Episode 105: Tears--Repost
By April French

Note to revised draft:

I was sick as a dog while writing and posting the
first eight parts of "Tears," and in my opinion, they
stunk. They were too sparse, and Miranda just wasn't
coming across the way I wanted her to, pun intended.
So I rewrote them. I think they're better now. Also,
all the little French bits were translated courtesy of
FreeTranslation.com, so don't blame me if they're not
grammatically correct.

Kai, Miranda, Teal and Matthew are still mine, and now
so is Manx. No one else is, alas. Praise, comments,
criticisms and kudos will still be gratefully
accepted. All flames will be forced to eat at the
University cafeteria. This story will be posted at my
site,
http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/fkficindex.html.
Permission to archive is given to FKFIC, FKFIC2 and
the FTP site. All others must first bribe me with,
um... Peter Woodward from 'Conquest.'

Tears (1/?)

Toronto: September 1997

The old woman looked up from her magazine as her bus
pulled to a stop. She gathered her purse and shuffled
down the aisle with the few other passengers. She let
the driver pull her small suitcase from the
compartments under the bus, and then stood on the dark
sidewalk and watched the vehicle drive away into the
cold night. Though her coat was thick, she shivered.

She had never been to Toronto before, had very rarely
left the small town in New York State where she had
been raised with her two brothers. But it was for one
of those brothers than she had gotten on a bus and
ridden for God knows how long to get to Canada. Her
brother's little girl was sick, and her mother was on
business in Italy somewhere, so she had come. She
looked around.

The bus had let her off in a fairly decent-looking,
residential area of the city, so there wasn't much
other traffic, and not a taxi in sight. She sighed,
and brushed some greying brown hair behind an ear,
from which a dull gold loop glinted. There was a group
of young people up ahead, lounging on a street corner.
She would ask them where she was, exactly, and for
some directions.

They were very helpful, one tall blond boy in
particular, who flashed his white teeth when he
smiled. He was new in Toronto as well, he said, but he
did know where she needed to go, and would gladly
drive her there.

He led her to his car, around the corner from his
clutch of friends, and opened his trunk so she could
put her suitcase inside. As she did so, the young man,
who was standing behind her, reached inside his
jacket. Quietly pulling out a gun, he grasped it by
the barrel and brought it down with all his might on
the old woman's skull.

Without even a grunt, she pitched head first into the
trunk of the car, unconscious. The boy shoved the rest
of her in and slammed the trunk closed.

***

Miranda slammed her book shut. "Nat, it's hopeless. I
<just> <don't> get it." She poked the chemistry book
forlornly with her pencil. "Evil."

"Then why are you taking it?" Natalie had been a
little surprised when Miranda had asked for help with
her chemistry course; it wasn't the first way Natalie
would have chosen to spend her day/night off. But Nick
was getting checked over at the clinic and she had
nothing better to do, and Miranda <really> needed the
help. "If you hate it so much."

"Because I need three non-lab sciences to fulfill my
General Education requirement. No Gen Ed, no
graduation, no degree. Four years of wasting Dad's
money."

Natalie shook her head. Miranda might have the
physical form of Fleur de Brabant, might have a goodly
portion of her memories and her deep and abiding love
for a certain ancient vampire, but Natalie was pretty
sure the similarities ended there. Certainly Fleur had
never worn the snug jeans that Miranda was wearing
now, or the brocade and vinyl ensembles she donned for
work at the Raven. Thirteenth-century duke's daughter
or twentieth century college student--sometimes, it
just depended on the hour. "This would be a lot easier
if I could get you into a lab. Even just the one
upstairs. You know, hands-on sciences are much easier
to understand."

"No way. I'll blow something up."

"I thought you were enrolled in classes in Black
Falls."

"I was."

"So, shouldn't some of your credits transfer here?"

Miranda shook her head. "Can't transfer from nowhere,"
she pointed out in her intelligent, musical voice.
"One of the drawbacks of living in a town that tries
not to exist any more than it has to."

Conversation lulled for a moment, just enough time for
Natalie's big cat Sidney to take advantage of it and
jump up onto the table, meowing for attention. "Ack,"
said Miranda, cringing.

"You don't like cats?"

"No." Miranda shoved her chair away from the table.
"I'm a horses-and-hunting-hounds kind of girl." And to
prove her point further, she sat on her hands.

Natalie scooped Sidney up, soothing his hurt feelings.
"Are you afraid of cats?"

"Not afraid, exactly. I just... don't... <like> them.
Cats don't have that pack mentality that dogs and
horses do, and that turns me off." She pulled a wallet
from her back pocket. It was well-worn black leather,
on a short chain attached to a her belt loop, and it
had a silver pentagram on its front. "See?" she said,
displaying two photographs for Natalie's inspection.
One was of Miranda as a young child, crouching on the
ground and surrounded by a pack of dogs Natalie
recognized as foxhounds. The other was of an older
Miranda, a slightly healthier-looking Kai, and another
man with a wild head of rough brown hair and a merry
grin, all on horseback, set against the backdrop of a
magnificent, somewhat foreboding waterfall.

"The black falls in question?"

"Right in one."

"Who's the guy?"

Miranda glanced at the photo and smiled happily.
"David Mankowitz. We all called him Manx. Gods, when I
was fourteen, I had such a crush on him." She shook
her head, stroking the small picture with fondness.
"Ever read 'The Secret Garden'?"

"Sure, when I was a kid."

"Manx is a bit like Dickon Sowerby."

"What, he's got a green thumb?"

Miranda chuckled. "Only when he's playing a guitar. I
mean he's got that kind of personality. Blunt,
cheerful, loyal..." She watched her 'brother's'
fiancée cuddling her cat. "The Falls is a dark town.
Manx brought a bit of light into it."

Natalie got Sidney some catnip to keep him occupied.
"What was it like, growing up in Black Falls?"

Miranda started to respond, stopped, frowned, and then
smiled. "No, that's the wrong question. Better to ask
how I'm coping with a city where vampires are in the
minority, and people actually notice when someone dies
of two holes in their neck. That's really the biggest
difference. Nicolas with his current profession would
be obsolete in the Falls, because it's a very common
thing for people to die in an unusual way. Here, the
public takes notice. In the Falls, the unusual is
common place.

"A white bread and warm milk town it ain't. It's a
dark town," she repeated softly. Natalie saw her great
blue eyes grow distant, as Nick's often did when he
was remembering something from days long gone by.

Miranda Thorn LaCroix shook her head and looked at her
watch. "I have to go." She gathered her books. "Thanks
again, Nat."

"Maybe next time we'll make some more progress, eh?
Less chit-chat, more chemistry?" With a wry smile,
Natalie handed Miranda her pencil. The younger woman
took it between two fingers, like taking hold of the
tail of a dead rat.

"We'll see."




Repost--Tears (2/?)

Dr. Julian Gorey drew a third vial of blood from
Nick's arm. The blond detective winced, rubbing the
spot. "Leave some for me, okay?"

"Eh, Nicholas, stop complaining," Kai advised from the
table where he was lying. "You can always make more."

Julian chuckled and held the blood in its clear vial
up to the light, using his specially trained sight to
break the fluid down into its more basic components.
"How have you been feeling lately, Nick? Any
headaches, stomachaches, heartburn? Any pain at all?"

"Headaches, now and again. Not severe."

"You'll tell me if they start getting worse? Good.
Okay, you're all set." Julian smiled at his other
patient. "Janette? Your turn."

While Julian took blood samples from Janette, Nick
held her month-old son. He was still getting used to
holding the child, cradling his head carefully. "He's
so small," Nick murmured, enthralled. Kai glanced over
at his master and smiled.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," he advised, half-sadly. "It
doesn't last long."

With a fingertip, Nick touched Jesse's tiny nose. His
blue eyes popped open, and he gurgled and laughed
delightedly. "Do you know, Nicolas, that's the first
time he's done that with anyone but me?"

"Really?"

"He's used to Alain by now. But I don't think he likes
LaCroix. And frankly, I don't think LaCroix likes
<him>."

"Yes, well. LaCroix is an acquired taste." Kai frowned
and repeated what he had just said. "Oh dear. That
didn't come out quite right, did it?"

Nick chuckled, and gently laid Jesse in his mother's
arms. Julian hid a smile and shuffled through some
papers on his desk, looking for the blood tests he had
run on Jesse last week. They had just come in this
morning, so where had he put them? Ah! There they
were, just next to Nick's...

"No, no," he murmured, feeling his heart drop into his
shoes, "that can't be good."

Janette looked up. "What's that?"

"This DNA mockup. I wanted to check Jesse's genetic
chemistry against yours, but this mark shouldn't be
here." Julian ruffled his dark red hair, disturbed and
very annoyed. "He's got a sire mark."

Soundlessly, Kai groaned.

"Sire marks denote the lineage of a vampire family,
from master to fledgling. Mortals do not <have> sire
marks."

"Then how do you explain it?"

Julian chewed uncomfortably on his tongue, tasting his
own blood. "What affects the mother," he said finally,
"affects the fetus. Like drugs, or alcohol. Or vampire
blood.

"I've seen this mark before. I can identify it. The
sire mark is Nick's." The look of utter horror on
Nicholas B. Knight's face was one that Julian would
never forget.

"Oh my God," he muttered in dismay. His legs abruptly
turned to sand, and Nick sat down heavily on the
examining table, resting his forehead on his palm. Kai
didn't move; he only folded his hands over his chest.

Janette DuCharme stood very regal, very straight, with
her son against her breast like a terrible badge of
honor. "Nicolas is Jesse's master," she said flatly.

Julian nodded. "He is what people in the Falls call
'dhampir.' What is commonly known as a Hunter."

***

Lucien LaCroix brushed aside the chains hanging from
the ceiling and strode across the eerily empty dance
floor of the Raven, little Daniel Wells at his heels.
The renovations that had started in the basement of
the club a few months ago had now progressed to the
main area, forcing him to close the nightclub and put
his staff on vacation until further notice. In his own
defense, the renovations were not LaCroix's idea, and
he growled as he maneuvered around stacks of plywood
and carpenter's tools, cans of paint and sawhorses--

>From the niche where the house band kept their
instruments, Alain Barbour looked up and grinned.
"What Janette wants, Janette must have," he reminded
his master cheekily, flipping a lock of black hair
from his eyes.

"The next time I say that, you have permission to rip
out my tongue by the roots." LaCroix took down two
glasses from the rack above the bar and pretended not
to notice how Daniel's ears had perked up at that
comment. "Who's your friend?"

Alain jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "New chap with
the band," he explained. The rough-headed vampire
looked up, met LaCroix's eyes briefly but
respectfully, and went back to fitting a new string to
his guitar. "What with taking care of Snack and all,
every other night, I needed someone to take over for
me."

"'Snack?'" LaCroix repeated, amused. "Does Janette
know you're calling him that?"

"Mmmhmm. And I've got the bump to prove it."

The new guitar player chuckled good-naturedly. He
tested the fresh string. Apparently satisfied, he
began to play.

***

Miranda distained buses and public transportation. No
matter the weather, if she could manage it, she
walked.

She loved walking the way her father loved flying. It
bestowed a queer kind of freedom on her, the ability
to set her own destination, move at her own pace, to
take shortcuts or the long way around as the fancy
struck her.

She was still relatively new in Toronto. And, small
town girl that she was, she wasn't quite sure if she
liked living in the city yet. Too noisy, too bright,
too many people.

Miranda shifted her book bag on her back, tightened
the straps a bit and continued walking home.

She didn't notice it herself, but the way she walked
was very distinctive, light and springy with her head
and shoulders thrown back, feet meeting the ground
firmly one in front of the other, but always silent.
Even her clothing barely rustled as she moved. Miranda
didn't notice, but others did, and as she walked past
fellow pedestrians, they seemed in an inordinate hurry
to get away from her.

Ignoring the 'Closed for Repairs' sign on the front
door of the Raven, Miranda dug into her pocket for her
key. But her hand stopped above the keyhole as a few
strains of music and a very familiar voice reached her
ears.

"'There's spirits above and behind me
Faces gone black, eyes burnin' bright
May their precious blood bind me
Lord, as I stand before your fiery light...'"

Slowly, an incredulous and delighted smile spread
across her face.

***

"'Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight.'"

"Wicked," said Daniel approvingly. LaCroix's praise
was a bit more tempered.

"Pleasant," he admitted, pouring the musician a drink
and sending Alain a mental telegraph that he was
putting it on Alain's tab. "Although not the norm for
this particular establishment."

"I know that well enough, sir. That was one of my own
pieces, meant for a more selective set of ears.
Alain's been fairly explicit as to what your clientele
comes to hear." He accepted the drink with a smile and
a sparkle of his round, frank, honest green eyes.

"Have you a name, youngblood?"

The front door slammed. "Manx!"

"Miri?!"

"My Gods, Manx! You lazy-eyed bastard, I was just
talking about you!" Miranda ran down the stairs and
gave her old friend a joyful bear hug, which Manx
gladly returned. "It's been too long," she scolded
into his worn leather jacket, his quartz pendent
pressing against her cheekbone.

"Hell, it's barely been three years." Manx held her at
arms' length. "But I think you've grown up since I've
been away."

Simultaneously, Miranda and LaCroix were struck with
déjà vu.

<<Nicolas? My God, Nicolas!>>

<<My little flower. My little Fleur.>>

Miranda gave him a friendly punch. "What are you
<doing> here?"

"Ah, you know me. Just wanderin'. What about you?
How's your dad?" Miranda opened her mouth but somehow,
sound refused to come out. "Oh, Miri. I'm sorry."

"He's not gone yet. Just... getting worse, that's
all." She glanced at LaCroix and Daniel, who were
waiting patiently at the bar. LaCroix was barely
containing his curiosity and amusement. Daniel wasn't
even trying.

"Manx, have you met Lucien LaCroix yet?"

"Yes, briefly." Manx's green eyes narrowed in
suspicion. "And one plus one equals sixteen, right?"

"Just about. Meet my husband."

Manx threw back his head and laughed delightedly.



End Part Two

Disclaimers in first post. Also, the lyrics in Part
Two are from "The Rising" by Bruce Springsteen.

Repost--Tears (3/?)

Nick stared at Julian in shock. Janette's face could
have been set in stone. "I'll have to leave the city,"
she said.

"Leave?" Julian repeated. "Oh, no, don't you dare. Not
yet. You've got to stay here long enough for LaCroix
to bring you back across."

"And run the risk of someday being killed by my own
child? No. If he is a Hunter, then I won't be a
vampire, Julian. Bad enough that the Enforcers know
about him already. If they find out that he is a
Hunter..." She whirled on Nick, blue eyes flashing.
"And if you even <try> to apologize for this, Nicolas,
I will stake you myself. I don't want to hear it."

"Janette," he said forlornly, "you <can't> stay
mortal. The drug will wear off by November. You'll be
a vampire again either way and--"

"And if you wait for the drug to wear off on its own,
you may well have a death on your hands that you will
never forget," said Kai from the table. With a great
effort, he sat up, and the snow-grey eyes in the
gaunt, parchment-grey face were haunted, more haunted
than Nick had ever seen them before.

"I have been where you are, right now, just as
enthralled and far more ignorance of the consequences
of my actions. I have endured this drug, Janette.
Denzinol. It made me mortal again. Miranda was five.
My wife... Diana... was ecstatic." He ignored the
tears beginning to trickle down his wasted cheeks. "It
lasted for nearly eight months. And then I went back.
It wasn't withdrawal. It was... a transformation... a
madness...

"I killed her."

Kai looked directly into Janette's eyes. "Diana was
<four months pregnant> and I ripped her to shreds. I
killed her. I killed my son."

He swallowed deliberately. "Some people can get over
destroying their children. I don't think I'm one of
them." Kai shook his head. "And I'm paying the price
for my arrogance, am I not, Doctor?"

Reluctantly, hating the slight to his life's work but
forced to acknowledge his failure, Julian nodded. "The
consumption came back after the denzinol wore off. The
holy water controls the illness, but it can't stop it.
As for Nick, my best guess is that when he was mortal,
he was probably predisposed to developing cancer of
the brain. Something tipped it off, and then the holy
water just exacerbated it. You're both in the same
boat."

"Indeed we are. So there's no need for Janette to join
us." Giving himself a huge shake like a water dog, Kai
lowered himself down from the examining table.
"There's also no point in trying to run from the
Enforcers. You can't hide from them, you know that."

"Then what do we do?" Nick asked heatedly. "If Jesse
is a Hunter--or will grow up to become a Hunter--then
it's because of me. He's my responsibility in the same
way that you are! I wouldn't let the Enforcers take
you without a fight--"

"Christ, this Family tree is getting more and more
complicated," Kai muttered. He raised his voice as
much as he could. "Nicholas, Janette and Jesse are
safe. They have the protection of the Enforcers! The
mark of the Enforcers is on Janette's home and in
their blood, and unless Jesse grows up to do something
incredibly stupid, that protection can't be taken
away."

***

Miranda walked past her husband into their kitchen and
unceremoniously dumped her books on the table. "I take
it your study sessions with Dr. Lambert are not
progressing as fast as you'd hoped?"

"No," she replied shortly. Miranda dug the pencil out
of her coat pocket and snapped it. "Chemistry's a foul
science. And that goes for algebra as well. I would
have made a terrible Greek."

"Well, at least you don't need help with the French."

"Past lives can be wonderfully useful tools for a
college student. To say nothing of summers spent with
Étienne." She looked around. "Now I know I saw Daniel
when I walked in. Where did he go?"

"He's in the basement with Alexei. They claim to be
studying, but I think they're playing hide-and-seek
among the wine racks." LaCroix took a sip of his
bloodwine. "The drawbacks of being raised by Étienne
Le Morte. Ghost is by turns a child and a maniac, and
always playing; it's only natural that he should rub
off on his wards." Miranda didn't smile. She was still
glaring at her chemistry book.

LaCroix rolled his eyes. He put aside his wine and
cupped his wife's chin in his hand. "Come, ma fleur.
Come for a walk and we shall discuss the moon and the
stars and the inanities of the modern university." He
captured her mouth with his own and held it for some
time, as she molded against him. "And next semester,
take astronomy."

It was a fairly clear night, so there were many stars
to discuss. Miranda had her hand tucked comfortably
under LaCroix's arm, and they made a touching if
strange sight to the few people they encountered: the
white-haired older man and the girl with the long
blond hair, talking of the heavens and anthropology
and standing too closely to one another for them to be
father and daughter. LaCroix kept to the quieter side
streets, enjoying the light emitted both by the stars
and by the woman at his side.

<<Constant stars. The only comforting light. Kill the
pain... this incessant longing...>>

As if hearing his thoughts, as she often did, Miranda
began to sing softly.

"'When the dark wood fell before me
And all the paths were overgrown
When the priests of pride
Say there is no other way
I tilled the sorrows of stone

I did not believe
Because I could not see
Though you came to me in the night
When the dawn seemed forever lost
You showed me your love
In the light of the stars...'"

LaCroix remembered the song. She had sung it for him
on their first night together. "You never told me," he
reminded her, "what that song was called."

"'Dante's Prayer,'" she replied softly, leaning into
him.

"How long have you know Manx?"

"Since I was about fourteen. He was a friend of Dad's
before he was a friend of mine." She chuckled. "He
once offered to marry me."

"Really," LaCroix laughed quietly. "And you refused
him, did you, my young heartbreaker? How fortunate for
me."

"He was only kidding, mon bel et soi centré Lucien.* I
repeat, I was <fourteen>." They walked on in silence
for a few minutes, as their quiet, deserted side
street gave way to one of Toronto's busier main roads.
"I don't suppose we could talk about something else?"

"Comme vous souhaitez."* A beat. "Do you find the
classes required for your major to be as difficult as
the natural science?"

"Not in the slightest." With the change in topics,
Miranda's mood lightened considerably. "It's the
oddest thing, but I find that vampires fit into many
of the scenarios and conditions, especially in
cultural anthropology."

"Indeed? How so?"

"Lucien, your kind is a culture separate from mortals.
You have customs and rituals, methods of communication
and ways of doing things that are radically different
from any known human culture. You hear a lot about the
so-called 'vampire' subculture, the Gothic subculture.
True vampires aren't a subculture; you are your own
culture. You--" Suddenly Miranda stopped dead in her
tracks, staring across the street.

LaCroix followed her gaze to a young mortal standing
beside a newspaper vender. As he reached into his back
pocket for his wallet, the man caught sight of the
couple. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted
sideways in a queer grin, and he shoved the wallet
back into his pocket and sauntered across the road
with a light prowl in his walk.

<Let me handle this, Lucien. Please.>

The vampire raised an eyebrow but did not protest, and
released Miranda's arm. LaCroix stepped behind her a
pace or two, not too far. He vaguely recognized the
mortal male, from the memories in Miranda's blood.

The blond man stopped a few feet away from them.
"Miranda," he greeted her, smiling. "Who'd 'a'
thought, eh? It's been a long time."

"Three years." Miranda's voice was flat. "What are you
doing in Toronto, Teal? Black Falls not big enough?"

Teal shrugged. "It's all worn out. No fresh meat left,
you know the feeling." He looked her up and down,
ignoring LaCroix completely. "What about you? Run out
of men?"

The tension, indignation and loathing emanating from
his wife took LaCroix by surprise. "Dad left town. I
went with him."

"You mean your old man hasn't bought the farm yet?
Damn, he's scrappier than I thought. Scrappy little
leech." At last, Teal saw the older man standing
behind Miranda. "Who's the old guy? Flavor of the
week?" Teal snorted and grinned. "Guess I have to wait
my turn, eh?"

"You can wait for a cold day in Hell, Teal Ramsey,"
Miranda ground out, and turned back towards the Raven.
LaCroix put a protective arm around her shoulders. He
felt Teal's blue eyes on her back, and without
breaking his stride, LaCroix turned his head and
flashed a pair of hot yellow orbs at his wife's old
lover, and a low warning growl.

Teal scowled, and spat on the concrete.



Repost--Tears (3a/?)

The sun rose and fell, and nightfall found Nick Knight
and Natalie Lambert back on the job. They met Nick's
partner, Detective Tracy Vetter, at the scene of a
gruesome homicide, made even more terrible by the
victim of the crime.

Tracy led Nick and Natalie to the trash dumpster where
a couple of vagrants had found the body of an old
woman, nude and horribly brutalized, dumped in an
alley. "Any idea who she is?"

"None," Tracy replied. "No clothing, no jewelry,
nothing."

Natalie stood up from her examination. "Offhand, she's
been bludgeoned, shot, stabbed, possibly raped."

"We did find a wallet, but according to Dakins,
there's nothing in it."

"Nothing? No I.D. cards or credit cards? No driver's
license? Hey, Dakins! Let me see that wallet."

The leather wallet had been completely ransacked of
anything of monetary value. All that was left was a
single family photo. Carefully, Nick slid the photo
from its casing and held it flat in his gloved palm.
There were two elderly men in the picture, two elderly
women, and one blond little girl of two or three years
old. "Wait a minute! I know him." Tracy pointed to one
of the men.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. That's Elliot Vane."

Nick's ears perked up. "The attorney?"

"<The> attorney. He's a friend of my father's."

As they spoke, neither of them noticed, either with
their eyes or their instincts, the tall figure
watching them from a roof across the street. The
ancient man had come to Toronto with foreboding and
dread, and as the name 'Vane' wafted to his ears, his
painful premonition was confirmed. The brown eyes
beneath the hard forehead solidified into red blazes,
and as he threw back his head in a silent cry of
grief, the street lamps glinted off the long white
fangs.




Repost--Tears (4/?)

David Mankowitz, known to his friends as Manx, lounged
at a table in the Raven, scribbling into a little
leather covered book, and tried not to hear the
conversation going on in heated whispers across the
deserted dance floor.

"I'm beginning to wonder about the wisdom of having
<anyone> from Black Falls within the city limits,"
LaCroix was saying, tracing little pictures in the
sawdust that covered every flat surface in the club.
"Let alone within five feet of you."

"If you're thinking of evicting Manx, I wouldn't
advise it," Miranda warned darkly.

Mildly surprised and decidedly concerned by the force
Miranda was applying to keep him out of her mind,
LaCroix mildly replied, "I'm only thinking of your
welfare, ma fleur."

Miranda gave her husband a look that could have shot
daggers. "Lucien, I appreciate the concern. But for
all her delicacy, Fleur was no wilting mediaeval
flower of a maiden. And I am not Fleur."

"I am aware of that." LaCroix debated taking her hand
and decided against it. "I only meant that men from
that town seem to have an adverse effect on you. First
Garek--" He could've sworn Miranda just snarled under
her breath. "--and now this Teal, I--"

"Teal. Teal Ramsey?!"

Miranda's head whipped around, and LaCroix saw
something in her eyes that he had never seen before.
It was so unlike the woman he had come to know, he
couldn't identify it at first. "Gods, Manx, I didn't
know you were there."

Manx was at her side in an instant. "Tell me," he
demanded. "Tell me! Is Ramsey here in Toronto?"

"Manx, please, don't do anything stupid--"

"He is here." The bright green eyes hardened, snapping
with gold flecks. "He just won't leave you alone, will
he?"

"Let <it> alone, will you? Manx. Manx!" Miranda bolted
up from her chair but it was too late. Manx was gone.
She slammed her fist into a tabletop, cracking it.
"Dammit!"

Wordlessly, Miranda looked at LaCroix. It was then
that he recognized the emotion in her great blue eyes.

It was fear.

Inexplicably frightened himself, LaCroix went out
after Manx.

***

The Black Falls youngblood might have been new in
Toronto, but he knew what he was hunting for, while
LaCroix had only two days' acquaintance with his own
quarry. He almost over-flew Manx's scent.

LaCroix dropped down behind a meat-packing plant he
had good reason to remember.

<<No guts, no glory, man...>>

<<Come on! What's it gonna take to get a rise out of
you?>>

<<You want mortality? I can give you mortality. With
sunlight. Fire. A stake through the heart. And one
more: Decapitation...>>

With a flick of some mental switch, LaCroix began
scanning the empty places with his own special night
vision. <And I am looking for... what?> he grumbled to
himself. A small groan caught his ear. Pulling aside
several stuffed trash bags, LaCroix found David
Mankowitz.

With a stake buried in his chest.

Weakly, Manx clutched at LaCroix jacket. "Tell her I'm
sorry. I should have listened," he managed to whisper,
blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth, bubbling
up out around the stake in his heart.

"Tell her I'm sorry."

"Be quiet," the General ordered. He shrugged out of
his leather trench coat, pulled off his suit jacket
and wadding it up, he pressed the cloth to Manx's
wound. With one sharp jerk, LaCroix wrenched out the
massive wooden splinter. Manx arched, screaming. Then
he collapsed, an ominous rattling in his chest.

LaCroix gathered up the younger vampire and flew off.

***

Natalie pulled the sheet up over Paula Vane's face, as
Tracy led her grieving brother out of the morgue. "At
least she's got a name now." No answer. "Nick?"

"What am I going to do, Nat, eh?" he asked quietly.
"About Jesse?"

"The same thing you've always done," Natalie told him
shortly, pulling off her gloves with a snap. "Deal
with it."

"It's not even the same as having a fledgling. I can't
<feel> him. I can't--Nat, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Just a little overworked, I guess."

"I know the feeling." Nick hugged her. "Come on. Let's
go home. Some sleep'll do us both good." They turned
around.

"Good evening, Nicholas."

Instinctively, Nick moved in front of Natalie. She had
to peer out from around his arm to see who their
visitor was. A pair of hard, ancient brown eyes
immediately locked on her, freezing her for a bare
second before she shook off their influence.
"Matthew," Nick murmured, hearing the cries of wounded
men, and the horrible high-pitched whistle of flying
metal.

@}-----

1863

Union Army Major Dr. Nicholas Knight screamed in
agony. His medical tent had taken a direct hit,
sending him flying haphazardly into the air with
canvas and tools and wooden posts. Most of the posts
had splintered on impact, and were now imbedded in the
vampire doctor's legs.

Nicholas thrashed on the ground and roared, the poison
from the wood spreading quickly through his body. His
fangs emerged as he writhed and his mind was so thick
and hot that he didn't care who saw him. He roared
again.

A large cool hand clamped over his mouth. "Shut up,"
said a deep voice. Through the golden haze, Nicholas
could see a broad-shouldered man, with hard brown eyes
and a bald head under his blue army cap.

"Go away," Nicholas rumbled, trying to sound
threatening and failing utterly. The man only smiled
condescendingly.

"You look like so much mincemeat," he commented in a
bland, lightly accented voice. Then he threw Nicholas
over his shoulder and flew off into the night, leaving
the battlefield far behind.

@}-----

"Nicholas... Knight, is it again? Original."

"I thought I sensed someone at the crime scene. But I
wasn't sure. Do I still call you Bates?"

"Abbott, now." The vampire known as Matthew reached
out a strong copper hand and pulled back the sheet
covering the victim's face. He took a deep breath, let
it out slowly... and gently touched her battered
cheek.

"Did you know her?"

"Rather... Yes, rather well."

"I'm sorry." Matthew looked up. "I'm sorry for your
loss, Matthew. But you have to let me handle this."
The older vampire snorted something in a language
Natalie couldn't place. "As a favor to me."

"You're racking up a lot of favors."

"I repaid you for the first one and I shall repay you
for this one. Just <let us> handle it."

Matthew took one step closer to Nick and Natalie, and
Nick became uncomfortably aware of Matthew's age.
"Find who did this, Nicholas. Find him. Before I do."

And then with barely a rustle, he was simply not
there.




Repost--Tears (5/?)

Miranda slung her book bag off her shoulder and threw
it into a chair. "I <hate> chemistry!" The weak
afternoon sun shone through the windows of the dining
hall, bouncing off her friend's hair. Jack Wolcott
grinned.

"Yeah, sucks, doesn't it?"

"Good choice of words." They went to get their food.

She wasn't fond of university life, in general. Too
many people in too small of a space. But she was
having a good time earning her major--could her time
in Black Falls count as anthropological field
work?--and the few friends Miranda had made were
people who weren't scared off by her particularly
brutal sense of humor. Jack was one of them, a short,
stocky man whose black hair had been the victim of
many a bad dye job. <And> he was a fan of the
Nightcrawler. Miranda wasn't sure if that was a good
thing or a bad thing.

She was envying her husband his restricted
diet--because dining hall food, to use Jack's
phraseology, sucked--when Jack looked at her over his
hamburger and said, "So, you're married?"

"I've been here three weeks and you're just now
noticing the ring? How stoned have you been?"

"Not stoned enough until now. So, does he go here?"

Miranda swallowed a laugh. "No. No, he doesn't," was
all she would say, trying not to look too pointedly at
Jack's black and red CERK t-shirt.

Lucien hadn't come home last night. Thanks to their
blood-bond, she knew that he was safe and unharmed,
but that was the extent of her knowledge. She was more
worried about Manx, her clumsy, impetuous, brilliant
friend. Miranda reached into her pocket and fingered
Manx's notebook. Full of poetry, song lyrics and
drawings, it was one of the few personal possessions
that he carried with him whenever he moved on, and she
was certain that when Lucien found him, he would want
it back.

There were television sets scattered around, most of
them tuned to local news channels, so news of the
Paula Vane murder was splattered all over the
cafeteria. Miranda wasn't paying much attention (she
was too busy trying to figure out why there was
chicken in her clam chowder), but she did turn around
when she heard Nick's voice.

"Poor Nicolas," she said, "caught by reporters with no
place to run. They must have caught him coming out of
the precinct last night."

"You know him?" said Jack, impressed. "Toronto's White
Knight? Ontario's own Sir Galahad? The Knightmare?"
Miranda stared at him. "My sister's got a desk job at
the 96th precinct," Jack mumbled.

Miranda grinned.

"This just in," broke in a reporter, "according to
sources, while there are currently no suspects in this
horrible crime, police do have a witness."

Miranda lifted her coffee mug to her lips.

"Twenty-two-year-old Teal Ramsey, late of New York
State."

The mug fell from Miranda's suddenly numb fingers, and
shattered on the cold tile floor.

***

In the Corvina's dormitory, LaCroix woke with a snarl.

***

Kai bolted out of a sound sleep, choking. Blinded by
vertigo, he rolled out of bed, gagging blood onto his
carpet. When the spell subsided, Kai crawled to his
bureau. With a shaking arm, he reached up and pulled
down one of his 'special' vintages of holy-water laced
blood. And he kept drinking until he could breathe
again.

He barely looked up when Julian opened the door. "Go
away," he gasped, taking another pull at the bottle.

"Kai. Come up to the clinic."

"I don't want to."

"There's someone you need to see."

***

"Miri. Miri. Miri."

Slowly, Miranda began to hear a voice through the fog
of blind hate and panic. "Goddammit, Miri, are you
okay?"

"No." Miranda swallowed with difficulty. Once. Twice.
"Jack, could you take me home, please?"

She directed him to drive her to the Raven. Jack did a
double take but said nothing, just put Miranda in his
junky car and got in the other side.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked as they drove.

Miranda didn't answer. Suddenly she sat up straight.
"Jack, stop the car."

"Huh?"

"Stop the car!"

Bowling out almost before the car had come to a
complete halt, Miranda ran to the door of the Corvina.
She fumbled with her key and cursed, but the lock
finally opened, and she ran through the dark store to
the stairs. "Dad!" she called. <Something's wrong.
Something but I don't know what I don't know...>
"Dad!"

She found him in his living room, sitting on the
hearth like an upright fetus. "Dad?" Kai dropped his
head onto his knees.

>From the deep wing-back chair, LaCroix stood. His face
was haggard and as he held out the worn leather jacket
to Miranda, he shook his head.

"Oh, no. Manx." Miranda took the garment. "Manx."

"I'm sorry. And so was he."

"Manx. Manx."

***

Nick closed the door of the interrogation room. "Okay,
Mr. Ramsey. Let's start from the beginning." He sat
down across the table from his only witness. Tracy
stood in the corner. Teal Ramsey was a tall, athletic
man with thick butter-blond hair, bright blue eyes,
high cheekbones and an aquiline nose. "You're visiting
from New York?"

"Yeah."

Out of curiosity, Tracy asked, "Where in New York?"

"Lake Luzerne. Nowhere in particular."

"You say you saw Paula Vane getting off her bus."

"Yeah. She got off the bus, and she walked up to us."

"Us?"

"Me and my friends. I've got some friends here, and we
were hanging out on this corner, when this old woman
comes up to us. She asked for direction to some
housing development I'd never heard of. Then this
guy--he's a friend of a friend, I don't know his
name--he said, Well, I know where that is. I can drive
you."

"So she went with this man?" Tracy said. "This friend
of a friend?"

"Yeah. That was it. I don't know anything else."

Something about how Teal said that word, 'anything,'
put Tracy's teeth on edge. "You sure?"

Teal twisted around in his chair. "Yeah, <lady,> I'm
sure."

Since she was on duty, Tracy forced herself to swallow
the growl building in her throat. This kid was just
too cocky about something.

"What did he look like?" asked Nick quickly.

"Umm... tall, tallish, you know, about my height. Uh,
greyish-white hair, light blue eyes." Teal shrugged.
"He was an older guy. Forties, maybe."

Nick, on hearing the description, straightened. He
caught Tracy's eye, and she nodded. "All right, Mr.
Ramsey." Teal stood. "I think that's enough for
tonight."

"Tonight?" Teal repeated. "What d'you mean, tonight?
That's all I know."

"Yes, well, there's still some... procedural... things
that we need to go through." Nick shook Teal's hand.
"We'll be in touch." He signaled through the two-way
mirror, and a uniformed officer appeared at the door
to escort Teal Ramsey out. As soon as the door was
closed--

"Is it just me, or does this guy seem a little off?"

Nick shook his head. "No, it's not just you. There
definitely something unnerving about him.
Something..."

<<Smells like?>>

<<Insanity.>>

"He reminds me of Sperling."

Tracy blinked. "But he's not a vampire."

"No, but..." Nick lifted his shoulders in a frustrated
shrug. "I don't know." His concerned expression
changed slightly, from professional to personal. "How
are you?"

That question had <so> many layers of meaning, Tracy
wasn't quite sure how to respond. "I only ask because
you seem a lot more at ease with yourself than you did
a few months ago. You're cautious, but you're
confident. It takes most vampires centuries to develop
that level of... of poise. You controlled yourself
well at the crime scene yesterday." There was
something in Nick's eyes that Tracy couldn't
identify... humor? "Everything's fine, I take it?"

A memory flashed up before Tracy's eyes. Bodies,
hands, mouths, fangs, the taste of her master's blood
on her tongue and the indescribable feeling of her
life being swallowed.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm doing fine."

A slow, knowing smile spread across Nick's face.
"That," he said, grinning, "was quick work."

"Chauvinist. You almost sound proud!"

"I am. Proud of you. And proud of Kai. He's doing a
wonderful job, far better than I've ever been able to
do."





Repost--Tears (6/?)

As they came out of the interrogation room, "Knight!
Vetter! In my office!"

Nick and Tracy exchanged a dubious glance.

Reese was fuming. "A harmless sixty-two-year-old
woman, who is the <little sister> of one of the most
powerful lawyers in Toronto, is beaten, raped and
murdered, and my best people don't have <one damn
suspect!>"

"Cut us a <little> slack, Captain!"

"Tracy, your dad is breathing fire down my neck to get
this thing wrapped up quickly, to say nothing of
Elliot Vane--whom, I might add, is the personal
attorney to the Constantine crime family. Two very
angry dragons. And I am not going to get into a
shouting argument with two angry dragons!"

"For thou art crunchy and go good with cheese," Nick
muttered, rolling his eyes.

Tracy tilted her head at him curiously. "I thought it
was ketchup..."

"Did Ramsey give you anything to work with?" Reese
pleaded.

Tracy nodded. "Aside from giving me and every other
woman here the eye? Yeah. He gave us the distinct
impression that he's lying."

"You think he's playing games with us?"

Nick nodded his head in a tight, sideways fashion. "I
think he's trying to run circles around us. He knows
something important, of that much I'm certain."

"Why?"

"Because otherwise, I don't think he'd have the
gumption to just waltz in here and claim to be a
witness. He's playing with us. I think we should have
some DNA tests done on Mr. Ramsey."

Reese nodded. "Okay," he sighed, sinking into his
chair. "I'll have a forensics technician get to him
tonight."

"Tonight?"

"I'm having him put up at a motel with a couple of
uniforms. This is a nasty business, Nick, and Ramsey's
all we've got."

***

Instead of swinging around to pick up Natalie at the
morgue, as Nick usually did after work, he drove to
the Corvina. Natalie had warned him that she would be
working late, and he had a need to see his fledgling.
He walked through the door and his nose was
immediately assailed by the smells of ink, paper and
dust, gourmet coffee and expensive blood. Nick leaned
on the front counter.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked the new assistant
manager. Rebecca, remembered Nick. That was her name.

"I'm looking for Kai."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Thorn is not seeing anyone right now."

"I'm Family."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Thorn is not--"

Nick shot her an annoyed glare and flashed his badge.
"Metro Homicide," he said in a clipped tone. "I would
like to see Kai Thorn."

Irked, Rebecca pointed to a table near the back
window. Kai was seated there. Miranda was with him,
and they were talking fervently. Nick realized with a
start that his fledgling was blocking him; he couldn't
feel Kai's state of mind or his emotions.

Which meant that his state of mind was not good.

Without looking up from his conversation, Kai raised
his thin grey hand and beckoned his master to join
him. "Cold night, Nicholas."

"Praise be for warm bodies, eh?"

Neither Kai nor Miranda smiled. In fact, Kai was
looking rather ill, and Miranda looked worn, not to
mention angrier than Nick had ever seen her.
"Nicolas," she began, her clear voice tight, "is it
true you have Teal Ramsey in custody?"

"He's a witness in the Paula Vane murder," replied
Nick carefully, wondering where this was going.

"But he's not a suspect?"

Nick signaled to one of the vampire waiters to bring
him a drink. "He may be soon, if he doesn't start
making sense. We're having some DNA comparisons done
between Ramsey's blood and the semen samples found on
Paula Vane." The waiter brought Nick a black mug and a
carafe of warm gourmet blood. Nick poured the mug half
full. He pulled an etched silver flask from inside his
leather duster, and filled the rest of the mug with a
clear liquid. He swirled the two fluids together.
"Carpe diem," he toasted dryly, and sipped his drink.

"So Paula's dead," Kai mused, "poor woman."

"Did you know her?"

"Her? No. But I know her father quite well. He's not
going to be happy about this. And it happened on your
turf, Nicholas. No, Matthew's <not> going to be
happy."

The mug stopped halfway to Nick's lips. "Matthew?"

"I think he's going by the name Abbott now. When he
adopted Paula and her older brothers, his name was
Matthew Vane."

"Paula was Matthew's daughter?" Nick repeated. Kai
nodded. Nick rubbed his forehead. <Damn damn damn
*damn*...> Matthew had said he would give Nick some
time, but he knew Matthew well, well enough to realize
that the Welsh vampire's temper would not be stayed
for long. "That doesn't give me much time, does it?"

"You don't need time, Nicolas. You have your
murderer."

Nick looked up at his... <Damn, what am I supposed to
call her?> Miranda was the reincarnation of his
sister, but she was also the lover of his master and
the daughter of his fledgling. She was his sister, his
step-mother and granddaughter. <This Family tree
really needs trimming,> he thought sardonically.
"Miranda, is there something about Teal Ramsey that
you should be telling me? Do you know him?"

"Yes." Miranda leaned forward. As she did so, Nick
noted the quartz pendant dangling from a string around
her throat. It looked a bit like a wolf. "He's a bully
and a butcher. A tyrant and a sick, sick man. I knew
him in Black Falls. We went to school together. Bram
Stoker's Dracula is his Bible and Van Helsing is God.
Or he would be if Hitler sat at the right hand of the
father." As Nick watched, Miranda rolled up her right
sleeve and displayed a six-inch long narrow scar. A
knife scar. "Yes, Nicolas. I know him."

Nick met her eyes steadily. "Do you think he's capable
of murder?"

"He was responsible for the killing of several
vampires in Albany and New York. And... elsewhere..."
She twisted her tongue between her teeth with a
vicious motion. "But he always made it back to Black
Falls before the local bloods could get their fangs
into him."

"Do you think he's capable of killing a <mortal>?"

Miranda glanced at her father. "Yes."

"That's all I wanted to hear." Nick pushed away from
the table.

"Nicolas. Make sure he's convicted. Make sure he's
sent to prison. Or his life won't be worth the flesh
it's made from."

Nick was speechless.

<<I want him just as badly as you do.>>

<<Then *take care* of it...>>

<<Find him. Find him before I do.>>

He stared at her, unable to say anything. Against his
better judgment, Nick decided not to pursue the cause
of the uneasiness that was growing in his mind: the
bitterness in Miranda's voice.

***

Nick drove home with the wind in his hair and the
Nightcrawler in his ears.

"I have... a secret," confessed the Nightcrawler,
caressingly, mock-humbly. "We all... have secrets. It
is the nature of all men to hide one thing or another.
We hide behind masks, behind morals. Secrets give us a
measure of security in this helter-skelter world of
ours. But... how much security? How long can we hide
within our webs of secrets? How long can we survive
with the burden of our hidden knowledge?"

***

"The secret to enduring secrets... is trust. Pure,
simple trust. In a friend. Or a confidante. A father.
A lover." The Nightcrawler's voice became husky,
seductive. "I am all these things, my children. Tell
me your secrets. You can trust me."

With deliberate fingers, LaCroix grasped the little
volume switch and pulled it into the OFF position.
"Are your monologues always this appropriate to the
situation at hand?" asked a voice from behind him.
LaCroix laced his fingers together.

"Not always. But often." He turned to face the younger
vampire. "You look awful." Standing beside Kai,
Miranda chewed on the inside of her lip, as she often
did when angry, and her large luminous eyes were coals
of blue fire.

Despite her anger, despite her grief, she was beyond
any definition of beauty that LaCroix had ever seen.

"What is on your mind, ma fleur?" he asked softly. "A
secret?" His lips drew into a smile. "You can trust
me."

Kai looked at Miranda questioningly, knowing that she
would not be able to bring up the subject herself.
Resolutely, she nodded.

"There's something we need to discuss with you," Kai
said.

LaCroix looked from face to face, and waited.




Repost--Tears (7/?)

Groaning, holding his throbbing head, Nick stumbled
down the stairs. Whether it had caused the tumors in
the first place or was preventing their growth, the
holy water was doing nothing for his headaches. They
got worse when he was stressed, not severe but
perpetually annoying. <I guess I am going to have to
ask Julian for some painkillers...> He picked up his
perversely ringing phone. "Hello?" he said thickly,
rubbing his temple.

"Good morning, Detective."

Nick growled something uncharitable under his breath.
"Dakins... Good morning is an oxymoron. What do you
want?"

"Reese wants you and Detective Vetter down at Mercy
Hospital as soon as possible. Someone tried to
strangle your witness."

***

Nick looked at Tracy curiously. "Are you okay?"

"My head hurts. I think Kai's blocking me."

"Yeah, me too. But with a new fledgling? He should
know better."

They walked into Teal's room. Their witness was asleep
in bed with a light gash on his forehead and bandages
on his throat. The harsh hospital light did strange
things to his features, paling his skin, putting
highlights where none should be and dusting his face
with light purple shadows.

It made Teal Ramsey look like a vampire.

If Miranda's testimony was anything to go on, Ramsey
would be horrified by the comparison.

Satisfied that their witness was not going to expire
on them, Nick and Tracy stepped back out into the
hallway and allowed the police photographer to go to
work. "So, what exactly happened?"

"He claims that someone attacked him from behind,"
snorted Reese. "With this." He held out a thick
leather strap. "The uniform who was staying with him
was knocked out. Got a nice big grapefruit on the back
of his skull, but he's gonna be okay." Reese sighed.
"Well, so much for our 'ring around the cops' theory.
Someone really does not want this kid to testify."

***

"Nick," said Tracy, buckling her seat belt, "Something
about this isn't sitting right. I think we need to
take a closer look at this Ramsey guy." Nick nodded.
Then he slammed his car door. Tracy jumped.

"Shit," he growled around his fangs. "Not only is our
only witness now our number one suspect, I now have to
find out who tried to murder my murder suspect!"

***

Despite her status as a police officer, as a new
vampire Tracy was more likely than Nick to get
anything out of the local youngbloods, so she went to
the Corvina, the most likely place to find the Raven's
clientele while the club was being remodeled.
Meanwhile, Nick had his own plans--to question the
people he though most likely to have tried to kill
Teal Ramsey <before> Metro Homicide could dig too
deeply into Ramsey's past.

His own Family.

Whatever Miranda's grudge against Ramsey, there were
several people who would be more than willing to take
her word against an ordinary mortal's. It was a
problematic situation. So he went to the Raven to
start snooping. But there was something else Nick
needed to take care of first.

Hesitantly, he moved to the bar, where Alain Barbour
was mixing himself a drink. "Alain."

"Nicolas."

"You're, ah, you're looking well."

"Really? Merci, bien. You look like shit." He dumped a
greenish liquid into his glass. "What can I do for
you?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see how you were settling
in."

"Settling in. I've been here for what, nine months,
now? You've seen me frequently. And you're just now
asking? Well, I'm fine, Nicolas." He took a swallow of
his Christmas-colored concoction. "Considering Janette
just told me that Jesse's your kid."

"I'm his master, not his father."

"Whatever." Alain grinned sardonically and gulped
again. "Looks like Golden Boy has done it again, eh?"

"Done what again?"

"Completely screwed someone over because of your own
selfishness."

"Look, I didn't want this!"

"You don't know what you want. You wanted immortality
and you got it. You wanted mortality, and it looks
like you're getting it. You can walk in the sun once
in a while, eat a little solid food now and again;
you're engaged to be married; you've got a kid... sort
of--"

"Yeah, and I'm dying."

"Sorry to be the one to break it to you, mon frere,
but that <is> the definition of mortal. C'est la
guerre."

Nick digested this painfully. "I don't think," he said
finally, moving on to another topic, "that Janette
wants all that much to do with me right now."

"She doesn't want much to do with anyone, right now,
except Jesse."

"And you."

"She puts up with me, yeah. Why--Oh, no. No, no, no,
no, no. No way. You are <not> foisting this blunder
off on me!"

"You said you liked him."

"Yeah, I like him, but I'm certainly not bloody
enamored of the little appetizer."

"And Janette?" The glass stopped in mid-air, and
Alain's eyes lost focus. Grinning, Nick took the glass
from his brother's motionless fingers. "Well?"

Alain shook his head to clear out the cobwebs.
"Janette's a fabulous person. She doesn't judge; I've
always respected her for that. She never looked down
her nose at me for what I was when I was mortal, the
way you and LaCroix did. I don't mind giving her a
hand. But I'm going back to Paris next month."

"But... why?"

"Because I have a life there, Nicolas. Friends,
lovers, scheduled gigs, bars--I'm not giving that up
for your kid!"

"He is <Janette's> son. Stop blaming him for my
mistake. I've seen the way you look at her. You care
about her."

"She's my sister. She's Family."

"You love her."

"Bunk."

Nick snorted. He got up and was going to go upstairs
to LaCroix's apartment. Then he turned back. "You
know, Alain, when I brought Janette back across, I had
no idea she was with child. She was four months'
pregnant when she came to me for help, but I didn't
realize it. Didn't sense it. Never tasted it."

"I had wondered about that. Why not, do you think?"

"Because I was preoccupied. Blinded. Just like you
are." And he went upstairs, leaving Alain to his
drink. Alain stared at Nick's retreating back. Then he
cursed in Romany and he tossed back the rest of his
alcoholic sludge.

***

"I need to know..." Nick stopped, halfway in the
doorway, when he saw the board game. "What are you
playing?"

Alexei didn't look up. "'Risk.'"

"What?"

"The game of world domination." LaCroix deployed his
armies with great skill and a little evil glee.
"Honestly, Nicholas, if I'd known it was this easy,
I'd've done it years ago." He turned in his chair.
"Care to join us? You can finally take Jerusalem."

"I'm on duty." Nick felt his face and voice ice over.
"Someone tried to kill my murder witness."

"Your murder suspect."

"And I want to know who."

LaCroix stiffened. He rose from his chair with the
languid, elegant movements of a leopard preparing to
attack. "Are you accusing me, Nicholas?"

"I am <asking> you if you know who tried to strangle
Teal Ramsey."

The old Roman, with his ivory and alabaster features,
stared steadily at his son. "No. But I can tell you
this, Nicholas: whoever tried was doing us all a
favor. The man is a menace. He killed one of us two
nights ago. Ah, that gets your attention. Yes. He was
a young one, happy and harmless. A friend of
Miranda's. A very good friend." LaCroix gestured to
the bedroom. "She's in there. But don't antagonize
her, Nicholas. She's not in the mood."




Repost--Tears (8/?)

Nick pushed in the bedroom door. He found Miranda
sitting on the bed, sharpening--

Nick gulped.

"Miranda."

"Nicolas."

"Someone tried to kill Teal Ramsey last night."

"Oh?"

"They tried to strangle him. But he survived."

"Good."

"Good?"

Miranda glanced at him briefly. "If he's still alive,
that means I can still kill him."

"That's murder, Miranda."

"That's justice, Nicolas. After what he did to others
and to me, he deserves it."

"And what exactly did he do, to deserve your
'justice?'"

Miranda swallowed, and Nick honestly wasn't sure if
she was trying not to cry or trying not to succumb to
the urge to belt him into next Tuesday. "He took
something from me, Nicolas. Something that can't be
replaced. Clichéd, maybe, but I'll bet you've heard
similar phrases in your long life."

"Yes," said Nick gently, wished that he had not, "I
have." Then, "LaCroix tells me you lost someone
recently. I'm sorry."

Her hand slipped and skittered as she worked, scraping
the dried blood from the wood. "Thank you."

"But this isn't the way to assuage your grief!" Nick
knelt beside her. "Ma soeur, don't do this. Don't...
don't think like this. You can't. Miranda..." Taking
her hand, Nick held it tightly in his own. Miranda
looked down at him. "Doesn't it bother you? This idea
of killing?" She only gazed back at him, her cobalt
eyes cold and steady. "If you do this, you will be no
better than--"

"Than Lucien? Than you?"

"You are still mortal, Miranda! There's no reason, no
need to destroy yourself, no matter what has been done
to you!" Nick pleaded. "How will killing Teal solve
anything?"

"It won't. And beyond a few minutes of surging
adrenaline, I probably won't enjoy it nearly as much
as I would under different circumstances. But it has
to be done. He's dangerous, Nicolas."

She grabbed him by the chin, this girl who was a head
shorter and pounds lighter than he, and forced Nick to
look her in the eye.

"Now <listen> to me, Nicolas," she instructed, in a
curiously masterful tone. "You will drop this, do you
understand me?"

Mutely, Nick nodded.

"You will find evidence to convict Teal Ramsey."

Nick nodded again.

"And you will not discuss this with me again."

***

Nick awoke abruptly when Tracy slammed the car door.
"Nick, what the hell happened? Are you okay?"

"I don't know--" Nick winced, pressing a hand to the
back of his neck. "Oh... no." The vertebrae in his
neck and the bone in the back of his skull all felt
like they had been shattered and put back haphazardly
with rubber cement, and he couldn't remember how he'd
gotten back to the car. "What happened?"

"You stalked down the stairs and out of the club--you
almost mowed a couple people over--it was like Night
of the Living Dead." Her partner glared at her. "Well,
okay. But still."

"Eh, you've got a point. I just--I just don't
<remember>..."

"Did LaCroix whammy you?"

"No, I barely spoke with--" He stopped short. Then
Nick let out a string of curses so vile, the air
inside the Caddy turned blue. "Come on," he growled,
twisting the key in the ignition. "I've got some
questions to ask your master."

***

They found Kai, not in his office, but in his bed,
unconscious and gasping. Nick's anger evaporated. "Go
into the bathroom," he ordered, throwing off his
duster. Tracy was frozen with terror; he had to give
her something to do. "Fill up the tub with water, as
hot as you can make it." He pulled his son into a
sitting position and steadied Kai's shoulders, as
brutal coughs racked the thin, wasted body. "Tracy,"
Nick called. But she didn't come out. "Tracy?"

"Yeah?"

"Think you could give me a hand here?"

"I don't think I can come out right now."

"Why not?"

"'Cause the Virgin Mary's giving me the creeps."

<Of course,> Nick recalled, mentally smacking himself.
Kai's immunity to holy things wasn't hereditary; he
couldn't simply pass on the ability to his fledglings.
All Nick could do was hold Kai until the coughing
subsided.

When Kai was finally calm, Nick planted on knee firmly
on the edge of the bed. He slipped one arm under Kai's
legs and the other under his shoulders, and carried
him into the bathroom. He was so light... Nick and
Tracy stripped Kai of his blood-stained clothing and
slid him into the scalding hot water. They watched as
his body relaxed.

"Can I stop being petrified now?"

"He'll be all right," Nick assured her quietly,
perching on the edge of
the sink. "I hadn't realized you hadn't been here
before. You and he--I thought you'd been together."

"We have been. But he always comes over to my place. I
guess I'm not ready for the high and mighty."

"You will be, someday."

"I doubt it."

"Trust me, Trace. It's all in the blood. Just... get
checked for pre-existing conditions, first." He
gestured to himself and to Kai. "You don't want to end
up like us."

Tracy stared at her master. <She looks like a lost
child,> Nick thought sadly.

"But even while he was having his attack, he was still
blocking us. I didn't realize he was that strong. It's
hard to think of him as strong, isn't it?"

"Yes," Nick conceded. "Sometimes. Til he turns around
and throws you off a building. He's done that to me
before." Nick was becoming uncomfortably aware of his
own drenched shirt. "I'm filthy. You mind if I take a
shower?"

"No, go ahead."

Nick grinned when Tracy averted her eyes from his
undressing. He stepped into the little shower cubicle
and closed the door. "Safe," he called. "You can open
your eyes now."

"Nick, I like you, I really do. But the idea of seeing
my grandfather <naked>--"

Nick snorted and turned on the water. He quickly
washed off Kai's blood and his own perspiration, then
stuck his head under the hot faucet and let the
burning water soothe away the cracks in his neck and
skull and some of the discomfort in his right temple.
<I *really* have to ask Julian for some pain killers,
'cause the holy water's not cutting it.> Nick thought
longingly of the first night he had drunk the stuff,
the incredible sensation... The shroud of crimson, Kai
had called it. The manifestation of the vampire's
acceptance of himself. Well, Nick had accepted
himself, but he hadn't seen the shroud in nearly a
year. The only shroud he was seeing in his mind's eye
now was a burial shroud.

He cut off the water with more strength than turning a
faucet warranted. "Hey Trace, can you throw me a
towel?" A fluffy bath towel came sailing over the
shower door, hitting Nick in the ear. "Thanks."

Nick dried himself off, wrapped the towel around his
waist, and took his relatively clean pants into the
bedroom to dress. He was hunting through Kai's bureau
and closet, looking for a shirt or something, when he
found it. Kai was smaller than Nick and narrower in
the shoulders and waist, so he wasn't getting his
hopes up, when among the silks and linens, Nick's hand
grasped wool. Puzzled, Nick pulled a dark plum tunic
from the bureau drawer.

His fingers worked in the dark wool like an agitated
cat's. <This is mine,> Nick thought, remembering. He
pulled the tunic over his still-damp torso.

Tracy looked up when Nick re-entered the bathroom. She
shivered when she laid eyes on the tunic, though it
was a minute before she realized why. "That was the
shirt you wore that day at St. John's."

"I brought him home that day so I could take care of
him. He was just
like he is now." Nick felt a wave of shame slither up
his neck. <And I came here to whale hell out of him
about Miranda.> He sighed. "I'll stay here today. You
go on. Tell Nat where I am."

"Nick, I don't want to leave him--"

"I know. I understand. But you can't take care of him
yet." Nick hugged his partner, his granddaughter,
tenderly. He kissed the crown of her head. "I'll see
you tonight."





Repost--Tears (9/?)

Sometime that day, LaCroix awoke to an empty bed. He
stared at the unoccupied pillow, thinking. He rose and
dressed, following the dark velvet link into the
Raven.

There was Miranda on the far side of the club, bow in
hand, bracer on arm, expertly shooting arrows into a
target she had set up on the wall over the bar. Plunk.

"Can't sleep?"

Plunk.

"Fine weather we're having this week."

Plunk plunk.

"Quick succession, that's very good. Ma fleur."

Plunk.

"Miranda."

"What can't that target be Teal's stomach?"

LaCroix cocked his head to one side, thinking. "I
could arrange that for you, you know."

Miranda lowered her bow. "No."

"It would be very easy, and I'd be more than happy
to--"

"I appreciate the thought, Lucien, but no." She pulled
the leather bracer off her left arm and slipped it
onto her right. It almost covered the knife scar, but
not quite.

"Who taught you to shoot? Kai?"

"Manx." Her voice was calm. Her eyes were dry, and her
arms, as she held her equipment, were steady. "He
taught me how to shoot, how to carve, how to fletch...
everything about the sport. How to shoot a
longbow--massively uncomfortable things--how to shoot
from a moving horse, how to hunt with a bow... He
wasn't old enough to have seen the bow's glory days,
but he could pick up anything, turn around and teach
it to someone else as though he'd been doing it all
his life.

"He was a wonderful teacher. And a good friend. But he
preferred to be alone. And he put a lot of stock in
standing on his own two feet."

She took a very deep, deep breath. "I will deal with
Teal myself, if Nicolas can't make his case stick.
Right now, the family of that woman has a claim on him
that is stronger than mine." She tugged on her finger
tab and hefted up her bow again, this time in her left
arm. "Either way, <I> have to finish this, Lucien."
Miranda nocked an arrow, drew the fletching back
beside her ear. "I <have> to know I can stand alone,
if I have to."

She fired, sending the steel arrowhead plunging into
the center of the target.

***

His long hands, colored a deep copper by the sun in
ancient day, leaned on the window sill, as the vampire
called Matthew Abbott stared out over the city of
Toronto, with the autumn sun gently searing at his
eyes. He watched as the mortals went about their daily
routines, and wondered if he would ever get used to
the idea that no matter how many he took into his
care, he would always outlive his children.

Something tugged at his pant leg. Matthew looked down
and smiled. "Good morning, Susanna," he said in his
deep voice, easily scooping her up. The beautiful
little girl smiled at him--and sneezed. "You've still
got that cold, eh?" Matthew dug into his pocket and
pulled out a handkerchief.

"Still wiping noses, Pops?"

"Daddy!" Susanna screamed excitedly, blond curls
bouncing. "Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy--"

"All right, all right." Matthew put the girl down.
Susanna ran to her father. Elliot Vane picked up his
daughter and kissed her tiredly. "Elliot, you look
terrible. Where've you been?"

"Down at the police station." Vane's square face was
haggard, and his scrawl of iron-grey hair was badly
mussed. "Barking at Joe Reese and the two detectives
he's got on Paula's case. I don't think I made much of
an impression, though." He kissed his daughter's
forehead. "Susie, honey, why don't you go into Daddy's
bedroom and see what's on TV?" Clutching her doll, the
child ran off.

"Pop, you know I don't like to think... think of you
badly but..." Vane dropped his suit jacket onto a
chair. "The police only have one witness, and someone
tried to kill him yesterday."

"Why on earth would I want to kill a witness?"

Vane loosened his tie. "He didn't come right out and
say it, but I get the distinct impression that Knight
thinks Teal Ramsey would be better classified as a
suspect than as a witness."

First Nicholas, then Kai... and now Teal Ramsey... oh,
this trip was getting worse and worse by the blessed
second. Matthew rubbed the palm of one hand with the
thumb of the other. "How was he attacked?"

"He was nearly strangled to death."

"Strangled, oh, that brings back memories. Nope,
sorry, not me. But perhaps I should have a chat with
Detective Knight soon."

"Pop--"

"Don't worry, my boy. Now go on, get yourself
something to eat and some sleep. And don't worry.
Detective Knight and I go back. Way back."




Repost--Tears (10/?)

Groaning, Kai woke with knives in his chest and tried
to sit up, and couldn't. He lolled his ash-blond head
on the pillow, staring at the canopy of his bed. He
shuddered with sudden cold.

A pair of strong arms enfolded him. "Easy, Kai," Nick
murmured, holding his son close. "I'm here."

"Nicholas?" Kai coughed. "What... When did you...?"

"Last night. Ssh, don't talk." Nick drew the blankets
more tightly over both of them. He laid Kai's head on
his shoulder. "You know, Tracy was downstairs for over
an hour last night, talking to customers. And she
never knew. You need to take better care of yourself."

<Look who's talking.>

"When was the last time you fed?"

<Oh, I don't remember.>

"Kai..."

<Nicholas, please, I think I've swallowed a plate of
hypodermic syringes. I--> Kai broke off abruptly,
probing his bond with his master. Then, weakly, he
chuckled. <I see you spoke with Miranda.>

"She hypnotized me, didn't she?"

<After a fashion. It obviously didn't last long.>

"How could she <do> that?!"

<Nicholas, vampires do not have a monopoly on the
powers of hypnosis.>

"You've evading the question."

<No, just making a point. I'm too tired to evade.> Kai
licked his dry lips. Nick reached over onto the
bedside table and moistened a washcloth in a little
blood, and brushed it over Kai's mouth. <Mortals
raised primarily among vampires have a tendency to
pick up some of our traits. Hypnotism takes a strong
will, some subtlety and a little brute force, things
all vampires have an abundance of.>

"I think she's also picked up your temper," Nick said
dryly. "Remember that time you broke both my arms and
threw me off the Notre Dame de Paris?"

<Of course. God, what were we drinking?>

"I actually don't remember. Daniel mentioned to me a
couple of weeks ago that Miranda and LaCroix got into
a, er, 'row,' and Miranda threatened to truss LaCroix
up and throw him off the CN Tower."

<And she'd do it, too. What were they arguing about?>

"Some little thing. I guess that's what happens when
you skip the courtship."

<How did it end?>

"By LaCroix exploding into laughter."

<A frightening thought. She makes him a different
person. Younger, somehow.>

"Another frightening thought."

<Why are you really here, Nicholas?>

"I need to know," Nick said slowly, "exactly why
Miranda wants to kill Teal Ramsey."

<Manx Mankowitz.>

"Yes, I heard about that. But there's something else,
isn't there?" Kai stiffened. "That was only what
pushed her over the edge. A week ago, she would have
liked to kill him. Now, she's intent on it. Why? What
else is there?" If Kai had had the strength to pull
away from his master, he would have. "Kai, someone
tried to strangle him yesterday. I don't think she did
it, but I need to know why she might."

<Do you suspect me?>

"No."

<I wasn't incapacitated yesterday.>

"I don't suspect you. If you'd tried to kill him, he'd
be dead, and Tracy and I wouldn't have a body to work
with."

<True. Help me sit up.> Nick eased his son back
against several pillows, and dug out a jar of
eucalyptus ointment. <Thank you,> Kai sighed, as Nick
spread the stinking, relaxing stuff over his lungs.
"All right," he rasped. "I'll spill. Not that you
deserve it, seeing as how you've not yet told your
LaCroix or Miranda about your condition.

"When they were in high school, Teal and Miranda were
involved romantically."

"They dated," Nick translated.

"There are three kinds of people in Black Falls.
Vampires, clueless mortals, and mortals who know
exactly what they're sharing their town with. Teal
falls into the third category, and he's not exactly
quiet about it. We told you, Nicholas, that we believe
him to be responsible for the deaths of several of our
kind. You asked if he was capable of killing a mortal.
We said yes.

"Miranda's relationship with Ramsey lasted only a few
months, long enough for him to reveal exactly what
kind of monster he is. He beat her, Nicholas," Kai
growled, cold grey eyes shining eerily from his sunken
eye sockets. "He once beat her so badly, I couldn't
even recognize her. He cut her--you saw the scar. He
raped her."

"If he's guilty of all this, why is he still alive?"

Kai looked down at the bedspread. "I would love to
do... something... to that bastard. So would the Home
Guard; they're dying to get their fangs into him. But
his step-father is one of the more important mortals
in the town, and the balance in Black Falls is a
delicate one to maintain. I couldn't force the issue.

"But I could keep him away from her. With the... force
of my personality." Kai licked his lips. "And I was
happy to do that. Miranda broke off her relationship
with Teal as soon as she discovered she was pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Nick repeated. He closed his mouth,
slightly ashamed. <Ma soeur, ma petite soeur...> "I
didn't know Miranda had a child."

"We gave the girl up for adoption. She'd be about
three by now." Kai ran a hand through his hair. "I
don't know what he's doing here, Nicholas. But I do
know what he's capable of. He probably killed Paula
Vane for the hell of it.

"As for who tried to kill Teal Ramsey... I can think
of a very long list. Yes, with myself and Miranda at
the top. But I was here, she was at the Raven, and the
others on that list are all in the States. Barring
Matthew, of course," he amended. "And since Matthew
and I have similar abilities--and since his aren't
killing him--it's very possible that he could have
tried to kill Teal during the day."

"But... why strangulation?"

"Matthew's an old-fashioned fellow." Kai shrugged
stiffly. "A Druid's habits die hard, you know that."
He closed his eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness.
"Oh... damn."

Nick slid out of the bed. Then he offered Kai his
hand. Kai looked at the tempting limb with longing,
but he declined.

"Thank you, but I don't think I could keep it down."
Kai laid back against the pillows. "Oh, and Nicholas?"

"Hmm?"

"The Enforcers have good reason to make sure Jesse
stays safe. Stop worrying. He won't lack for a
father."

Nick laid his palm on Kai's forehead. "I'll stay til
you're asleep," he promised.

***

Tracy was up for most of the day, making phone calls.
She checked out some cheap motels and car agencies,
and found that there was a car rented out to a Teal
Ramsey about a week prior to the murder, and returned
the day after. She called over to the precinct and
asked them to go and check out the rental car.

Using a small white business card, she also made a
long distance call to New York State. She wanted to
see if Kai's accusations and her own suspicions had a
basis in fact. She spoke with the man on the other end
for a good two hours and when she hung up, there was a
disgustingly smug smile curling up around her fangs.

She entered the office to find Nick at his desk,
clutching his head. "Nick?" Her partner looked up,
bleary-eyed and in pain. "Oh God. Nick. Bad day?"

"I passed out in the shower," Nick muttered, draining
a black mug on his desk. Tracy knew what it
contained--hemoglobin and H2O, the only thing Nick had
to control the pain of his own mistakes.

"You should've stayed home."

"No, we've got to question Ramsey again."

"Nick, I can handle this--"

"No!" Nick's blond head snapped up, glaring at her. "I
am not going to let <this> slow me down!" he hissed.
Feeling eyes on him, Nick turned to see Captain Reese
watching him concernedly.

"How's Kai?" Tracy asked, trying to distract him.

"Poorly," said Nick, subdued. "But he'll be all right
in a few days. He told me some... some interesting
things. About Miranda and Ramsey."

Tracy plopped down at her desk. "High school romance
gone terribly wrong."

Nick's head shot up. "How in the world--?"

"I called Julian's brother Joshua. He's the mayor of
Black Falls. Apparently, Ramsey's been suspected of a
number of things in that town, but Leland can't make a
damn thing stick. You remember Cat Spenser?"

"The teenager Sperling killed last year?"

"He has a young cousin, Liam, who's... um, part of the
town's eccentric population. Two years ago, he was
kidnapped and tortured for four days. Nick, he was
fourteen. And Ramsey was their prime suspect."

"It still doesn't make any sense, though," Nick said,
rubbing his chin. "If Ramsey's the killer--and I'm
fast beginning to believe that he is--who tried to
kill him?"

Tracy shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe this...
Matthew that Kai keeps talking about?"

@}-----

Using the strongest materials he had on hand, Matthew
Bates tied down the unconscious and injured vampire.
He ripped away the bloody blue woolen from the damaged
leg, and picked up a pair of pliers.

His patient wasn't unconscious for long.

@}-----

"Maybe. But honestly? I don't think so." He sighed.
"Come on, Trace," Nick said, shaking his head.
"Ramsey's waiting for us in the interrogation room."





Repost--Tears (11/?)

Nick was getting vastly annoyed. Ramsey's cockiness
and evasiveness was aggravating his already massive
headache, and right now all he wanted to do was grab
Teal by the jugular and-- <Stop right there,
Nicholas,> he told himself sternly.

The problem was, aside from his and Tracy's
suspicions, they had <no evidence> to charge Teal with
Paula Vane's murder. Forensics had run a DNA check on
Ramsey, comparing his blood type with the type in the
semen found on Paula, but the results had been
inconclusive. They had found her blood in the rental
car, a few drops.

"How do you explain that?"

"I loaned it to the guy who was driving her to her
brother's place. But I never saw any blood."

"Okay, let me see if I've got this. You... loaned out
your <rented car> to a friend of a friend, someone who
you can't even name, in a strange city--"

"Hey, I trust my friends, okay? And I trust their
friends. We've all got to stick together, you know?"
Ramsey shrugged his shoulders, jerking his head
unconcernedly. "Maybe you should be looking for the
guy who borrowed my car."

To Reese's surprise, Nick pulled a photo out of his
wallet. "This him?"

Teal looked at the photo closely. "Yeah, I think so.
Yeah. That's the guy."

"Do you know the girl?"

"Never saw her before."

Nick took back his picture. "Mr. Ramsey, according to
<several> witnesses, you met this man and his wife
while they were walking the night <before> Paula Vane
was killed. He has a few hundred witnesses to confirm
that he did not leave his place of employment the
night of the murder. And his wife knew you pretty well
back in the States. So don't try to play patty cake
with me."

Teal had turned a chalky-grey color under his nice
tan. And when Tracy pushed off the wall with one
shoulder and said simply, "Liam Spenser," he went dead
white. Ramsey clammed up, and would not say another
word.

Nick handed the photograph to Reese and leaned on the
table. Ramsey was sweating.

"Let's have it straight, Ramsey," Nick said in a
no-nonsense tone. "Because I've got character
witnesses who will rip you to shreds if I let them."
His back safely to his captain, Nick flashed his eyes
menacingly. "Literally."

"Character w... Holy shit!" Teal leapt to his feet and
planted his back against the far wall. "For Christ's
sake, keep him away from me!"

Before Reese could get a handle on reality, the
interrogation room door opened. "Excuse me, Captain,
Detectives, but forensics ran a second test on the
semen sample from the Vane case. It came back
positive."

***

As Ramsey was being led away, Reese had a question to
ask Nick. "Why," he asked, "do you keep a picture of
<the Nightcrawler> in your wallet?"

Nick was now in a much better mood than he had been
when the night started. And his headache was gone. He
took back the black and white photo and looked at
Reese innocently, and let fall an atomic bomb. "'Cause
he's my father," he said cheerfully. Nick clapped his
captain on the shoulder and took his leave of the
precinct, leaving Reese with his mouth hanging almost
to the floor.

***

Nick poked his head through the morgue door. "Hey,
Nat!"

Natalie was sitting at her desk, staring at some
reports. "Hey."

"Don't sound too enthusiastic." Nick pressed a kiss
into her hair. "I just wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"For putting that second DNA test through. It's the
first break we've gotten on this case."

"Don't thank me. Julian ran the second test." Natalie
clicked her pen closed and slammed it down on the
desk. "Nick, there <wasn't enough of a sample> to make
a conclusive test possible in the first place."

"So how did Julian get his results?" Natalie just
looked at him. "You think he planted the evidence?"

"Nick, if this gets out--even if Ramsey's guilty, it
could ruin your case."

***

Julian wasn't at the clinic. Nick finally found him
down at the water front, mulling over Vachon's grave.

"Are you trying to jeopardize my entire
investigation?" he seethed.

Julian shrugged. "I gave you what you wanted."

"No, you gave me what <you> wanted! What Kai and
Miranda wanted! I don't think Teal Ramsey's innocent,
but there's always the possibility, and if you're
setting him up to rot in prison--"

"He can rot in Hell for all I care!" Julian scooped
some dirt from the grave into a plastic bag and shoved
it into his pocket. "I treated Miranda's injuries
after Ramsey nearly pounded her face into a new shape.
I helped her give birth to a daughter that she hasn't
seen since! <I> was the doctor who pulled a million
and one wooden splinters from Liam Spenser after
Ramsey and his cronies tortured the boy for four days!
I <know> Ramsey killed that woman, 'cause he's the
only mortal in the city right now who's capable of it.
And mark my words, Nick, if by some aberration of
Fate, Ramsey is not guilty, he's still getting nothing
less than he deserves."

"For past crimes?"

"And for future ones."




Repost--Tears (12/?)

Nick and Natalie lay on their couch and listened to
the rich, mournful tones of the Nightcrawler.

"Are you lonely tonight, my children? Is your bed
empty, is your heart breaking? Why? What did <you do>
to drive her away? Why isn't he returning your calls?
Is it something you did? Or are you not sure?

"You won't sleep tonight. Your mind is too wakeful.
The Nightcrawler knows. I can <hear> you.

"Love... and hate. Two of the most powerful
destructive forces that this tawdry world shall ever
know. I've often wondered which is the more
devastating, the hot, greedy desire with its need to
possess--or the utter loathing, so cold and powerful
that you will risk everything to dispense of that
which sickens and repulses you. 'Some say the world
will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've
tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough
of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great
and would suffice.'

"Whom do you love, gentle listeners? Whom do you hate?
And <what> are you going to do about it? The lines are
open, mes amis."

***

"I need to know, Miranda," said Matthew angrily.

"No! Not yet. It's not finished, not yet."

"Then we should <finish it>!"

"Let Nicolas do his job," Miranda insisted. "After
he's done, then yes, I will. And with pleasure. But
not before."

***

"It's almost like there's nothing I can do," Nick
murmured. "No matter what I do, Ramsey's a dead man.
If he's convicted, he'll go to prison. If he's set
free, Miranda or Kai or Matthew will kill him. And if
by some chance <they> don't, the people in Black Falls
will. Catch-22, Nat."

"So our hands are tied." Natalie sighed. "Then we'd
better do our best to make sure he's convicted. I give
him a better chance in prison than I do against
Miranda."

Nick was silent. He kissed Natalie, grabbed his coat,
and took to the air.

***

Setting down his glass, LaCroix turned to the man at
his shoulder. "Something on your mind, mon Nicolas
penible?"

"Many things. Where's Miranda?"

Without turning further, LaCroix pointed over his
shoulder. Past the piles of building material, Nick
saw Miranda seated at one of the back tables, talking
earnestly with a coppery skinned man he remembered
very distinctly. "However did you meet <him>?"

"During the American Civil War. He pulled a mass of
splinters out my leg. He saved my life."

"Then it would seem that you owe him a favor. It's not
good to renege, Nicholas, on pacts with Ancients. It's
not wise."

"I paid him back. And what about you, LaCroix?"

"What about <me>?"

"You're the only person in this entire charade I can
be certain didn't try to strangle Teal Ramsey. You're
not one to rely on mortal methods of killing. What I
can't understand is why. Miranda's your wife, you...
worship the ground she walks on--" LaCroix snorted.
"Why haven't you gotten involved with this?"

LaCroix shrugged. "It's not my fight. It's hers. I'm
just here for moral support."

"Do you know what Ramsey did to her?"

"She hasn't told me, but I have a fairly good idea.
It's ironic, isn't it? How much this mortal has in
common with us. He's like a particularly irresponsible
youngblood." LaCroix's lips drew together in a slow,
incredulous smirk. "In some ways, Nicholas, he reminds
me of you."

"Me?!"

"Yes. Oh, granted, you don't have his sadistic streak,
more's the pity, and I've never known you to treat a
woman with anything less than common decency. At least
not consciously. But when you were new, Nicholas, oh,
you were just as impetuous. Just as... cocky. You
never knew when to quit. Ramsey's greatest crime--in
this city--was simply overstepping his abilities."

"Somehow, I think Matthew might disagree with you.
What's he got to discuss with her?"

"Offhand? I think they're planning exactly how to kill
Ramsey if you and your 'esteemed' captain can't make
charges stick. Oh, don't look so disturbed, Nicholas.
You knew that was what would happen."

"Yes, but I didn't think that Fleur--" Nick stopped
himself in mid-sentence. "No. She's not Fleur. She's
nothing like Fleur."

"Such venom, Nicholas," LaCroix tsk-tsked. "She is no
different from Fleur in the ways that matter." He
allowed himself a small, almost tender smile. "She is
pure. She is life-giving."

"She is as bloodthirsty and cold-blooded as any
vampire.

"There are different kinds of purity, mon fils."
LaCroix savored a mouthful of the good red stuff in
his glass. "I've learned quite a bit about this
mysterious town of hers, in the past few days. About
the mentality of the mortals in Black Falls."

"She's spoken to you about it? I can't get Kai to say
more than three sentences on the subject."

"It is not what she has said, but what she has done.
How she has behaved. Those who know of our existence
are not immune to our influence, our presence."

<Mortals raised primarily among vampires have a
tendency to pick up some of our traits.>

"They are already vampires, Nicholas. Just... without
the equipment. In her own way, Miranda is just like
Ramsey. Just like us." Reaching out, LaCroix gripped
Nicholas's shoulder. "Do your 'job,' Nicholas, as a
mortal if you must. But don't get in her way."

-- quote from "Fire and Ice," by Robert Frost





Tears (13/?)

>From a safe distance, Janette and LaCroix watched
Miranda giving Jesse his bottle. The child kicked his
feet and sucked with pleasure. "You don't mind, I
hope?"

"No, not at all. She can come over whenever she likes;
I appreciate the help. And the female company. It's
bizarre. She has become something of a kindred spirit,
I suppose."

"I do wish... that she had told me. That I didn't have
to have my suspicions confirmed by Nicholas. Perhaps I
could have--"

"What? Killed Ramsey? She wouldn't have thanked you
for it."

"Hmm." <Perhaps I could have understood sooner why
Manx was so incensed by the mere mention of Ramsey's
name. Perhaps I could have prevented his end, and her
sadness. Ma fleur, I honor your strength. No one would
begrudge you your tears at a time like this, but I've
not seen one. Not one.> "Isn't it customary to wait at
least a month before putting them on the bottle?"

Janette shrugged, and wrapped her sweater more tightly
around her shoulders. As buried as the old action was,
it still came more naturally to her than turning up
the thermostat. "I didn't want to get too accustomed
to nursing him. My time is almost up."

"It has to be done, Janette."

"I know! I know. I swear, you're starting to sound
like Nicolas."

LaCroix put a hand on her shoulder. "Janette," he
began delicately, "even if the effects of this drug
were permanent, I... I would still want you to come
back to me." She turned to face him, surprised by his
candor. "It is something Nicholas can't understand.
The mortals sustain us, but they are not us. And we
are not them. We can only exist on the fringes of
their society, but we can never assimilate into it.
You spent over eight hundred years as a vampire--"

"LaCroix, please stop preaching. I know. I know. I'm
just..." She looked over at her son. He had finished
his bottle, and Miranda was rocking him, singing to
him softly. It was easier to understand her warm,
gentle way with Jesse, even with Daniel and Alexei,
once one knew of the child Miranda had once had, if
only briefly. "I lie awake, thinking of all the ways
that he could be taken from me. I worry about the
Enforcers. And about you. I see the way you look at
him: as a tool."

"That <is> how the Enforcers see Jesse. Why else let
him live?"

"I know that, too. I know that some day... I will have
to bury him." She shook her head fiercely. "It doesn't
help that I've been having the same thoughts about
Nicolas."

"What?"

"Nicolas. He's--" Janette broke off, searching
LaCroix's face. "Merde. Oh, LaCroix, he has not told
you?"

"It would seem not."

"I didn't think he would be able to hide something
like this from you." Janette lowered her eyes.
"These... treatments, the holy water... Nicolas has
developed a brain tumor. He's dying."

***

Julian drew a vial of Kai's blood and held it up to
the light. "Shouldn't you two be at work?"

"Pot calling the kettle black," Natalie said tartly.
Still, she couldn't help marveling at the fact that
this was <Kai's> bedroom; there was religious
paraphernalia everywhere, most--but not
all--Christian.

"What can I do for you, friends?"

Natalie looked at Nick. "I was wondering if there was
something you could give me," Nick said, gesturing
awkwardly with his hands. "For the pain."

"Aw, Nick." Julian's angular face was sympathetic. He
brushed a lock of dark red hair out of his eyes. "That
bad, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Holy water not doing enough for you, then?"

"No."

"Okay." Julian helped Kai lie back down. "Yeah, I've
got something for you. And you," he addressed Kai
sternly, "get some rest." The vampire doctor shooed
his colleagues out of Kai's room.

"Here," he said, pulling a bottle of pills from his
black bag. Nick tried to take it, but Julian held it
out of his reach. "This is quadrocaine, Knight.
Officially, this should still be on the drawing board.
It's like aspirin on steroids. Serious stuff. Now, you
gonna listen to me about the dosage this time?"
Sheepishly, Nick nodded. "One when you wake up and one
before you go to sleep. Take it with blood--straight
blood; don't mix it with the holy water. But I do want
you to stay on the holy water."

"Why is that?" Natalie asked. "I've been trying to
figure this out for a few months now. You said that
the holy water was what caused the tumors in the first
place. Now you say it's keeping them from getting any
bigger?"

"That was what I thought at first," Julian conceded.
"But as I told Nick, those tumors--or the potential to
develop tumors--have probably been there for
centuries. It's like Kai's tuberculosis. If a person
is brought across with something amiss in their
system--not an injury, but an illness--given the right
chemical interference, that illness has the
opportunity to revive, and in a form that could very
probably kill a vampire. In Kai's case, it was the
denzinol--my ill-fated mortality treatment. It revives
the dormant disease, but doesn't give it enough of a
kick to do any real damage. That's what the holy water
does.

"Unfortunately, it's also the only thing that keeps
the revived disease in check. That's why Kai's still
drinking it." He handed Nick the bottle. "I wish I
could find a mortal medical comparison. I can't. I
wish I could explain it. I can't. I'm still trying to
figure out why holy water reacts to vampire flesh the
way it does. The quadrocaine is to kill the pain. The
holy water is kind of like chemotherapy at this point.
It slows the growth of the cancer--"

"But also does damage to the rest of the body,"
Natalie finished, her voice very distressed. Nick
reached out and gripped her hand, smiling
reassuringly.

"But what," she asked, "could have jumpstarted the
cancer? You wouldn't give him the denzinol, and this
had already developed before we knew about your drug."

Agitated, Julian turned away, shuffling through some
bills on the counter. "Honestly? It could have been
any one of the mortality experiments you and Nick have
tried over the years. Tell me, were any of them even
remotely successful?"

"The litovuterine-B," Natalie whispered, mouth
dropping. "Oh God, Nick..."

"A beef hormone?" Julian was incredulous, but he
shrugged. "Natalie, don't beat yourself up over it,
please. Nick's been gunning for mortality for... how
long now?"

"Two centuries," replied Nick grimly. "Nat, Julian's
right. It could have been any of a number of
treatments. It could even have been something you had
nothing to do with. This isn't your fault, Nat," he
repeated gently, taking her chin in his hand and
tilting her face up to meet his eyes. "Even if it is
the litovuterine, don't blame yourself for something I
asked you to do."

Nick wrapped her in a tender hug, and they stayed
locked in their embrace in Kai's kitchen for several
minutes, until Julian cleared his throat. "Not to
break up a Kodak moment, but I just wanted to point
something out. About the case."

"Well?"

"You accused me of planting evidence. I didn't, which
I would have told you the other night if you hadn't
pissed me off so badly."

"Then how did you get that DNA profile from a sample
that wouldn't give the other lab the time of day?"

"I looked somewhere else on the body than you'd
normally look for a semen sample." Julian spread his
hands. "Ramsey's a sick man." Nick was beginning to
feel vaguely ill. And not in his head. "One when you
wake up, and one before you go to sleep." It took Nick
a moment to realize Julian had gone back to the
subject of the quadrocaine. "In straight human blood.
If, in between does, the pain gets to be excruciating,
take a half a pill. Oh," Julian added, gathering up
his things, "and if you can remember to, try to take
one after any kind of strenuous activity."

"Like what? Running, flying...?"

"And sex. Stuff wears off pretty quick when you're
having fun." Grinning, he cuffed Nick on the shoulder.
"Come on, we've got to get to work."

***

As Nick was walking into the precinct, an out of
breath young man came running up to him. "Detective
Knight!"

"Reggie!" exclaimed Nick, surprised. "Where've you
been?"

"I'm sorry," the police photographer gasped. "I'm
sorry. It's been one hell of a week."

"You're telling me." Nick caught sight of the file
folder in Reggie's hand. "Are those the photos of Teal
Ramsey's wounds?"

"Yeah, that's what I came to bring you."

Nick snatched the file. "I could've used these days
ago."

"I know, I know. Man, I am so sorry, Detective. It
just... I don't know. It just kinda slipped my mind."





Tears (14/16)

After another disgustingly unproductive interrogation,
Tracy all but resorted to putting Nick bodily in his
car and sending him home. "Reese is gonna have a fit,"
he protested, clutching his file.

"Screw it," said Tracy succinctly, closing the
driver's side door. She tossed Nick his keys. "I'll
just tell him you're on a new medication."

Nick grunted. "There's not much Julian doesn't tell
you, is there?" He watched closely for his partner's
reaction. "You know, you're getting very good at not
blushing."

"Watch it, Knight. I could lambaste you onto your ass
when I was mortal, remember? Don't tempt me to try it
now." She thumped on the hood. "I'll see you
tomorrow."

Nick knew he had a visitor almost before he had pulled
into his garage. "Have a little sophistication,
Matthew," he said sternly, stepping off the lift.
"Even in Iron Age Wales, there was such a thing as a
trial."

"Are you sure? I don't seem to remember you being
there." Matthew put the intricate jade cup back on the
mantelpiece.

"You can't just kill this mortal. Things don't work
that way anymore." Tossing his coat, his keys and the
manila folder onto the kitchen table, Nick went to his
fridge and dug in the back for a bottle. "And I
thought you were bigger than that."

"Do you have evidence to support Ramsey's guilt?"

"Yes."

"Then I will kill him."

"Matthew--!

The ancient Welsh vampire with the shaved head slammed
the refrigerator door shut, narrowly missing Nick's
hand. The molten saffron-green eyes beneath the hard
copper forehead bore into Nick's brain like two
diamond-bit drills. "For someone who desires so
desperately to be mortal," he rumbled perilously, "you
have a great deal to relearn about actually <being>
mortal. Even LaCroix knows better than you the agony
and rage I am enduring right now. <I> <will> <kill>
him, Nicholas."

"For Paula."

"For Paula, yes. And for Miranda. But beyond them, I
have my own reasons."

Disappointed and disgusted, Nick turned away. After a
moment to collect himself, Matthew took the
opportunity to open the file Nick had so carelessly
tossed on the table. He looked carefully at the top
photo, frowning. He looked at the second and the
third, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him and at
the same time knowing they were not. "Nicholas, have
you <looked> at these photographs?"

"No, I haven't, not yet." Nick gestured with his
glass. "And neither should you; those are classified."

"There are of Ramsey's neck, are they not? The
ligature marks from the attacks."

"Natalie's going to take a look at them when she gets
off work." Nick popped a pain killer into his mouth
and washed it down with a vintage that tasted of the
Northern Lights and midnight suns. He leaned on the
sink and gradually, the throbbing in his temple
subsided.

Matthew was flipping through the photos with
increasing excitement, the tip of his tongue pressed
to his upper front teeth. "Nicholas, why hasn't anyone
looked at these sooner?"

"Because the photographer--" Nick reeled back as
though he had been slapped. "Because he forgot." Nick
grabbed the file from Matthew's hands.

"You see it, then. And I think your Natalie will
confirm it."

"These bruises aren't nearly deep enough to cause
unconsciousness," Nick realized, wondering how he
could have been such an idiot.

"And, you see, the angle of the bruising is off a
bit."

Nick could barely contain his elation. He grabbed his
coat and bolted down the stairs.

***

"Why do we go looking for the darkness in man?" The
Nightcrawler asked ponderingly. "The universe is not
perfect, and humanity is far from the gift to creation
it believes itself to be."

***

Reese dropped the file in disbelief. "He tried to
strangle <himself>?"

"To cast doubt on the entire investigation," Natalie
explained, arms folded over her chest. Nick was so
excited, he was practically bouncing up and down.

The captain got up, groaning. "Damned orthopedic
shoes," he grumbled. "I'll have Ramsey sent in from
lockup."

But when the door had closed, Natalie frowned.
"But--why didn't we know this before? These photos
were taken almost a week ago. Why did Reggie wait so
long to send them in?"

"It's not his fault, Nat. He forgot." Natalie raised a
quizzical eyebrow. "He was made to forget."

"He was hypnotized? By Ramsey??"

Nick nodded. He leaned a shoulder against the wall of
the office and grinned ruefully. "Apparently, mortals
who are raised among vampires can pick up some of our
tricks. The ones that can be taught, at least."

"Like hypnosis."

"Yeah." Nick rubbed the back of his head. "I had to
find out the hard way. Miranda put the whammy on me a
couple days ago."

She couldn't help it. Natalie laughed.

"It's not all that funny. It hurt like hell! And it
didn't last long, which is why we got the pictures
from Reggie at all." Nick put his hands on Natalie's
shoulders. "We've got him," he said, eyes flashing
briefly to the saffron color Natalie had grown to
love. "We've got him."

***

"Your benevolent God brought evil and destruction into
the universe. Was this part of His design?"

***

Nick plopped the file on the table in front of Ramsey
and sat down. "Open it."

Teal Ramsey flipped through it, unconcerned. "Big
deal."

"Oh, it is a big deal. Because it proves you've been
lying to us, not only about Paula Vane's murder, but
about the attempt on your life."

"What're you sayin', that I--I tried to strangle
myself?!"

"Yes!"

"Christ, this is insane!" Knocking over his chair,
Teal bolted for the door, flung it open--and sailed
back across the interrogation room as his jaw
connected with a black-gloved fist.

Ramsey landed in a crumpled heap, moaning expletives
that would have been bleeped even from a prime time
cop drama.

And astonished Nick and Tracy turned to face the
assailant, who was flexing his fingers gingerly. "It's
been a while, but that wasn't a bad right hook, if I
do say so myself. Good evening, Nicholas, Tracy."

***

"If the God who created good is the same one who
created evil, then what is the difference between
right... and wrong?"

***

"Kai, you're supposed to be in bed."

"On a fine night like tonight? Bite your tongue." Kai
strode over to the whimpering mortal, took hold of the
front of Teal's shirt and hauled him upright. Kai was
only five-foot-three but he still managed to hold the
six-foot-plus Teal Ramsey off the floor. With one
hand.

Terrified, Ramsey clawed at Kai's wrist, kicking his
feet in the air. "Have a little dignity, Ramsey, for
God's sake." Stiffly, Kai lowered the mortal until he
was standing, and released him, and although his hand
was gloved, Kai rubbed his palm against his jacket in
disgust at the thing he had touched. Ramsey rubbed at
his chest, gasping. "It's the least you can do after
the way you treated my daughter."

"Aw, Thorn, you're not still on about that, are you? I
was nineteen and stupid!"

"You were drunk and on crack."

Ramsey laughed harshly, running a hand through his
butter-blond hair. "Come on, Kai. Don't tell me you've
never been so messed up, you did something you'd never
do otherwise."

A small muscle in Kai's cheek twitched.

Ramsey leered. "Thought so. Always knew 'St. Kai' was
a lie."

Growling, Nick lunged at the mortal, but Tracy beat
him to it.





Tears (15/16)

"Who is man to say that he shall not kill? If his God
created good and evil as He created Heaven and Earth,
shall not evil be practiced as readily as good? As
breathing?"

***

"You're among safe ears here, Teal," Kai pointed out.
"Tell all, tell all."

Teal shook his head, his eyes unfocusing and glassing
over as he remembered. "Until the day I die, Thorn,
I'll never forget it. Your kind don't go easily and
neither do mine, but when I took her..." Ramsey
sighed, and smiled. "Too long living among your kind,
I suppose."

"And that's the difference between your kind and mine.
We don't needlessly kill our own."

"Please. Everybody in town known what your pet
doctor's done, so don't go holding yourself up to me
as some great ideal."

***

"That which seems like cruelty is in reality an
efficient form of beauty, without which there would be
no hope of balance."

***

"How did you get in here?" Nick asked as Ramsey was
being led away.

"I walked in."

"And nobody tried to stop you?"

Kai smiled. "Tracy." He walked over and tapped one of
the uniformed officers on the shoulder. The woman
jumped. Grinning, Kai waved his hand in front of her
face. "Hey! Hey there!" He even whistled, but the
young officer took no notice of him. She just looked
around wildly, confused. Innocently, Nick and Tracy
returned the look.

"Something?"

"Uh... no, Detective Vetter. Nothing." The uniform
left, shaking her head.

Tracy whirled on her master. "Huh?"

"I second that!"

Kai shrugged. "Nothing but a very powerful hypnotic
suggestion. I told them I wasn't here. So they didn't
see me."

"And 'you're among safe ears'?"

"All the mortals in Black Falls who know of our
existence are conditioned with a hypnotic suggestion
that prevents them from discussing vampires with
people they know not to be 'safe.' Which is why he
didn't spill to your captain when you flashed the
pearly whites at him the other night. Miranda is also
under the same influence, incidentally."

Nick nodded. For the first time in many nights, his
head was not throbbing after an interrogation. "Well,
I guess that's it for tonight. Come on, Trace. Coming,
Kai?"

"In a minute."

After the door had closed, Kai stood for a moment in
the middle of the empty room.

<<Come on, Kai. Don't tell me you've never been so
messed up, you did something you'd never do
otherwise.>>

A bright flash blew up in front of Kai's snow-grey
eyes. Not a vision--he hadn't had an experience with
his abilities since January. No, this was a memory. A
very powerful memory, of hands and skin, mouths and
blood, the feeling of a supple, submissive young woman
beneath his body, in the days when it was strong and
not wracked by the sapping coughs of a stupid, stupid
error in judgment. He was buried in her and she was
flowing into him, and the woods were dark and the
moment was fleeting and the most fulfilling thing he
had ever experienced--

And the most humiliating act he had ever done in his
century and a half of living.

Kai sat down heavily at the table, and wept.

***

"Perhaps this God of man's created evil for the same
reason that he created woman. To tempt men. To seduce
us with their promises. Love. Riches. Immortality.

***

Matthew handed the phone back to the bartender. "Thank
you," he said to Miklos. Moving steadily through the
crush, the ancient Welsh vampire approached the mortal
woman with the long blond hair. "That was Nicholas,"
he told her, not bothering to raise his voice over the
noise of the club. "Ramsey has confessed."

Miranda looked up.

"Will you come?"

Wordlessly, Miranda followed Matthew out of the Raven.

***

"If the God who created evil is the same God who
created woman... then I thank Him."

***

Nick and Natalie relaxed in front of their fireplace,
wrapped in each other's arms, just thinking. Nick
felt... decidedly odd. The pain in his head was gone,
thanks to Julian's quadrocaine, but now there was a
strange dull ache in his chest, something that he
could not quite identify. Though the radio was not
turned on, Nick could hear his master's voice echoing
in their bond.

***

"You see, mes amis, a man's strength lies not in his
ability to resist temptation, but in his ability to
know his own limits, and when to yield."

***

Teal Ramsey woke with a jerk, sweating. He could have
sworn there was someone... some<thing> in his jail
cell. But no. There couldn't be.

There <couldn't> be.

He caught sight of two distinct shadows against the
concrete wall, and at the same time, heard a slight
creak. Teal whirled around.

***

LaCroix closed his eyes. He turned his head slightly,
listening to something beyond the range of a mortal's
hearing... A wicked grin spread across his face, and
when he opened his eyes, they were glowing saffron.
"Little Boy Blue has dropped his stake. The vampire
grabbed him and gave him a shake..."

***

The quiet idyll ended abruptly when the phone rang.
"Yeah, Knight."

"Nick," said Reese. Nick frowned; the captain's voice
was shaking slightly. "It's Ramsey."

"What's happened?"

"He was just found dead in his cell."

And then the sledgehammer that had been hovering over
Nick's chest slammed home. "How?"

"You're not gonna believe this. He was staked through
the heart."

***

"Why go looking for the darkness in man? Look in
yourself. You'll find it there."




Tears (16/16)

After his broadcast, LaCroix went upstairs to find
Miranda in her chair by the fireplace, hugging Manx's
worn leather jacket. She was tired and drawn but calm,
with something regal in her air. Something that
radiated finality. "You've been crying," he said,
lifting a tear from her cheek with a delicate
fingertip. Keeping his eyes on his wife, LaCroix
licked the single drop of salt water from his finger.
"I would weep with you, if you would let me."

"That part of my life is over. I can't let it
interfere with my life now. I must face it by myself."

"So you will not speak of it?"

"...Not now."

"Then I will save my tears." He raised her hand to his
lips and kissed it, then went into the bedroom.
Miranda went over to the window but did not open the
blinds, and stood there, imagining the sunrise.

***

As the sun rose over Toronto, two vampires stood
conversing on a rooftop. "He broke," Matthew said
succinctly. "He confessed to everything." The other
vampire sighed in exasperation, and spat.

"I wasn't getting my hopes up over him," the second
man replied. There was a dark, Mediterranean air to
him, and his black hair looked like the wind might
have had a hand in combing it. "He was good and crazy,
but too impatient."

"Not like Sperling."

"He was young. Nielsen's downfall was his
overconfidence."

"And Ramsey's was his impatience?"

"And his utter lack of vision. He killed Mankowitz
because the fellow was annoying him. I had plans for
Manx." The dark vampire turned up his collar. "If all
I wanted was an assassin, I would have set my sights
on the DuCharme boy instead of Teal Ramsey.

"I suppose I owe you and Miranda a favor. You cleaned
up my mess for me. I tried to kill him unobtrusively,
but he was too strong."

"I must compliment you on your technique. You even had
me fooled."

Matthew's companion acknowledged the praise with a
slight bow. "But I know there is potential in Black
Falls, Murcha. I know. I lived there."

"And to this day, you remain the only vampire to have
ever been banished from Black Falls." Matthew turned
his cold brown eyes on his far shorter adversary.

"The girl would have made a fine addition to my
Family, would she not?"

"If Miranda is brought across by anyone by LaCroix,
she will go mad."

"So much the better."

"And if she is brought across by one of your kind, she
will most certainly die." Matthew smiled chillingly,
allowing just the tips of his fangs to show. "The sun
is rising, Sangre. And you and he are not friends.
Leave. And hope I never find you interfering in <my>
Family again."

The sunrise broke, spilling its hot rays over the
still-sleeping city. But by the time they reached the
rooftop, Sangre Tyr was gone.

~Finis--February 18th, 2003~

April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com

=====
~Forever Knight: The Sons of Lilith~
http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/fkficindex.html
~The Corvina~ http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/index.html
"And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and
fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the
world..."
                            --"The Flash of Lightening" by Arthur Rimbaud