Forever Knight

The Depths Of Darkness

Nothing ... Darkness ... Emptiness ... Nothing but darkness ...Nothing but emptiness ... Emptiness everywhere ... Darkness everywhere ... No up ... No down ... No left ... No right ... No direction ... Nothing ... Nothing but blackness.

**********

Doctor Natalie Lambert practically collapsed into the chair at her desk in the morgue. While it wasn't exactly an overstuffed easy chair, it did have some padding, and at least she was off her feet. Last night had been an exceptionally hard one. A sudden winter storm, more accurately a miniature blizzard, had dumped over five inches of snow on top of a layer of glare ice. Three separate multiple car accidents on the ice covered freeways, one involving a bus, two dead on arrivals from local hospitals, and a six alarm fire that had taken out an entire row of tenements, had filled the cold room to overflowing with 'guests'. Added to that was a shooting victim. A little girl, Mae Ling Chou. She was six years old.

Natalie, Grace Balthazar, and several coroners from other shifts who had been called in on overtime, had worked all night and straight through the day to ease the backlog, and now there were only three more to go. Mae Ling was one of them.

"Girl. You look like something that Sidney should be burying in the litter box." Grace, her assistant coroner on the swing shift said to her. She put her hands on Natalie's back and began to slowly massage the knots.

"M-m-m. That really feels good." Natalie murmured as she leaned into the back rub. "You have until the end of the shift to stop that."

"How long have you been here anyway?"

"Thirty nine and a half hours. Same as you and everyone else." She looked at the clock on the office wall for the first time since she had arrived here almost two days ago. <Was it really that long? >

"Yeah, but everyone else went home long ago. And at least I had the good sense to stop every so often and take a fifteen or twenty minute rest period between cases. You've been going non stop since you got here. Go on, now. Book off and go home. Dr. Parks and I can handle the cases that are left."

"But there's only three more ... "

"OUT!" Grace pointed to the door. "Or do I have to throw my weight around?" She said with a wicked smile. "And honey, when you're as hefty as I am, that's an awful lot of weight to throw." She rotated her more than ample hips back and forth.

"Very well. If you're going to be like that ... "

"Damn straight I'm going to be like that. It's for your own good. Can't have you end up being one of the guests here, now can we?"

"I guess not. Do me a favor. Book me off while I get my coat."

"Deal."

As she took her purse out of her bottom drawer, the phone rang. Natalie started to pick it up but Grace beat her to it by a millisecond.

"But it might be a call out." Natalie protested. "What if there's a homicide? Or another traffic accident? Or ... "

"That's exactly why I'm taking it." She brought the phone to her ear. "GO! ... NOW!" She mouthed in Natalie's direction. "Coroner's Office. Grace Balthazar speaking." There was a few seconds of silence. "Yes, Detective Schanke." She said with an unenthusiastic sigh. "She's still here." She handed the phone to Natalie.

"Have you seen Nick today?" Schanke asked. "He hasn't showed up for work yet and Cohen is about to have a whole litter of kittens with wire tails. I've heard the 'That's What Partners Are Supposed To Be' speech three times in the last hour alone. I tried calling the loft and his cell phone, but there was no answer.

I thought about going over there, but Cohen says if I so much as twitch a muscle before the Madison report is on her desk, I'll be directing traffic on express lanes of the 404 - 401 split during rush hour for the rest of my natural life."

"No, I haven't seen him today, Schanke." Natalie replied. "Of course, we've been up to our armpits in bodies over here at Chez Lambert. Thanks to the weather. I'm on my way home now. If you want, I'll stop by the loft and see what I can find. He's probably snowed in. Or he may be chasing down a lead and simply forgot to call in. Don't worry. I'm sure he's okay."

Was she trying to convince him ... or herself?

**********

Barren ... Naked ... Forlorn ... Black ... As far as the eye could see ... That is, if the eye could see anything ... There was nothing to see ... Nothing but the emptiness ...

**********

Natalie pulled up to the loft and exited her car. It had taken her the better part of an hour to drive the few miles from the morgue to the loft. Nothing seemed out of place on the outside. She keyed in the access code and pulled the small metal door on the side of the garage open. She breathed a small sigh of relief. Nick's teal green 1962 Cadillac convertible sat in its usual place.

< One small victory. > At least he was home. Of course, just because the car was there didn't mean he couldn't have flown somewhere. < Like to the Raven, perhaps? >

After what seemed like an eternity, the creaky lift deposited her at the door to the 'High Tech Dungeon Of Doom' as Schanke was fond of calling Nick's lodgings.

< He must be here. > She thought as she picked his coat off the floor where he had dropped it. Of course, it was so dark in here, she wouldn't have known that the coat was there if she hadn't nearly tripped over it. < But then again, vampires don't need lights to see like us poor mortal folk do. >

"Nick?" She called as she slowly made her way to where she knew there was a light switch.

No answer.

She turned on the light and gasped. Nick was there all right. Only he was not on the couch, lying on his back with his hands folded across his chest the way that he usually napped. He was on the floor. Curled in a tight fetal ball.

"Nick?" She called softly as she approached the figure. She knew better than to try to wake a sleeping vampire suddenly. That could be dangerous. If not fatal. As Nick had told her many times, if jolted awake, he instinctively became ready to fight, and it would take him several seconds to adjust to his surroundings. In that time, he could severely injure or even kill her and not be aware that he had done anything until it was too late.

Still no answer.

She touched his face gently. Again taking care not to startle him. She was surprised to find that her hand was wet when she pulled it away. She looked carefully at his face and hands. They were covered with a thin sheen of pink blood sweat. This was not good. He only sweat blood when he was extremely upset.

"I'm going to roll you over." She said. It was problematic whether he heard her or not, but just in case he had, she hoped her talking to him might forestall the fight or flight reflex. She gently grasped his shoulders and guided him onto his back. Amazingly, there was no resistance. No reaction at all.

**********

Something? ... Outside? ... There was an outside? ... There was another place? ... Outside? ... But there is nothing else ... Nothing but here ... Nothing but the emptiness ...

**********

"You got anything on our little girl?" Don Schanke said as he came into the morgue.

"Just finished up and tucked her in." Grace Balthazar said sadly as she stripped off the latex gloves. "The condensed version is just as the preliminary report said, she was shot once. The bullet went cleanly through the heart and exited through the back of the chest. From the size of the entrance and exit wounds, I'm guessing it was a large caliber bullet. Possibly a .9mm or maybe even a .357. Other than that, no abnormalities. The full details will all be in the final report. I'll have it ready in about an hour." She took a deep sigh. " Now I know why Natalie hates these kind of cases. It's really horrible to think that a life like hers is cut down before it even has a chance to begin. Who could be so callous to do that to an innocent little girl? And especially at this time of year?"

"If I knew the answer to that, Grace, I'd waste him on the spot. Since last night was Knight's day off, I had the not too enviable job of being the detective of record. It wasn't a pretty sight. I mean a six year old lying in a pool of her own blood is something you don't forget very soon.

According to her family, Mae Ling Chou was a bright, happy child who had everything going for her. According to her father... " He flipped open his notebook. " ... Chan Wing Chou, they had gone out to do some last minute shopping. Unfortunately for them most of the stores had closed early on account of the storm. He had left Mae Ling alone for only a few seconds looking at the holiday displays while he went to get the car. As he pulled up to the curb, he heard the shot. Only one. By the time he got out, Mae Ling was on the ground. He said he saw two men running away from the scene, but they were too far away and he was too worried about his daughter to get a good look at them. He blames himself for her death. He feels that if he hadn't left her alone, she might not have been shot. I know how he feels. I know how I'd feel if it was Jenny lying on that slab in there. There were no other witnesses that we could find."

**********

Captain Amanda Cohen paced her office. Her face did not nearly convey the anger and rage that churned inside her. "I ... WANT ... THEM ... CAUGHT! " She bellowed uncharacteristically to the six officers standing at rigid attention in front of her. "I want them caught YESTERDAY! I want them caught THE DAY BEFORE yesterday! IS ... THAT ... CLEAR?"

"YES MA'M!" The six answered in military unison.

"Then why are you standing here? Find the men who shot Mae Ling Chou. Find them ASAP! That's an order!"

Five of the six practically ran out the door.

"But Captain." Don Schanke said, not a little timidly. "We don't have much to go on. Nobody actually saw the shooting. Nobody got a good look at the two men who were running from the scene. And we don't even know if they were the ones who did it or not."

Cohen turned on him, her black eyes blazing with fury. "I don't want excuses, Detective Schanke. I want the killers."

"Captain. Off the record." He waited until she nodded her assent. "Somehow I have the impression that this is more than just another case to you. Am I right? This is personal, isn't it?"

"Detective Schanke. You are out of line ... " Suddenly the anger left her face, only to be replaced by incredible sadness and grief. "You're right, though. It is personal. Not too many people know this, but my husband and I were the sponsors for Tan Leu Wing and his family when they came to this country. Seven of them escaped from China by clinging to a raft made of inner tubes for over two days while they drifted across the Formosan Straits to Taiwan. He's Mae Ling's grandfather. Our families have been very close. I've known Chan and his brothers since they were teenagers. I was one of the witnesses at Chan's wedding. I've known ... I knew ... Mae Ling almost from the moment of her birth."

"You sponsored them? But they're Chinese and you're ... You're ... a ... " Schanke stumbled. This was not coming out the way he had intended it to.

" ... A person who cares what happens in the world and who wanted to help them find a better life." She finished his sentence.

"Sorry, Captain. I didn't mean anything by that. I know you aren't ... I mean you don't ... " It still wasn't coming out the way he wanted. < Talk about an advanced case of foot in mouth disease. > "I'm sorry for stepping out of line like that. I hope you understand that everyone is more than a little rattled by this case."

"I do understand. And I do know that you didn't mean anything by that." Amanda Cohen wiped the tear that had escaped and was running down her cheek. A second later, the mask of Captain Amanda Cohen, 96th Precinct Supervisor, was back in place. "Get them, Detective Schanke. Get them good." She said almost in a whisper.

"Captain. Do you really think you ought to be here? I mean, when something like this happens to one of us, you are always telling us to go home and give ourselves time to heal. Why don't you take your own advice?"

"When I tell you to do that, do you listen to me?"

"Well ... " He said hesitantly. "No ... "

"Then what makes you think that ... I ... would listen to me? At home, I'd probably just worry myself sick. Not to mention driving my husband and the kids up the wall by taking out my frustration and exasperation on them. At least here, I feel like I can do something to put those monsters behind bars."

"I think I understand."

"Thank you, Detective Schanke. I thought you might." She smiled slightly.

"Does anyone else know about your involvement with the Chou family?"

"Only your partner. It seems that he has some strong ties with Chinatown. Chan and his family were in the office a few months ago when Knight came in. They spoke for some time. Did you know that Detective Knight speaks fluent Chinese?"

"He does? Well, well, well. You learn something new every day."

"Speaking of Detective Knight, where is your partner?"

Don Schanke only shrugged his shoulders. "Out chasing a lead?" He said lamely.

"It had better be a lead in the Chou case." Amanda Cohen said with another half smile. "Now get out there and start detecting."

**********

He wasn't asleep. She was nearly positive about that. But where ... or when ... was he? She didn't know. And how long he was going to be there, she didn't know. And if he was even going to come back, she didn't know.

Natalie cautiously began examining the vampire before her. She had to be extra careful not to startle him, and that hampered her exploration considerably. As far as she could tell, there did not seem to be any wounds. He was breathing, if you could call three breaths a minute, breathing. His heartbeat and pulse, such as they were, were normal. At least they were what passed as normal for a vampire. She hoped. She simply did not have that much information on vampire physiology. His pupils contracted in reaction to the tiny light from her pen flashlight. It was an autonomic response. At least his brain was functioning, if only on the most basic level. The light shining in his eyes should have brought him up fully vamped, but as with all the other tests, there was no voluntary action. She debated about taking blood samples. Although that would rule out poisoning, garlic, holy water, and / or any other substances that might be harmful to vampires, the chances were extremely high given his precarious state, that it could be her blood that would be taken instead of his.

"Nick. What happened to you?" She sighed. "Where are you? Are you still in there?" She said as she gently brushed a few sticky wet curls from his forehead.

**********

Something? ... In the distance? ... Distance? ... Was there direction? ... What was it? ... Whatever it was, it was gone ... Now only nothing again ... There is only the nothing ... Only the darkness ... There is nothing more ...

**********

"I'm just going to the washroom." She said softly. "I'll be right back." She went into the downstairs guest bath and took one of his red washcloths out of the linen closet. It didn't surprise her that all of his cloths and towels were either red or black. < Much easier to hide the bloodstains, I suppose. > She rinsed it under some lukewarm water and returned.

"Now I'm going to wipe your face with water." She explained. Again, she hoped he could hear and understand her. She didn't want him coming out of wherever he was fully the vampire and totally confused.

There was no response as she removed the blood sweat from his face. His clothes too were nearly soaked. Whatever it was that had caused this, it must have been extremely traumatic for him to have reacted this way.

She went to his bedroom and got a pair of his pajamas, underwear, a pillow, and several blankets. Then, she carefully removed his clothes. She gently washed the red from his body, <And a mighty fine body he has, too. > She mused as she slipped a fresh pair of shorts over his legs. Although she had seen numerous naked male bodies in her job as a Coroner, she had never seen Nick's naked male body before. She was surprised that it was turning out to be such an erotic experience. < Get a grip, Lambert. > She chided herself. < That's not why you're here. You're here to help him, not to gawk at his …attributes. > She then put on his pajamas, explaining in detail everything that she was doing. She tried desperately to maintain a clinical outlook about the whole situation, but it was rapidly becoming a losing battle. < But still ... he is very well proportioned ... and very well endowed, too. > The thought lingered a few moments longer than necessary. She did nothing to dispel it.

No response.

She knew it was useless for a 120 pound woman to even try to lift a 180 pound vampire, and there was no way that he was going to give her any help. So she merely covered him with the blankets and slipped the pillow under his head.

No response.

< I have to take some action. If I leave him like this ... > She did not want to think what could happen. She knew that in a mortal, the longer a person remained in a dormant state, the odds would increase geometrically that they might never recover. Especially if there was no external sign of trauma. She couldn't see anything physical that could have caused his withdrawal. It was becoming more and more apparent that was what he had done. He was not asleep or in some sort of a flashback. He had withdrawn from reality.

Intensive drug and shock therapy combined with long term hospitalization sometimes worked on mortals. She wasn't sure if that would work on a vampire. She knew she couldn't very well take him to a hospital. < What would I tell the admitting physician? I have a comatose vampire who has all the symptoms of withdrawal and needs intensive treatment? Be careful, though. He bites. They'd lock me in an adjoining rubber room and have me looking at inkblots. >

"I have to do something." She said to him. She knew he wouldn't respond, but she had to give voice to her thoughts. "But who do I talk to? Who can I go to? Who understands vampire psychology?" < Another vampire would, of course! >

She sat down on the black leather couch and picked up the phone. As she half expected, on the back of the receiver was a label with the speed dial numbers on it. The very first one on the list was for the Raven. It was a little after five AM. Everyone should still be up. Particularly since the sun didn't rise until almost 7 o'clock at this time of year. On the third ring, a male voice answered. She recognized the voice as that of Miklos, Janette's bartender.

"Is Janette there?" Natalie asked. A few seconds later, an obviously sleepy Janette DuCharme answered the phone.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." The club owner said after Natalie explained about Nick. "He doesn't come around here much anymore. Unless it's on ... business. The last time I saw Nicolah was about a week ago when he came in here looking for information about some case he was working on. He seemed perfectly normal then. That is, if you can call anything about Nicolah 'normal'. He is the most exasperating being, vampire or otherwise, I have ever encountered."

"Then you don't know of anything that would make him draw within himself?"

"Nothing, Doctor Lambert. Nicolah is a very complex man. But then, I am not telling you anything that you do not already know."

"Do you know of anything that can be done to bring him out?"

"No. I'm sorry. I don't. Unfortunately, I am not the doctor. You are. I fear my knowledge of medicine begins and ends with only a few of the most basic remedies from the eleventh century. I can treat a minor infection, make a potion or two, or remove a stake, but as to treating the workings of the mind ... Particularly the vampire mind ... And Nicolah's mind specifically ... I cannot help you. I am sorry. I really am."

"Me, too." Natalie put the receiver back in its cradle.

< Somebody ... somewhere ... has to know what happened. Somebody ... somewhere ... has to know how to bring him back from wherever he is. >

She stood up, and almost as quickly sat back down on the couch. Without warning, the floor was rocking beneath her, and the walls were weaving back and forth. She felt lightheaded. That's when she remembered that it had been over two days since she had slept, and almost that long since she had eaten anything beside what she could get from the vending machines in the morgue break room. Twinkies and Mountain Dew does not exactly qualify as a balanced diet.

She had to go home. She needed a long rest, a good meal, and to feed Sidney. She shuddered to think what the temperamental feline had done to the apartment without food, water, and most of all, attention for two days.

"I'm going to leave for a few hours. I will be back, though." She said to the vampire on the floor. Almost as soon as she had said that, Nick rolled on his side and curled back into the fetal ball that he had been in when she first came into the apartment. < Was this a setback? > Although they had made only slight progress in the hours she had been there, his return to the fetal position seemed to negate everything. < Or maybe not? > This was the first voluntary response, either negative or positive, that he had shown all night. < That was something, wasn't it? >

She yawned mightily. She had to get home! But with Nick like this, how could she leave? And as tired as she was, could she trust herself not to fall asleep at the wheel? Or even keep the car on the icy roads? She thought of what Grace had said. She definitely did not want to end up as a 'guest' at the morgue. The road crews were only starting to dig the city out. It would be at least the better part of the day until the roads were completely passable. But she was hungry. And then there was Sidney.

She yawned again, more forcefully than before. There was a restaurant two blocks away that opened at six AM for the early morning crowd. She could walk there and be back in only a few minutes. She could call Marge, her neighbor. She had watched Sidney on occasion when Natalie had to leave town for one reason or another. She had a key to her apartment. She could feed the cat.

< Call! >

She had to call Schanke and let him know that Nick was at least alive < or undead, as the case may be. > And that he wouldn't be in to the precinct for the next few days. < Or whenever. >

"Schanke." She said as Nick's partner answered the phone. "Nick is at home. He's ... sick. I'm not sure what he's got, but whatever it is, he's completely out of it. He is barely aware of what's going on." < At least that's not entirely a lie. > "He could be out for a good three or four days. Maybe a week. ... No, I don't think it would be a good idea for you to stop by. He won't be in much shape for visitors ... No, I don't think Myra's chicken soup ... " Her stomach growled. " ... On second thought, chicken soup might be just the thing ... Don't come up, though. He might be contagious. Just leave it in the elevator and ring the bell ... Thanks, Schanke. You're a true friend." Even though Nick couldn't eat the soup, she could eat it, and that would save her a trip outside. In this bad weather, she didn't want to think about walking even a few blocks.

Another call to Grace booked her off for tonight's shift. She had given her the excuse that she was tending to a sick friend. That much was true, but she could tell from the sound of her assistant's voice that Grace did not believe one word of it. It was only after she had hung up that she remembered that the morgue phones had caller ID. Grace would have known that the call had come from Nick's loft. < No wonder she sounded like the cat that ate the canary. She thinks Nick and I are ...> She shook her head and gave a small laugh. < But that could never ... > A sudden sorrowful pang wrapped itself around her heart. < If only it could ... >

It was nearly an hour and a half later when Schanke's face was on the monitor screen. "Are you sure I can't come up? Maybe I can help with something."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Until I know what's wrong, I don't want to risk infecting anyone else." She continued the lie. "Besides, he's asleep and you might disturb him. < And that could be fatal. > "One question. How'd you get here so quick with the soup? I thought the roads were still pretty much impassable."

"The road crews are doing a bust ass job of cleaning everything up. Main roads are pretty good, but side streets are like driving through oatmeal. As for the soup, Myra makes it up by the pot full and freezes it. Especially at this time of year. What with colds and flu going around, if she didn't do it that way, she'd be cooking night and day. All I had to do was stop by the house, grab a freezer box full and head over to here. By the time I got here, it was pretty much thawed out. All you have to do is heat it up.

By the way, Myra also sent along a plate full of leftover roast beef and mashed potatoes from last night's dinner. She always makes enough to feed an army, so we won't even miss that much. There's also a get well card in there signed by all of us. Jenny made it herself since there was no school today. She says to tell 'Uncle Nick' to get well soon and that she'll be saying her night prayers for him. Myra says she is going to pray for him, too." There was a slight pause. "Me, too."

< Nick. If only you knew how much you are loved ... > "Thanks again. I'm sure I ... he ... will enjoy the soup as soon as he's well enough to eat something."

"Shouldn't you have taken Nick to a hospital? Or at least called 911?"

"I thought about that." < Again, how do I explain it? > "With the roads as bad as they are, I didn't want to risk it. I did take some samples a little while ago. As soon as it clears up a bit more, I'm going to send them by messenger to a lab that I know of for analysis." She lied once more. "Until the results come back, I think he's better off here in the loft. No use exposing anyone else or risking any further contamination to Nick. I have enough supplies here to at least treat the symptoms." < Lukewarm water and a lot of TLC. >

There were a few moments of silence as Don Schanke thought over what Natalie had said. "You're right. I guess the best place for him right now is right where he is. Tell him everyone at the precinct is praying for a speedy recovery. Gotta go. Myra's waiting up for me. Says she has a surprise. Something involving knee socks, hip waders, and whipped cream. Yee-Haah! The Don rides tonight! Hasta La Bye-Bye." The monitor screen faded to black.

Twenty minutes later, the chicken soup and the roast beef were inside her stomach. That, and a bag of trail mix for dessert that Natalie had found in the kitchen cabinet, had done the job. Her belly was full, and she lay sleepily on the couch just above where Nick was laying. Her hand rested gently on his arm. Suddenly, she was aware that he had taken her hand in his.

Another step. This one was a giant one.

**********

Comfort ... Warm ... Need ... Good ... May be a way back ...

NO! ... PAIN! ... TERROR! ... BAD! ... There is no back ... There is only here ... Only the darkness ... Only the emptiness ...

**********

Suddenly he pulled his hand back against his chest and balled both fists so tightly that his knuckles were deathly white. She could see tiny red rivulets where his fingernails had dug into the palms.

One step forward. Three steps back. Back to where they had started. Maybe even farther back.

"Nick. What happened?" She murmured as sleep, or maybe it was exhaustion, overtook her.

**********

"Are you Officer Schanke?" The elderly oriental said, bowing low from the waist before him. "The policeman at the front desk said I should talk to you."

"I'm Detective Schanke." Don said. He walked around the desk and pulled a chair out for the man to sit in. "What can I do for you? Mr. ... Ah ..."

"Not Mr. Ah." The man bowed again. "Name is Wu. Mr. Wu." He bowed another time.

"Mr. Wu." Schanke returned the bow.

"Ling Po Wu." The man said, bowing low once again. Schanke bowed to the man. The man bowed once more. Schanke bowed. The man bowed.

"Please sit down, Mr. Wu." Schanke said indicating the chair. He was starting to get a little dizzy from all the bending up and down. "Now what can I do for you?" He repeated.

He sat stiffly in the chair. Schanke returned to his chair as well.

There was a long silence as the elderly Chinaman seemed to be thinking over the detective's request. "It is what I can do for you." Ling Po Wu finally said.

"And what can you do for me, Mr. Wu?"

"I saw them."

"Saw who?"

"Them."

"Them who?" Don sighed. < This was going to be like pulling teeth. >

"The men who killed Mae Ling Chou."

"You saw the men kill Mae Ling Chou?"

"No, I did not see them kill her. Not exactly. My shop is just five doors from where she was shot. I am a seller of calming incense and candles and healing herbs. I believe today you would call it aroma therapy. I live in the back of the store. There is a street light at the curb. It was like bright daylight. I heard the shots and came to the door just as they ran past me. I got a good look at them."

"Can you give me a description?"

Ling Po Wu nodded. "There were two men. They were both Caucasian. One was young. And tall. Maybe about 6 feet or more. He had dark hair. Very short. I think you call it a buzz cut. Wore a beard, too. He had on torn jeans and a dirty jacket. It was all different shades of green. Like hunters wear when they do not wish to be seen."

"You mean a camouflage jacket?"

"Yes. Camouflage. It had pictures on the back, too. A skull and something that looked like a ... I don't know how to describe it ... like a bent cross."

"Can you draw it?" Don handed him a pen and paper. Seconds later, he handed the paper back to the detective.

"A skull and a swastika? Was that what was on the jacket?"

"Yes. And writing too. All I remember are the words 'death to'. And something else. I couldn't make the rest of it out. He was running too fast. My English is not all that good."

"You're doing very well, Mr. Wu. Now. The other man. What did he look like?"

"He too was tall, but not quite as tall as the first one. Of course, when you are like me, maybe only five foot three or five foot four, everybody is tall."

"I can understand that. Please. Continue."

"He had light hair. Maybe red or maybe blond. I remember his eyes. They were kind of funny looking. Like he had green eyes, only sort of yellow, too. I don't know. It might have been the street light."

Don nodded. < It had to be the light. No one has yellow eyes. >

"He was wearing black slacks. Or maybe they were jeans too. Only they were clean. He had a black leather jacket on. It wasn't zippered and there was a gray shirt underneath. Like a T-shirt. It had several stains on it. They were red or brown maybe." He closed his eyes and rubbed his face. "Who would want to hurt Mae Ling? Everybody loved her."

"I don't know, Mr. Wu. But thanks to you, we may be close to answering that question. Do you think you could give a detailed description of the men to one of our police artists? He could then make a sketch based on what you have told us. It would make the job of catching the men a lot easier if we know for sure what they looked like. Tell me something. It's been two days since the shooting. Why didn't you come forward sooner?"

"I was afraid. I saw them, and they saw me. I thought maybe if I said something when it first happened, they might kill me or my family."

"Why now?"

"Because I cannot continue with the knowledge that I might be able help to find the men who killed Mae Ling. Her grandfather and I have known each other since we were boys in Hungtu. We escaped from China together. It is almost like we are family. That makes Mae Ling family too. I want to see the men who killed her punished. That is why I came here today."

As soon as Mr. Wu had left with the artist, Schanke knocked on Captain Cohen's door. "I think we might have our first break. Somebody just came in claiming to have seen the two men who might have shot Mae Ling. He's with the police artist now."

"As soon as he's finished, I want copies of those pictures in the hands of every police officer from Cape Spear to Point Barrow, and from Key West to San Diego, and everywhere in between. I want them caught. NOW!"

"YES! MA'M!" Schanke replied.

**********

Natalie woke with a start. She looked at the large sunburst clock hanging over the mantle. It said 6:30. Sundown was a half hour ago. She stood up, and nearly tripped over Nick. He was still lying on the floor where she had last seen him that morning. Still curled tightly into a ball. Once more there was a bright pink sheen on his face.

"Nick. What happened that made you go so deep into yourself that you haven't come out yet?" She said as she wiped his face with a dampened washcloth.

As before, there was no response.

She turned on the radio on the entertainment center.

< They say that music has charms to soothe the savage beast. Maybe it will help bring Nick out of wherever he was. > Right now, she would be almost happy to see the beast. To see anything except this barely functioning shell that was Nicholas Brabant Knight lying on the floor.

**********

"What lies at the bottom of your being?" The Nightcrawler put forward over the CERK airwaves. "When you strip away the veneer of your supposedly enlightened persona, what is left? What is deep in the innermost bowels of your nature? Is there anything left once you have removed all the coatings? Or is that all there is of you ... merely a veneer."

He took a long slow sip of the dark red liquid in the glass in his hand and set it back on the console.

"How much of what we think we are is nothing more than a thin covering? A wrapper of sorts made up of layer upon layer of what others expect us to be?

Our parents tell us that we have act in a particular manner. So that when we grow up, we can fulfill ... their expectations ... of what the heir and successor to their version of reality should be.

Our teachers tell us we have to conduct ourselves in a certain way so that we can fit in with ... society. To claim what they feel is our rightful place in this complex menagerie we jokingly call ... civilization.

Legislators and judges make and enforce a neverending succession of laws and regulations to ensure that everyone is acting and behaving in ... what they perceive ... as an acceptable manner.

The clergy impose commandments and restrictions on our actions. In order ... so they tell us ... that we can claim some form of higher eternal reward when our time on this plane of existence is over."

"How much of this ... you ... that you project to the outside world ... how much of it is really you ... and how much of it is what others expect you to be? How much of it is what ... you ... expect you to be?

When you can't live up to all the pressures that have been put on you, what do you do? Do you pretend that everything is all right? That nothing is amiss? When in truth, your carefully fabricated world is rapidly coming undone.

Do you cut yourself off from the entire outside world? From those you love, and those who love you?"

Do you retreat? Do you crawl inside the depths of your darkness like some kind of a terrified animal? Where do you go? Is it a pleasant place, or is it even more frightening than the reality you have left behind?"

Lucien LaCroix took another sip of the crimson liquid.

"You do not have to pretend with me. You do not have to show me what you think I want to see. You do not have to hide from me. You can be yourself. For I am The Nightcrawler. I know ... who you really are."

Another pause.

"I know ... what ... you really are."

**********

RETREAT ... FLEE ... ESCAPE ... AVOID ... The darkness is safe ... The emptiness is all you need ... It is all you will ever need ...

**********

Natalie watched anxiously. Nick seemed to become more agitated as The Nightcrawler gave his monologue. Although he did not move, his breathing increased to almost eight breaths a minute, and tiny pink drops of sweat began to reappear on his forehead. Finally, she turned the radio off. Immediately, he began to calm down. His breathing slowly returned to vampire normal.

It was almost as if The Nightcrawler were talking about Nick. But then, Nick had said on many occasions that he believed that Lucien LaCroix tailored many of his nightly monologues directly to him.

Suddenly, the light bulb went on in her mind. "HE KNOWS!" She almost shouted. "He knows what happened to Nick." Her face became grim. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if that old demon was the cause of his withdrawal somehow." She thought about going to the Raven and confronting the ancient Roman General when he arrived there after finishing his broadcast, but every time she tried to leave the room, let alone the loft, Nick seemed to become more distressed and withdrawn.

**********

"Captain." Don Schanke said as the police artist left the bullpen. "I think you ought to see this."

"Are those the sketches of the two men who were involved in Mae Ling's murder?" Amanda Cohen asked.

Don nodded.

"Then you had better get them on the wire ASAP. Every second we spend here gives them the chance to get farther and farther away."

"I think you had better look at them first."

"Why? Aren't they clear enough to make an identification?"

"Oh yeah. They're clear, all right." He thrust the bristol boards at the Captain.

Her face became pasty gray as she studied the likenesses. "Are you sure about this?"

"Positive. The first artist was skeptical, so he called in another one. The second artist drew the same picture from the description that Mr. Wu gave him, too. There's no mistake."

"There has to be. This doesn't make any sense at all. He couldn't possibly be one of the killers."

"You're right. Maybe he has a double. I read someplace that everybody has an exact double somewhere. Doppelganger, I think they call it. Maybe this guy is his." He tried to convince himself as well as his Captain.

*********

Janette DuCharme handed the master vampire a glass of his private stock. "You know." It was a statement, not a question.

"Know what?" LaCroix answered with a raised eyebrow and a look of feigned innocence. "I know many things. It is one of the advantages of being almost 2000 years old. Which bit of knowledge are you referring to?" He took a slow sip of his drink.

"I heard your broadcast tonight. You know what happened to Nicolah, don't you?"

"Something has happened to Nicholas?" He took another deliberately long sip from the glass. "My. My. My. How interesting. And what brought you to that conclusion? Did you sense something, or are you just speculating?" His tone was indisputably mocking.

"Dr. Lambert called me early this morning. She was worried about Nicolah. She said he had withdrawn from reality and she didn't know what to do about it. Add to that the fact that I have not been able to sense Nicolah very clearly all day. It only strengthens my conviction that something is seriously wrong with him."

"So! The good Doctor is behind this. I should have known. Of course she doesn't know what to do about it. As I have told Nicholas numerous times, she is out of her league if she thinks she can presume to treat a vampire for anything."

"Then you admit there is something wrong with Nicolah?"

"I admit nothing. If he has, as you say, withdrawn from everything, perhaps that is his way of indicating that he no longer wants to be part of their mortal world. My advice is to do nothing. Let him work these things out by himself. When he is ready, he will return. Then he will take his rightful place. As a vampire. Beside me. As my son."

"That may be true. But you did not answer my question. Do you know what caused him to withdraw in the first place?"

Lucien LaCroix finished his drink and replaced the glass on the bar. "I really must be going now." He rose and headed for the door without another word.

**********

"Good news, Captain." Don Schanke said as he entered the petite Oriental's office. "We may have just gotten miracle number two. Forensics has recovered a bullet that might have killed Mae Ling Chou. Actually, the dealer who services the newspaper box on the sidewalk where Mae Ling was shot found it. It seems that the bullet was lodged in the papers that were in the box. He didn't find it until he was sorting the papers to take to the recycling center. It was buried in the classified section of the second ... "

"Never mind going into miniscule detail, Detective. Give me the Readers Digest version. The bullet. Is it the one that killed Mae Ling or not?"

"Grace Balthazar seems to think so. It is a .9mm. The same caliber as the one that might have killed her. There were traces of blood that matched Mae Ling's blood type, but since it was A positive, the most common type, that's not very conclusive. They're doing a DNA analysis on it as we speak. Maybe they can come up with a definite match."

"Detective. Do you remember our earlier discussion about one of the suspects? I believe he has a .9mm automatic. If we could test it against the bullet ... "

"Captain. Do you realize what you're implying? I couldn't do that. Not to him."

"Yes, Detective Schanke, I do know what I'm saying. I wish I didn't have to think it, let alone do something about it, but I have to. I am a sworn law enforcement agent. You are too. This just might clear him."

< And it might convict him, too. > "I'd like to be the one to get the gun. I think I owe him that much." Schanke said flatly. "He is my partner, after all." This would be the hardest thing he had ever done.

"I'll see about getting a warrant." Captain Cohen said halfheartedly. "You probably won't need it, but just to make sure that all the I's are dotted and the T's crossed ... " It was during times like this that she wished that she had taken her father's advice and gone to work for him in his restaurant after high school, instead of applying to the Police Academy.

**********

There was a sudden rush of air and a barely perceptible sound that signaled the arrival of one of the 'Community'. Natalie braced. Then almost relaxed as Janette stepped out of the shadows. < How do they do that? >

"I did not mean to startle you, Doctor." She said. "But after I talked with you, I began to worry. I had to come to see if there was anything that I could do to help. Has there been any change?"

Natalie slowly shook her head. "No. No real change. Except that he seemed especially agitated while The Nightcrawler was doing his monologue. When I turned off the radio, he calmed down a bit. Personally, I think that LaCroix has something to do with his current state."

"I would be very careful about saying those thoughts aloud if I were you. LaCroix does not like to be accused of ... anything. It is immaterial whether the accusation is true or not." She walked over to the area in front of the couch where Nick was lying. "This must be a very unpleasant place for him, here on the floor. Wouldn't he be more comfortable on the sofa?"

"I'm sure he would be much more comfortable on the couch. Unfortunately, I can't even begin to lift him. Especially when he's so much dead weight." < Bad pun, Lambert. No cookie for you. >

"No problem." The vampire gently picked Nick up as though he were nothing more than a feather pillow. She carefully laid him on the couch and covered him with the blanket that Natalie handed her. "He looks so pale. Do you know when he fed last?"

"No I don't. I've been here since about ten o'clock last night. He hasn't fed in that time. In fact, he hasn't even regained consciousness."

"Perhaps that is his problem. Perhaps all he needs is a good feeding. We can start with the basics. There should be some bags of frozen human blood in the freezer. He keeps them there for emergency purposes only. I do believe this would qualify as an emergency. If you could thaw one of them ... "

"I know. I gave them to him." She said as she put one into the microwave. Seconds later, she handed it to Janette. "And I agree. This would definitely be considered an emergency."

Janette bit the tip off the bag and gently pried Nick's mouth open. She poured in a small amount of the blood.

"Drink, Nicolah." She whispered.

**********

FOOD! ...

Warm! ... Swallow! ... Need! ...

HUMAN! ... GUILT! ... REJECT! ...

You don't need anything except what the darkness can provide ... There is no rejection here ... There is no guilt here ... Only the darkness ...

NEED! ...

**********

The only reaction from the comatose vampire was that a small amount of the blood dribbled down the side of Nick's face.

"Oh, Nicolah." Janette sighed as she removed the plastic tip of the blood bag from his mouth. "It distresses me to see you like this. If you do not feed, you could die. Is that what you want? Je ne pense. (I don't think so). If you do not want to take from the bag, perhaps you will take from me."

Natalie watched fascinated, as Janette's eyes became yellow and her fangs elongated. She bit into her wrist and held it to Nick's mouth. Although Nick had alluded to vampire blood sharing, he had been frustratingly vague about the techniques and the emotions it entailed. From the almost erotic look on Janette's face, there was obviously more involved in the act than the mere giving and taking blood. She also knew that the neck was the preferred site. < So, perhaps the wrist is an acceptable alternative? How many more places can a vampire drink from? > She filed the information away for future reference.

At the moment, she was waiting with baited breath as Janette pressed her bleeding wrist tightly to him. "Boisson, Nicolah. Boisson et vivent. (Drink, Nicholas. Drink and live.)" She urged.

As before, there was no response to this method either.

"This is most disconcerting." Janette said as she took her arm from him. She licked the gash and within seconds the wound began to close. A few minutes later, Natalie could only see a thin red scar where the wrist had been opened. She knew that in about an hour or so, even that would be gone.

"Blood from another vampire should have brought him around almost immediately." Janette continued. "Especially mine. Particularly with the relationship that there is between Nicolah and I." She looked at Natalie, and for a brief moment caught something flitting across the Coroner's face ... Jealousy? ... Longing? ... Desire? ... < She really does care deeply for Nicolah ... They are just friends ... In a pig's eye ... > "I mean, after all, we do share the same master." She quickly added.

"Yeah." Natalie said with a small smile that did not even come close to her eyes. "Of course. The same master." They both knew that was not the 'relationship' Janette was talking about.

Her stomach growled, and she realized that she had not had anything to eat since Don Schanke brought the food that morning. "Could I ask a favor of you?" Could you stay with him while I go to the carryout down the street and get a few things? I won't be gone more than ten or fifteen minutes."

"Why don't you give me a list of the things you'll need and I'll get them for you. From what you told me, Nicolah becomes very disturbed if you leave his side for more than a few moments at a time."

"I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."

"It is no trouble, Doctor."

"Why don't you try calling me Natalie?"

"Very well ... No trouble ... Natalie. I have to ... go to the store anyway."

Natalie knew that was a lie. She suspected that Janette had never dealt with any store that wasn't listed as a five star establishment. Stores such as Neiman Marcus, Harrods, Gucci and the like. And those establishments brought the merchandise to you. Since vampires didn't need to eat mortal foods, she probably had never been to a grocery store, let alone a carryout. < Perhaps she isn't such a threat after all. She's willing to do this for me. > She rummaged in her purse until she found an old prescription pad. She scribbled out the imprinted heading with her name and registration code, and wrote down the things she needed. She gave the paper to Janette along with several bills.

"You do not have to pay me ... " Janette was interrupted by the buzzer on the security monitor, indicating that someone was in the garage waiting to enter the lift.

Natalie turned on the monitor and was surprised to see Don Schanke standing there. She turned to Janette.

"You do not have to say anything, Doctor. I think it would be better for everyone if I were not here when Nicolah's partner comes up. After all, he is supposed to be very ill, non?"

"How did you know what I told ... "

Janette smiled broadly. "That is the excuse I would have given anyone concerning Nicolah's absence from his ... mortal job." She picked up her coat and the shopping list. "I shall be back dans quelques momente. (In a few minutes.) " A second later, there was a gust of air and Janette was gone.

"I ... ah ... know that Nick is sick and all that." Don stammered. "But this is important. I wouldn't ask to come up if it wasn't. I promise I won't stay long, and I won't get anywhere near him."

Against her better judgment, Natalie sent the lift to the garage level.

As Nick's partner hesitantly came into the loft, he sighed heavily. < This is a hell of a thing to have to do to Nick. Especially with him being so sick and all. > "I guess there's no easy way to do this." He said to Natalie. "So here goes. There's been some new evidence in the Mae Ling Chou case. A witness. He got a good look at the men who were seen running away from the shooting." He pulled one of the police bulletins from his pocket and handed it to Natalie.

Her face turned even more pasty white than Nick's as she studied the artist's drawings of the suspects. "You've got to be kidding." She finally said. "You can't possibly ... I mean ... This has got to be some kind of a sick joke."

"I wish it were a joke. There's more. Forensics found a bullet at the scene. It's a .9mm. Grace Balthazar thinks it might be the one that killed little Mae Ling. Cohen wants me to ... to ... " He pulled out the search warrant and handed it to Natalie.

"How can you even think ... " She said as she read the paper.

"I don't want to do this, but I have to. As much as I want to, I can't let my personal feelings ... I mean I am an officer of the law, after all." He argued, possibly with himself. "I gotta take his gun in for comparison testing."

"I know, Schanke." Natalie said. "And I know that Nick would understand too. If it will clear him, By all means, take the gun. He keeps it in the drawer in the table behind the couch. Go ahead and get it."

"Do you think that's such a good idea? I mean with him being so sick and all that?"

Natalie smiled. "It turns out he's not contagious after all, although he's still pretty sick. I got the results back from the tests I took." She continued her lies. "It turns out he is having an ... acute prolonged allergic reaction ... to one of the medications ... that I've been experimenting with ... for his ... condition. He has slipped into what is called a ... therapeutic anaphylactic restorative coma ... It's really a good thing. It's giving his body the time it needs to throw off the ... detrimental effects ... of the ... reaction. Now that I know what is happening, I can treat it." < I'd give anything if I could. > "Although the best treatment at this time is just to let nature take its course." < There's nothing else I can do. > "He could be coming out of the coma very soon." < I hope. > Another lie. Of course, there was no such condition. She was making it up as she went along, but it contained enough medical doublespeak that Schanke seemed to be satisfied with it.

"Oh." A visible sign of relief swept across Schanke's face. "Then he's gonna be all right."

< I hope so, Don. I hope so. > She nodded. "Yes, he'll live." < In a manner of speaking. > "But he's going to be very weak and run down when he does wake up." < At least that wouldn't be a lie. > "He won't be able to return to work for quite a while."

He slipped on a pair of latex gloves. "That's another thing." He said as he gingerly took the gun from the drawer and put it in an evidence bag. "Because of the old man's description of one of the suspects, Nick's been more or less put on indefinite administrative leave. You tell him that everyone is still praying for him. I'll be back right after shift with some more of Myra's chicken soup. Good for what ails you. You know the old saying ... Fifty thousand Jewish mothers can't be wrong."

**********

Erik Kierschmann stared at the drawings in the newspaper. They didn't do him justice. His hair was too long. It should have been almost shaved. And his beard was much too scraggly. It didn't matter anyway. He had shaved it off right after the shooting.

It should have been so easy. After all, the street was supposed to be filled with ... THEM. All he had to do was open fire and there would have been a lot less of ... THEM ... running around to contaminate the population. It didn't matter that he might not have survived. He was more than willing to die for the cause. Particularly if he could take a significant number of ... THEM ... with him. Only, because of the storm ... THEY ... were nowhere in sight. Only the girl and a few others.

That was when HE came along. The blond. What was HE doing there anyway? HE wasn't one of ... THEM ... and HE had no business in that part of town.

And HE had the audacity to challenge him and try to stop him. Didn't HE realize that he was doing this because it was the right thing to do? Didn't HE know that he and his fellow crusaders were killing ... THEM ... for the protection of decent people everywhere. THEY ... were taking the jobs and homes that should have gone to ... the right people ... the good people. THEY ... were eating up hard earned tax dollars and giving nothing in return. THEY ... were breeding like flies and were just as diseased. THEY ... had to be eliminated. He even had one of the breeders in his sights when HE tried to stop him.

If HE was on ... THEIR ... side, then HE had to be eliminated, too. After all, as the Bible says. 'If you are not with me, you are against me'. That's when he shot at HIM. He could have sworn he hit HIM at least once.

Then it happened. HIS eyes changed. They weren't blue anymore, but a funny shade of greenish yellow. And HIS teeth ... It was almost like they were fangs ... Nah! ... That had to be a hallucination brought on by the amphetamines that he had taken to keep him pumped up like he was.

HE had the nerve to return the fire. He massaged his arm lightly. It was only a graze, but it still hurt like hell. He had to answer that affront with more gunfire. Just one shot. That was all he had time for before he had to take off down the street. If it hadn't been for that truck, he would have been caught. Didn't they understand? If HE hadn't shot at him, he wouldn't have had to return fire. It was self defense. Pure and simple. It was HIS fault the gook brat was dead. He was innocent. Besides, what was the big thing? It's only a dead chink rugrat. Not like it was a real person.

**********

"Fiertes Reich." Amanda Cohen said as she studied the composite drawings of the suspects.

"What?" Don Schanke asked.

"Fiertes Reich ... Fourth Reich." The Captain replied. "I thought the insignia on the back of the jacket looked familiar." She went to a file cabinet and pulled out a folder and handed it to the detective. "I got this from the FBI about two weeks ago.

Fiertes Reich is the name of a super secret, ultra radical neo-Nazi cult group that makes the Skinheads look like a troop of boy scouts. These guys hate everybody. Especially anyone who is not pedigreed Germanic Aryan Protestant. That includes Hispanics, Orientals, Jews, Muslims, Blacks, Catholics, and even other European ethnic groups, just to name a few. Their members have been linked to well over fifty hate related crimes in the US just this the past year alone. The FBI uncovered one of their strongholds in Detroit last month. From what they said in this report, they believe that Fiertes Reich has some well established units in Canada, too."

"And you think they're responsible for Mae Ling's death?"

"It's looking more and more like that. Now, if the ballistics tests on Detective Knight's gun comes back negative ... "

"It would be even better if he would wake up from the coma that Nat ... I mean Dr. Lambert says he's in, and he could tell us just what happened."

**********

"Nick." Natalie said, gently stroking his head. "You were there, weren't you? You know what happened. Was that what drove you inside yourself? Did you see that little girl killed right in front of you?"

**********

NO! ... Don't think ... Don't remember ... Too painful ...

Stay here ... There is no pain here ... There is no guilt here ...There is only the emptiness ... There is only the darkness ...

**********

She stared at the blood bag. Janette could have been right. Maybe all he needed was a good feeding. Even if that wasn't the problem, the fact that he probably hadn't fed in two days was not a good thing. She tried once again to get him to drink from the thawed bag. < Why won't you drink? I thought that was instinctive. >

No response.

She filled a large syringe from her medical bag and tried allowing him suckle on it.

No response.

"How else can I get the blood into you? She thought aloud. "If you were mortal I could always ... " She grinned widely. "Why not?" She almost shouted. "If Mohammed won't come to the mountain ... "

She grabbed her medical bag and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for. While she thawed another bag of blood, she began to assemble the necessary equipment. With nearly shaking hands, she hooked the tubing to the bag.

After a bit of searching for the right place, she attached the bag to the arm of the floor lamp at the end of the couch using a coat hanger for a hook. < Not a bad improvised IV stand. > She congratulated herself. She took a sterile needle and put it on the other end of the tubing. She then swabbed the area around the elbow of Nick's left arm with an alcohol soaked gauze pad. She knew it wasn't necessary. Vampires were immune to disease and infection, but the doctor in her did it just the same. Finally, she inserted the needle and opened the stopcock on the tubing to the full setting.

She watched, enthralled, as the bag emptied into the starving vampire's vein. It flowed faster than could be accounted for by gravity. Almost as if Nick's body were actively sucking the life giving liquid into itself. When that bag was empty, she hooked another to the system. It too, was drained in a matter of minutes. A third went almost as fast. It wasn't until the fifth and last bag that the flow slowed to anything resembling mortal normal. There was only about twenty or thirty cc's left in the bag when the level finally stopped going down.

Natalie closed the stopcock and gently removed the needle from his arm. "You must have been really hungry." She told him.

There was still no response.

< At least he won't starve to death now. >

**********

Food ... Satisfied ... hunger ... gone ...

Unworthy ... Should have let me die ... Fitting punishment ...

Had no choice ...

**********

Sergeant Leo Farrell from Forensics handed the report to Don Schanke. "I could have sent it via the regular channels, but I thought you'd want to see it in person."

"You're right, Sergeant. I do want to see it personally. " Don Schanke said as he scanned the folder. "You're sure about this?"

"I wish I weren't. I ran the test three times myself. There's no doubt. It's a positive match. Knight's gun is the one that fired the bullet that was retrieved from the newspaper box."

"But is that the same bullet that killed Mae Ling?"

"Jury's still out on that one. The DNA comparison was inconclusive. There were a number of matches, but not enough to make a positive ID. However, since the father says he heard only one shot, the chances are pretty certain that it was the one that killed the girl. I don't like to say that. I've known Knight a long time, ever since he started over at the 27th, and he's always been the most scrupulous person I know of. It is almost like he bends over backwards to avoid harming anyone, especially the innocents. I can't believe he'd shoot anyone, let alone a little kid, without some overwhelming provocation."

"Neither can I, Farrell. Neither can I."

**********

Richard Vetter stopped at the open door to Captain Amanda Cohen's office. He didn't like the way this case was going. Not at all. "May I come in?" He inquired.

"Of course, Commissioner. What brings you all the way over here?" She replied. She had an almost certain idea why the one of the members of the Police Commission was standing in her bullpen.

His answer was to throw the copy of the Peeper on her desk. The headline read 'Homicide Cop Suspected In Toronto Chinatown Murder.' Immediately below that was the police artist's sketch of the blond haired man. The picture of the other suspect was nowhere in sight.

"You've got a rogue cop in your precinct. A murderer. In addition, he's a hotshot. A loose cannon. A lone wolf." He said almost in a sneer. "I don't like dirty cops. Why hasn't Nicholas Knight been arrested?" For whatever reason, Commissioner Richard Vetter had taken an instant dislike to Nick Knight from the first moment he had seen the blond detective.

"Commissioner. You are out of line with your accusations." Amanda Cohen stood to her full five feet five against Vetter's six feet two. "Detective Knight is one of my best officers. His record is exemplary. We've got no solid proof that Knight was the one who shot Mae Ling Chou. We don't have a motive. We're not even positive he was in the area. True, this picture looks like him, but that is as far as it goes. In other words, all the so called evidence you have against Detective Knight is what is written in this piece of ... crap that pretends to be a story in a two bit fish wrapper like the Peeper. I wouldn't arrest a dog for biting his fleas based on one of their stories."

"And what does Detective Knight have to say about all of this ... CAPTAIN Cohen?" He put special emphasis on her rank. "I assume someone has questioned him. He has been questioned, hasn't he?"

"As a matter of fact, he hasn't ... COMMISSIONER Vetter." She emphasized his rank. "According to Dr. Lambert, he's been in a coma for the past few days as a result of an allergic reaction to some medication he's been taking. As soon as he is able, I assure you, we will get his statement. Until then ... "

"Well, see that he is questioned. And I want this matter settled quickly. The mayor is on my ass about it, and I don't like that."

She sat down and picked up a file on her desk and began to study it. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Commissioner Vetter?" She didn't even look up. Amanda Cohen wasn't going to give him anything he could possibly use against Knight.

< Nothing more? Good. Then go screw yourself. Or maybe you could let the mayor do it for you. > The thought brought a hint of a smile to the Police Captain's face. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

Without a word, Vetter turned and practically stormed out of the office.

And almost ran into Don Schanke. He shot the Detective a withering glare and stormed out of the precinct.

"Well, I see Commissioner Sunshine-And-Compassion has been spreading his magic around here." Don said at the downcast look in his supervisor's face.

Cohen only nodded glumly. She held up the Peeper. "Based on the article in this... ragmag, he's convinced that Knight killed the Chou girl."

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news, Captain." Don said, handing her the Forensics report. "It looks like Nick was at the scene after all. The bullet we got from the newspaper stand matches the one test fired from his gun."

"I didn't want to hear that, Schanke." The Captain said, rubbing her forehead. She had the sinking feeling that there was going to be a massive headache developing soon, and that it would have little to do with the throbbing behind her eyes.

"I didn't want to tell you that, either."

"What about the other man? What have you found out about him?"

"Nothing good to report there also. We're shaking every known tree, but so far, nothing's fallen out. It's as if he just disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Keep looking. He could be the key to this whole mess."

"You don't think maybe Nick was shooting at him and accidentally hit the Chou girl, do you? I mean … this guy probably is a member of a known hate cult. What was he doing in Chinatown, which is full of his supposedly sworn enemies? I don't think he went there to get an order of Moo Goo Gai Pan."

"But the father said there was only one shot fired."

"I know that, but Mr. Wu said there were shots. Plural. So it is possible that there was an exchange of gunfire and the Chou girl happened to get in the way."

"Right now, I don't know what to think. Do me a favor. Go over to the first aid kit and get me two of the strongest pain killers in it."

"I got some triple strength acetaminophen that the doctor gave me that time last year when I sprained my ankle. You can have a couple of them if you want."

"Thanks. I may need the whole bottle of them before this is over."

**********

"Coroner's office, Grace Balthazar speaking."

"Grace, this is Natalie. I just called to tell you that I won't be in to work for several days. Unless you have an emergency, that is."

"No emergency that we can't handle. Dr. Parks and I can cover for you, no sweat. And Natalie, I'm sorry about not believing you when you called in before. Don Schanke told me about Nick's condition. I hope he gets better real soon. Now you don't worry about anything else. You just concentrate on getting him back on his feet. You hear?"

"I hear. And thanks, Grace."

"For what?"

"Just for being Grace."

It was a good thing that Natalie did not have a videophone. She could not see the deep red coloring that spread through the mahogany of her assistant's face.

**********

Natalie took the clothes from the dryer and folded them. In addition to the bloodsweat soaked clothes from the previous nights, there were her clothes as well. Although she did not have a change of clothes here, she had found a set of Nick's sweats that fit, more or less. If this kept up much longer, she would have to go home, if for nothing more than some decent clothes.

Maybe she could ask Janette to stay with him for a while. When she had brought the food to her, Natalie had told her about the transfusions. The vampire had offered to bring a supply of human blood when she returned.

There was someone on the main floor of the loft. A vampire. She could almost sense it as the lift stopped. < Janette must have flown to get here this quickly. > There was only about two hours until dawn. "Janette. You didn't have to ... " Juggling the clothes basket, she opened the door and stopped short. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

"And why wouldn't I be here?" The tall, black clad vampire asked.

She shuddered inwardly as he trained his ice blue eyes on her. Natalie had the distinct impression that Lucien LaCroix thought of her as little more than an irritating nuisance at best. A midnight snack at worst.

"After all, Nicholas is my son. A father does have the responsibility to take care of his children, does he not?" He strode to the couch and pulled Nick roughly by the shoulders to a sitting position. "Nicholas." He called. "This has gone on long enough. My patience with you has worn thin. Wake up."

There was no response.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Natalie shouted to the elder vampire as he threw Nick back down to the couch.

"Dealing with my son. As if it is any concern of yours." LaCroix backhanded the comatose vampire. "I SAID wake up, Nicholas!"

**********

TERROR! ... FLEE! ... HIDE!

"Stay here ... The darkness is secure ... The emptiness is safe ... You are protected in the nothing.

**********

"Then you had better find a different way to deal with him."

"I will deal with him any way I choose ... " Lucien LaCroix spun around to face the mortal woman and came even with the business end of a large pointed shillelagh aimed directly at the left side of his chest. In her other hand Natalie held St. Joan's cross to his face.

"Then I suggest you choose another way."

"And if I don't ... " He said contemptuously. "What do you think you can do about it?"

"This!" Natalie gave the stick a hard shove. Hard enough to pierce the ribcage.

"You obviously do ... not realize who ... you are ... dealing with." LaCroix gasped as the shillelagh tore through his lung. "You do know ... that I can ... take you out ... without ... so much as ... a thought." Pain tore through his chest as he lifted his arms to shield himself against the Saint's primitive crucifix.

"Yes. You could." She replied. "But that would not be a wise idea."

"And why ... is that?"

"Because if you kill me, Nick would never forgive you. He might just stay wherever he is until he starves. If that is the case, the Enforcers would probably order his destruction as a liability to the Community. That is standard procedure in cases like this, isn't it? If he does come out of his coma and I am dead, he will almost certainly walk into the next sunrise. If you attempt to bring me across, I will not turn away from the light and I will be dead just the same. Again, he will never forgive you. If he doesn't walk into the sun, he will probably never return to you. Even if he does stay with you, he will despise you for all eternity. Any way you look at it, he will be lost to you forever."

Inwardly, he had to admire this particular mortal. Very few, mortal or not, would have the courage and guts to do what she just did. He could feel that she was frightened of him, but she was either too foolish or too stubborn to let it show. He surmised it was the latter.

"I suggest that you either rethink your treatment of Nick, or you get out. Now." She gave the intricately carved pole another push. She calculated that it should now be resting rather painfully against his heart. Another centimeter or two and he would no longer present a problem to either her or Nick.

"Very well ... Doctor." The word sounded more like a expletive than a title. "I shall ... leave him ... in your hands. Now. Remove this ... " He nodded to the polished wooden walking stick protruding from between his fifth and sixth rib. " ... And I shall ... be on ... my way." When she did not immediately respond, he added, barely above a whisper. "Please ... "

She tugged at the staff, but it only moved a little. "I'll need both hands." She held the crucifix to him. "Here, hold this for me." She said with a wicked smile.

"DOCTOR … "

"Oh, I forgot. Crossed sticks do seem to bother you, don't they?" She tucked the cross under her armpit. He screamed in agony as Natalie pulled the pole rather forcefully from his chest.

"Is that better?"

"Much."

She watched in awe as he began to heal before her eyes.

"One last thing." He said as he levitated toward the skylight. "If he does not return to consciousness soon, I shall pay another visit. And then I shall do things MY way." A fraction of a second later, there was a loud 'whoosh' and Lucien LaCroix was nowhere in sight.

Natalie stood in the living area, shaking violently. <What have I just done? Going up against Lucien LaCroix like that was ten times stupid. I've signed my own death warrant. > She threw the shillelagh to the floor. She started to throw the cross after it, but in respect for the sacred object, she laid it on the table. She looked over at Nick, who was now curled into a tighter fetal ball than he had been before, if that were possible.

"What have I done?" She asked the silent loft. She went to the sofa and took Nick's hand and brought it to her face. Although he couldn't ... or wouldn't ... respond, it comforted her just to feel his skin against hers.

**********

Must leave here ... She needs me ... Have to be there for her ...

You are safe in the darkness ... Nothing can harm you ... There is no guilt or pain ... You do not ever have to leave …

She needs me ...

**********

"I wish I could help you, Nick. I wish I knew what to do. What has made you so withdrawn?" Natalie gave his hand a slight squeeze. She almost didn't feel the slight pressure on her knuckles.

**********

"Now the problem is how to get into the Fiertes Reich. That is, if we can find out where they are in the first place." Don Schanke thought out loud. "Nick would have no problem there. I mean after all, he's young, blond, and a real charmer. He's got a temper, too. He could easily pass for a Natzty. Me, I'm just middle aged, balding, Polish Italian Catholic, and I look like one. Not a chance in Hades they'd let me in."

"Maybe I could help." A tall blonde female uniformed officer said. "I couldn't help overhearing what you were saying. I'm of German descent. I could easily infiltrate the group."

"And you are ... ?"

"Excuse me. I'm sorry." She held out her hand. "Officer Tracy Vetter. Sir."

"Well, Officer Vetter, I appreciate your offer, but I don't think you'd qualify. It's a male oriented group we're talking about. And it's a dangerous job. We're talking terrorist cult." A light went on in Schanke's head. "Vetter? ... As in Commissioner Vetter?"

Tracy Vetter took a deep breath. <Why does everybody always make that connection ... It's like I can't do anything on my own. > "Yes. Richard Vetter is my father." She waited for the axe to fall. It wasn't long in coming.

"I'm sorry, Officer Vetter, but I'm afraid if I even thought about letting you help, your father would have my badge so fast I wouldn't even have time to get out of my pocket. Especially since he thinks my partner is responsible for killing Mae Ling Chou. I will say this though. You do have a lot of courage. Don't give up hope. I'm sure someday you'll get a chance to prove yourself. "

Tracy mentally picked her ego off the floor. It was this way every time she had tried to do anything the least bit dangerous. < Hope. That's a laugh. > It was as though there were a huge sign tattooed on her forehead ... 'Commissioner Vetter's little baby girl, Tracy. Handle with kid gloves. Wrap in cotton batting and keep as far away from trouble as possible'. "I understand, Detective. Thank you anyway." She said as she went about her duties of passing out the evening reports. < Prove myself? Not a chance. Not as long as my father draws breath. >

**********

"NICK!" She cried. "YOU HEARD ME! I know you heard me! Come on!" She encouraged. "Squeeze my hand again. You did it once. You can do it again."

There was no response.

"Do what again?"

Natalie's heart nearly stopped as she turned to the sound of the voice. "Janette." She breathed in relief. "I didn't hear you come in. You must learn to make some kind of a noise."

"I am sorry, Doctor... ah ... Natalie. I heard shouts. I didn't know what was happening in here. In times like that, it's instinctive for us to go into silent mode." Janette held out the box she was carrying.

"I can understand that. Nick has tried to explain it to me many times, but it still scares the daylights out of me when that happens." She took the crate of blood from her and began putting the bottles into the refrigerator.

"Those are pure uncut human. Donated, of course. Just as you asked. Now, what has you shouting so loudly?"

Natalie briefly told of her encounter with the master vampire. " ... And when I took his hand, Nick squeezed it back. It was very light, but I swear that he did it deliberately."

"Perhaps he did. I have no doubt that he has heard everything that passed between you and LaCroix. Nicholah is very protective of what is his. And believe me, Natalie. You are definitely his."

"But we are just ... friends."

"Cherie. You forget that Nicholah and I go back 800 years. I know him. I know when he is in love. Trust me, he is in love with you. I know that he has told you we were lovers in the past. Now, that is all there is between us. The past. I only wish that he had loved me the way he loves you. Things might have been different." She sighed heavily.

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Au contraire. (On the contrary.) It bothers the hell out of me. But, unfortunately for you, you are mortal. He will not bring you across because he does not wish to condemn you to what he perceives as a life of evil and soullessness. That means that eventually you will die. I, on the other hand, am immortal, just as he is. I will be there long after you are dead and buried. He has been mine in the past. Inevitably he will be mine again. I can afford to wait."

"And if ... no, when ... we find a cure?"

Janette slowly shook her head. "Oh, Cherie. I have tried to tell Nicholah this for centuries. LaCroix has, too. There is no cure."

"But there is ... "

"Let's not get into that discussion. Right now, let's concentrate and see if, between the two of us, we can coax him back into the here and now."

"Perhaps we should wait until tonight to try anything. It's nearly dawn, and you have to get back to the Raven soon."

"Tres bien. (Very well.) I shall see you tonight then." Janette went to Natalie, and in a surprise move, hugged her and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Until tonight."

**********

"Schanke. My office. Now." Captain Cohen said from her doorway.

Don Schanke saw the two officers standing almost at parade rest behind the Captain's desk. Somber expressionless faces. Charcoal gray suits. White shirts. Black ties. Standard uniform of Internal Affairs. < Man-o-man, they really need to get a fashion coordinator. Those two look like something right out of Dragnet. >

"You rang, Captain?" He said as jovially as he could. If IA was there, that could only mean one thing. Somebody must have made a stink about the handling of the Chou case. His money was on Commissioner Richard Vetter.

"Detective Schanke. This is Sergeant Shad and Officer Garrett. They will be investigating the Chou case from here on in." She said in clipped tones. "You will turn over all the files and your notes to them immediately. That includes all the data on your computer. Then you will delete the files from your computer"

"But Captain ... "

"Now, Detective. As of now, you, and all other officers assigned to the 96th precinct are off the case. You will refrain from any further official investigation of the incident. Is that clear?" She said as though she were repeating instructions. Which she was.

"Yes, Captain. I'll get the files right away." A few minutes later, Schanke returned with the folders and computer disks. Garrett and Shad watched as he deleted the files from his computer.

Don Schanke watched the officers leave. He smiled thinly as he opened his desk drawer and removed three diskettes from a locked box. < They didn't say anything about the backup disks. > He put them in his back pocket. < And if I do it on my own time ... that ain't official. Is it? >

**********

Still shaking, Natalie sat in an overstuffed chair that she had dragged to the head of the couch and picked up St. Joan's cross. She held it to her forehead. "I know he has great faith in you. And even though he won't let himself admit it, he has faith in God, too." She prayed. "I just wish he had as much faith in himself. I wish I had faith in myself, too." She cradled the cross in her arms and leaned against the back of the chair. "I wish there was a way to get inside his mind and try to talk him out of wherever he is."

She closed her eyes. < For just a moment. > In a few minutes, her slow regular breathing indicated that she was fast asleep.

**********

Erik Kierschmann threw the copy of the Peeper on the dilapidated kitchen table of his seedy flat. "If that don't beat all!" He shouted. "That ... That ... He's a COP!" < Now you not only have the High Command on your tail for messing up your assignment, you'll have the Toronto Metro PD breathing up your ass as well. >

His assignment was to kill as many of the yellow hordes that were infesting the city as he could. That would have made headlines and brought attention to the cause. If he were killed in the process, which he was more than willing to do, he would have been seen as a true martyr to the Fatherland. Instead, only one little girl was dead, and the police were hot on the case. They were probably looking for him, if for nothing else than to clear their comrade. If he were caught now, he would be just another petty criminal, not a soldier to the Fiertes Reich.

There was only one course open to him. Another raid in the area known as Chinatown. He had to show them that he could be trusted to carry out orders. It wouldn't be easy this time. His picture was plastered on every telephone pole and in every storefront throughout the city. He probably would be caught as soon as he left his apartment. He had to do this, though. He had to prove that he was a fearless fighter.

**********

Myra Schanke rubbed the back of her husband's neck. "How much longer are you going to be at that computer?" She asked. "You plopped yourself down there as soon as you came in the house. You haven't eaten and you haven't slept all day."

"I know, honey." He said reaching up and kissing his wife on the cheek. "But this is important. I told you IA has pulled everyone off the Chou case. I know Commissioner Vetter is trying to railroad Nick for the shooting. I can't let that happen. I've e-mailed a couple of friends of mine in the FBI a copy of the wanted poster and asked them if they had any information on the other guy. I mean they're the ones who put us onto the Fiertes Reich in the first place. If anybody should know something, they should. As soon as they get back to me, I promise I'll get something to eat and go to bed."

"Why can't you do that from the precinct?"

"Because if I do it from there, that's official business. That's a no-no. Here, it's just one friend to another."

Myra kissed him on the top of his head. "I'm glad Nick has you for a friend."

"You're wrong, honey. I'm glad he's my friend. You know that he's pulled my fat out of the fire more times than I can count. Now I hope I can return the favor."

"Don't be too long. I'll be waiting. I'm dying to try out that new flesh colored lace teddy I just bought."

Don Schanke impatiently tapped the monitor screen. "Come on, Dana. What's taking you so long ... " He almost groaned. Mentally, he was seductively removing the teddy from his wife's aroused body as he smothered her with passionate kisses. For some reason, his trousers seemed a little tight in the crotch area.

**********

"Nicholas."

A voice ... Where? ... There's no one in here ... There's only the emptiness ...

"Over here."

There is nothing but blackness ... Nothing but emptiness ... There can't be anything ...

"But I am here."

Who? ...

"You know who I am, Nicholas de Brabant."

Who are you? ...

"Courage. You once called me that."

He took a step toward the voice and suddenly he was in the nave of a church. A medieval church.

"Joan? ... "

The voice slowly became a person. Standing in front of him was a petite young woman in a peasant's dress. He had seen her before ... Orleans, France ... 1426.

"Why are you here?" He asked hesitantly. "And where is here, anyway?"

"Here is where you are. It is here that you saw me for the first time. This is where you remember me, so this is where I am. As to why I am here, I am here because you need me. You need faith. More precisely, you need faith in yourself."

"You don't understand. Faith is for the deserving. I do not deserve faith. I killed a little girl. She was only 6 years old."

"Oh, Nicholas. You have not changed in six hundred years." The maid shook her head slowly. "You are still blaming yourself for the evils of the world. You were not at fault."

"How can you say that? I am evil incarnate. If I hadn't been there. If I hadn't done what I did, she would still be alive. If I hadn't fired at that gunman ... I killed her. Can't you see that?"

"Can't YOU see, Nicholas? It was her time. If you had not been there. If you had not tried to stop that madman, it would not have made any difference. She would have been shot just the same. She would still be dead. And possibly many others would have died as well. You saved lives that day. Is that so hard for you to comprehend?"

"But she IS dead. How can I live with that, on top of all the other lives I have taken over the centuries?"

"There is no need to agonize over your past. It cannot be changed. You did what you had to do to survive."

" Just because I needed the blood to survive doesn't make it any less wrong. Or make my victims any less dead. But being a murderer is not the most evil thing I have ever done. I have killed hundreds and hundreds simply for the sheer pleasure of it. That is the sin that cannot be disregarded. That is what condemns me. That is what rules out any possibility for forgiveness."

"But you are not that person any more. And you have atoned for your actions a thousand times over. Think of how many lives you have saved in just the past fifty years alone." The reality shimmered and the maid was now dressed in a warrior's armor. "God is ready and more than willing to forgive you. He always has been. All you have to do is ask Him for it."

"How can I? I'm an evil monster. No matter how hard I try, I can never atone for all the evil things I have done."

"How can you call yourself a monster, Nicholas? You are the most wonderful, generous, and kindest man, mortal or otherwise, that I have ever known. You go out of your way to help the ones that you love, and even those you don't love ... or don't even know! And yet you call yourself an evil monster?"

"I want to believe you, but how can I? How can you believe in me? After all the depraved things I have done, how can I possibly ask for forgiveness?"

"Faith, Nicholas. You must have faith. Faith in God. Most important, faith in yourself. Pure and simple faith."

"But ... "

"No more procrastination. You must leave here and return to reality. You cannot continue hiding any longer. You must face your guilt and work through it. That is the only way you can endure." The image started to shine and then became translucent. Slowly it began to fade. "Faith ... Have faith ... "

Once more, there was nothing but blackness ... Not completely ... In the distance, a tiny speck of light ...

**********

"Bingo!" Don Schanke cried as he read the e-mail. "We now have a name! I LOVE YOU, DANA BABY! Remind me the next time I see you and your partner to buy you the biggest box of donuts in town! I LOVE YOU!" He said as he kissed the screen repeatedly.

He picked up the telephone and dialed a number. "Captain Cohen." He told the sleepy voice that answered. "Miracle number three. I contacted a friend of mine who works in Washington DC. She found a match in the FBI's wanted files for the sketch of our mystery man.

His name is Erik Wolfgang Kirschmann. Age 28. He's number 43 on their most wanted list. According to my friend, he has a record as long as both your arms and then some. From Juvie Hall right up to last year. Most of them linked to hate crimes. They were looking for him in connection with a Synagogue bombing in St. Louis when he disappeared from sight. Twenty three people were killed and sixty seven injured. Before that, it was a cross burning in Alabama. Fourteen people died there. Numerous injuries. Then there was the vandalism of a Russian Orthodox Church in Pittsburgh. No lives lost but the damage was in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. The list goes on and on.

Also, she says that Kirschmann has been in and out of mental hospitals most of his adult life. Manic depression, paranoia and severe schizophrenia. According to my friend, he's classified as extremely dangerous. She advises shoot to kill."

"Detective." Amanda Cohen replied. "I thought I told you that the case was in the hands of IA. You know you aren't supposed to be doing any official investigation of the case, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. But this wasn't anything official." He crossed his fingers behind his back. He hoped that counted. "I was just e-mailing my friend … about the upcoming law enforcement symposium and I … sort of … happened to mention the case in passing. And I just … happened to fax her a few things. You know, brochures, pamphlets. That kind of stuff. I don't know how the copy of the wanted poster got in with them. Honest I don't." He made a mental note to go to confession next Saturday.

"Well, in that case, as long as it isn't ... official business, why don't you just ... unofficially ... check out the City Directory, the traffic bureau, apartment and hotel rentals, you know the drill, and see if there's anything listed for our Mr. Kierschmann. And if there is, then ... unofficially of course, you can pay him an ... unofficial visit."

"Good idea, Captain."

"Who is this Captain person? My name is Amanda Cohen."

"Okay ... Amanda." It felt strange calling the Captain by her given name.

"Oh, and Don ... " It felt even stranger hearing her call him by his given name. " ... Officially, this conversation never happened."

"What conversation? I never talked to you." He hung up the phone and returned to the computer.

"Donny ... " A voice from upstairs called. " ... When are you coming up? It's getting awfully cold here in this great big bed with nothing but this skimpy little teddy on."

The City Directory could wait a little while longer.

**********

Natalie opened her eyes in time to see the last vestiges of the sunset seeping through the bottom of the steel shutters. Her heart stopped and she sat up straight in the chair as she spotted the young girl of about seventeen kneeling beside Nick. "Who are you?" She asked. "And how did you get in here?'

The teenager looked at her with soft brown eyes. "Do not be afraid, Natalie Lambert." She said with more than a hint of a French accent. "I mean no harm to either you or to Nicholas. I want the same thing you do."

Without knowing why, Natalie found she believed the in the youth. "What do you mean?"

"We both wish his safe return to the living." The girl answered. She took the cross from Natalie and reverently touched it to her lips. Then she handed it back to Nat. "Take good care of him. Nicholas De Brabant is a very special person."

Natalie turned toward Nick. "I know that." She returned her gaze to the teen. Who was no longer there.

"Now I'm seeing things." She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It must be from sleep depravation." She looked at the vampire lying on the couch beside her chair. "How much longer are you going to be in there, Nick? Wherever there is?" She asked. Not that she expected an answer.

"No longer. This ends now." Lucien LaCroix stood in front of her. She had not heard him come in the loft. As far as she knew the doors and windows were tightly locked, but she knew that wouldn't be much of a deterrent to a vampire. Especially to one as old and as skilled as Nick's master. "I said I would be back." His voice was somewhere between a growl and a snarl. "And this time I WILL bring him back. MY WAY."

"Like hell you will." Natalie grabbed for the cross, but faster than she could follow, the elder vampire picked her from the chair and tossed her into the kitchen. She hit the edge of the stove and slumped to the floor.

Before she could pick herself up, LaCroix had lifted her into the air. "And YOU ... will not interfere." He slammed her into the side of the refrigerator.

She heard a thud. < My head must have hit the wall. I wonder if I have a concussion. > She remembered thinking as a gray mist began to swirl around her. As though she were watching a slow motion movie, she saw the vampire's eyes change to yellow and his fangs elongate. < My. My. What big teeth you have. > She rebelled against the blackness that threatened to overwhelm her as he picked her up once again and held her in the air.

**********

HE'LL HURT HER ... LACROIX! ... MUST STOP! ...

Not safe to leave ...

DANGER! ... HAVE TO GO ... HAVE TO STOP HIM ...

**********

"No."

It was barely a whisper, but it might have been a shout. Instantly, LaCroix eased her to the floor. Two sets of eyes turned to the couch.

"Nicholas!"

"Nick!"

Nick still lay on the couch. He hadn't moved and his eyes were still closed. Both LaCroix and Natalie sensed that this time though, there was something different. For a brief time at least, he had rejoined reality.

Using his vampire speed, LaCroix easily beat Natalie to the couch. He picked Nick up, not gently, but not roughly either. "Nicholas." He said softly. "You will awaken." It wasn't an order, but it wasn't a request either.

"He will awaken when he is ready, and not a second earlier." A third voice added. Janette's. Neither Natalie nor LaCroix had heard her enter. "If you continue to harass him, he might even slip back into whatever he has just emerged from. Is that what you want?"

"You know it isn't." LaCroix's stoic mask barely hid the fury that was roiling behind it at the audacity of his daughter's words.

"Then let Doctor Lambert and I bring him out." Her eyes were tinged with gold and her fangs protruded from her upper lip.

"We shall discuss this later." He hissed at his daughter. In less than an eyeblink, he was gone.

"Do what you can." Janette said to the Doctor "I shall be back soon." In the space of a breath, she was absent, too.

**********

PAIN ... HURT ... TERROR ...

Reality is not a good place ... Stay here ... Here you are safe ...

**********

"I want nothing more than to have Nicholas accept the gift I have given him, and to return to his rightful place by my side." Lucien LaCroix paced the living area of his apartment at the Raven. She had followed him from the loft. "That is all I have ever wanted. I tried to impress that on him when he came to me four days ago."

"You saw him before all this happened?" She asked.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes." He said, almost a sneer. "Nicholas did come to see me. He was upset because he thought he had killed an innocent bystander. There had been an apparent shootout with a criminal and one of the bullets had struck the victim."

"And did he kill him?"

"It was a her. A young girl. And it is of no importance whether he was the one who killed her or not. The important thing was that he was disturbed about it. I can not for the life of me understand why it bothered him so. This was only a mere mortal. After all the thousands of people he has taken over the centuries, what possible difference could one small mortal, more or less, make?"

"You told him that?"

"Of course I told him that. It isn't the first time I have tried to impress upon him the fact that mortals are not worth his unreasonable obsession with them, and I can guarantee it won't be the last."

"And that's when he withdrew?"

"How would I know? I did not follow him when he left here."

"Then you could very well be responsible for his condition."

"I would be very careful about what you say." He hissed. "I am not responsible for his withdrawal anymore than you are." He took a long sip of the glass of crimson liquid in his hand. "If anyone is to be held accountable, it is the … good Doctor. She is continually trying to undermine my efforts with him. She has led him to believe that there is cure. She has coddled and babied him when he exhibits weakness instead of taking a firm hand with him. She is the villain here, not I." His eyes were shaded with gold and the tips of his fangs were protruding from beneath his upper lip.

"But if you had not told him what you did, he ... "

"And if dandelions were dollars, we'd all be millionaires. I will speak of this no more." He turned and left the apartment, nearly slamming the door off its hinges in the process.

**********

"You want me to WHAT?" Officer Vera Williams asked the detective.

"It's really simple. I want you to run a background check on somebody. You know, see if he has an address or a driver's license or a telephone number or if there's anything on him in the Toronto area." Don Schanke repeated.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the shooting of that little girl, would it?"

"Vera." He pleaded with the woman. "You know we're not supposed to be investigating the Chou case. Believe me, would I do anything to sabotage IA's handling of that? < In a heartbeat. > This is strictly personal. Trust me." He looked at the officer and tried his best to imitate Nick's 'sad puppy dog eyes' expression.

"Well ... " She said. "I really shouldn't ... "

"They're having a special on those chocolate iced, chocolate creme filled donuts that you love at Tim Hortons this week. A dozen ... "

"Define personal."

"He's a long lost friend of a friend of mine, and my friend heard that he was living in the Toronto area. He asked me to see what I could do to find him." Another reason to go to confession. "A dozen and a half donuts ... "

"A dozen and a half and three maple walnut crullers. Plus a large cup of hazelnut mocha cappuccino. Up front."

"You drive a hard bargain." Don sighed theatrically. "Deal."

"What's his name?"

"Erik Kirschmann."

**********

Lucien LaCroix paced his living room like a caged tiger. Janette and that ... Doctor could not possibly be correct. He had nothing to do with Nicholas's current predicament. After all, he did not order his wayward son to withdraw from reality.

He had merely pointed out, as any concerned father would have done, that it was Nicholas's idiotic preoccupation with mortals and his ridiculous quest to rejoin them that had been at the core of his problem. He reiterated, for the hundred thousandth time that he had brought it on himself. That he would do well to leave his sham of a mortal life and return to the lifestyle of the Community. He repeated once again that the only acceptable solution was for the former Crusader to embrace to his true nature and abandon his search for a non existent cure.

What Nicholas had done from that point on, was solely Nicholas's concern, not any of his.

Then why was he reacting this way? Why did he feel that it was, perhaps in some infinitesimally microscopic miniscule way, his fault?

There was only one solution, but with either the Doctor and / or Janette at his son's side every moment, there was little chance that he would have the opportunity to apply it in this situation. It had worked in the past, and he could see no reason why it would not work now. After all, one had to take an extremely harsh stand with Nicholas at times. In his mind, this was one of those times, and the ancient Roman General was just the person to do it.

< If it weren't for that ... Doctor. > He gently massaged his chest. Although it had healed almost immediately, it still was a very sore spot. And not just physically.

**********

Commissioner Vetter stared at the two officers standing before him. "What do you mean you can't find anything on him?"

"Just that, Sir. According to what we can find, the case against Detective Knight is extremely circumstantial." Officer Garrett said. "The only real evidence connecting him to this case is the bullet found in the newspaper box, and even that is very suspect. There is conflicting testimony as to how many shots were fired, and the only positive identification of Knight was as he and another man were running from the scene. It is entirely possible that Detective Knight could have been chasing the other man. In words of one syllable, there is very little to support your allegation that Detective Knight deliberately murdered Mae Ling Chou."

"Then dig deeper. Find something. He did it. I can feel it in my bones."

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't do that. We've done all that we can." Sergeant Shad continued. "Your ... feelings ... aren't enough to validate continuing this inquiry. My recommendation will be that the case be returned to the 96th precinct for further investigation."

"You would defy an order from a superior officer?"

"No, Sir. I will uphold the laws and regulations concerning this matter. I am sure that if the matter were presented to a grievance review board, they would uphold my decision."

"I see." Richard Vetter knew that the two officers had him between the proverbial rock and the hard place. If he pushed them to obey him, they could take him to the grievance board for ordering them do something, though not illegal, was certainly unethical. If he were the one to take them to the board for refusing to obey his orders, the outcome would be essentially the same. In either case, his job could be in jeopardy. He couldn't risk that. Not after all the scraping and clawing it took him to get this far.

Nicholas Knight would have to wait for another opportunity. Given Knight's track record, there would certainly be other chances to rid the Toronto PD of that hothead.

**********

Natalie checked the flow into Nick's vein. It was mortal normal. That was the best news so far. Now he was only emptying one bag at a time with his 'feedings'. That was as it should be.

"Come on, Nick." Natalie said softly, stroking a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Now I know you're in there. I know you want to return, too. You told me so when you squeezed my hand and spoke earlier today. Please. Come back. I need you. Schanke needs you. Janette needs you. In his own twisted way, even LaCroix needs you. Please. For us. For me." She wiped a tear that had fallen unbidden down her cheek.

"There's another reason for you to come back. I haven't been home since I discovered you on the floor four days ago. I shudder to think what Sidney's been up to. He's liable to disown me. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?" She smiled softly and laid her head on his chest. "Please, Nick."

**********

Can't stay here ... too much going on in the reality ... She needs me ...

Reality is guilt ... Reality is pain ... Reality is suffering ... There is none of that here in the darkness. There is peace in the nothing ... There is tranquility in the emptiness

I do not want to stay ... I have found no peace here... No tranquility here ... I have found nothing here but pain and suffering and guilt.

But it is ... your ... pain and suffering and guilt ...

That is why I must go back ...

**********

A small smile crept across the sleeping vampire's face.

**********

Vera Williams handed the paper to Detective Schanke. "This is all there was on that Kirschmann guy." She said. "A listing from the postal service for an address from eight months ago. Nothing else I could find. And I looked. You know how thorough I can be when I want to, and for a dozen and a half chocolate creme filled donuts, I can be very thorough. I really should charge you an extra bearclaw for all that work."

Don Schanke looked at the sheet. His eyes almost fell out of his sockets. "Well, I'll be ... Who'd ever thought ... " A silly grin lit up the detectives face.

"Thought what?" Vera asked.

"Ah ... Nothing. My ... ah ... friend is gonna be very glad to get the news. By the way, I'll have the bearclaw for you tomorrow. No, wait. I've got a better idea. I'll run out and get it for you right now." He reached for his coat.

"Don. You don't have to do that. I was only joking about the bearclaw. But if you really want to ... tomorrow will be soon enough."

He reached up and planted a wet sloppy kiss on the officer's cheek. "Vera, you're the greatest!"

"Don't let Myra hear you say that, or you're gonna be in big doo-doo." Vera said, blushing deeply as she returned to her desk.

"That's deep doo-doo." Don corrected.

"Knowing Myra, it'll be both big ... and deep." Vera retorted.

Don stared at the paper. He couldn't believe it. They had issued a Province-wide priority 1 APB, and had sent requests to all the Provinces and most of the States. All this time, Erik Kirschmann was living in an apartment over the Watering Hole Bar and Grill, not three blocks from the precinct. He grinned widely and headed for Captain Cohen's office. Official business or not, IA orders or not, this news was too important to keep quiet about.

Amanda Cohen studied the sheet that her detective handed her. "Detective Schanke. You know you're not supposed to be working on the Chou case." She said barely suppressing the grin that threatened to disrupt her 'official chewing out' face. Schanke had gotten all of this information in less than two days on his own. What with all the red tape and other restrictions, it would have taken the department over a week to accomplish the same thing. "This is IA's case now. If they find out that you've been working on it on your own, you could be in boiling hot water up to your ... thereabouts. Maybe even farther."

"Captain I ... " His reply was interrupted by her telephone's ringing.

"Hold that thought, Detective." Cohen said as she answered the phone.

"Yes ... I see ... No, That's perfectly all right. You did what you had to do ... Thank you ... Yes, I'll pass the word ... Goodbye, Officer Garrett."

"Well, what did he say?" Schanke asked.

"According to Garrett, there does not seem to be any evidence to indicate that Detective Knight deliberately shot and killed Mae Ling Chou. Therefore, they are returning the case to the original investigating officer. That would be you. Now, since you are once more in charge Detective Schanke, may I officially suggest you get to work and solve this case."

"Yes, Captain you may. I'll do that right now. Thank you, Captain." Schanke said as he nearly backed into the doorway.

As soon as Schanke had left the office, Amanda Cohen lifted her clenched hands above her head and brought them down forcefully. "Y-E-S-S-S!" She hissed softly as a Cheshire cat grin spread across her face.

Outside, Don Schanke brought his fists to his chest and bent into a crouch. He closed his eyes. "Y-E-S-S-S!" He hissed softly. His grin matched his Captain's

**********

Natalie was dimly aware through the sleepy haze that her head was laying on Nick's chest. There was a hand around her shoulder. It was Nick's. He must have put it there while she was asleep. She wasn't aware exactly when she fell asleep, but now it was definitely after sunset. A glance at the sunburst clock confirmed it. 9:23 PM. < MOST DEFINITELY after sunset. >

She looked up at his face. His eyes were open and there was a slight smile on his face. "NICK! You're awake! Thank God!" She started to say more but the tears choked out her voice. All that came out was an unintelligible mix of words, laughter and crying.

"It's all right, Nat." Nick said, softly stroking her hair. "Please don't cry."

"They're tears of joy." She managed to say between sobs. "I'm just so glad you're back with us."

"Yes, I'm back. Thanks to you, and Janette, and Joan. All of you, especially you, Nat, convinced me that I couldn't hide from myself any longer. I had to face reality."

"Joan? Who is ... " An image came into her mind. "Is she by any chance around seventeen, 5 feet 5, about 110 pounds, with page boy brown hair?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Nothing ... " Natalie remembered the youth who had been sitting by his side. "Whatever we said, I'm glad you decided to listen to us and return."

"Me, too." He smiled once more. "I'm hungry. Do you think I could have something to eat? And I don't mean directly into the vein." He held up his left arm to show the now empty IV setup. "Then you had better go home and see exactly what kind of damage that cat of yours has done. Just don't be too long. I've sort of grown used to you being here for me." The smile spread to a grin.

"Are you sure?" She said as she disconnected the IV. Several moments later, she returned with a bottle of the Raven's finest.

"I'm sure. Now, go." He reached over and softly planted a few butterfly kisses on her cheek.

**********

Don Schanke sat in the back room of Ling Po Wu's shop. "This is very important, Mr. Wu. When you were at the station, you said that you heard shots. Right?"

"That is correct." The elderly Oriental replied.

"How many shots?" < Still pulling teeth. >

"Four."

"Were they like Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang?" He emphasized this by shaking his 'L' shaped thumb and index finger

"No. They were more like Bang, Bang ... Then there was a pause ... Bang ... Then there was a long pause ... Bang. They didn't all sound the same, though. One shot sounded different."

"You mean like there could have been two guns?"

Ling Po nodded solemnly. "Yes. Two guns."

"Are you sure?" < If there were four shots, then where are the other three bullets? >

"I am positive. The events of that night have been with me awake and asleep ever since. I could not forget them if I tried. Are you close to catching the men who did this?"

"Very close. Even more so now that I've talked to you."

**********

Don Schanke stood in the alley. Beside him was Sergeant Leo Farrell. From here, they could see the newsbox where the bullet from Nick's gun was found.

"If Nick fired from here." Don pulled his gun and aimed it at the box. "Then the gunman might have been ... " He walked to the entrance to the alley. " ... Here." He said to the Forensics expert.

He pointed his gun in the direction of where he had been standing. "If that were the case, and the gunman shot at Nick, then maybe the missing bullets could be ... " He walked toward a packing crate that was in the line of fire. " ... Here."

He felt the case and sure enough, there were two holes in the approximate area where they should have been. Sergeant Farrell took a small crowbar from the evidence toolbox he had brought with him and gently pried off the front of the empty crate. Sure enough, there were two bullets imbedded in the wood of the back. Using a modified surgical probe, Farrell gently removed the bullets and dropped them into an evidence bag. He held the bag up to the light. ".357 caliber. No question about that." He said as he labeled the bag and put it in the toolbox. "If what Mr. Wu said was true we're still missing one bullet."

"Okay. Suppose the guy fired at Nick and Nick fired back. That would explain these bullets and the one in the paper box. Bang, Bang ... Bang. Then, suppose the guy took off running down the street." Don went to the head of the alley and moved about ten feet away from the intersection. "He turns around. Nick is right behind him. He fires again." He pointed his gun in the direction of the alley. "Bang. He hits the kid. He takes off with Nick in hot pursuit right past Mr. Wu's shop."

"But the angle of the trajectory is wrong. According to the position of the body, Mae Ling Chou was standing in front of the box."

Don went to the box. "You gotta remember, she's only six years old. Doesn't weigh all that much. She could have been watching Nick and the gunman." He stood facing Ling Po Wu's shop. Right in the line of fire from his previous spot. "If the bullet was a .357, the force could have spun her around like this." He turned and fell to the ground at the same place where Mae Ling Chou's body was laying.

"Possible. Very possible." Farrell said, nodding in agreement.

"That would mean the third bullet would be somewhere around ... " Don paced off the distance to a wooden doorway of the building at the corner. He pointed to a barely distinguishable indentation in the doorpost at about the same height as Mae Ling's chest.

Farrell inserted the probe and drew out the third .357 bullet. He held it up for Schanke's inspection. "Are you sure you wouldn't want to transfer to Forensics, Schanke? Or even CSI? We could use someone with your deductive abilities."

"No thanks. I'm happy right where I am. Now, get those back to the lab and see what you can come up with."

"Yes, Sir." He said with a wide grin. "Immediately if not sooner."

**********

Natalie parked her car next to the Caddie. The lift was still sitting on the ground floor and she pushed the button for the loft. It felt good to get a long soaking bath and a change of clothes.

Sidney, as expected was both excited and extremely miffed to see his pet human, and he made no bones about it. Between his trills and burbles of joy were numerous hisses and tail flicks. Amazingly, there was no appreciable damage to the apartment. The only visible signs of the feline's displeasure were a shredded box of tissues and several items that had been booted off the shelf between the kitchen and the living area. Natalie had learned long ago not to leave breakables in that area. It was also obvious that her laundry hamper and her favorite chair had been claimed by the pissed off pussycat ... at least once each. Not a bad total for four days of alleged neglect. She had made a mental note to have the chair cleaned and repaired. Or maybe buy a new one. She never did like that chair that much anyway. And to buy a new hamper. Along with replacements for the clothes that were inside.

She looked at the carrier sitting on the lift floor. He had made such a fuss about her leaving that she concluded that the lesser of two evils was to bring him with her. That is, unless she wanted to have to replace even more things in her apartment. Besides, she missed him as much as he missed her, and she had no idea how much longer she would need to be here. Beside the carrier was a small suitcase with several changes of clothes. Another carry bag held Sidney's food, favorite toys, and other necessities.

She pulled the heavy steel door to the loft open and was greeted by a smiling Nick. He had showered and shaved, and was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. While he did not look healthy, even by vampire standards, he looked a thousand percent better than when she had left earlier that evening. "Well, you sure don't look like someone who has been in a coma for almost a week." She said with a huge grin.

"And you look like a million dollars." He said, pulling her gently to him and kissing her lightly on the forehead. He wanted to do more, but now was not the right time. "Why don't you put your things in the guest room?" Reluctantly, he broke the embrace.

"Good idea." She had the impression that the greeting kiss was not as platonic as Nick intended it to be. "While I do that, why don't you let Sid out? He hates that thing and he's been in a positive snit the entire trip." She said as she picked up the suitcases and headed for the bedroom

Sidney practically flew out of the carrier the minute Nick opened the door. He inspected his new domain carefully before deciding that Nick's couch was the perfect place for him. He curled up in the middle of it, and seconds later he was purring was as though he had been there his entire life.

Just then, the phone rang. Nick waited until the answering machine went through its spiel.

"Nat. It's Schanke. Pick up. I've got great news."

"Hi, Skank." Nick said. "Nat's busy right now. What's your news?"

There was a long silence. Finally, Don Schanke found his voice. "NICK!" He practically shouted. "You woke up! That's the greatest news of all!"

"Yes, I woke up. Just a little while ago. Now. What's your news?"

"How much has Nat told you about what's been going on?"

"Not much, but I have a fair idea this has something to do with the shooting of that little girl. Am I correct?"

Schanke brought his partner up to date on the situation. He deliberately left out what he and Farrell had found at the crime scene. He didn't want to influence his partner's story. " ... And now that we have a name and an address, we can question him about his part in all of this. Do you think you're up to answering a few questions? Even if you're not, I'd still like to come over and see you anyway."

"That's okay with me. I'd like to see you, too. Just give me a buzz when you're ready to come up."

"Will do. It'll probably be in about an hour or so. I have some paperwork to do here. You do remember what paperwork is, don't you?"

"Yes, I do remember what paperwork is." He joked. "That's the stuff that I'm always pushing off on you. Now hurry and finish it. I'm anxious to see you."

"That was Schanke, I take it." Nat said as she reentered the living room. "From what I heard, he's coming here to question you about the Chou killing, right?"

"Correct as usual."

What really did happen?"

"It started when I went to Chinatown to visit an old friend ... "

**********

Five days ago

"So, Nicholas." Li Hwan Chung said as the detective left the Chinese doctor's office. "Do not be such a stranger."

Nick had visited Li Hwan Chung numerous times since the incident involving the shooting of a protective custody witness several years earlier. The old man had been a small boy when Nick first encountered him. He had believed that Nick was the one who had killed his mother in San Francisco in 1910. Since finding that Nick had nothing to do with the murder and that it was LaCroix who had actually committed the crime, the two had become friends.

"I shall return soon, my friend." He put the small package that Chung had prepared for Natalie as a sort of pre-Christmas present in his jacket pocket. It was a special tea with almost magical calming and relaxation powers. Natalie had been working much too hard lately, and it worried Nick. When his friend suggested the tea, Nick thought it would be a good idea.

"Your lady friend will like the tea, I know." Li Hwan said as the vampire descended the stairs to the alley level. "Do not hesitate to come back for more."

He started to the street when he spotted the man lurking in the shadows. Blending into the shadows himself, Nick watched the man for several minutes. He could smell the hatred and loathing emanating from the person in front of him. He watched as he drew a gun and started for the normally busy street. From what Nick could see, it was a .357 Magnum. He leveled it at an unknown target.

Nick drew his own gun. Normally he wouldn't be carrying his weapon on his day off, but he was planning to go to the firing range later to requalify.

He saw what the man was apparently stalking. Across the street was a young couple walking hand in hand. She was obviously pregnant.

"Drop the gun and put your hands in the air." He called as he leveled his gun at the man.

In reply, the man turned and fired at him twice. Nick grimaced as the bullets painfully tore through his chest and exited his back. He returned fire as the man ran towards the street. Nick followed. As he left the alley, the man turned and fired again and then ran down the street. As Nick ran after him, he caught the sight of a small girl lying on the sidewalk.

He knew he should go back and see about the girl, but he was closing in on the man. He could have caught him by now if he had been able to use his … special abilities, but there were enough mortals in the area that made it impossible. Two blocks later, the man suddenly darted around a large truck that was backing out of a loading dock and had blocked the sidewalk and part of the street. By the time Nick managed to get around the truck, the man was nowhere in sight.

He started back to where the girl was. By now there was a small crowd gathered around her. He glanced down at his shirt. Although the wounds had long since stopped bleeding and were starting to heal, there were two holes and two large wet red patches on it that would be very difficult to explain.

**********

Present

"I went to the Raven, hoping to talk to Janette. Instead, I found LaCroix. He viciously lashed out at me for my reaction to the shooting. I came here and tried to get some sleep. That was five days ago. I've been wrestling with my subconscious ever since."

"What did you do with the shirt? I didn't see it in the laundry."

"I threw it in a dumpster somewhere after I left LaCroix. I didn't want any reminders of what happened."

Just then, the security buzzer sounded and Don Schanke's face was on the monitor.

"Come on up, Skank." Nick said into the speaker, and a few minutes later, the lift door opened to reveal Nick's partner.

"Man-o-man." Don said, smiling almost from ear to ear. "You sure look better than the last time I saw you. You looked like death not even warmed over."

"I am doing just ... fine." Nick said as Don pulled him into a bear hug.

Don looked at Natalie. "How's he really doing? If he took a bullet through the heart, he'd say he was ... Fine."

<You don't know how close to the heart those bullets were. > Nick thought.

"Actually, he's doing better than I thought he would be at this point." Nat replied. "But he's still pretty weak. That ... allergic reaction ... took a lot out of him."

Schanke quickly released him. "I'm sorry, partner. I just was so glad to see you up and about, I guess I forgot myself." He walked over to the couch and motioned for Nick to join him. With a growl of displeasure, Sidney vacated his spot. "Now, about why I really came. We know you were there that night. I want to get your statement on what happened." He took out a notebook and a pen.

Nick told his partner the same story he had told Natalie, leaving out the part where he had been wounded. < That would be a bit too difficult to explain. > He said only that Kirschmann had shot at him. Not that he had struck him.

Don shut his notebook. "That pretty much agrees with everything we found at the scene." He said. "There'll be another IA investigation, but I'm sure that between what you just told me and the evidence we found, you'll be exonerated this time just like the last one. I don't think even Commissioner Vetter can pin this on you. And believe me, he's trying. Just one question. Why did you leave the scene? Why didn't you stay and give a statement then and there?"

"I suppose you could say that the ... allergic reaction was setting in." Nick explained, grateful that Natalie had inadvertently supplied him with the perfect excuse. "I guess I was beginning to shut down. I wasn't thinking too clearly. All I wanted to do was get home and crash."

"I can understand that. By the way, did I tell you that the .357 we pulled from the doorway had Mae Ling's DNA all over it? No? Well it did. That cinches the case against Kirschmann. Now all we have to do is to go and get him. Want to come along?"

"I'd love to." Unseen by Schanke, he gently massaged his side. There was no sign at all that he had been wounded, but psychologically, it still hurt. "There's only one problem. I'm still technically a suspect. Besides, I've been put on administrative leave. If I were there, it could jeopardize the case." He wanted nothing more than to bring Kirschmann to justice for what he had done to Mae Ling and to the others. < Either mortal justice or ... > No, better not go there.

"I understand. You're right, we don't want to screw this one up on a technicality. I'll give you a blow by blow account of what I find once we have the bastard in custody."

As soon as the lift came to a halt on the ground floor, Nick grabbed his coat.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Natalie said as she blocked his way.

"Yes, Nicholas. Answer the Doctor's question. Where are you going?" Lucien LaCroix stepped out from the shadows.

"Not that it's any of your business, LaCroix, but I'm going to help my partner." The anger was very apparent in his voice.

"But ... " A harsh yellow tinged glare from Nick cut Natalie's statement short.

LaCroix sighed heavily. "Oh, Nicholas. Have you learned nothing from the past few days? Every time you attempt to aid one of these ... mortals." He practically spat the word. " ... You end up hurting yourself. I really hate to see you do that. Why don't you just give up this sham of a life and return to your true nature?"

"And what nature is that? The one you made for me? The vampire nature? Or the one that I was born with? Human nature? In case you hadn't noticed, I've been trying to return to humanity for the past several centuries."

"Nicholas." LaCroix smiled his crocodile smile. "How many times do I have to repeat myself? There is no cure. You haven't been human since 1228, and you never will be human again."

"Get out!" He hissed at his sire. "And don't come back. I've told you before, you're not wanted here and the next time you come, you'll find out just how much you're not wanted." His eyes had yellowed and his fangs dropped.

"Excellent!" LaCroix smirked as he slowly levitated to the skylight. "I see you've not forgotten just who and what you are." He opened the pane. "You know where to find me when you're ready. I'll be waiting." He called as he took to the air.

Nat embraced Nick and clung tightly. He could feel her shaking. He had to admit that the elder vampire's visit had shook him, too.

"Is he always like that?" She asked softly.

Nick nodded. "Sometimes he's worse. He wants me to return to something I can't be. He doesn't realize that if I did that, I'd just be running from reality as much as I did when I withdrew. I have to face what happened and learn to deal with it. You and Joan made me see that it is the only way to overcome the guilt and angst that I feel."

"Can you do that?"

"I can try." He headed for the lift once more.

"Are you really going to try and help Schanke?"

"I have to."

"But why?" Nat asked. "You did tell him you wouldn't be there because of the suspension and the suspicion."

"I know. Nobody will even know I'm there. I promise I won't interfere. I just want to be there to see that this Kirschmann guy gets his due."

< Right. Sure. You're not going to interfere. > Nat thought as the lift made its way to the ground. < And I'm the Minister of Transportation. >

**********

Erik Kirschmann got into the decrepit car he had managed to buy without too many questions about legalities. He didn't seem to notice the nondescript gray Honda that pulled out a discrete distance behind him.

He pulled into the parking lot. < So far so good. > He fingered the Magnum in his jacket pocket. Since the snow had been cleared, Toronto was rapidly returning to normal. The lot was full of cars. It was Sabbath and the temple was crowded with worshippers preparing for the celebration of Chanukkah. This would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Much easier than Chinatown. He was glad he had read about the services in the paper. They wouldn't necessarily expect him to be here. By the time the police arrived, there would be a lot less of THEM around. He smirked slightly. < If THEY believed in THEIR God this much, why shouldn't I help THEM go to Him? >

At the corner, Officer Pete Davidson opened his mike. "Dispatch. This is 79 Rome. Suspect has pulled into the parking lot behind the Bathurst Jewish Community Centre. Pass the information to 81 Kilo."

"Roger 79 Rome. I will inform Captain Cohen as well."

**********

Don Schanke had just pulled into the express lane of 401 when his radio came to life. "81 Kilo. 79 Rome reports that he has followed the suspect to the Bathurst Jewish Community Centre. Report to him ASAP on tach 2."

"Will do. And send backup there ... no sirens. We don't want to spook this guy. Tell them to wait at Wilson Heights and Sheppard until they are needed." He reached under the seat and pulled out his red strobe light and put it on the roof of his car. Then he turned the radio to tach 2.

" ... And don't do anything until I get there." Schanke said to Davidson. "This guys a certified nut case. He wouldn't hesitate to open fire for the slightest provocation. I'll be there in a few minutes. I just got off the 401 at Yorkdale." He floored the accelerator. If he had thought to look up, he might have seen the almost invisible speck in the night sky accelerating as well.

**********

Erik Kirschmann watched from the safety of his car as the worshippers filed into the synagogue. He pointed his gun at a family. Father, mother, and three children. It would be so easy to open fire here. "Bang. Bang. Bang." He smiled sinisterly as he blew imaginary smoke from the barrel.

< No, better to wait until services begin. > That way, they would all be in one place and there would be relatively little chance for anyone to escape. He licked his lips in anticipation. In his mind he could hear the screams and cries as he gunned them down. He reached under the seat and pulled out an Uzi. The Magnum was just too slow for what he had in mind.

**********

Nick landed in the shadows of the building. From inside, he could hear the Cantor begin the opening refrain. It dawned on him what the building was. "A synagogue!" Nick said almost aloud as he watched Schanke pull up to the corner behind Davidson's car. The detective had turned off the strobe as soon as he turned onto Sheppard so he wouldn't give anything away. "He plans to open fire in a synagogue!" His eyes involuntarily turned yellow-green and his fangs descended at the thought of what the madman had in mind.

He watched as Schanke got out of his car and started toward the lot. Davidson was a few steps behind him and Nick could see the other members of the SWAT team discreetly taking their places around the area. Now that Shabbat had begun, the lot was deserted. Only Kirschmann was in his auto. Cautiously Davidson approached the driver's window. Schanke took his place on the other side of the vehicle. Hidden by the shadows and the other cars, Nick moved closer. Something didn't feel quite right and he wanted to be nearer to his partner.

Schanke tightened his grip on his weapon as Davidson tapped lightly on the driver's window. It appeared that Kirschmann was either asleep or lost in thought. "Police. Please place your hands where we can see them and step out of the vehicle." Both Schanke and Davidson had their guns out and pointed at the suspect.

Kirschmann rolled down the window. "What's wrong, Officer?" He asked innocently. This was not going well. Not well at all. He was supposed to be the one pointing the gun, not these idiot cops.

"Out of the car. Now." Davidson reiterated.

Kirschmann slowly opened the door and stepped out of the auto. Then, in a single almost fluid motion, he dropped to the ground and pulled the Uzi out from beneath his coat. He squeezed the trigger and easily pulled himself to a standing position, the gun spitting out its deadly rhythm. Davidson's body gyrated and spun in a grotesque cadence as the bullets ripped into him.

Schanke clutched his chest and fell to the ground. Nick could see and smell his partner's blood flowing from the hole in his shoulder. He started toward the scene, but was cut off as volley after volley from the SWAT team answered the assassin's barrage. Within seconds, Kirschmann was on the ground, blood pouring from at least six visible wounds.

As soon as the area was declared secure, several Emergency Medical Technicians who were with the SWAT team rushed in to administer aid to the injured persons.

Nick let out a long breath of relief as Don Schanke slowly struggled to his feet, holding tightly to his wounded arm. He shrugged off the attention of an EMT and Nick could hear him arguing with the corpsman. He finally acquiesced as the man fixed a pressure bandage to him and put his arm in a sling ...temporarily. < He's alive and does not seem to be badly wounded. He'll live. > Grateful for the small miracle, considering the incredible number of bullets that had been fired, Nick blended further into the shadows.

Don Schanke made his way to the downed gunman. Three SWAT members stood over him, their guns at the ready. Another Emergency Squad Technician knelt beside the killer. He saw Schanke and moved aside so the Detective could kneel beside the dying man.

"Are you Erik Wolfgang Kirschmann?" Schanke asked.

Kirschmann nodded.

"You understand that you are critically wounded. Do you wish to make a dying statement?"

"About what?"

"Did you kill the little girl, Mae Ling Chou in Chinatown five days ago?" He asked.

"Of course ... I did." Kirschmann answered. His face twisted into a pain filled smile. "And I'd have ... killed more of ... them but she ... was the only one available."

"Why?" He asked.

"Why?" The killer spat. "Because ... it had to be ... done. Don't you ... see that?" He coughed and frothy blood dribbled from the side of his mouth. "All these …vile creatures ... They're filth ... and they have ... to be eliminated ... I'm only doing what ... I have to do ... to insure that ... the race survives."

"And what race is that?"

"The master race ... of course … " Erik Kirschmann drew a jagged breath. His eyes glazed and his head rolled to the side. The EMT felt for a pulse and shook his head.

**********

Nick Knight and Natalie Lambert sat in the Emergency room waiting area. It had been almost an hour since the ambulances arrived with the victims from the synagogue. Jenny Schanke sat between them and Amanda Cohen was pacing the floor nervously. Myra was in the examining room with her husband. In the room itself, they could hear Don Schanke arguing with the doctor.

"And if you don’t do what I say, I’m going to have to put you under. Is that clear?" The doctor was saying.

"Donny. Do as the doctor asks." Myra said to her husband. "Please."

"But I don't need … "

After about thirty seconds, there were no more protests from Don Schanke.

It was another half hour before anyone came to the group. It was Dr. Tucker, the Emergency Room Chief. "Donald Schanke has been taken to surgery to repair the muscular damage to his shoulder. The wound was a clean one and there was only a minimum of blood loss. His condition is good, and there's every indication he'll pull through with no complications."

"What about Davidson?" Amanda Cohen asked.

The look on the doctor's face spoke volumes. "He was dead on arrival. He had numerous wounds. Any one of them could have been the fatal one."

At those words, Nick almost ran out of the waiting room into the parking lot. Natalie was right behind him.

"Nick." She said, putting her hands on his shoulders. What is wrong? You ran out of there like the devil was after you."

"Maybe he is. Or maybe I'm the devil." Nick stared at his hands. His face was covered with despair. "Nat. I … I could have prevented this … "

"Don't you dare say you're to blame." Natalie hissed at him. "You could no more have stopped what happened than you could keep the sun from rising."

"But if I had shot to kill instead of shooting to wound the first time I met Kirschmann in that alley, he couldn't have killed Davidson and wounded Schanke. And Mae Ling might still be … " His voice cracked slightly.

"Then you'd be angsting because you killed him."

"I’m not so sure about that. He was totally depraved. He didn't feel even the slightest measure of sorrow or regret. If only you could have heard him boasting even as he lay dying. In fact he seemed truly proud of what he did. Like it was something good. He was a monster, Nat ... Just like me."

"No. He was nothing like you. Sure, I'll admit you've killed for the thrill of it. But that was centuries ago. I know you, Nicholas de Brabant Knight. You're not like that anymore. You care. I've known you for the past six years. I've seen what you go through when you think you've harmed someone. These past few days are proof of that. You're no monster. Not by a long shot. And don't you forget that. Ever."

"I know you're right." He said after a long pause. "But I can't help feeling a little of the blame for what has happened. Maybe if I would have stayed at the scene in Chinatown instead of running away … I don't know."

"Okay. You can have a little bit of the blame. Just a smidgen. But promise me you won't go off the deep end."

Nick smiled softly. "I won't. I promise. Been there. Done that. Don't intend to do it ever again."

Natalie smiled softly as well. "That's the right idea." She said barely above a whisper. She took his arm and gently led him back into the hospital. "Now, what do you say we go back in and be there for Don and Myra. They need us. They were there for you when you needed them."

**********

Don Schanke sat up in his hospital room. It had been two days since the shooting, and the doctor said that if he continued to improve, he could go home today.

"Hey, partner." Nick called cheerily from the doorway. "Didn't anyone tell you to duck?"

"I guess I forgot."

"Just stopped by to bring you up to date on the case. The IA cleared me of any direct involvement, but they did give me a three day suspension for leaving the scene. They're going to count the time I spent in administrative leave as that time, though."

"So you're in the clear."

"Pretty much so." Nick smiled. "Thanks to you."

"I didn't do anything you wouldn't do for me, Partner." Schanke blushed.

Nick continued. "Forensics went over Kirschmann's apartment. According to Sgt. Farrell, it was wall to wall with posters and hate literature. They found the jacket, too. Just as Mr. Wu described it. They also found a mailing list on his computer. They think it could contain the names of other Fiertes Reich members. They turned it over to the RCMP. There's a rumor going around that you could be a hero. Even get a medal."

"Not me. No medals. A raise in pay wouldn't be too hard to take, though. You know how hard it is to raise a family on a cop's salary? Particularly since Myra just told me that Jenny is going to need braces."

Nick smiled. < Perhaps the De Brabant Foundation could come up with some sort of an award with a reasonable monetary grant. For heroism in the line of duty. It might not even be a bad idea to make it on a continuing basis. Even posthumously. I know Davidson's widow could use some extra money right about now. Particularly since she's expecting. Make a note to set up a scholarship for the baby. Another note. Make sure the Chou family is taken care of. >

**********

"Loyalty. That is tonight's subject, mes amis." The Nightcrawler whispered into the microphone. "Loyalty. Webster's dictionary defines it as faithfulness ... allegiance ... devotion ... fidelity. There are many more definitions, but these will suffice. It is a broad term. There are all forms of loyalty. Loyalty to one's country. Loyalty to one's friends. Loyalty to one's family.

"But what do you do when one type of loyalty conflicts with another? Which do you choose? Which faction ... or factions ... will you be disloyal to? Which segments do you ... betray?"

Lucien LaCroix took a long sip of the maroon liquid in the goblet.

"Examine the consequences of your betrayal very carefully. Be certain that what you are going to acquire by your betrayal is worth what you will be giving up. Many things are desirous, but the cost could very well be prohibitive. Perhaps even fatal."

He paused for effect.

"Loyalty … Especially loyalty to family … is to be treasured above all else. It is not just one of the most important things. It is THE most important thing. I could even say that family loyalty is the ONLY thing that has any importance at all.

So, my children … remember this. You are my family. I will always be loyal to you. Regardless of whether you are loyal to me. But if you are not loyal to me … " He did not finish the sentence. He knew Nicholas would understand what he meant.

**********

The End?

Not if Uncle has anything to say about it