Disclaimer: The characters of Forever Knight belong to
Sony/Tristar and TPTB. I borrowed them for this story
and they'll be returned just a little worse for wear.
Warning: I barely finished this before the deadline,
so it is not beta-read at all. And there are probably
tons of logical glitches in it, but who cares. And as
always, please remember that English is not my mother
tongue.

You can send comments and chocolate vampires to:
lucilla@come-undone.net

Permission to archive is given to the Crusader, the
FTP site and the other fiction sites should they ever
go up again.
It will be archived on my own site eventually.
http://www.come-undone.net


A Special Treat – A Halloween Challenge Story
By Luc, October 2003

October 9th, 1995

"Aw, Nick, don't be a spoilsport! You've gotta come,
everyone else is, even Vachon."
With satisfaction Tracy noticed Nick flinch when she
mentioned the dark-haired vampire's name. She knew
that somehow Nick didn't trust Vachon and if she was
right then …

"Ok, I'll come. But don't make me dress up."
She flashed him her most grateful smile and nodded.
"Promise."

Nick sighed and went back to writing his arrest
report. Why on earth was Tracy's birthday on October
31st? He didn't care about Halloween much. 
People dressed up and romanticized about their kind.
If they knew how many real monsters walked among them…
OK, he thought, you're a big boy, you'll survive a
couple of hours of small talk with people in
embarrassing costumes. And you can have an eye on
Javier Vachon.

+++

Tracy entered the Raven nervously. She knew that it
wasn't without risk coming here alone.
She looked around but Vachon was nowhere to be seen.
She tried to put on a casual air as she sauntered over
to the bar. The bartender only looked up for a second,
then went on polishing glasses.
"Er…I…, Who do I need to talk to if I want to rent the
club for a private party?"
The bartender looked at her curiously. Not many wanted
what she had just asked for, and even fewer mortals…
and she surely didn't look like the gothic kind. 
He pointed to the door in the back of the club.
"You need to ask the boss about that. Just go and
knock."

She made her way to the back amidst the curious stares
of the other patrons. Before she knocked, she took a
deep breath.

"Come in," came the curt answer and Tracy recognized
the smooth voice that she had got to know so well
riding in her partner's car.
She opened the door and stepped into the almost dark
room, determined not to let her nervousness show. The
only light came from a desk lamp that illuminated the
shiny surface of an antique desk. The man sitting
there had obviously been doing some paperwork.

"Mr. …?"
"Lacroix, Lucien Lacroix."
"Mr. Lacroix. I'm here because I want to rent the
backroom for a private Halloween party."

Lacroix eyed the young woman standing in front of his
desk appreciatively.
Of course he recognized her. He had followed his son
often enough to be familiar with his new partner.
His first instinct was to refuse her wish outrightly.
A Halloween party at his club! What a silly idea. So
that these pathetic creatures could pretend to be
something they weren't and play stupid games while
drinking way too much alcohol than was good for them. 
But this could be the chance to have some sport with
his son. And chances like this one, that came on a
silver platter, ought to be seized.

"Let me check the reservations, Miss …?"
"Tracy Vetter."
"Miss Vetter. You are lucky. We still have an opening
for that night."

He dealt with the business and when the young
detective left his office, a sly smile played about
Lacroix's lips.

+++

Tracy left the room a little puzzled. This had been
this Nightcrawler fellow? The same one who delivered
these awful speeches on CERK? 
She couldn't believe it.

She was still lost in her thoughts when someone
grabbed her from behind and pushed her roughly into a
dark corner next to Lacroix's office door. A pair of
glowing eyes bored down into hers and she could smell
the other's breath, the coppery odor of blood mingled
with alcohol.
She couldn't scream, somehow her voice failed her, and
as the other's fangs pierced her flesh, she couldn't
put up much resistance.

The young vampire was feeding greedily when he was
pulled back by strong hands and pinned against the
wall.
He struggled briefly and hissed at his assailant. But
his resistance was useless. Lacroix's fingers closed
around his throat and the hiss died away.
It was pure rage that shone from Lacroix's blazing red
eyes.
"You fool! How dare you attack a mortal in here and
compromise my business? Do you want the community
exposed?"
The other one, clearly drunk with too much bloodwine
and Tracy's fresh blood, only whimpered in Lacroix's
grip.
"I should snap your neck, you pathetic little idiot.
But you are lucky that you couldn't finish her. Now
get out of here! And if you value your neck, I advise
you to leave Toronto as well."

Lacroix let go of the young one, who scampered away
frantically, then knelt down next to Tracy's seemingly
lifeless form. Her pulse was weak and irregular. If he
didn't act soon, she would not survive the night.

He picked her up carefully and carried her into his
office. He laid her down on the couch and pulled a
blanket over her. His fingertips brushed lightly over
her now deadly pale face in a tender gesture. Then he
unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled it back to expose his
wrist. 
He ripped into the flesh with his teeth and tore a
deep gash. Dark blood welled up in it and he pressed
the wound to Tracy's mouth, then started to whisper
urgently into her ear, entreating her to come back.

For a few moments he feared that it might be too late
and thought of the difficulties that would arise with
the demise of a police detective in this
establishment, his son's wrath being the least of
them.
But then he felt the suction of Tracy's lips as she
began to drink from the life-giving source.

Finally, he pulled his wrist from Tracy's grasp and
her head slumped back onto the cushions.
Lacroix buttoned his sleeve over the already healing
wound and went over to his desk. He pressed one of the
buttons on the intercom system and ordered some
bottles of uncut blood.

+++

Lacroix stared down on the sleeping fledgling on his
couch. This night had brought a lot of surprises
indeed. Unwelcome ones.
The burden of educating a newly-born vampire was not
something he had planned on taking on anytime soon.
But it couldn't be helped. She was here and he was her
master. So it was probably best to take care of
things.
The other vampire had taken a lot of blood from Tracy,
clearly intend on killing her. She was so weak that
she would be asleep for hours.

Lacroix left the bottles of blood next to her so she
could get to them easily, took Tracy's wallet, her gun
in its holster and her jacket, then secured the door.

He found her car easily. Not many of the Raven's
patrons came in motorized vehicles and those who did
sported an uncanny liking for hearses. The detective's
car was refreshingly 'normal', Lacroix thought.
He slipped behind the wheel, feeling slightly out of
place. Of course he knew how to drive – one had to
keep up with the times – but he preferred flying
within the city and on the rare occasions he had to
resort to human forms of transportation he usually
hired a luxurious limousine from a discrete rental
service. And he usually also left things like this to
one of his employees. 
He started the car and pulled into late-night traffic.
He had to do this fast. Someone like Tracy Vetter was
bound to be missed soon.

+++

Nick picked up the receiver again and tried Tracy's
home number. But just as the other five times he had
tried over the last hour, he only got her machine.
Paging her had yielded no response either. It was so
unlike her to be late. No she was more than three
hours overdue and Nick was beginning to get really
worried.
Suddenly he remembered that Tracy had said something
about running some errands before reporting for shift.
And he was beginning to suspect what kind of errand
that could have been. That errand probably had brown
eyes and a slacker attitude and a couple of not so
mortal-friendly companions.
Nick jumped up and stormed into the captains office.
"Cap, I have a feeling that she's in trouble. Let's
put an APB out on her car."
"OK, Nick, but I hope that your gut is wrong this
time."

Joe Reese watched his detective with a frown. If Nick
was having one of his infamous gut feelings about
Tracy, then one had to fear the worst. 

Nick grabbed his coat and headed for his Caddy. He
could be at the old church in five minutes, but if he
flew…

He was just about to turn into the dark alley behind
the precinct when Joe Reese pushed the door open.
"Nick! Wait"

Nick closed his eyes. The tone of the captain's voice
meant that bad news were coming. He turned around,
bracing himself for what was to come.

"The blues just found a burning car on Yonge just
north of Sheppard. Description fits Vetter's car,
Nick. You better get there fast."

Reese put his hand briefly on Nick's arm. The look
they shared bore the unspoken realization that Tracy
was most probably dead.  

Nick nodded numbly and walked over to the Caddy. He
had to steady himself on the solid steel frame for a
few moments before he got in, activated the siren and
headed to face the grim task of identifying his
partner's remains.
While he was driving at neck-breaking speed, he hoped
against all odds that the blues were wrong and that it
might be someone else's car after all.

He could see the smoke billowing from a good distance
away and the acrid smell of burning rubber hit his
nostrils almost as soon as he saw the orange glow. And
amid the choking fumes of the burning car, his fine
vampiric senses could detect the sickening scent of
charred human flesh.

His stomach knotted itself into a tight ball as he
pulled the Caddy up next to the patrol cars. The car
had careened off the road at full speed and hit a
truck left at a road construction site, exploding upon
impact. All that was left of it now was a blackened
piece of scrap metal.

One of the uniformed officers rushed over and he
pulled his badge from his pocket.
"Detective Knight, Metro Homicide. Anything on the
driver yet?"

The other one already knew that the body in the car
was in all likelihood the partner of the man standing
before him and whose eyes were fixated on the wreck as
if mesmerized by it.

"No positive ID yet, but the car was registered to a
Theresa Vetter. We were hoping that," the man looked
at his shoes, clearly uncomfortable, "you could help
us there."

Nick nodded grimly and drew in a deep breath. This
seemed surreal. It just wasn't happening. In just a
second he would wake up and find himself tangled in
soaked sheets in his bed.
But he didn't wake up. Instead the officer handed him
a plastic bag of things they had found strewn about. 
Tracy's gun, still in its holster, the nylon material
deformed and molten.
The half-burned leather wallet that contained her
badge (it was her badge number).

Nick bit down on his lips as he nodded to the officer.
"Yes, these are her service weapon and her badge."
His voice was reduced to a whisper. He handed the bag
back to the man and slowly returned to his car.

He drove back to the loft in a daze, barely
remembering to radio in to sign off for the rest of
the night.

+++

October 31st, 1995, just after dark


Nick barely heard the laughter of the dark-clad
figures as he knelt down to place the yellow roses on
top of the still bare mount of Tracy's grave.
He said a silent prayer, hoping that she had found
peace.

He didn't attend her funeral, it was of course not
held at night, but he had taken on the task of
breaking the news to Commissioner Vetter himself and
he had weathered the storm of the commissioner's wrath
and desperation, only too aware that he wanted to
scream too.
He had taken the rest of the week off and now he was
glad that Joe Reese had not insisted on assigning him
to a new partner.
But for once he didn't feel any guilt, only grief.

He picked up one of the petals and rolled it between
his fingers, inhaling the faint fragrance. 
The laughter became louder. Nick didn't look up.
Groups of Goths prowling around cemeteries was nothing
unusual, especially not on Halloween. He wasn't in the
mood to chase them away. If they romanticized about
death, who was he to tell them otherwise.

Until someone shoved him hard from behind so that he
lost his balance. 
"Visiting the girlfriend, huh?" The youth's voice was
slurred. Drugs or alcohol, Nick suspected. 

He turned his head to reply but another push send him
face down on the fresh grave. Now, this was no longer
funny. Nick felt the urge to show them his fangs and
scare the living daylights out of them, but his common
sense kicked in and he just rolled onto his back. A
crucifix was thrust in his face and the burning sting
made him hiss in pain.

The young man who held the cross stepped back a bit,
clearly startled. 
But the others, like the first all dressed in black
leather but not the usual Goth outfit, remained
'cool'.

"Ey, aren't you a little too old to run around with
fangs?"
"Maybe he was on his way to a party, Greg."
"Could be one of those whack-jobs who run around
dressed up as Count Dracula all day."
"Or maybe," the low voice of another young man
interrupted, "he 'is' a vampire."

Nick could tell by the way they made way for him that
the newcomer was the leader of the little group.
"Aw, come on, Damian, don't tell us that you really
believe in that crap. All we wanted was to scare those
Goth jerks a bit. Let's leave him and go to Janie's
party."

But the one called Damian didn't answer. Instead he
stepped closer to Nick and bent down. He was about
seventeen and could have been called handsome, had it
not been for the cruel streak around his mouth and his
cold icy-blue eyes that reminded Nick instantly of
Lacroix.

Nick saw a chance to argue his way out of this mess.
All he needed was to get rid of the crucifix on his
chest…

"Boys, let's be reasonable here. Everyone knows that
vampires don't exist. I was on my way to a Halloween
party. So, if you wouldn't mind…"

Damian pressed the crucifix a little harder down on
Nick's chest.
"Oh, but I do mind. If you're just dressed up, why did
you hiss at the cross?"
"I was surprised. I don't get crucifixes shoved up my
nose every day." Maybe a little humor would do the
trick.

"Why don't you just get up and leave then? Hmm? Is it
because the cross does a little more to you than just
wrinkle your coat?"

Nick was beginning to feel uncomfortable. This boy was
cleverer than he thought.

"Or you could take out those fangs. They are 'just
fakes', right?"

The cold eyes stared down at him in anticipation. When
he didn't move, Damian reached in his pocket and
pulled out a small vial. He opened it and sprinkled
some of its content on Nick's face. Nick tried to turn
away but the holy water hissed on his skin, leaving
red marks.

Damian stepped back, the look of satisfaction on his
face made Nick sick.

"Quod erat demonstrandum."

The other boys stepped back from him, now clearly
frightened.
"Damian, this ain't funny anymore. I mean, we're not
talking about throwing eggs here. Let's leave,
please!"

Damian didn't look up. 
"Go if you are too scared to do your duty. I intend to
rid the world of this demon." A fanatical light now
shone from his eyes.
"Greg, get me a sharp piece of wood and a stone from
one of the graves."

Nick swallowed. This 'boy' clearly knew what he was
doing. If only …

The joint screams of the other boys made him look up.
Two dark shadows had
appeared behind them, knocking the smaller two out
cold. The taller of the shadows grabbed the third boy
and started to whisper. Nick saw the boy's face go
slack and recognized the voice as Lacroix's.
Relief mixed with anger and embarrassment. Why did it
always take Lacroix to get him out of situations like
these?

Lacroix stood over him, his smile so smug that Nick
felt the urge to take the cross and smack him with it.
But for once he didn't feel suicidal.
Lacroix pushed the crucifix off of Nick's chest with
the tip of his shoe and reached down to help him to
his feet.

"Nicholas, once again you need the help that you so
often choose to spurn. If you didn't insist on that
foolish quest for your mortality, you could have
resolved this little incident on your own. How could
you get so weak that a thing like this …," Lacroix
stepped down hard on the cross so that the carved wood
splintered under his heel, "…could incapacitate you
completely?"

Nick fixated the ground, biting down hard on his
teeth, trying to get his anger under control. Of
course his master seized the opportunity to gloat.

"Lacroix, I am grateful for your help. But I refuse to
discuss this topic with you. Leave it alone!"

Nick nodded toward the little grove of trees out of
which the other vampire slowly emerged, obviously
unsuccessful in hunting down Damian. He still kept to
the shadows but Nick could sense the vibrations that
everyone of their kind recognized, although there was
something familiar about this one. He was still young.
Could it be that his master had taken on another
fledgling?

Once in a while he would introduce a previously
unknown 'brother' or 'sister' to them. Vampires
Lacroix had made but whom he did not count as family.
Only Janette and himself had received that status so
far. And deep down in the recesses of his mind where
his beast lay dormant, Nick was proud of that fact.

"Who's that?"

Lacroix put his hand around Nick's shoulders. An
gesture of intimacy that 
Nicholas would have brusquely declined only a short
while ago. Since Janette's departure their
relationship had grown into some kind of amiable
truce. Something he didn't want to endanger.

"Nicholas, some three weeks ago a client was attacked
in the club. She would have died had I not brought her
across."

"Besides your concern for your business, what else
made you turn 'her'?" 
He let the word roll of his tongue. "An unusual bout
of altruism perhaps?"

Lacroix took a step back.
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Nicholas. I had my reasons,
let that be enough for now."
Nick glanced at Lacroix briefly as they were walking
toward the exit. He detected a hint of pride in his
master's voice.

"She must be special."
"She is, Nicholas, she really is."

Lacroix smiled as they passed the gate and stepped out
into the street.

"Aren't you going to introduce her to me?"
"Actually I wanted to introduce her to the community
tonight. A little private reception at the club. Why
don't you join us?"

Nick's first impulse was to decline the invitation. He
thought of another party he was to have attended
tonight and found the prospect of actually having fun
strikingly inappropriate. But his curiosity got the
better of him.

"OK, I'll come. But haven't you forgotten something?"
"You mean the boy back there? I don't think he'll pose
a threat to us, Nicholas. His companions have
forgotten about the incident and it is, after all,
Halloween. No one will believe him."

Nick nodded. Lacroix was right. As long as the boy had
no physical evidence…

"When should I be there?"
"The usual time. Midnight. And do me a favor,
Nicholas. Dress accordingly."

Nick glanced down at his soiled clothing and smiled.
Then he checked for any unwelcome spectators and took
to the air.

Lacroix watched his son vanish into the darkness. He
would be in for a treat indeed.

+++

Tracy pulled up the zipper of her dress and turned in
front of the mirror. She wore a simple, tight-fitting
dress of black silk that accentuated the glow of her
white skin. She liked what she saw but something was
missing. So she reached into the pocket of her coat
and pulled out a yellow rosebud. She twirled it
between her fingers before she pinned to her dress.
Something to let Nick know she appreciated the
gesture.

Lacroix entered the room carrying two tall glasses.
"Are you ready, my dear?"

Tracy nodded and took the proffered glass. She sipped
the dark liquid. Uncut blood, as always since Lacroix
had brought her across – had saved her life. Only
three short weeks, yet it seemed a lifetime ago.

She had not been shocked when she had woken up.
Somehow she had known that it would one day come to
this, only she had hoped that Vachon would be the one…
She hadn't seen him since shortly before the
'accident'. She wondered if he even knew…

+++

Nick actually locked forward to spending a relaxed
evening at the Raven, although he would hardly admit
that to himself. 
Work had seemed like a welcome escape from his dark
thoughts but he had signed up for his free night weeks
ago. Nat was going trick-or-treating with Amy, and
their relationship was a little strenuous at the
moment anyway.
Dressing up felt good and he couldn't wait to meet his
new 'sister'.

+++

"Friends, this is a special night for me, for I am
proud to present to   you my latest offspring …"

Nick wiggled on his chair impatiently. He felt tempted
to interrupt Lacroix's little speech to tell him to
get on with it but if he wanted to survive the night
it was better not to embarrass his master in public.
So he kept his mouth shut and poured himself another
glass from his special bottle.

+++

There. Everything was ready. He had checked the doors.
They were barred. And the fuses. Ready. He would teach
them. Now…

+++

Nick was just helping himself to another swig when
Lacroix said with a flourish, "…my daughter Theresa."

She stepped from the shadows and Nick almost choked on
the liquid in his mouth. A violent coughing fit got
him the unwanted attention of the other patrons and an
icy glare from Lacroix.

Tracy actually smiled as she sauntered casually over
to him to pat him on the back.

"Careful 'brother', don't ruin your nice new shirt."

Nick gaped at her open-mouthed. Finally, he regained
his composure.

"Tracy, I can't believe it." 
He reached out with his fingertips to touch her check.
Her skin was cool to the touch and almost translucent
in its pallor. She had taken on an almost ethereal
appearance.

"Aren't you glad to see me, Nick."

He didn't answer, instead he wrapped her up in a tight
hug. Then he whispered into her ear.

"Happy Birthday, little sister."

There were so many questions to be asked. But that
could wait.

+++

Just then a deafening blast ripped through the entire
building and the shockwave threw them to the ground.
Nick felt a sharp pain in his chest and gasped. Then
everything went dark…



-End?-


Now, am I mean or what? Hehe (snickers nastily).
Are they dead, are they alive? 
Who knows?

lucilla@come-undone.net