arm,
shoulders against the cushion, she struggled to push herself up but
her feet did not touch the floor and there was no way to leverage
herself up and away from the demon who now stood over her gloatingly.
Nick perched on the arm of the couch, pressing her back against the
cushions.  His eyes traveled the length of her body appraisingly and
he smiled wickedly into her eyes now grown incredibly wide with
terror.

     "If you mean to use that stake, my lovely, you'd best do it," he
drawled as he leaned over her, and ripped open her blouse, tearing the
fragile fabric.

     Natalie felt the blood rush to her face as Nick toyed with her
bra, an absurdly lacey and utterly ineffectual undergarment meant to
display and not contain. Inwardly she cursed herself for her
indulgence.  The flimsy bra and the nearly inconsequential matching
panties she was wearing had been the latest in a long string of
sexually suggestive gag gifts from her office mates.  It had started
on her 30th birthday with a black lace teddy that wouldn't even
properly cover an anorexic teenager and had continued to escalate in
outrageousness with each birthday. Nick examined the article of non-
clothing bemusedly and gazed down into her face, golden eyes gleaming.

    "Why, Dr. Lambert, you amaze me," he laughed softly as he
nonchalantly inserted one finger under the front closure and flipped
open the brassiere, freeing her breasts. "Ah," he breathed as he
cupped first one breast and then the other appreciatively, "So fair,
so very fair.   Your flesh is like ivory blushed with gold and rose.
Artists throughout the centuries attempted but failed to portray such
perfection on canvas or in cold marble.  How envious they would have
been to know that such loveliness would one day exist."

    Natalie trembled as she watched Nick's hands begin a slow and
intimate perusal of her body. It had been a long time, too long, since
any man had touched her. And yet as Nick continued to explore her body
with unconcealed fascination she had to admit that no one had ever
touched her like this before.

    He had such beautiful hands, strong yet sensitive with the long
tapered fingers of a musician. How often had she stood watching him,
moved almost to the brink of tears, as he had coaxed music of such
exquisite sweetness from the baby grand piano that dominated one end
of his loft?  She would watch in unabashed admiration as his hands
flew gracefully across the keyboard and would be embarrassed to find
that more often than not that she would catch herself imagining how
those hands would feel on her body.   But even in her darkest
fantasies she had never imagined that any man could play her body as
if it were the finest instrument of pleasure ever created.  Of coarse
Nick had almost a millenium of perfecting his technique both with
music and women.

    "Your skin is so soft, like rose petals," he murmured as he
discovered yet another erogenous zone that Natalie had never even
suspected she possessed.   She was loosing herself, drowning in
physical pleasure that she had never imagined possible.  On one level
she knew that giving in to Nick would mean certain death and yet on a
more primitive level she was sure she would die if he were to stop.
He had worked his way down and was stroking the subtle swell of her
abdomen through the fabric of her black velour jeans.  She groaned as
he undid the top snap and heard the sly whisper of the zipper being
undone.

    "Theologians have debated for centuries about what the forbidden
fruit of Eden actually was. Was it an apple?" he queried as he fondled
her right breast.  "Was it perhaps a pomegranate?" he asked
rhetorically as he turned his attentions to her left breast. "Well
I'll enlighten you, my darling, the forbidden fruit was Eve, the
Almighty's most perfect creation. When Adam gazed upon Eve he was
awakened to desire," Nick sighed as he peeled back the fabric of
Natalie's jeans exposing the velvety flesh of her belly as if it were
the legendary forbidden fruit of Eden. "Adam discovered what Jehovah
would have denied him: pleasure, passion, paradise," Nick said softly
as he caressed her silken softness turning unfathomable golden eyes
back to her face. "Adam tasted the forbidden fruit and it was sweet,
so very sweet. And for this discovery, he tasted death as well."

    Natalie groaned, moistening her lips nervously as Nick's hand
inexorably began to stroke and massage its way downward ever downward.

    "The way of the vampire is the only way to cheat a jealous,
joyless deity and the cruel fate he ordained for us all, my sweet
Natalie.  Surely you must see that. I fought it for so long, I was so
afraid of eternal damnation.  But we are all, all of us, already
damned.  Why not enjoy the pleasures of the flesh while we can?  And
if we can indefinitely forestall the inevitable retribution, then why
not?" he murmured as his fingers breached the ineffectual barrier of
lace that guarded her loins and slipped within her depths to test her
readiness, her receptiveness.

    Natalie gasped and writhed as an electrical current of pleasure
ignited along her nerves. She struggled against the sodden bonds of
her ruined blouse but found herself powerless and was ashamed but not
sorry.   Nick leaned over her and brushed away the hair that clung to
her flushed face.

    "Such exquisite response," he chuckled his breath teasing her ear
as he nibbled delicately at the lobe.  "If a mere touch can illicit
such passion, what might a kiss do?" he contemplated as he kissed her
leisurely on first one eyelid and then the other.  His cool lips
traced the contours of her face until they found her mouth.  He took
his time, exploring its warm depths before moving on.  His lips
teased, tantalized as he followed the same trail of discovery that his
wandering hands had blazed.  She felt herself descending into an ever-
darkening spiral as he sucked and nipped his way down her body.

     Natalie abandoned any pretense of hesitancy or pride or fear. She
no longer felt the chill of the room, in fact she felt as though she
were burning with fever and the only relief was the cool caress of
Nick's hands and mouth on her body.  She offered no resistance when
his long, slender fingers once again found their way to the place
between her thighs. He began to stroke her rhythmically, penetrating
deeper, ever deeper until she felt herself disappear and become all
sensation.  It was if the entire universe was collapsing, being drawn
into a dark secret center of sensuality that she had denied all of her
life.  All that ever was and ever would be was becoming concentrated
within her, embodied deep and growing with every beat of her heart.

     "I've tried so to protect you from what I am. But it's too late. 
Too late for both of us," Nick's voice seemed to sound within her mind
as his lips continued their relentless assault of her flesh.

     Her mind screamed not to surrender to this shameful
lasciviousness but her body and her heart had hungered for too long
and she wantonly welcomed this unholy ravishment. She moaned with
anticipation, longing for release and yet loath to stop the escalation
of sensations, perversely desiring to test the limits of sexual
pleasure never before imagined little lone felt.  Sensing her
reluctance and misinterpreting her resistance, Nick retaliated by
intensifying his siege.  His tongue flicked at her navel in perfect
rhythm with the deeper, darker penetration being perpetrated by his
hand.  She was no longer spiraling downward but rather propelled into
a realm of sexual free-fall, exhilaratingly liberated from everything
but the intensity of the moment.  If Nick felt the punishing violence
of her muscles as they constricted about his fingers, he gave no sign.
His only response was to slow his strokes until they matched her
contractions, prolonging and deepening the force of her orgasm.

     "So you were never mine?" he scoffed as he withdrew his hand.
"Liar. You have always been mine."

     "Yes," she whispered huskily as the delicious waves wracking her
body began to recede like the ebbing tide, "always yours."  Natalie
strained to lift her head to look down the length of her body.  Her
flesh glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration punctuated with
diminutive cabochons of blood scattered like delicate strands of
rubies from a broken necklace. She watched in mute fascination as
Nick's mouth continued to rove over her body, his tongue chill and
moist as he meticulously supped on the droplets, savoring the dark
secrets her blood offered up before kissing the wounds and moving on.

     Natalie struggled and finally freed one arm.  She reached out
shakily until her fingertips brushed against the burnished gold of his
tousled hair.  Sighing weakly she stoked the silken softness tenderly
and spoke his name.  He looked up into her face, his eyes still
smoldering with suppressed lust as he licked the last beads of blood
from her body. The creature she had once known as Nick Knight
responded with a growl and pulled away from her.  She searched in vane
for any hint of humanity, any suggestion of gentleness but found none
in those burning feral eyes. She saw only the vampire.





Silent Night (4/9)

Part 4

    He rose with sinuous grace and stood over her with the casual
arrogance of a conqueror.  At some point he had shed his shirt and his
flesh glowed with a hard nacreous luster.  He was as perfect and
remote as a statue, he was beautiful death and he had come for her.
Her heart thrashed against the confines of her ribs like a small
frenzied bird frantic to escape its cage. Natalie reached out her left
hand in mute supplication while her right hand continued to
miraculously clasp the smooth wooden stake with fingers clenched so
tightly they were numb and no longer capable of independent movement.

     Nick regarded her outstretched hand for a moment before snatching
her by her forearm and pulling her to her feet effortlessly.   Weak
with dread, Natalie's legs refused to support her weight and she
sagged helplessly against him.  Nick caught her by the wrists and
brought her arms up, entwining them about his neck.  She gasped as she
felt the full length of her partially stripped body come in contact
with his naked flesh for the first time.  Her breasts were crushed
against the hard muscles of his chest and her belly quivered as he
reached down and took her by the hips, grinding her against the taut
plane of his lower abdomen so that she could feel the enormity of his
arousal.  She moaned and clung to him, her heated flesh melding into a
body as unyielding and as cold as polished marble.

     "Why won't you fight?  Don't you realize that you will forfeit
your life, your very soul?" he demanded harshly.

     "I can't help it," she conceded with a little sob, "I love you
and I can't seem to stop."

     "You can't mean that.  How can you love me when you know I will
destroy you?" he snarled as his one hand caught her under her chin and
forced her head up so that she would be forced to confront him as he
truly was.  Instead of fear in her lovely eyes he saw only acceptance
and infinite love.

     "But I do, Nick.  I know I've been afraid in the past, afraid of
so many things but I can't go on being afraid of the truth."

     "And what is the truth?" he demanded.

     "That I am mortal and I am going to die.  But I have a choice on
when and how.  And I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would
rather die tonight, in your arms, because I dared to love you than die
a little bit with every passing day over a mortal eternity of long,
lonely, empty years wanting you," she said as a single glittering tear
coursed down her cheek.  She waited in vain for a response to her
declaration, but the creature that wore Nick's face continued to
regard her with a stony disdain.  Natalie let her arms drop from
around his neck. The stake still clenched tightly in her right hand
coming to rest against his breast against his heart.

     "Save yourself, you pathetic fool," the relentless voice of
reason screamed inside her brain, "do it, do it now!"  But she could
no more obey her instinct for survival than plunge the stake into his
flesh. Standing on tiptoe she reached up and pressed her lips against
the vein in his neck.  There was no pulse but she heard his sharp
intake of breath as her teeth grazed his skin ever so tentatively.
When he made no voluntary response to her overtures she let her lips
drift down to his breast.  She teased at his nipple with her tongue
and when she felt it become erect, she escalated to lips and teeth.
Nick rocked gently backwards and her left hand stole down to the
inviting bulge between his legs and she began to stroke him using the
rhythm of her blood.    She heard him gasp and knew it was from desire
and not reticence so she redoubled her concentration on that part of
his anatomy hoping that a vampire would be as vulnerable as a human
male.

    "No, please, stop," he groaned as if in mortal pain.  " I cannot
withstand you a moment more. Please stop, you are killing me,' he
begged as he gently removed her hand from his crotch and raised it
back up again.

    "I love you," he whispered into her hair, " I have always loved
you and always will. But this love cannot be.  We cannot be.  I
thought that if I let you see me as I truly am that you would be
repulsed, horrified.  I hoped that once you truly understood your
jeopardy that you would do the mortal thing, that you would choose
self-preservation.  But I should have known that the purity of your
soul, the courage of your heart would always and forever be beyond
evil.  Beyond me," he sighed in resignation.

    "Nick, you said you loved me.  That's all I need to hear. That's
all I ever needed to hear," she cried as she stood up on tiptoes to
kiss him hesitantly on the lips.

    "And the last thing I needed to say," he groaned.  "Nat, this has
to end.  I came here tonight to make an ending.  I chose tonight
because it is a special night. It is a night when the sanctity and
holiness normally constrained within the confines of temple and church
are free to permeate all the earth, all creation.  It is a night when
the minions of darkness must bow low and must cease their rebellion
against the Light of the World.  The vampire is most vulnerable at
times like these, his powers drastically diminished.  Even one such as
LaCroix feels the effects.

    "Tonight made it possible for me to convince LaCroix that I was
ready to move on.  He believed me because he was, at least
temporarily, unable to read my thoughts. I had to wait until I knew
he'd left Toronto before I came here.  I couldn't risk him even
suspecting I might have lied.  He' s gone on ahead, Nat, and he waits
for me.  But he waits in vain.  I will not go to him, not ever again."

    "But Nick that's wonderful," she murmured happily.

    "Yes, wonderful," he agreed softly regarding her with eyes now as
guilelessly blue as spring iris. "It is wonderful that after almost
800 years I have finally learned how to love and be loved.  More
wonderful still that I have finally found the strength to do what is
right." he crooned as he gently caressed her right hand.  "Wonderful,"
he murmured as he bent to press his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

    Natalie opened to him like a flower.  Here at last was Nick, her
Nick, the man she had always loved.  His kiss was sweet: chaste and
yet passionate speaking volumes and she yielded to him as his left arm
encircled her waist and pulled her to him possessively.

    "I will love you always," he breathed into her mouth as he crushed
her to him.

    Natalie would have screamed if his embrace had not silenced her.
She felt cold, viscous blood spurt as the stake penetrated his breast.
Natalie tried to pull away but he only grasped her closer thrusting
the stake deeper into his body.  Her stiff, paralyzed fingers slipped
from the stake's smooth surface now grown incredibly slick with blood
as Nick staggered away from her. She glanced down in horror at her
empty fist frozen in a ruddy 'O' perfectly mimicking her silent
scream.  She lunged for Nick, but he threw up an arm deflecting her
and sending her reeling into the coffee table in front of the sofa.
Luckily the table was a flimsy piece that had been in the apartment
when she had moved in.  It was nothing more than a cheap veneer over
particleboard and it gave easily with the force of her fall.   Shaken
and bruised but not truly injured she extricated herself from the
debris and watched in mute horror as Nick stumbled haltingly across
the room to the doors opening on to the balcony.




Silent Night (5/9)

Part 5

    Time froze.  Nick was not the first vampire that Natalie had seen
staked.  The first vampire she had seen destroyed in that manner was
her beloved brother, Richard. Being newly crossed Richard's body had
disintegrated into nothingness instantaneously when the stake had
penetrated his heart. The second vampire she had seen destroyed with a
stake to the heart was Spark.  Even though Spark was relatively young
by vampire standards he had not simply and conveniently decomposed.
In fact, the memory of his bloodied, black-clad body sprawled across
the pristine expanse of snowy white bed linens was indelibly engraved
in her mind.  In deference to her mortal sensibilities and the
imperative to preserve the secret of his kind, Nick had disposed of
the remains by taking Spark's corpse to a secluded rooftop where the
dawn's first rays had eradicate the 'evidence'.

    Nick had existed for almost a millenium.  He stood in front of the
French doors slightly hunched grasping the end of the stake embedded
in his chest with his right hand, his left clutching the draperies.
He hesitated for less than a heartbeat and then yanked on the fabric
pulling the drapes down, ripping them from their hooks.  A groan of
utter despair escaped her lips as the remains of the curtains drifted
silently to the floor.  Natalie understood perfectly the implications
of what Nick was about to do.  He was once again ensuring that the
rising sun would obliterate any evidence of a vampire's demise.

    As he crumpled to his knees, time began again and she ran to his
side, catching him as best as she could, cushioning his fall and
making sure he did not drive the stake any further into his body.  She
wrapped her arms around him in a desperate hug as his head lolled back
against her shoulder.  His eyes were misty, unfocused and he smiled at
her almost dreamily as a thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner
of his mouth.

    "LaCroix knew I was lying that night at Azure," he whispered as
one hand brushed weakly at the tears staining her cheeks. "Why didn't
you?"

    "Nick, don't you dare leave me, not like this," she demanded her
anger masking the pain of the truth.  Because he was right, she should
have known, she should have had faith in him.

     "But I have to. It's the only way I know how to leave you.  You
see I finally realized that if I lost you the way LaCroix lost my
sister, the pain would drive me to the same extremes.  I would become
just like him.  And even one LaCroix in the world is one too many,
don't you think?" he sighed ruefully as his eyes fluttered then shut
and he went limp in her arms.

    Shaking uncontrollably she eased his body down on to the floor.
Trembling fingers now ruddy with his blood reached out to touch the
tousled hair at his forehead and then stopped.  Just because he'd
given up didn't mean she was ready to let him go.   A stake to the
heart did not instantaneously cause the true death.  In fact,
according to her surreptitious study of vampire myth and lore over the
years, it did not guarantee death at all, only incapacitation.  Until
his body crumbled to dust, she would not give up. Besides, if she were
wrong, there would be plenty of time to mourn later; an eternity, in
fact.

    "You have no right to make this decision for both of us," she said
through gritted teeth, letting the potent combination of anger and
adrenaline shock her into action. "I won't let you leave me, you
insufferable, presumptuous bastard," she muttered as she stripped off
the tattered remains of her blouse and bra and wrapped the fabric
around the stake.

    In his mortal life Nick had been trained in most effective ways to
kill an enemy.   He had thrust the stake at an angle up under the
sternum so that the barrier of his ribs had provided no obstruction to
his deadly intent.  It was a tactic that also ensured a warrior would
be able to easily wrench free his weapon with no damage to the blade. 
Removal would not prove to be any more difficult for a forensic
pathologist well-versed in lethal weapons, both mundane and exotic.
"Bet you forgot to take that in to consideration, you conceited son-
of-a-bitch," she swore at him under her breath as with one swift,
seamless pull she freed the stake from its sheath of flesh.

    Nick's body convulsed and went rigid, his back arching.  Natalie
heard a strangled gasp as his body went slack once more but she wasn't
sure who had uttered it.  She wanted to interpret his body's reaction
to the stake's removal as a good sign but as she watched the blood
ooze out of the gaping hole in his chest, she felt her heart being
crushed under the cruel weight of impervious reality.  And then she
witnessed a phenomenon so miraculous, so incredible that she once
again dared to hope.  The blood was being absorbed back through the
wound. Nick's body was reclaiming the precious fluid. 'Of course,' she
breathed.  So this was how it happened. It was incredible, the doctor
within her observed.  It was miraculous, the woman in love exulted.

    She had observed this anomaly twice before when Nick had been
grievously injured but had never been able to explain it.  That night
when they had first brought his lifeless body to the morgue. There had
been blood, so much blood.  It had seeped from the body bag as they
had moved him from the gurney, pooling on the shiny surface of the
examination table. And yet, when she had finally found the courage to
examine her latest 'customer', there had hardly been any blood on him
or in the bag or on the table.  Had it not been for the drained
pouches of pilfered blood still littering the floor after he had
disappeared back into the night, she might have yielded to his
hypnotic suggestion that she forget everything that had happened.

    And then there was Litovuterine debacle.  Nick had squandered his
one day in the sun and had ended up with what should have been a
lethal bout of heartburn brought on by a deadly combination of
hotdogs, linguine, and several lead slugs.   Luckily the so-called
cure turned out to be no more than a quick fix.  She remembered when
she and half the precinct had found him.  She was so relieved that he
was still a vampire that she gave very little thought to the fact that
there had been no blood in the trunk in which his body had been
prematurely dumped. The next day, she had gone back to the place where
Nick had been shot to ensure that there was no evidence to contradict
his story about stowing aboard the mobster's car trunk.  At first she
thought she'd gone to the wrong location, but a quick phone call to
the loft confirmed that she had followed his directions perfectly.
Again, there was no blood.  Even more confounding was the absence of
ashes or scorch marks. Natalie had ample experience with the effects
of sunlight on vampire blood, it was not something one would easily
forget.  If the sun had been her willing accomplice there would have
been some signs of burning.

    And now, with the exception of the dried blood on her hands, there
was no sign of blood anywhere.  Natalie leaned over him, taking one
cold, still hand between her two and brought it to her lips staring
anxiously into his face intently watching for any sign of returning
consciousness. The flickering illumination from the dying embers
danced across his inert features and for an instant, Natalie thought
she saw movement.  She tried to say his name, but she seemed incapable
of speech.   She swallowed hard, and tried again.

    "Nick, please, please wake up," she rasped in a voice that she
would never have recognized as her own.  If he heard her, he gave no
response.  Apparently the illusion of movement had been just that, an
illusion only.  Still holding the back of his hand against her cheek
with one hand, she reached down with the other, placing it tremulously
above the wound, over his heart and discovered that eternity was
measured not by aeons but by minutes.  In fact eternity was precisely
10 minutes long.  That was how long she had to wait before she felt
Nick's heart lurch feebly beneath her fingers.

    Feeling lightheaded and almost giddy with relief she finally
remembered that she still needed to breathe.   As she removed her
hand, Natalie saw that while Nick's breast was still marred by a
dreadfully deep indentation, a fragile membrane now covered what had
once been a gaping wound. His body was beginning to repair itself.  He
was healing and he would awaken soon.  When he woke, however, he was
going to need blood.  What a wonderful revelation, not if he woke but
when he woke.

    Natalie gently placed his hand down at his side and got unsteadily
to her feet.  She staggered into the kitchen and tore open the door to
the refrigerator. Leftover odds and ends spilled out on to the floor
and were joined by any other items that had the misfortune to stand
between her and her objective.  Buried in the back of the refrigerator
secreted behind items so old that they could easily qualify for first
prize at a high school science fair was a precious horde of human
blood.

    This year she had been told on no uncertain terms that she would
be taking time off during the Christmas holidays.  No one, her
supervisor declared with misplaced benevolence, ever worked two
Christmases in a row. With nothing else to do other than mope, she had
decided to turn her enforced vacation in to a working holiday.   With
all the seasonal office parties and inevitable lapses in decorum among
her coworkers it had been child's play liberating the necessary
supplies from the biohazardous disposal at the morgue.  Before her
guests had arrived, Natalie had taken the precaution of hiding the
pouches well out of sight.  The bizarre stash had safely defied
detection.   Along with the two innocuous looking wine bottles she had
purchased from the abattoir in the vain hope that Nick would come to
the party after all, it made a tidy little cache of blood.  She could
only hope it would be enough.

    But what if it wasn't?  This was one area where Natalie's
expertise had been sorely limited by Nick's reticence to tell her any
more about his condition than what he thought pertinent to their
search for a cure. There was no way for her to know for sure if the
blood she had on hand would be enough.  And yet, it might be if she
were to cash in her secret insurance policy.  Natalie hesitated for a
brief internal debate before deciding that perhaps the proverbial
rainy day that had finally come.  In the freezer, behind the diet
microwave dinners and the calorie-laden gourmet ice cream, were over a
dozen precious vials of Nick's own blood that she had been hoarding.
Over the last year, she had been careful to always take just a little
more than she actually needed whenever she sensed his resolve
beginning to waver.  While these samples were no longer destined to
advance the cure for vampirism, they might at least serve to cure an
injured vampire.




Silent Night (6/9)

Part 6

    Natalie scooped up her macabre arsenal of human and vampire blood,
conserving the bovine for later.  She gasped and felt her face flush
with embarrassment as the chilled containers made her acutely aware
that she was only half dressed.  'Priorities, Lambert, priorities,'
she chided herself dismissing her untimely modesty as she rushed back
into the living room.  Hastily she deposited the packets and vials
onto the hearth and frantically grabbed the poker.  She prodded the
sullen embers coaxing a sullen flicker before adding another log.  The
log caught quickly and flames shot up hungrily.  Natalie arranged the
blood on the hearth putting the frozen vials closest to the source of
heat.   Her eyes scanned the room nervously as she unconsciously
turned the plastic bags at regular intervals to keep their contents
from overheating.  At last she found the object she had been searching
for.  She reached out and retrieved the wineglass she had left on the
end table and then grabbed the nearest pouch of human blood. She
fumbled momentarily with the clamp before releasing a controlled arc
of deep garnet fluid into the crystal goblet.

    Weak with trepidation she replaced the bag and scooted her way
over to Nick's side trying not to slosh any of the vital fluid that
was too precious to waste.  She lifted his head slightly and put the
glass of blood under his nose hoping the scent would revive him.
Nothing.  She placed the wineglass on the floor beside her, balancing
it precariously on the carpet's uneven pile. Struggling she finally
managed to leverage the upper part of his body into her lap then
reached out and dipped one finger into the blood.  She traced the line
of his lips with the fluid, but there was no response.

    He lay heavy and inert in her arms as one truly dead.  It was
strange, strange how heavy he seemed.  It wasn't that she didn't know
precisely how much he weighed, but there had always been something so
insubstantial about Nick.  Maybe it was because of the unstructured
cut of the expensive clothing he chose to wear which hid so much of
his physique.  Or maybe it was because of his insubstantial nature,
the never knowing whether he were a part of her life or not.   The
never knowing whether she would wake up one day and find him gone.

    Natalie again dipped her forefinger into the blood and gently
pressed against his mouth until she was able to wedge her finger
between his lips.  She stroked the cool, moist surface of his tongue,
willing him to taste the blood, but still there was no response.  As
she slowly withdrew her finger she let it brush against one of his
incisors and found that while it was unnaturally sharp it had not
fully extended.  Under different circumstances she would have been
inordinately pleased to see such control with the temptation of human
blood so tantalizingly near, but now it gave her no satisfaction at
all.

    "What do I do, Nick?   Please tell me what to do?" she pleaded
softly as she drew away from under him, easing his lifeless body back
down to the floor.  She stroked his face and hair anxiously searching
for any sign of returning life. In spite of the horror of what was
happening Natalie found herself hopelessly mesmerized by the sight and
the feel of him. His flawless skin was so incredibly soft, almost
velvety and the texture of his hair was as fine as a newborn's. Even
the gilt stubble that shadowed his jaw was silken without a hint of
coarseness.  Seemingly of their own volition, Natalie's hands began to
stray down his throat to his shoulders and down his chest.  With the
exception of the terrible wound still marring his breast, his flesh
was immaculate, without blemish, an impossibility for a man who had
lived and fought in the 13th century.  She traced the circumference of
the injury, probing gently and felt a slight tremor. She gasped.
There was no way she had imagined his reaction.  Nick was responding
to stimulus. She grasped the goblet of blood sloshing its contents in
her haste as she elevated Nick's head slightly, holding the glass to
his lips.

    "Come on, Nick, try for God's sake, will ya," she coaxed.  "It's
the good stuff.  One hundred percent, grade A-positive human."

    Natalie tipped the glass ever so slightly allowing a slight tickle
to fall, moistening Nick's lips.  The life giving fluid dribbled
unheeded across his cheek, leaving a glistening crimson trail against
his ashen skin.  Why wouldn't he drink?

    Anxiety was rapidly segueing into full-blown panic.  It was then
that an idea that was equal parts inspiration and lunacy came to her. 
Natalie put down the glass distractedly, totally oblivious to the fact
that it overturned staining the carpeting probably beyond repair.  She
crawled over to the hearth and retrieved a vial of Nick's own blood
then hurried back to his side. She paused grimly studying the almost
black contents of the vial.  She acknowledged the fact that what she
was about to do probably confirmed that she was a full-fledged ghoul. 
Still if blood was what would bring him back to her, she preferred to
use his.  It was better than using some unknown human's, that was
borderline cannibalism in her book.  But now was no time for a
discursion on comparative ethics.  Twisting the rubber stopper from
the vial, she lifted the tube to her lips, threw back her head back
and let the contents flow into her mouth.

    The blood was still too cool to have much taste but she sensed
saltiness not unlike seawater. As she inhaled carefully through her
nose she noticed a slight metallic tang that was more smelled than
tasted.  Her stomach clenched with an unexpectedly surge of nausea and
the bile rose in her throat scalding the tender tissues.  Natalie
fought her natural inclination to swallow, relying instead on pure
will power.  She could not be sick.   She would not be sick. She
squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on nothing more than not being
sick.

      The nausea suddenly began to pass, but for a reason she found
even more alarming.  Her lips and the inside of her mouth had grown
numb.  Worse, the sensation was beginning to spread.  It was already
working from her fingertips, up through her hands and into her arms.
There was a muffled roaring in her ears and the room about her was
beginning to waver and seemingly slip away from her.  Natalie, afraid
that the numbness would escalate into paralysis, grasped Nick's head
between her hands, pulling his head up and bent down to him.  She
pressed her lips to his, coaxing his mouth open fighting the dizziness
that threatened to incapacitate her.   She slowly opened her mouth
ever so slightly letting the blood trickle into his, using her tongue
to tease his lips to open further.  The blood pooled momentarily in
his mouth before leaking out.

    He hadn't swallowed any.  She had failed.   Natalie collapsed,
gasping against his chest wishing the numbness would anesthetize her
aching heart.  But the novocaine like properties unexpectedly found in
Nick's blood were lamentably short lived.  In fact Natalie realized
much to her horror that the temporary numbness had been merely a
prelude to a metamorphosis of her entire nervous system.  Her flesh
prickled, than burned, then shrieked with returning sensation;
sensation beyond mortal comprehension.  The clock on the mantle seemed
to thunder rather than tick and the timpani booming in her ears was
the beating of her heart. Her eyes darted frantically about a room
grown suddenly alien.  She saw things beyond the human eye's ability
to see. Temperature, texture, tints, tones beyond nature's spectrum
were being revealed in horrifying clarity.   She huddled closer to
Nick, burying her face against his shoulder but even that was a
mistake.  It was if the first layers of her skin had been stripped
away leaving her throbbing nerve endings no protection whatsoever from
the onslaught of physical stimuli.

    'Dear Lord, how long will this go on?' she wondered frantically as
she closed her eyes attempting to block off at least one source of
torment.  But even that strategy was doomed to failure.  Strange and
disturbing scenes flashed through her mind like an old, damaged film
reel, murky but punctuated periodically with flashes of blinding light
where the frames were missing revealing the projector's harsh
illumination.  Natalie saw an incredibly handsome man and an
impossibly beautiful woman.  Entwined in passion, she could almost
feel their heat, their ardor. But there was something unwholesome,
unnatural about their mating.  It wasn't life giving or life
affirming.  The sinuously serpentine figure of the woman was draining
the life of her paramour, killing him.  Natalie could feel the foolish
young man's shock as lust was replaced with dread. And there was
someone else, a sinister observer standing off in the shadows who fed
off the pain and cruelty just as surely as if he were the one draining
the unfortunate victim of his life's blood.  Natalie recognized all
three figures, they were the eternal triangle: Nick and his vampire
family.

    Somehow, through the infinitesimal amount of his blood that she
had inadvertently ingested, Natalie was experiencing a flashback of
Nick's crossing.   She suffered his despair as he faced death and his
elation as he embraced LaCroix's dark gift.  She knew the Hunger and
tasted the ultimate fulfillment of all his darkest desires.  It was
terrible and yet so very, very seductive.

    The images where slowing, growing dimmer and dimmer.  Once again
she felt very mortal.  She did not mourn the abrupt end of the assault
on her senses but she could no longer feel Nick's presence within her
and that loss she mourned bitterly.   She felt bereft, empty and
something else.  She felt hungry, very hungry.  Hungry for what Nick
had always denied her.  He had come back from death for lust and
blood.  He would come back again.  She would see to it that he did.
Natalie rose to her knees and wriggled out of her jeans, the fabric
scraping against her flesh sending a shiver of expectation through
her.   The congested pressure was building deep in her belly and she
trembled at the force of the anticipatory spasm that demanded
satisfaction.  She began to pursue the obtainment of that satisfaction
with single-minded determination with hands and lips.

    In all of their time together, Nick had never allowed her such
liberty. He had always shied away from her touch and had taken great
pains to allow her only brief, tantalizing glimpses of his body no
matter how extreme circumstances.  He was so exotic so alien.  His
cool flesh did not repel rather it beckoned her to warm him with her
heat.  His scent was not of musk and healthy sweat but of myrrh and
bees wax and things very old and perhaps better forgotten.

    Her questing hands continued to stroke and explore a physique that
was supple and lithe yet powerfully delineated.   His musculature was
incredible; perfect definition without the bulk found in body
builders. Her fingers trailed lightly over the taut plane of his
abdomen and found their way to his waistband.  She began to unfasten
his slacks.  She could not help herself; she had to see all of him.
She eased the finely woven wool from around narrow hips and then
crawled to his feet, pausing a moment to marvel at the perfection of
even that part of his anatomy, then tugged until she had freed his
lower limbs to her eager eyes.  She inhaled in appreciation as she ran
trembling fingers up over his calves to the steel of his thighs.

    Looking now at his prone body was like looking at the sculpture of
the 'Dying Slave' by Michelangelo.   The work was as enigmatic and
powerful as Nick, depicting the illusion of living flesh seemingly
emerging from unyielding stone.   Natalie could almost imagine that
Nick had posed for the master of the High Renaissance.  Then with a
shiver of realization, she knew that it was quite possible that Nick
had indeed served as the model.  After all, based on what he had told
her, he had been in Florence during the same time as Michelangelo.
Then again maybe not, she decided as she realized that Nick had been
wearing nothing underneath his slacks. There was definitely one part
of Nick's anatomy that did not fit the so-called classic proportions
of the statue.

    Natalie felt the blood rush to her face as her fingertips stroked
the cool ivory member that was far from flaccid.  Which of his makers,
she wondered irreverently, had endowed Nick so amply: God or LaCroix? 
Seeing it, touching it made her felt feral, fierce with no room for
false modesty or foolish hesitation.  She threw one leg over him,
straddling his trim waist.  The time for fantasizing and dreaming was
over.  She would discover what it was like to feel him inside of her,
all of him. She leaned back pressing against him and smiled in grim
gratification as she felt him grow even harder against the tender
tissues that veiled her sex. She rose slightly positioning herself,
the moist heat she felt assuring her that there was no need to
question whether her body was ready for him.  The years spent yearning
for this moment, this ultimate consummation made the need for further
physical foreplay superfluous.

    Natalie gasped as she impaled herself on his icy smoothness. She
felt a momentary clenching as her body reacted violently to the
incredible chill.  It felt as if every bit of warmth was being leached
from her body.   Panting from the shock, she began to move, undulating
her hips, maximizing the union between them, willing her body to warm
him, to bring him back to her.  She shivered uncontrollably as she
took his lax hands and placed them above her breasts.  Guiding his
insensate fingers down her body, she mutely entreated him to feel her
heat, to sense the life she so wanted to give him.  She gazed down
longingly into his unresponsive face, willing him to waken, to open
his eyes.

    "Come back to me, Nick," she entreated, "Please, come back to me. 
Love me."




Silent Night (7/9)

Part 7

    If he heard her, he gave no sign.   Natalie felt her blood turn
cold
and her heart freeze with dread.   He was within her and yet she was
hollow, utterly alone. Was his life, this life he had shared with her
so aberrant so agonizing that he preferred to wander in some dark
netherworld? He had turned from heaven's light for love of Janette,
but he would not forsake hell for love of her.

    "Oh, Nick," she sobbed disconsolately holding his lax hands
against her hips, "you came back for Janette, why won't you come back
for me?"  But that was it, she realized, he had come back for Janette
once might he not do so again?   Perhaps she could find Janette.
Surely she would come if she knew what had happened.  Nick had said
that LaCroix had left the city, but he did not mention Janette's
whereabouts.  "That's it then," she sobbed softly, "please hold on
Nick, I'll bring her to you, just please don't die."

    Slender bands of flesh encased steel convulsed about her body as
she attempted to dismount and she found herself thrown to the floor.
The force of the impact forced the air from her lungs silencing her
cry of alarm.  Sparks flew as the vibration of her fall dislodged the
logs in the fireplace causing them to shift and flare.  Panting she
looked up to see green-gold eyes boring into her own as Nick crouched
over her the wild light of the fire gilding his body, illuminating his
mane of tumbled hair.

    "Oh, you are a harsh mistress indeed.  LaCroix and Janette would
have allowed me to die had I so chosen.  But you will never give me
leave, ma Belle Dame Sans Merci," he growled as his mouth came down on
hers hard, cutting her lip.  Once again she tasted the residue of his
blood but now it was mixed with her own.   She saw his love for her
and his overwhelming sorrow in the inevitability of their union.
Finally she understood that it was never his lack of love that had
caused them both so much pain, but his overabundance of it that
tormented him.  She experienced his deep self-loathing for failing to
love her enough to leave her.

    "You're right, Nick," she gasped with pleasure, entwining her body
about his, giving him no hope of escape.  "You are mine, and I will
never let you go.  I swear I'll follow you into hell and drag you back
to this world if you ever try to leave me again. I am stronger, my
love is stronger than you can ever know."

    Natalie felt herself being swept away, drowning in rapture.  Was
there no limit to what she was capable of feeling when she was with
him? If it were possible he seemed to grow even harder as he moved
within her, thrusting powerfully as if to exorcise the demons within
them both.   She felt the embers of her passion stirred anew as her
flesh reveled in the mystical alchemy of physical and spiritual love
perfectly conjoined.  She marveled at how the emptiness that had
always been a part of her was suddenly gone.  Nick made her feel
complete for the first time in her life.  He fulfilled her as if he
had been especially fashioned for her. And if it was LaCroix who was
responsible for making this miracle of love possible between a 13th
century knight and a 20th century woman, then perhaps it was time to
thank the devil personally when she saw him in hell.

    And that might very well be where she was headed.  If LaCroix was
indeed the author of this miracle it was because he had made it
possible through the dark gift of blood.  By embracing Nick, as he
was, Natalie accepted that she too would have to pay the price just as
Nick had and would continue to do for the rest of eternity. She leaned
back in Nick's arms and caressed the side of his face letting her
fingers drift lingeringly as they brushed against his fangs.   She
felt as well as saw the anguish in his eyes and knew that it was time
for the final leap of faith.   It was a sacrifice for which she was
prepared; she had to trust him. She had to trust him completely or
else he would know the lie of it when he drank of her.

    "It's all right, Nick," she gasped as his cool lips began to
nibble her tender throat.  "I hunger too.  Love me, Nick, love me!"

    She cried out as his fangs pierced her vulnerable flesh but she
was uncertain if it was a cry of pain or pleasure or triumph.  The
rhythmic sucking of his lips triggered an orgasm that sundered her
consciousness.  She was transformed, flying through the blackness of
eternal night letting the winds of fate guide her towards a distant
light.  How she longed to be free to soar, to feel, to experience but
something held her to earth, something that would not let her go.

    "No, Natalie, you are mine.  Stay with me.  Never leave me,"
Nick's voice sounded within her brain.

    "Then come with me!" she demanded as she felt the icy explosion of
his release deep within a physical body that now seemed so distant, so
inconsequential, so superfluous.

    "I am chained to you forever," she thought she heard him say.

    Natalie felt herself lifted and complacently allowed Nick to have
his way with her.  She felt so loved, so safe.  When she at last
opened her eyes she was cradled in his arms with her head against his
breast.  Natalie watched with curious detachment as Nick took her
hand, using her fingernail to slice the still fragile, partially-
healed flesh over his heart and let the blood flow with sluggish
rhythm.

    "Drink of me, my love.  Be now one with me, sweet lady," he
crooned as he pressed her lips to the reopened wound.

    "Am I dying, Nick?  Are you actually bringing me across," she
slurred not knowing what she hoped the answer would be and not caring
as she partook of the incredible sweetness of his blood and knew the
love he felt for her.

    "No, my sweet," he chuckled gently, "far worse, I am binding you
to me for all time.  From this moment forth, our fates are entwined.
If death should try to cheat me of you, I will come to you.  No matter
where you are, I will be with you at the end.  If you choose eternal
life, then I will live with you forever.  If you choose death, I die
too.  From this moment on it is your choice.  I consign myself to you.
Now drink, my heart, my love. Drink and live."




Silent Night (8/9)

    And she had drunk.  In fact she had obviously drunk more than she
should have.  The incessant pounding in her head would not go away.
Natalie groaned as she clutched her pillow, burying her face in it's
yielding doughy mass.  She tried to remember just what she had drunk
at the party. Surely nothing that would have presaged a hangover of
this magnitude.  At least she had managed to get undressed and to bed.
The scent of Ivory soap assured her that she had washed off her makeup
before she had collapsed into bed but the disgusting residue in her
mouth let her know that she had not brushed her teeth.  It felt as
though her tongue was wearing a fur coat, a flea-infested, cheap fur
coat.  Gross.  But, she would live.

    God, what a strange dreams she had had.  She had actually dreamed
that Nick had come to her, made love to her. It had been terrifyingly
glorious.  She rolled over sluggishly and noted that it wasn't quite
6:00 a.m.  The pounding continued remorselessly and she realized at
last that the incessant knocking was not within her head but outside
at her door and it would not go away no matter how earnestly she
wished it.

    "Okay, I'm coming," she shouted, instantly sorry she had allowed
her voice that unnecessary volume. Natalie forced herself out of the
illusionary warmth and safety of her bed.  She swayed unsteadily as a
wave of vertigo washed over her, leaning one hand against the wall
until it passed.  Carefully assessing her condition, she had to admit
that she really didn't feel bad, just incredibly weak.  Maybe if she
was very still and very quiet her unwanted visitor would simply go
away and she could go back to bed.  No such luck, the knocking now
escalated to banging.

    "I'm coming," she protested querulously, "I'm coming.  Cut me some
slack here."  She was almost to the door before she belatedly felt to
make sure she was at least partially dressed. Yep, she had her usual
nightshirt on but somehow it felt different: finer, softer.  Natalie
leaned against the door weakly, peering through the peephole as her
fingers explored what it was exactly that she was clothed in.  She was
indeed decently clad in something that came down modestly to her
knees, but it was the finest silk and not cotton knit.  'What the
hell?'

    "Wakey, wakey," an impossibly cheery voice heralded from beyond
the door.  "It's Christmas day, Santa's elves are delivering their
gifts early!"

    Schanke, God, it was Schanke.  He wasn't supposed to drop over
until late morning with Myra's annual holiday care package for cooking
impaired spinsters.   She wished he'd just go away, but Natalie knew
there was no force on earth as relentless as Donald Schanke filled
with the holiday spirit and on a mission of goodwill.

    "Hold on a minute, Schank," she muttered as she fumbled with the
locks and realized that she had not engaged any of them.  Boy, she
reflected ruefully, I must have really tied one on to have been that
careless.  Natalie cracked open the door squinting into the brightly-
lit hallway.  There he stood freshly shaved and groomed, his face
flushed and nose rosy from having come from outdoors.  His dark eyes
twinkled and he grinned at her with the innocent mischievousness of a
little boy.

    "I'd say good morning, but it looks as though someone is feeling a
little rough around the edges.  Well I guess when you hoot with the
owls, you ain't going to be up to soaring with the."

    "I get the picture, Schank," she groaned as she threw wide the
door.

    He fumbled for a minute with his armload of goodies, then strode
across the threshold wafting with the scent of crisp fresh air and Old
Spice.   Natalie couldn't help smile weakly to herself. Schanke was so
solid, so real, so wholesome.  No matter how annoying he was at times
not even Nick was immune to his partner's unfailingly jolly,
optimistic personality.

    "Jeez, what are you, part vampire?  I don't suppose it occurred to
you to turn on a few lights here?" he grumbled good-naturedly as he
stumbled on the shattered remains of the coffee table on his way to
the table lamp. "Well, well, well, what have we here?" he asked archly
as he surveyed the damage.  He deposited his burden on the couch and
switched on the light. "Ah, the single life, I remember it well.  The
parties, the mayhem, the debauchery?" he snickered as he spied the
overturned wineglass and the telltale deep crimson stain on the
carpet. "That was obviously some party you threw, Dr. Lambert.  Maybe
next year I'll send Myra and Jenny off to the relatives and I 'll stay
home to par-tay with the wild and the reckless."

    Natalie blanched and her heart leapt into throat.  What if it
hadn't been a dream?  What if Nick had come to her last night?    She
tried to place herself between Schanke and the fireplace but he was
already ahead of her.   "You know you really shouldn't leave the tree
lights plugged in like that.  Hello, hello, what have we here?" he
queried as he found the bloodied stake near the hearth.  He turned it
over in his hands, shrugged his shoulders as he probably decided it
was part of the unsalvageable table and tossed it into the fireplace.
Natalie waited for him to comment on the debris that should still be
littering the hearth but he said nothing. As he turned to walk back to
the couch she scuttled over to the hearth.  It was bare. Where were
the vials, the pouches?

    'Get a grip, Lambert,' Natalie muttered under her breath rubbing
her sweaty palms against her thighs.  "What brings you by so early?  I
thought you guys weren't leaving for Myra's sister's place until noon
time," she asked folding her arms tightly across her chest trying to
keep her voice from quavering.

    "Well, we had a change of plans," he called over his shoulder as
he scooped up those packages containing foodstuff and carried them
into the kitchen.  "We were listening to the radio on our way back
from midnight mass and they announced that the weather was going to
get really bad by lunch time so we figured we'd best get on the road
early.  Beat the traffic, you know?  I figure I 'll catch a quick
siesta later while Myra and her sister get caught up on the latest
family scandals," he chattered from the other room.  "The temperature
is really starting to drop out there.  I don't suppose you have any
coffee on yet?"

    "Coffee?" she echoed nervously.

    "Jeez, Nat, you seem awfully jumpy.   Too much holiday spirit last
night?" he teased conspiratorially as he jiggled several empty wind
bottles at her from the kitchen doorway before dumping them in the
trash.  He came tromping back into the living room, rubbing his hands
briskly, "Man oh man, the single life.   Gotta love it.  Do what you
want, when you want with whom you want," he wiggled his eyebrows
lecherously.

    "Better watch it, Schank," she smiled nervously running one hand
around her collar brushing her hair back, "or I'll make sure that gets
back to Myra.

    "Ho, ho, whoa!" Schanke smirked peering closely at her neck.
"Dynamite hickey, Dr. Lambert! If that's what you got on the first day
of Christmas I can't wait for Epiphany!"

    "What are you talking about," she squeaked trying to pull her hair
forward.

    "I am talking about one bodacious love bite," he grinned wickedly
as his inquisitive hand attempted to pull back her collar to get a
better look.  "You are the sly one.  Here poor Myra is working
overtime trying to play matchmaker and little Natalie Lambert managed
to land a live one all by herself.  So, who is the lucky guy, huh?"

    Natalie slapped at his hand, pulling her collar close as her eyes
darted furtively about the room.  Before she could think of an
appropriately stinging retort, there came the damning sound of the
shower running in the bathroom off her bedroom.  Schanke's eyes
widened gleefully as he plopped down on the couch.

    "Don't you think it's about time you were leaving, Schank?  You
did say you guys needed to get an early start?" she said pointedly as
she paced nervously back and forth. What if it hadn't been a dream?
What if last night really happened?  Had Nick really been here, in her
apartment?

    "Could it be that the owner of that fetching little number you
have on is the one currently occupying your shower?" he needled.

    "Schanke," she suggested ominously, "Tempus fugit."

    Hey, I always have time to meet a friend of a friend," he teased.

    "I think we've already met, Schank," a voice drawled from the
bedroom door.



Silent Night (9/9)

    Under different circumstances, the opportunity to see Donald
Schanke momentarily speechless should have been a joy to behold but
Natalie did not have the opportunity to savor the moment. She spun
around and saw Nick leaning nonchalantly against the door to her
bedroom.  His body glistened and his hair was dark and curled damply
around his face. He wore only his slacks and a towel slung jauntily
around his neck.   Natalie gaped at him, trying hard not to
hyperventilate as he sauntered into the room, dabbing at the water
still dripping from his hair.  He came to a stop in front of her,
smiling tenderly into her face, stroking her cheek with the back of
his hand.

    "I'd ask for my shirt back, but I think it looks better on you.
Besides, I don't think I want to share that much of you, not even with
my partner," Nick said as he bent, touching his lips to hers.

    "Man, oh man, oh man," Schanke sputtered launching himself off the
couch.  Wagging an accusing finger at Nick.  "Just friends, eh?  I
can't believe you kept this from me. How long has this been going on,
partner?" he sneered.

    Nick turned his head and regarded Schanke bemusedly,  "If you mean
how long have I loved her, then I guess that I'd have to say that I've
loved her from the first moment I laid eyes on her. If you mean when
did I tell her, well," he paused meaningfully before walking behind
Natalie, sliding his forearm around her shoulders and pulling her back
against his body, "that just happened last night."

    "Hah, I knew it.  I always knew it, Knight.  Didn't I always say
you two belonged together?" Schanke hooted triumphantly, his
temporarily hurt feelings quickly forgotten in the glow of having been
right about his taciturn partner.  "Wait until I tell Myra. She is
going to be some excited," Schanke chortled as he flitted about the
room.

    "Well maybe you should go share the good news with her?" Nick
suggested discreetly.

    "Oh, yeah," Schanke replied with a broad wink.  "I guess you two
want to be alone.  You sly dog you," he added sotto voce with a
playful jab at Nick's shoulder.

    Nick winced convincingly, "You always were the perceptive one,
Schank. See you after the holidays."

    Schanke strode towards the door muttering jubilantly to himself.
"Well gotta make tracks, guys.  I expect to hear all about how you
spent your holidays later, partner.  Man, oh man, this has got to be
the best Christmas ever!" he exclaimed as he did a little victory jig
on his way out the door.

    "Is it, Nick, is it the best Christmas ever?" Nat whispered
hopefully once they were alone.

    "I guess that depends," he responded softly all the playful banter
suddenly gone.

    "Depends?" she asked as she turned to face him, "depends on what?

    "Well I feel as though I have been given the greatest gift any man
could ever possess.  But."

    "But?"

    "At what cost, Nat?" he sighed shaking his head.  "What have I
done? How could I have done this to you?"

    "Why don't you tell me," she urged seeing the naked pain in his
eyes. "Tell me, what it is that you've done.

    "Destroyed the only person I have ever truly loved because I am a
selfish coward.  Even a villain like LaCroix had the courage to do the
honorable thing.  He truly loved my sister.  He loved her so much he
was able to leave rather than endanger her life, her very soul."

    "Nick, you were willing to do more than simply walk out of my
life.  You tried to die to protect me.  It's not your fault that I
wouldn't let you go.  If your sister had been allowed to chose do you
think she would have let LaCroix simply walk out of her life?" she
challenged.

   "My sister never had the chance.  I stole it from her," he
confessed bitterly.

    "And you've never stopped regretting it, have you?  Well, Nick,
from bitter experience you know the past can't be undone.  But you
also know that you don't have to make the same mistake twice.  Don't
try to decide for me in the name of love.  I'm not going to let you
go, not after everything that happened last night.  Remember your
promise? Remember how you said we were bonded together for all time?
Well I'm holding you to that vow."

    "Well if you didn't, Schanke certainly would.  Holiday or no
holiday, I'm sure this will be all over the precinct, not to mention
the coroner's office before the sun comes up," Nick grumbled.

    "Yeah, well that takes care of the mortal contingency.  How are we
going to handle your 'family'?" Natalie asked grimly.  "If you're so
hot on protecting me, I have a sneaking suspicion that you're going to
have ample opportunity."

    "I don't know about that.  Something tells me, LaCroix is going to
be the one in need of protection, not you.  He can be fought.  Against
you I am utterly defenseless.  I yield to you, my lady, you have
vanquished me," he surrendered wearily.

    "It's about time," she sighed as she removed the towel from around
his neck.

    He heard her sharp intake of breath as she gingerly examined the
damage still marring his breast.

    "A wound to the heart, is slow to heal," he explained gently
cupping her face in his hands. "And some never do," he conceded as he
kissed her softly.

    Natalie returned his kiss then stood back.

    "We've been given a gift, Nick.  Let's not question it," she
whispered.

     "As my lady commands," he replied huskily sweeping her up in his
arms humming a familiar Yuletide tune.

    "On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me," Natalie
said supplying the words. "If that's the case, I have to agree with
Schanke, I can't wait for Epiphany."