Closure
Father Jean-Richard Knight opened the door of the unpretentious brick and stucco house on Casa Loma Hill. Somehow, it didn't seem quite like the same home he remembered from his childhood. Of course, the house was still the same one he and his sisters had grown up in, only now it was just a house, not a home.
He turned on the light and slowly walked to the imposing ornately carved mahogany mantelpiece that stood at the end of the living room. In any other house, it would have looked out of place, but here, in this room, it belonged. While it was not exactly a built in feature, it did sport a very realistic looking gas powered fireplace in it. Rumor had it that the huge mantle was a family heirloom, one of the few things his father had of his family home, and he had lugged it from place to place for most of his adult life. It was one of the things that had been brought here from his father's loft when they bought the house twenty eight years ago.
He fingered the numerous pictures lining the top. There was one of him as a baby. Although he was baptized Jean-Richard, everyone called him Ritchie. He was named after his father's sister, Janette DuCharme, and his mother's brother, Richard Lambert. They both had died several years before he was born. There was no doubt he was his father's son. At 5'11" and 179 pounds, he matched his father's measurements almost exactly. He had the same wavy blond hair, and the same deep blue eyes. Puppy dog eyes, his mother always called them.
Beside it was the one of Amanda Janette, or Amy Jean as she preferred, at about the same age. Amy was eighteen months younger than him, and was named after Amanda Cohen, his father's former police Captain, who had been killed in a plane crash. She was her mother's clone. The same mass of auburn curls framed the heart shaped Lambert face and her green eyes twinkled just as her mother's did. She was a Captain in the Canadian Air Force and was on detached duty to NASA. She had a master's degree in subnuclear physics and was scheduled to go to the International Space Station on the next shuttle to study the effects of solar waves on various substances for two years. Her husband, George Kerness, was a Major in the Air Force. They had no children ... yet.
Next came Cynthia Lucille - don't you DARE call her Cindy Lou. She was the baby of the group, two years younger than Amy. Her name came from her mother's goddaughter Cynthia Lambert Luce, who had died as a child, and her grandfather, Lucien LaCroix. She had the best of both of her parents. Her father's blonde hair was tightly curled like her mother's, and her blue eyes held touches of her mother's green. Cindy had followed in their mother's footsteps. She earned her MD ... Summa Cum Laude ... two years ago from University of Toronto, and was just finishing her first year of residency in genetic medicine at Johns Hopkins Medical Center in the States. Paul Graham, her husband was on the research board at Toronto General, and Cynthia would be joining him when she completed her residency. She was expecting their first child in three months.
Lucien LaCroix was his father's father. Nick and Natalie rarely talked about him, and when they did, it was apparent that there had never been a close happy relationship with him. There were no pictures of him save an autographed publicity photo of the Nightcrawler. That was LaCroix's radio persona from many years ago. Although no one had said in so many words, Ritchie had always assumed that he was dead.
Next came a myriad of pictures of them at various stages of their lives. Picnics. Christmases. Birthdays. First Communions. Graduations. And finally, wedding pictures of the girls and ordination pictures of him
He closed his eyes and let the events in the pictures play across his mind.
**********
"C'mon dad." Seven year old Ritchie shouted over the noise of the other contestants at the Police picnic. "Be careful with that egg. If you drop it we gotta start all over"
"Did you see that!" Eleven year old Amy Jean beamed. "I kicked the winning goal! Our soccer team is headed for the all city finals!"
"Mom! Dad! How'd you know!" Cindy gushed. "I would have just absolutely ... died ... if I didn't get a Purple Chameleon Boys album for Christmas!" She wrapped her arms around her parents. "Absolutely EVERYONE has one."
"Happy Birthday To You." Three year old Amy Jean with frosting smeared on her mouth.
"Happy Birthday To You." Seven year old Cindy took a deep breath and blew out the candles.
"Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday." Eleven candles graced Ritchie's cake.
"Happy Birthday To You." Nick's fiftieth birthday. Don Schanke joked that they should
have taken out a fire permit for a blaze like that.
"Body Of Christ." The priest said as he placed the Host in Ritchie's ... Amy 's ... Cindy's hand for the first time.
"Jean-Richard Knight ... Amanda Jeanette Knight ... Cynthia Lucille Knight." The principal called as they walked across the stage to receive their diplomas.
"And now I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Paul Graham." Father Bearsson introduced the happy couple to the congregation.
Major and Mrs. George Kerness walked under a canopy of crossed swords as the exited the tiny chapel at North Bay Air Force Base on their wedding day.
"I now proclaim you 'Priest forever according to the Order of Melchesidech'." The Archbishop said as he poured a few drops of sacred oil on Ritchie's head as he lay face down on the marble floor of the Cathedral.
**********
Beside these pictures were photos of his 'Uncles and Aunts'. Although neither parent had any living relatives except possibly the grandfather, there were a myriad of people who filled the role of 'Family' for them.
First and foremost were Uncle Don and Aunt Myra Schanke. Don was his father's partner on the Toronto police force almost from day 1. They had been best friends from sometime around day 25. They had even retired on the same day five years ago. As his father and Don both explained ... with tongue firmly planted in cheek ... they had been together so long, and both of them had so many idiosyncrasies, that no one else would be able to work with either one of them for any length of time.
Don and Myra were his godparents, and a more doting and loving couple had never existed. Unless it was Nick and Natalie Knight, his father and mother. The two families were extremely close. They were more like alternate parents, and their only daughter Jenny was like a big sister to them. She had babysat them on many occasions and she was Cynthia's Confirmation sponsor and Amy's matron of honor. Both girls had been in Jenny's bridal party. He had been one of the junior groomsmen. One of his first duties as a priest was to baptize Jenny's youngest children, twins Nicky and Donny. Nick and Natalie were Nicky's godparents.
Next came Auntie Grace Balthazar. Dr. Grace Balthazar was his mother's assistant at the County Morgue where Doctor Natalie Knight, nee Lambert, worked until about two years after Cynthia was born. When she resigned, Grace took over as Chief Coroner.
**********
"Are you sure you really want to do this?" Grace asked her associate and friend. "This place ain't going to be the same without you around."
"Take some more time and think about it very carefully." Dr. Jillian Pendleton, her boss said. She had called the two of them into her office when she had received the Coroner's letter of resignation. "You know I'm retiring in two years. Word is, you're a shoo in for the job. The title of County Minister Of Medical Services is a very impressive title. And it's a very prestigious salary that goes with it. The perks aren't too bad either."
"Yes. I know. I have given this a lot of thought. I'm really going to miss it here, too. But this is something I have to do." Natalie said to them "When Paolo Ramirez asked me to join his genetic research team, I had no choice but to say yes. I do have a confession to make, though. I have been working on the sly from time to time to try and find a cure for Nick's ... condition. This will give me the opportunity to do it full time. It will also benefit lord knows how many other people as well."
"Girl. I ain't quite as dumb as I look." Grace said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "You weren't fooling anyone. I knew all along that some of those samples that I was taking to Forensics for analysis weren't from cadavers. And that the results that I brought back didn't belong to any of the cases we were working on. I figured you had some ulterior motive, and I was 99 point 44 percent positive it had something to do with that handsome blond detective you were ... " She made quotes with her fingers " ... 'just friends' with."
"And I turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to the bills from U. of T. for tunneling microscope time and state of the art lab tests." Jill said with a wide grin.
"But there weren't supposed to be any charge for them." Natalie protested. "They were free. Professional courtesy, they told me."
"Because that's what I told them to tell you. When Grace told me her theories about your experiments, I covertly arranged for the County to pay for them. I knew how much this work meant to you and Nick. I will admit, it took some imaginative accounting hide and seek and more than a little creative perjury to justify the expenses, but if they helped to provide the keys to unlocking his medical problems, it was worth every Loonie."
"How can I possibly thank you two." Natalie said as she hugged her associates. "You're the best."
"By using those keys we helped you get to find the cure." Jill said, returning the embrace.
"You know my door is always open to you. Don't hesitate to use it." Nat said to Grace and Jill.
"Just try and stop me." Grace said, folding her into a huge bear hug.
**********
Grace was true to her word. She was their self proclaimed "Rubenesque Milk Chocolate Fairy Godmother", and she spoiled them no end. If you needed some extra cash for a special project ... Or help with your homework ... Or a lap to snuggle in ... Or a shoulder to cry on. Auntie Grace was the person to see.
He had been in Rome for the last year of his studies for the priesthood when word came that she had died. He had been devastated for months that he couldn't make it back to Toronto in time for the funeral.
Her passing left a large hole in all of their lives.
Then there were pictures of Aunt Tracy and Uncle Javier Vachon. Tracy was Nick and Don's other partner until she married Javier. He had been a policeman for a few years too, but shortly after they were married, he quit the force to go back to his first love. Music. She resigned about a year after he did.
As he remembered them, they were a strange couple to say the least. They never went out in the daytime, and he could never remember them eating anything at any of the parties that they attended. They only drank red wine. Maybe they were alcoholics or something. Tracy had always struck him as severely anemic. She constantly had a deathly grayish-white pallor about her. Come to think of it, so did Javier. Sometime after his twelfth birthday, they moved away. No one seemed to know where they went, and they were never heard from again.
Beside them were other pictures. Inspector Joe and Denise Reese. He was his father's Commanding Officer for many years. He had been killed in a shootout when a drug raid had gone bad. Over his vehement protests, Nick Knight had been promoted to fill the vacancy.
Police Commissioner Joe Stonetree smiled out of another photo. He had been Nick's first Captain in Toronto and was indirectly responsible for bringing Don ... and in a sense ... Natalie into his life. They had remained good friends even after Nick and Don were transferred out of the 27th precinct.
'Uncle' Etrian, 'Uncle' Tomutu, and 'Uncle' Ibraham. There was never any clear explanation of their relationship with his parents, and frankly, they had always given Ritchie and his sisters the willies when they came around. Fortunately for them, that was not very often. They called them the 'Ghoul Trio'.
'Uncle' Miklos and 'Uncle' Norton ran the Raven. That was a nightclub in the inner city that they said Nick's sister had willed to him when she died. He had turned the day to day work over to the two of them, since he claimed to know nothing about running a bar. He still kept his hand in it, though. Every Friday evening he went there to conduct business. Apparently, it was a closed meeting, because no one from the family was ever allowed to attend. Ritchie could remember being in the club only once. During the day. It gave him the same creepy feeling that he got around the Ghoul Trio.
Finally, there were the pictures of his parents. Starting with pictures from shortly after they met, there were pictures of nearly every important event in their lives. Their wedding. Each of their landmark anniversaries. Fifth. Tenth. Fifteenth. Twentieth. Twenty fifth. There was a blank frame that was reserved for the picture of the thirtieth anniversary.
It was supposed to be a joyous point in their lives. He would be the celebrant as they renewed their vows at their thirtieth anniversary Mass. Instead, thanks to a drunken driver, he had officiated at his mother's funeral instead.
Through a grief colored haze, Father Knight remembered giving his mother the Sacrament of the Sick ... The Last Rites as it is more commonly known. He almost felt like giving them to his father as well.
**********
Two months earlier
Myra Schanke dropped the bundles on the floor. "That does it!" She groaned as she kicked off her shoes and plopped into the nearest chair. "I'm never going shopping in person again. Not with all the virtual shops on the Net."
"C'mon Myra." Natalie Knight said as she laid her parcels next to her long time friend's. "You know you would miss the excitement of seeing and touching all the things that reality shopping has to offer."
"You're right. I would. Maybe I'm still old fashioned enough to appreciate the sights and sounds ... and the smells of real live concrete and glass stores. I don't think we would have bought that dress if we had seen it on shoppers.com. Let me see it again." She handed the bag to Nat.
"What do you think, Myra?" Natalie said, holding the pale aqua green chiffon and lace cocktail length dress under her chin. "Is it really the one?"
"Oh! Nat. It's absolutely perfect. It really brings out your eyes. If that brickheaded husband of yours doesn't go absolutely ga-ga over it, you have my permission to kill him in the most painful way possible. It would be justifiable homicide in any court in the land." Myra said to her friend. "But now, I think you had better get home and get dinner ready. If Nick's anything like Don, he can't even boil water two out of three times. Don's idea of a balanced meal is a Souvlaki in one hand and a beer in the other. Wouldn't know a health food if it walked up and shook hands with him. I tell you, it's a real challenge to cook nutritious wholesome meals for him ... that he'll eat."
"Actually, Nick's a fairly good cook. But you're right. I had better be going ... So you can fix dinner for Don." She picked up her packages and headed to the door.
According to the police report, she had only gone about three blocks from the Schanke residence when a car ran a stop sign at well over seventy five kph. He rammed into the driver's side of her car and pushed it over the sidewalk and through the window of a carry out. They had to use the Jaws of Life to cut her out of the mangled wreck.
Natalie Knight died five hours later. She never regained consciousness. The other driver was relatively unhurt. A broken arm and a minor concussion. His blood alcohol was 2.3. Over three times the legal limit.
**********
As Nicholas Knight sat in the tiny Emergency Intensive Care Unit, he could sense his wife slipping away. " NO!" His mind screamed at him. " This can't be happening! Not to Nat. Not to the one who means everything to me. After all that we've been through to this point, she can't die now. Not now. Not ever. Medicine has come a long way since the turn of the century. They can save her." He lied to himself.
He barely heard his son come in. Ritchie put his hand on his father's shoulder. He wanted to take the man in his arms and hold him tightly. To tell him that this was nothing but a horrible nightmare. That the doctors had made a horrendous mistake. That by some phenomenon, the broken and battered body of the woman lying on the gurney before them would heal and everything would be all right. "I'm a priest, Dammit! Our Lord promised we could move mountains if we just had faith. I don't want to move mountains. I just want to be able to work one little miracle. I want my mother to live and get better. Is that too much to ask?" But he couldn't work any miracles. If he could have, he would have. He could only give her ... and his father ... the comfort of the Church's rites.
He had been with Father Ralph Bearsson at St Ignatius, their home parish, to make arrangements for the Anniversary Mass when the call came in from the hospital about Last Rites for a dying patient. He had volunteered to go. He had no idea that it was for his mother.
He took the narrow purple stole out of his pocket, kissed it reverently, and put it around his neck. He opened a small vial of holy oil and made the sign of the cross on the tip of her nose. It was the closest place to her forehead that wasn't covered with bandages or any monitoring devices. With a sorrow thickened voice, he began. "We commend to you, O Lord, the soul of this, your servant Natalie, and we beseech you … " As he anointed over her heart, she shuddered almost imperceptibly and stiffened ever so slightly. The monitor screen measuring her heartbeats went from a series of ordered peaks and valleys to a jumble of irregular jagged points and finally to a steady flat line.
Father and son held the earthly remains of Natalie Anne Lambert deBrabant Knight in their arms for several eternities while the earth stopped turning. It was a long time before it started again.
She was buried in the aqua green dress.
**********
"Ritchie." Father Ralph said. "Let me say the Funeral Mass. You aren't in any shape to do it. Look at you. You're so overcome with grief that you're lucky you can stand up. It'll be all you can do to be in the church, let alone say the Mass."
"I have to do it." Ritchie replied. "She's my mother. I owe her that much."
"Then at least let me con-celebrate."
Father Richard nodded woodenly. Ralph was right. He couldn't do this alone.
**********
Present
Natalie was well loved, and the funeral procession stretched for a half mile behind the hearse. Everyone had taken the death hard. Especially Nick. Ritchie thought he was going to throw himself into the grave with her. Only the strong arms of Don Schanke and Joe Stonetree stopped him. And it took all their combined strength to hold him back.
Although he adored his children, Nat was his one and only true love. She was the lynchpin in his life that held everything together. They were two sides of the same coin. Now, half of him was gone. In the two months since the funeral, he had hardly spoken to anyone. He had locked himself in the house and had become a virtual hermit. He never went out and he refused all visitors.
Ritchie was here today only because he had a key. He came to the house at least once a week. To spite his best efforts to get him to open up, his father wouldn't say more than a few words to him either. He just sat in the darkened living room and stared at the picture of his wife. He could see the grief eating him alive. His father roamed the empty house all night and couldn't have slept more than a few hours during the day either.
It showed. He had let his appearance go. He sometimes wouldn't shave or bathe for days at a time, and then only when Ritchie or Don Schanke practically forced him to. He rarely changed clothes unless they made him do that too. It seemed as though he had lost at least twenty pounds. His rumpled clothes hung on him. There were deep circles around his eyes and his skin tone was becoming colorless. Ritchie surreptitiously checked the cabinets and the refrigerator every time he was there. It didn't seem that his father had eaten anything substantial since the wake. Even then he had barely picked at his plate. He did spot more than a few liquor bottles in the trash, though. It appeared that Nick was drinking heavily. He worried about his father. If he continued this way, he would soon be saying a Funeral Mass for his remaining parent.
He heard voices from the guestroom. His father had moved in there after the funeral. He claimed he couldn't bear to sleep in the same bed that he and Natalie had shared for all those years. He was sure the voice did not belong to Don Schanke, the only other person that Nick would allow in the house. He smiled. His father had a visitor! While it wasn't exactly earthshaking, it was a small step in the right direction. Maybe things were going to be okay after all! Maybe his father was starting to come out of his depression. He hurried up the stairs. He wanted to meet the person who was responsible for the change.
**********
He opened the guest room door. In the light from the hallway, he could see two men standing in the middle of the room. They appeared to be in an embrace. "Dad?" He said as he switched on the room light ... and froze.
The men seemed to be embracing, but now that the room was fully lit, he could see that they actually had their faces buried in each other's necks. Blood covered each of their collars and the front of their shirts. They both were making loud slurping noises as if they were drinking something. Suddenly, it dawned on the priest what they were doing. < This can't be happening. > His mind tried to deny what he was seeing. < It's got to be a hallucination. > Mechanically, he made the sign of the cross.
Suddenly the taller of the two men turned toward him. At least whatever it was looked like a man. It was not human, though. Its eyes were a glowing orange-red. Blood dripped from elongated teeth ... fangs? ... and covered its mouth. It emitted a scream ... snarl? ... and lunged for him.
< RUN! > Every instinct screamed in his brain. Try as he might, the cleric couldn't move a muscle. He stood transfixed to the spot.
"NO!" The other one snarled ... growled? ... as he grabbed the first one and pinned him to the wall. "Let him go! That's Jean-Richard. That's my son!" He turned to Ritchie. It looked like his father, but this one, too, had yellow-orange eyes and blood covered his fangs as well. "Go!" He yelled. "Get out of here! Now!"
"Not until I get some answers." Ritchie said.
"At least make him take off ... THAT." The first one said, pointing to his Roman collar.
"Do as he says." Nick said. "Take off your shirt and throw it in the hall. NOW! I can't hold him much longer."
As though they had a mind of their own, his hands grabbed the symbol of his priesthood and pulled it from his neck. He tossed it into the hallway. Almost immediately, the first one seemed to calm considerably. His eyes went from orange to yellow to almost transparent ice blue, and his fangs seemed to retract into his gums. Ritchie recognized the man. He was the man in the publicity photo. The Nightcrawler. Lucien LaCroix. His grandfather.
"It's not what you think." Nick said to his son. His features were slowly returning to normal as well. Only it was not his father's face as it was a few days ago. The gray was gone from his hair, and the balding and thinning spots had filled in. Wrinkles and lines were gone as well. He looked to be thirty instead of almost seventy.
"Then tell me exactly what it is then." Ritchie replied.
"Not here. Let's go to the kitchen. This is going to take some time to explain."
**********
"I'm not sure where to begin." His father said hesitantly as they seated themselves around the kitchen table. It had once been the scene of lively conversations at mealtime. Now it seemed like it was the setting for an inquisition.
"Why not start at the beginning?" His son said.
Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The beginning. That was a long time ago. The year was 1228. I was in Paris on my way home from the Crusades. There was this tavern. I don't remember where exactly. My companions and I were drunk when we got there and we were getting drunker with every passing hour. All I remember was this woman. Janette DuCharme ... "
**********
It was nearly dawn when Nick finished his story.
"Let me get this straight. You are vampires? Dad, you are 830, and you ... " He pointed to LaCroix. " ... are 2000?"
LaCroix nodded. "Actually, I was brought across 1950 years ago, to be exact. I do not count my mortal years. They are inconsequential."
"But you can't be a vampire." He said to his father. "According to legend, vampires are afraid of religious objects. They can't go out in the daylight, and they can only drink blood. But I've seen you in the sun, and you ate with us nearly every evening. And you went to Mass almost every Sunday, and even participated in several of the ceremonies. Like our Communions. And you gave Amy and Cindy away at their Wedding Masses. You and Mom escorted me to the altar when I was ordained. How could you do that if you were a ... a ... what you say you are?"
"The word is vampire. It's true. I did those things and a lot more. It took an exceptional amount of control. And I did have a little help. Remember I told you that we had given up trying to find a cure at one point? Then Paolo Ramirez, who delivered you, made a breakthrough with one of the methods that we thought had been a failure. We discussed it at length and agreed that she should try again for a cure. Nat quit her job at the Coroner's office and went to work with him.
**********
2003
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Nick said as he rolled up his sleeve. "The last time we tried Litovuterine B, I seem to recall there were some pretty severe side effects."
"True." Natalie said as she carefully measured the clear liquid from the vial into a syringe. "This isn't Litovuterine B though. Not exactly. We call it Litovuterine C. When we took the Litovuterine and diluted it and mixed it with some other chemicals, principally anti psychotic drugs, we found that the effects were the same, but the negative side effects were almost negligible."
"Also, we came to the conclusion that since the Litovuterine B is based on cow enzymes, and you were drinking bovine blood at the time, that would have had a significant effect on the outcome as well." Paolo added. "Now that you've gone back to drinking human, we should get much better results."
"And how do you know that? How many other vampires have you tested it on?"
"Technically, you're the first and only one, but we have tested it on lab rats that we brought across with samples of your blood." Natalie continued. "Every one of them showed unparalleled improvement. The worst they had was a mild case of diarrhea. And only a few of them got that. It cleared up in a few hours. Most of the test subjects suffered no side effects at all."
"So now you're comparing me to a lab rat? Thanks a heap."
"Quit complaining and make a fist." Natalie said as she tightened the rubber strip around his bicep. "Do you want to be mortal or not?"
He held out his arm and closed his eyes. He winced slightly as the cold hypospray shot into his arm. The liquid burned as it began cursing through his veins. A few minutes later, he doubled over and grabbed at his stomach.
"NICK!" Natalie was at his side in a flash.
"It's all right." He said, slowly returning upright. "A little nausea and cramping, that's all. Nothing like the last time." He paused a few seconds. "It's gone now. In fact, everything's gone. The vampire. The hunger. Everything." He did a small victory dance as he headed for the door. Seconds later, he stood in the sunlight for the second time in almost 800 years.
**********
"Unfortunately, it wasn't the panacea we thought it would be. It wasn't a cure. Only a treatment. The effects wore off after two days. During that time though, I was able do everything that any mortal could do without any problems. It also allowed me to age, although not as rapidly as a true mortal. Unfortunately, we also found that with prolonged use, it lost much of its effectiveness. So we reserved it for uncommon times like Communions, picnics, special ball games and other occasions when I had to be completely mortal."
"Out of curiosity, what happened to the rats?" LaCroix asked. "Are your ... " he cleared his throat loudly. " ... children still running around?"
"Don't worry. You are not the grandfather to a bunch of rodents. For them, the Litovuterine C was a cure. They all remained mortal and died natural deaths. It just didn't work on Homo Vampirus." Nick said with a sad smile.
"What about in between the treatments? I saw you sitting in the sun nearly every summer afternoon." Ritchie asked.
"Think about that, Ritchie. You saw me sitting in the deep shade on the porch. And then only for about a half hour a day. Usually around sunset. Oh, how I loved sunsets. Over time I found that I could tolerate early morning and late evening in the shade. I could also eat very small portions of solid food. You'll recall, my meat was always very rare and the only vegetable I could eat in any quantity was French Fries as long as they were smothered in ketchup."
"Yeah. As I seem to remember, you put ketchup on everything. Even broccoli. We kids thought that was the only way to eat anything." He smiled at the thought of the three of them eating ketchup covered cauliflower and peas. Actually, it was quite tasty. "What about you and Mom? You said that you couldn't have ... intimacy with a mortal without taking her blood."
"That's true. But the overwhelming love I felt when I drank your mother's blood calmed the vampire in me to such a degree that I only needed a mouthful or two to ... complete the act." His eyes misted over as he thought about the love he had for his wife. "It carried over into other areas too, like food and handling religious objects. As long as the vampire was calm and happy, I could do these things, too"
"You also said that vampires were sterile."
"So we always thought. You three proved that theory wrong. Now, there are reports of at least a half dozen other children of mortal-vampire unions."
"One thing. You said that this vampire ...virus you called it ... was incurable. Could it have been passed on to us? What I mean to say, is there any chance we might become vampires?"
"It's true you have the virus in your system. So does Amy. Cindy is clean. But all the tests your mother and Dr. Paolo have done over the years showed that you both only have trace amounts of the virus, and it is completely dormant. The chance of either of you coming across spontaneously is virtually zero."
"That would have been a hoot. A vampire priest." Ritchie laughed at the mental picture of him saying Mass with extended fangs and a Bela Lugosi haircut, and wearing a black opera cape instead of vestments.
"It's no laughing matter."
"I'm not laughing at that. But now I know why Mom and Dr. Ramirez made pincushions of us every six months or so. They said we had some rare genetic abnormality and they had to monitor it. All along it was to see if the virus was doing anything."
"Also, there was great fear in the Community that you would become hunters if the virus ever became activated. Even after your ordination, some members worried that your vows would force you to become a hunter. They remembered the Inquisition and the Salem Witch hunts."
**********
2020
"And I tell you, you have made a great mistake!" Dolan shouted to the Elder. "Letting your son become a priest is asking for disaster. He will bring the wrath of the Church down on us all. Mark my words, de Brabant! The Community is going to be destroyed because of him. The consequences will be on your shoulders. Even the Enforcers are powerless against an organization as strong as the Vatican."
"Dolan." Nicholas Knight replied. "You are still living in the seventeenth century. Things have changed since then."
"I remember the Inquisition and the Witch Hunts. I survived them. So did you. I don't want to go through that hell ever again."
"And you won't. Things like that don't happen any more."
"You mean like the German concentration camps and the pogroms of Soviet Russia?"
"Those were civil persecutions, not religious."
"But the Church did nothing to stop them. In fact, the laws of the Church decreed that the priests assist in this tyranny. 'To rid the world of heretics' as I recall the edict issued by the German Hierarchy said. Nothing has changed that I can see. Jean-Richard will be bound by his vows to hunt us down and destroy us."
"The Church in Germany was not acting under authority from Rome. Neither were the Russians. The Catholic Church no longer actively hunts down those who believe differently from them. They haven't for centuries." Nick assured the vampire. "Haven't you ever heard of Vatican II almost a century ago? That ushered in the era of Ecumenism. People are now free to pursue their own lifestyles without interference."
"We will wait and see." Eric, another vampire, said. "But if even one vampire dies as a result of your son becoming a priest ... "
"If anyone dies as a result of my son, I will personally deal with it." Nick vowed. "I swear this on the grave of my sister Janette."
**********
Ritchie smiled slightly. "Not a chance of that happening. The Church's policy on those things has changed radically even since Vatican II. It's pretty much live and let live. As long as a person's actions don't endanger anyone, the church doesn't do anything. Even if there were a danger, the amount of proof and the red tape necessary to get Ecclesiastical approval is staggering. The person in question would have loads of time to either repent or disappear."
"That's what I told them. That seemed to satisfy them."
"If Mother's treatments kept you mortal, and her blood calmed the vampire, what did I see upstairs? And why is he here?" He pointed to LaCroix.
"When your mother died, there were no more treatments. Only a few vials that she had prepared before her ... death. I used the last one for the funeral. Without her blood to calm me, the vampire began to run amok. I was completely out of control."
"That's why you became a virtual hermit."
"I couldn't trust myself around anyone. Not even you. That's why I kept cutting you short every time you came over."
"I came because Nicholas needed me." LaCroix said. It was the first time he had spoken to Ritchie since they had come downstairs. "I felt his anguish through our bond. Since our agreement was no longer valid, I came to help him through his time of tribulation."
"Agreement?"
"That is correct. We had an ... understanding. He seemed to have left that part out of his story, didn't he?" He looked at his 'son'. "Really Nicholas. Your memory seems to have suffered in the past thirty years. Could it have been from the good doctor's treatments?"
Nick glared harshly at his father.
"No matter. The covenant was first established in Brabant in 1229. Nicholas had returned there to say goodbye to his mother and his sister, Fleur. I was against this, but I allowed it anyway." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "While we were there, I fell in love with Fleur. I wanted to bring her across. To keep her with me for all eternity. Your father forbade it. After some very ... heated discussions on the matter, I reluctantly agreed to his demands. I did require a concession from him, though. If he ever truly fell in love with a mortal, her life was to be forfeit to me."
"That would have been Mother. What would you have done to her?"
LaCroix smiled a crocodile smile. "I would have killed her or brought her across, of course. I knew both ... scenarios were totally unacceptable to Nicholas. He would not want her killed, and he could not have endured the thought of her being plunged into this evil world of darkness, as he saw his life. Either way, he would suffer for the rest of eternity without his precious Natalie as I had suffered over the centuries deprived of Fleur."
"But you didn't do either one. Why?"
"You." Nick spoke up. "By the time LaCroix finally had the proof that Natalie and I truly loved each other, she was already pregnant with you. LaCroix agreed to modify the arrangement. He agreed to stay away and not to interfere with our lives as long as Natalie lived or was mortal."
"I was forced to do so." LaCroix said. His eyes became flecked with yellow. "How could I not agree to your terms when you had a stake pressed against my heart?" His eyes returned to their ice blue. "Of course, I kept my end of the bargain. I have been living principally in Paris and Rome, and a variety of other places on the Continent, for the past thirty years."
"That still doesn't explain what I saw upstairs."
"Now that your mother has ... departed this life, my blood is the only thing that will calm him and restore him to full health. Even the human blood he has been drinking does not have the restorative powers that the blood of his master has." LaCroix said with a self-satisfied smirk.
"So, that's what was in the bottles I saw in the trash. It was blood, not wine or whiskey."
Nick nodded.
"If Mom hadn't died what would the future have been for you?"
Nick's eyes misted once more. "To spite what LaCroix said, the thought of your mother as a vampire was not as abhorrent to me as he thinks. She and I had discussed it many times over the years. Also, my concept of the vampire has radically changed since I have been the Elder here in Toronto. I've come to realize that I ... we ... weren't evil monsters, deprived of salvation, and condemned to burn in hell for our sins. Vampires are just like everyone else. There are good and bad. We are just ... as your mom often said ... daylight challenged. I slowly realized that I would rather spend eternity with her than spend eternity without her. We had planned to go to Florida for a second honeymoon after our anniversary. I would have brought her across there. There would have been a boating accident. Our bodies would never have been recovered. We would have moved on and begun a new life. Together."
"If you had planned to bring her across, why didn't you do it in the hospital?" Jean Richard shouted at his father. "Instead, you just let her die."
"Simple. I couldn't. There wasn't time, and there were too many people around. Between the nurses and doctors constantly coming in and out of her room, we were never alone long enough to … " He hung his head and a tear escaped.
"Now what will you do? Mother is dead, and as you said, the pact between the two of you has been satisfied."
"We will still move on." LaCroix answered. "That is another reason I am here. As soon as Nicholas settles his affairs and ties up a few loose ends, we will be leaving Toronto. It shouldn't take more than a day or two at most."
"You can tell everybody that I just couldn't stay here." Nick explained. "That there were too many painful memories. You wouldn't be lying. I can't remain in Toronto much longer. Natalie is everywhere I look."
"Where will you go?"
"When a vampire moves on." Nick continued. "He or she must cut all ties with the previous life. It's better for everyone concerned that no one ... especially any mortals involved ... know where they've gone or anything about their new life." He recited it almost as though he were reading from a script.
"That's what happened to Uncle Javier and Aunt Tracy, isn't it? They were vampires too, and they moved on. That's why no one ever heard from them."
Nick again nodded.
"If it will make you feel any better, we could arrange for Nicholas's ... death. An accident, perhaps. Or a fatal illness. There could even be a body if you wish." LaCroix said.
"You mean bury someone else in the grave beside Mother?" Ritchie asked.
"NO!" Nick cried. "That is totally unacceptable! There will be no bodies. No one will be buried beside Natalie!" He paused " ...except me." He said almost inaudibly.
"One last point." LaCroix said. "What shall we do about ... him?" He pointed to Ritchie. "You know the Code. Any mortal who knows about us must be either made to forget, be killed, or be brought across. Which shall it be?"
"There has been a change in the Code since you were last here. As long as the person does not pose a threat, he is left alone." Nick reminded the master vampire. "And Ritchie poses no threat."
"Not as far as I am concerned." LaCroix replied loudly. His eyes showed just a trace of yellow around the irises. "Those are YOUR rules. I do not recognize them. He will be dealt with according to the established Code."
"And this is MY Community. I make the rules." Nick argued. His eyes too, began to fleck slightly.
"And I am still older than you. As long as I am in Toronto, that makes ME the Elder. WE will do it MY way." LaCroix hissed.
Nicholas could have argued the point, but they wouldn't be in the city long enough for it to make a difference. "We cannot hypnotize him. He is a resistor. Just like his mother." Nick answered. "And I will NOT allow you to bring him across, either. Besides, I don't think that he would come across. He has a true vocation. A calling from God. He would not return."
"That leaves only one thing. Kill him."
"No." Ritchie spoke up. "There is another way. I am a priest. I will put the Seal of the Confessional on this and any other conversations we might have about this matter. That means I cannot reveal or act on anything that was said here without express consent from both of you. Will that satisfy you?"
LaCroix nodded stiffly. "I suppose it must. Nothing further will be said about this. However, if anything is made public and is traced back to you ... " His fangs dropped.
"There won't be. I take my vows very seriously."
"I think we have had enough for today." LaCroix said, changing the subject. "As you can see, the sun is quite high. Both Nicholas and I need to rest. We have a great many things to do tomorrow evening. And you need to get back to ... whatever it is that you need to be doing." He escorted Ritchie to the door. "And take THAT with you." He pointed to the hallway.
Ritchie picked up his collar and closed the door behind him. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that this would be the last time he would ever see his father.
**********
As Ritchie pulled up to the house two days later, the first thing he noticed was the 'For Sale' sign in the yard. < Dad and that LaCroix ... for some reason, he couldn't think of him as his grandfather ... didn't waste much time. > He rang the doorbell, not really expecting anyone to open it. He was not disappointed. No one did. After a few more tries, he unlocked the door and went in.
The furniture had been draped with travel sheets and all the pictures and other mementos were taken down. Stacks of taped boxes were sitting on the floor. Awaiting the movers, Ritchie assumed. Upstairs was no different. More boxes were sitting in the hallway. The beds had been stripped and the tops of the dressers were devoid of any of the usual clutter that normally adorned them. He opened the drawers. They too were empty. The closets were bare as well. There was only one conclusion to be drawn.
His father had already moved on. Ritchie knew from the previous conversation that it would be useless to try and track him down. He and LaCroix had both said that when they left Toronto, Nicholas de Brabant Knight would cease to exist. All records of his new identity and his new location would be cloaked in a secrecy that would make the seal of confession look like a supermarket tabloid gossip column.
He also knew that his father would be forbidden by the 'Code' from trying to contact him or anyone else that he had known in this lifetime.
**********
He looked at the picture of his parents that sat on his desk in St. Ignatius Rectory. It was hard for him to remember that a year had passed since his mother died and his father had 'moved on'. It still was as fresh in his mind as if it happened yesterday. The house had been sold and all their assets had been distributed in accordance with Natalie's will. It was quite a generous inheritance, too. They had found three substantial life insurance policies that their mother had taken out with her children as beneficiaries. None of them would have any financial worries for a long time to come. If ever. Everything had been taken care of. There was no trace left that Nicholas and Natalie Knight had ever been in Toronto. Except in his memory and the memories of those they had loved.
He turned the picture over and withdrew the envelope from the back.
Several days after Nick had left, he and his sisters had each received a letter written in their father's elegant flowing script. His had been left in the parish mailbox. Naturally, there was no postmark or forwarding address.
My darling Jean-Richard,
Please forgive me for leaving without saying anything to anyone. I have to do this. I cannot stay in Toronto any longer. Everywhere I look, there are painful memories of your mother. It is becoming too much for me to bear. I do not know where I will go. I do know however, that it is highly unlikely that I will ever return. Please do not try to find me. When I am ready, I will contact you.
Always remember. I love all of you dearly. You will always be the shining hope of the future for me. Always.
Love
Dad
Cynthia called him almost immediately after she received her letter. Even Amy had contacted him via a satellite hookup. Her letter had been electronically sent to her. Theirs had said the same thing as his. He could only repeat to them what the letters said. He couldn't tell them the truth. Even if he could, he knew that they wouldn't believe him. He barely believed it himself.
Of course, their father had never contacted them. He never would. The Code.
He refolded the letter and replaced it behind the photo. He put the frame back beside the out basket and buried his face in his hands. "Eternal rest grant unto her, Oh Lord ... " He began. "And wherever he is, keep my father safe."
There was a blast of cold air. < I know I shut the windows and doors. > He was immediately aware that there was someone else in the room with him. There had been no one there a moment ago. Slowly he looked up. Before him stood someone he never thought he would ever see again. Lucien LaCroix. " What are you doing here? I thought that the Code of yours forbade you from returning."
LaCroix did not answer. He placed a small ornate teak wood container about the size of a shoebox on the desk. "That belonged to your father."
Ritchie gently stroked the highly polished lid. He remembered seeing it on the top of the bookcase when he was a child. They had been sternly warned not to touch it.
"It was given to him by Joan of Arc just before she died in 1431." LaCroix continued. "Among other things, it contains a handmade crucifix that was hers. He treasured it."
He had seen his father take it down and gaze lovingly at it when he thought no one was watching. He would tenderly caress the top and his eyes would mist over. Occasionally, he would open it, though he never took out whatever was in the box. "Faith." He would say almost as though it were a prayer. Then he would put it back on its resting place on the top shelf.
"I don't understand. Why are you giving it to me? And where is Dad?"
**********
"Nicholas." LaCroix said impatiently. "You have got to stop this moping around. It is quite unnerving to hear you sniffling and sighing night after night. Face it. The good doctor is dead. She has been gone for a year now. All the anguish in the world is not going to bring her back." He put his hands forcefully on his son's shoulders. "Come on. Get dressed. Paris awaits us. You always liked the nightlife here. It will do you a world of good to get out of the house once in a while."
"You go ahead without me. I don't feel like going out. Not tonight of all nights." Nicholas Chevalier stood looking at the indigo Parisian sky through the huge windows of the manor where he and LaCroix were staying.
"I can understand that. Shall I reschedule our reservations for the Paris Opera for tomorrow night? They are singing Pagliacci. I do so love the classic opera. So much better than that screaming and screeching they are trying to pass off as art these days. Don't you agree? We can go anytime you want. After all, I am a lifetime supporter." He snickered sarcastically. "If only they knew how truly long my lifetime is."
"Do whatever you like." He said in a flat monotone.
"Really, Nicholas, how much longer are you going to continue this behavior? You have got to snap out of this depression you are in. The sooner the better. You are definitely becoming a pain."
"Like you are about Fleur?"
LaCroix grabbed the vampire by the throat. "Don't EVER speak to me about her like that." He hissed as his eyes began to turn yellow.
"Or what?" He said coldly.
LaCroix loosed his grip and backed away. The color in his eyes disappeared and they were ice blue again. Nicholas was right. There was nothing that he could do that hadn't already been done. He had lost his true love, and now Nicholas had lost his. The stakes were even.
"Don't wait up for me. I may be quite late returning from the opera. Michelle and Renee are always such delightful companions." He said as he headed to the door. He put his fingers to his lips and then drew them upward with a loud smacking sound. "They are absolutely delicious."
**********
It was almost dawn when Lucien LaCroix returned to the mansion. His tux was rumpled and there were traces of a reddish brown liquid on the front of his shirt. "Ah! Now that's what I call a good night." He said to his son as he removed his jacket and flung it unerringly onto the antique clothes rack by the door.
Nicholas sat in the oversized chair and said nothing.
"Well. I see that you've used the time in a productive way." LaCroix said. "Now you look like you are ready to rejoin the land of the living ... or rather the land of the undead." He chuckled.
It was obvious that Nicholas had bathed and had shaved the three day growth of stubble from his face. He was dressed in a finely tailored black linen suit and a maroon tie graced the pale blue silk shirt. It had been one of Natalie's favorites. His hair was combed and he had apparently drank his fill of a fine vintage. There was even a slight touch of color in his face.
"I did this for Natalie, not for you." He said without any feeling. "Even after a year she is still with me. I see her everywhere. Especially at night. She haunts my dreams. I cannot continue without her. It is time to bring this nightmare to an end." He slowly rose from the chair and went to the door.
"NO! NICHOLAS! " LaCroix shouted as his son opened the door and stepped out onto the walkway. "THE SUN!" He made a lunge for the younger vampire, but the light streaming through the open door forced him back.
**********
"I said among other things, there was the crucifix in here." LaCroix opened the box and took out a change purse sized midnight blue velvet bag that had been lying on top of the plain wooden cross. He opened it and took out a handful of ash. "When I went out that evening after the sun had set, this was all there was left." He sighed heavily. "I don't think I would call it suicide or anything like that. He was merely correcting a mistake that had been made a very long time ago." He carefully put the dust back with the rest of the remains of Nicholas de Brabant, and pulled the drawstring tight. He replaced it in the box and closed the lid.
"You may make up any story you like." He said. "Tell everyone that he died from heart problems. It's not a lie. His heart was irreparably broken when Natalie died. He lost the will to live. Now he can be with her forever. As he always said he would be."
"And what will you do now?" The priest asked.
His answer was a whooshing sound and another gust of wind.
Father Jean-Richard de Brabant Knight was alone once more.
**********
Jean-Richard laid two roses on the ground beside the double tombstone. One rose was white. The other red. Cynthia Lucille Graham did the same. The memorial Mass for his father had been a simple affair that had been attended by the family and a few close friends. Amy had watched it by satellite relay from the Space Station. Outside the church, nearly half of Greater Toronto had waited in the pouring rain to pay their respects to him. His ashes, still in the teak box along with St. Joan's cross, had been buried beside Natalie. Just as he had requested.
"He didn't want to live without her." He said to his sister. "I suppose that is the way it should be. Their love was so strong that neither one of them could have survived for very long without the other."
"I know." Cindy said. "I just pray that Paul and I can have a love that's one tenth what theirs was. I'd be the happiest woman alive."
"They will always be a role model for us. That way, they'll live forever."
Cindy reached to the stroller behind her and picked up the baby. "This is their forever. They'll live on in him and his descendents." She placed the toddler on the ground. "Mom. Dad. I'd like you to meet Nicholas Lambert Graham."
The toddler went to the tombstone and pulled himself up. He raised his tiny arm and opened and closed his fist several times.
Behind the stone, unseen by everyone but the small child, Nicholas and Natalie Knight waved back at their grandson.
**********
Natalie A. Knight Nicholas B. Knight
1964 - 2028 1958 - 2029
Wife Husband
Together Forever
**********
The End