Forever Knight

In The Blood

Ellen Gorton had a smile on her face as she pulled her Mercedes into the garage.  Why not smile.  She had just pulled off the largest coup of her career.  Her hostile takeover of Lamender Incorporated would give her conglomerate almost complete control of the financial design software industry.  From now on, any company that needed customized accounting packages for their computers would have to come to her.  At her price.  There were still enough small companies in business to keep the anti-trust boys off her back.  These companies, of course, were no threat to her.  If they ever did threaten, she would either take them over or drive them under.  That's what she had done in the past.  She would do it again.  Also, it would give her a hefty tax write off when Lamender went belly up, which it would do, but only after Gorton International had milked it for all it was worth. 

She and her associates had celebrated the victory far into the night.  As she waited for the elevator to her penthouse, she tried to think of a suitable gift to give herself as a reward.  Of course, when you have an eight figure yearly income, there's not much that you don't already have.  "Perhaps a villa in the south of France would be nice."  She mused.  She had heard that the Chateau de Mer had a bad season several years ago and was only now starting to show a modest profit.  It wouldn't take much to throw a small potatoes operation like the Chateau over the edge.  She always did want to own a French winery.  She licked her lips in anticipation.  She would talk to her staff in the morning. 

She had very little formal education beyond high school.  She had parlayed her well built figure and natural charm into a series of well placed promotions, from the secretarial pool of a stock brokerage firm to the executive secretary of the president.  From there, she slept / blackmailed her way to a position on the board and eventually to ownership of the company.  Using the resources available, both legal and not-so-legal, it wasn't long until Gorton International was a mega company with holdings in everything from Arctic boots to Zippers.  Not bad for little Ellie May Germaine from Coal Hollow, West Virginia.

She did not hear the man as he slipped up behind her.  She almost did not feel the sting of the hypodermic needle as he shot its contents into her.   She did feel the dizziness, the mild nausea and the loss of sensation as she blacked out.

*********

Nick Knight stared at the photos for the hundredth time.  He obviously could not get out to look at houses in the daytime, so Toni had taken pictures of every room from every angle.  While their apartment was roomy, it was not big enough for them, and for two rapidly growing toddlers.  As much as he hated to agree with LaCroix, they really did need a house.  One with at least three bedrooms and an ample back yard for the twins to play in.  While they had full use of all the recreational facilities at the complex, there just were not that many things suitable for young children.

Nattie had recovered from her heart problems quickly and completely after her surgery.  By the time they celebrated their first birthday, she had caught up with her brother in both size and temperament. While he was still the more obstinate and moody of the two, she had quickly shed her shy, docile image.  They were both lively, outgoing, precocious twenty-month-olds and into everything at once.  It seemed that what one thought up, the other one did.  It was all that he and Toni could do to keep up with them.

They were growing by leaps and bounds.  Mentally and emotionally as well as physically.  Joey took his first steps at nine months.  Nattie, because of her physical problems, did not walk until she was almost eleven months.  Of course, now everything was done at a fast run.  At a year, their vocabularies consisted of over two hundred words.  They had almost potty trained themselves by sixteen months.  Joey already knew the alphabet at eighteen months, although not necessarily in order, and they had begun to string rudimentary sentences together.  By now, they were carrying on more or less intelligent conversation and Nattie could read some simple two and three letter words.

Although there were no formal tests for children this young, Tom Nichols thought their IQ's were probably in the genius range.  Natalie Lambert proudly agreed.  According to her, the twins were on a level with four to five year olds.  The twins, incidentally could see her, and called her Auntie Nat.  Much to her delight.

*********

"So, you're really going through with it, Nick.  Buying into the Great American Dream.  Two kids, a dog and a house with a white picket fence."  His partner, Mike Taylor said.  "Next thing you know, you'll be tuning in to an Easy Listening station, and then you'll trade the Caddy for a station wagon or a mini van."

"Not likely."  Nick answered.  "While I do like soft music, the Caddy stays. I've had it far longer than you think.  The jury is still out on the dog, though.  With the twins growing so fast, the apartment is getting a bit small."  He put the pictures back in the envelope.  "I don't think this is the right house for us, though.   The rooms are too small and there's no tree in the back yard."

"Tree?"

"There has to be a tree.  Where else are you going to hang the swings?"

"While you two are waxing nostalgic over Americana, how about getting over to the corner of North Madison and Middlebury."   Captain Davies laid a crime report on the desk between them.  "A woman was found tied to a lamppost and burned to a cinder.  And, get this.  She was dressed in a witch's costume."

**********

Nick and Mike threaded their way through the crowd that had gathered at the corner and overflowed into the street.  After showing their badges, they were admitted to the area around the light pole.  It was a good thing that the both streets dead ended a few feet beyond the intersection.  If there had been heavy traffic, it could have had serious repercussions.  As usual, there was a throng of reporters just beyond the barriers.  One, however, had slipped through, and was almost on top of the body, his camera flashing in rapid order.  Nick put his hand on the shoulder.  "Edgar Rathman, I presume." He said.

Rathman spun around suddenly, and the next flash went directly into Nick's face.  Nick screamed in pain as the bright light seared into his sensitive retinas.  He turned away quickly as he felt his fangs involuntarily descend.  He blinked furiously, but there was nothing but darkness and pain.  He was blind!  He knew his eyes had to be yellow, or even red.  Still screaming, he quickly threw his hands to cover his face.

"I'm sorry."  Rathman said almost timidly.  "I didn't mean to hurt him.  He scared me.  I'm just doing my job.  Freedom of The Press, you know."  He said to Mike, holding his press pass up to him.  "National Peeper.  Can't you just see the headlines now?   'Killer Loose In Los Angeles'."

Mike took the card and examined it.  "I know all about you and your kind."  Mike said brusquely, handing the card back to Rathman.  "Got this out of one of those do it yourself machines most likely.  I'll bet you're even a member of the Brenda Starr Fan Club, too.  You had better get out of here before my partner recovers, or the headline could read 'Los Angeles Detective Team Kills Peeper Reporter'."

"I get the message."  Rathman said, backing toward the police tape.  "If Sergeant Knight needs any medical treatment, have him bill it to the Peeper.  We have excellent medical coverage."

"Oh, I'm sure you do.  Now, if you don't want to have to use it for yourself, I suggest you get out of here.  Fast!"  Mike said, partially restraining Nick.  "Or I'll let him go." 

The pain was starting to subside, and was being rapidly replaced with anger.  Nick fought hard to keep the vampire in check. "In the glove compartment.  Sunglasses."  Nick said, his voice ragged.  His fangs had receded.  He was beginning to make out fuzzy outlines, but even the subdued light was extremely painful.  He kept his eyes tightly closed.  He was positive that his eyes were still yellowed.

"You all right?"  Mike said handing him the glasses.  "You want me to take you to the Emergency Room or something?"

"That won't be necessary.'  Nick saaid, donning the glasses. "It was just a shock from the flashbulb.  Everything's fine now.  My eyes are still a little sensitive, that's all."  It was a half truth.  With the glasses on, he could almost see normally for a mortal, but nowhere as well as a vampire should.

Quincy McCoy, the Coroner, came over to them.  "Victim is female.  Caucasian.  Superb shape.  Almost textbook.  Offhand I'd say she probably worked out at least three times a week to get it.  She looks to be about thirty years old, but it's hard to tell.  There are surface indications of extensive cosmetic surgery on the entire body.  Probably face lifts, liposuction, breast and gluteus augmentations - that's a fanny enlargement for you who are among the uninformed."  He looked directly at Mike.  "The whole nine yards."

Mike did not respond.  Either he was ignoring the Coroner or the remark went over his head.

"Preliminary indications are that death was by immolation." McCoy continued.  "Third degree burns over seventy five percent of her body.  Considerable charring on the lower extremities.  Almost like she was burned at the stake.  Also, there is no sign she put up a struggle.  My best guess is she was drugged before all this took place.  I'll know more after the autopsy.  She wasn't killed here, though.  Neither the post or any of the surrounding area is burned.  The cape and witch hat were put on after the body was burned. 

We found a purse and this note in the grass on the other side of the sidewalk from the body.  According to the driver's license, she was Ellen Gorton.  CEO of Gorton International.  Forensics is checking it out now." 

He handed Nick the note, already encased in a plastic evidence bag.  It read 'This is my first.' in block letters. 

"You want me to take a look at your eyes?"  McCoy asked.  "Even though my patients are usually dead, I can still treat the living, you know."

Nick shook his head no.  For a fraction of a second, he heard Natalie saying those same words.

"Oh no.  Don't tell me we have the makings of a serial killer here."  Mike said, holding up the note and shaking his head slowly.  "Anything else?  Who discovered the body?"  He asked one of the police officers. 

The officer pointed to a young girl standing against one of the cruisers.  "Her name's Janet Lercain."

"I was walking my dog."  Janet Lercain said, pointing to a large German Shepherd mix dog sitting by her side.  "I don't usually keep him on a leash.  He's obedience trained and this area is usually deserted because of the dead ends.  All of a sudden he took off, barking like mad.  If Gordy barks, there's a reason.  When I caught up with him, he was sniffing ... that."  She pointed to the corpse that the technicians were zipping into a body bag.  "I freaked out for a few moments and then ran to the store down the block and called the police."

By the time they returned to the station, Nick's eyes were nearly normal.  Captain Davies, however, still sent him home early.

**********

La Ville D'un Cheval, France 1305

Nicholas de Brabant paced the room angrily.  "How dare they go off and leave me here alone like that!"  He fumed.  "I'm hungry and they're in town having a good time!"

Earlier, LaCroix and Janette had invited him to join them in a trip to a street festival.  Nicholas wanted to feed, but they both said that there would be plenty of time for that when they returned.  Nicholas, of course, did not want to go.  He wanted to hunt.  Now!

"Nicholas!"  LaCroix admonished.  "You are still practically a fledgling.  You have to learn patience.  You are still much too young to go on a hunt on your own.  You have only two choices.  Either come with us, or wait here until we return."

They left without him and had been gone for nearly three hours.  Soon, all the good ones will be in their houses for the night and all that would be left would be the dregs of society.  That was not acceptable to Nicholas de Brabant.

"Fledgling!  Too young!  How dare they!"  He sneered.  "I'm almost a hundred years old!  They treat me like a child!  I'll show them!"  He picked up his cloak and slammed the door after himself. 

**********

Los Angeles

LaCroix was waiting for Nick when he arrived home.  "I understand you are finally getting around to look for a house.  I happen to know an architect who's one of ... the Community, and I persuaded him to make a few preliminary sketches."  He unrolled a series of detailed drawings and spread them on the dining room table.  "I also took the liberty of putting an option on eleven acres near the Maison."

"LaCroix!"  Toni exclaimed as she studied the drawings.  "The palace at Versailles isn't as huge as this!  We don't need all that room."

"Oh, but you do!  See here!  There's a suite for each of you, and of course, a suite for each of the twins."  He pointed to various elements in the drawings.  "Naturally, you will have to have quarters for the servants as well as a guest wing.  It should have several apartments there.  Then there's the ballroom and the family room and the playroom and the ... "

"NO!"  Toni said, folding up the papers and handing them to LaCroix. 

"But I haven't even gotten to the stables or the pool.  Not to mention the tennis courts."   He had the same wounded puppy look that Nick often displayed.  Toni wondered who got it from whom.

"I appreciate your interest, but we only want something moderate and comfortable.  Besides, How would I explain that ... "   Nick said indicating the drawings.  " ... on a policeman's salary?"

"I still cannot comprehend why you must work at a mortal occupation in the first place.  In case you have forgotten, you are independently wealthy many times over.  And why a policeman, of all things?  I never did understand that."

"Penance for my sins.  I feel I am giving something back to society for all the centuries I did nothing but take.  As far as being a police officer goes, it's no different from being a radio show host."

"That is only a hobby as far as I am concerned."  LaCroix answered rather haughtily.  "At least people aren't shooting at me." 

"I seem to recall Nick said something about some lunatic taking a couple of shots at you several years ago in Toronto.  Got you three times in the chest, I believe."  Toni retorted.

"Touche, my dear."  LaCroix said, bowing his head to her.

**********

The secretary showed Nick and Mike into the office of Hamilton Sharler, the Senior Vice President of Gorton International.

"I heard about Ellen's death."  Sharler said, shaking hands with each of them.  "I can't say I'm terribly broken up over it.  The papers said she was about thirty.  She was forty five if she was a day.  Had more silicone in her than most computers."  He laughed sarcastically.  "They found her in a witch's costume, didn't they?  It fits her.  She had the instincts of a shark and the personality to go with it.  The only way she could keep qualified help was because she paid us obscenely huge salaries.  The more ruthless we were, the bigger the bonus she doled out.  Of course, for her so called generosity she demanded complete and total loyalty.  Even the thought of anything else meant instant destruction.   In some cases, literally.  She really was a witch."

"Who would want to see her dead?"

"Do you want the top ten?  The complete list?  Alphabetically?  Chronologically?  Or by priority?  In other words, there are any number of people, myself included, who would have gladly and happily did the bitch in."

Others that Nick talked with only confirmed what  Hamilton Sharler had said.  She was a totally dominant, ruthless businesswoman who used people and companies and then discarded them without a second thought.  Although her private life was not openly discussed at the office, it was inferred that it was the same there, too.

"Apparently our Ms. Gorton wasn't a candidate for Humanitarian of the Year."  Mike said as they drove back to the precinct.  "Everyone I talked to gave pretty much the same story as you got from your people.  Witch.  Shark.  Snake.  Vulture.  Piranha.  And those are the ones I can repeat in public.  No one seemed to be too affected by her death.  Some even marveled that it didn't happen long before this.  Even Jeff Berman, her ... quote ... personal assistant ... unquote ... was rather relieved that she was dead.  I just wonder how personal he was."

**********

He picked up the evening paper.  A story on page one of the local section caught his eye.  Arlo Salankes was the owner of several apartment building complexes in East Los Angeles.  He had been fined one hundred fifty thousand dollars for failure to comply with the minimal sanitation and safety codes in his buildings.  According to the article, this was his seventh conviction on these same charges.  He paid the huge fines each time, even did community service in lieu of jail, but made only token corrections to the conditions.  Just enough to keep them within the codes.  Above the article was a picture of one of his units.  Peeling paper, holes in the walls, bare electrical lines, and signs of vermin infestation were clearly visible.

 "Yes.  He said to himself.  "Arlo Salankes would be an ideal candidate."

**********

Nick hugged Toni a little harder than he usually would when he arrived home from work and his kiss was longer and more tender than previous kisses.

"What do I owe this?  Whatever it is, we must do it again."  Toni whispered as he held her close.

"I just finished doing the preliminary interviews on the Ellen Gorton case.  It made me realize what a loving, caring family I have."  They stood embracing for several minutes, just enjoying each other's nearness.

Toni took his hand and led him to the dining room table.  "I think I've found the perfect house for us.  Just came on the market today."  She indicated the pictures spread out on the table top.  "It's only a half mile from here.  It's an older house, but it's been completely refurbished inside and out.  Cathedral ceiling in the living room.  Four huge bedrooms.  Two full baths, and two half baths.  Wood and / or gas combo fireplaces in both the living room and the den.  Full basement, and in one half of the basement there aren't even any windows.   It's on three quarters of an acre of fenced in grounds.  Best part, it's in an excellent school district and there's a grade school in easy walking distance.  And it's within our price range.  There's even a tree in the back yard." 

"Sounds like what we've been looking for."

"I thought so too.  I talked the real estate agent into letting me have the keys.  We can go over and take a look first thing this evening."

**********

"Well?"  Toni said as she closed and locked the door.  "Is it perfect or what?"

"You should think about a career as a real estate agent.  The way you described this house, you could have sold it to the most hostile cynic."

"Did someone mention my name?"  Lucien LaCroix said as he stepped from behind Nick.  Toni jumped slightly, as did Nick.  Neither of them had heard him approach.  Of course, unless LaCroix wanted to be heard, no one would hear him.

"No.  But if the shoe fits ... "  Toni said. 

"Since this seems to be open house night, would you mind giving me the tour.  After all, if my grandchildren are to be living here, I must be certain that it is ... adequate."

"It's a lot more than adequate.  It's our dream house. "  Toni said as she unlocked the door.  "Let me show you some of the features ..."

**********

Nick pulled into the gas station lot to answer his cell phone. 

"I know it's your day off."  Jerry Davies said.  "But there was another weirdo murder.  I think it ties in with the Gorton case.  Body was found at the railroad yards, tied to the tracks.  This time the victim was dressed as the villain in one of those grade B silent movies.  You know, the one who always tries to go after the heroine?"

"You mean like Simon Legree?" 

"That's the one.  I've already called Taylor.  He's on his way."

"I'll be there as soon as I drop Toni off at the complex."

**********

"Victim's name was Arlo Salankes."  The uniformed officer said as he led Mike and Nick to the roped off area.  "According to the railroad crew who found him, he was tied to the tracks just beyond that switch."

The victim had been removed from the tracks and was being prepared for transport to the morgue. 

Edgar Rathman, as usual, had gotten through the police lines and was busily photographing everything the technicians were doing with the corpse. 

Nick placed his hands across the back of the ferret faced reporter's neck and clasped him tightly.  "Ratface on the spot as usual."  He said as he pressed his fingers in such a way that Rathman could not move without pain.

"Just doing my duty."  Rathman said, still bowed over the body.  "Sorry about the last time, Sergeant Knight.  Hope there wasn't any lasting damage.   Did I tell you my editor loved the pictures?  The story made page two.  The predictions for the year 2000 were on number one.  I mentioned you very prominently.  Even got your name right."

He released the pressure and Rathman stood up.  As he did, he made eye contact with Nick.

"There's no story here."  Nick said slowly and quietly, concentrating on Rathman's heartbeat.  He took the camera from him and removed the film cartridge before handing it back.  "Go home."

"No story ... Go home."  Rathman said numbly as he headed for his car.

"You gotta teach me that little trick sometime."  Mike said.  He indicated three men dressed in workman's overalls and wearing railroad caps.  "These are the guys who found the body."  

"My name is George Malinskie."  One of the men said extending his hand.  "I'm the straw boss of the yards.  That's Toby Hammerfile and Bart Meyers.  They're on my crew.  The switch jammed and we came out here to reset it manually.  It's a good thing we did, too.  You see, there was a hundred twenty car freight due to come through here seventeen minutes after we found the body.  If the switch had been working properly, the train would have shredded the body into tiny little pieces.  There was still enough time left to reroute the train through the yards by a different set of switches without disturbing the crime scene.  I know how picky you people can be about that."

"You've been through this before?"  Nick said.

"Not exactly."  Malinskie replied.  "Every so often we do get a dead hobo sometimes.  Every once in a while, they manage to get themselves locked inside an empty car and starve or freeze to death.  We have to call the cops on that.   They don't end up tied to the tracks, though."  He said, evidently anticipating Nick's next question as to whether this could be one of those cases.

Quincy McCoy handed Mike a clipboard.  "Preliminary exam."  He said.  "Male.  Caucasian.  Fifty to fifty five.  Moderately overweight.  As best as I can see, he was flogged and strangled.  Heavy bruise marks on his throat, and his neck muscles seem to be torn.  Like his head had been shaken violently.  There are bloody welts on his back most likely from a bullwhip.  There doesn't seem to be any signs of a struggle, though.  It's probable that he was unconscious when it happened, just like in the Gorton case, and he wasn't killed here, here either.  Forensics also found this ..."  He handed them another plastic baggie with another note in it.  " ... under the body."

It said simply 'This is number two'.

"Why?"  Mike said, scratching his head.

"In Salankes' case, why not."  A voice from behind them replied.

"Tino?"  Mike said, whirling around to face the black man.  "What do you know about this case?"

"Me, Ossifer Taylor, suh?  Ah don't know no mo' than any other bro'.  I do know nobody goin' to shed too many tears that Salankes been wasted.  Word on the streets is the man what done this should get hisself a medal.  Well, I gotta be goin' on.  Gotta get to the shelter befo' all de best beds is gone.  Don't wanna have to sleep unner the freeway."  Tino said in his best thickest southern drawl.  Nick waited until Mike was occupied with the uniformed police officers and went to catch up with Tino.

"Okay.  You played your little ... how can I phrase it ... dumb nigger game with Mike.  Now I want to know just what you really know."

"Actually, not much more than I told your partner.  I get a kick out of ragging him, though.  Only thing is, he's so gullible it's almost no fun.  As far as who would want Salankes fragged, look around.  If you see a rat filled, cockroach infested piece of substandard shit, chances are Salankes owned it and was renting it to ex cons, welfares, and illegals for more than the national debt.  I lived in better places when I was a slave.  His lease terms was simple.  Cash.  You late.  You out on the streets."

"Real outstanding citizen."  Was Nick's comment.

"I went up to his offices in Burbank to see him about a week ago.  I was going to whammy him into fixing up some of these places.  Wouldn't you know, he was a resister.  Not only didn't he take the whammy, he had some of his heavies throw me out on the street.  Literally.  I couldn't do nothin' cause there was too many regulars around.  The Enforcers wouldn't take too kindly to me showing my true self in the middle of Alameda Boulevard, now, would they.  I was going to try again with a little more of my persuasive powers, but somebody beat me to it."

"You weren't going to try anything deadly, were you?"

"You mean like fangin' him?  'Course not.  Just scare the shit out of him."

"Thanks for the help."  Nick took out his wallet and removed several bills.  "You don't have to go to the shelter, or sleep in the open. If you need some money, this should be more than enough to get you a room at a decent motel.  Think of it as a loan."

Tino laughed.  "Put your money away, Stepbro.  I've been doing some work for Clarissa La Pont.  You know odd jobs and things like that.  She lets me stay in one of the basement rooms at the After Sunset.  I just talk that jive for Taylor's sake.  He sorta expects me to." 

"Nick!  Where are you?"  Mike's voice rang out.

"Speaking of Detective Taylor."  Nick said.  "I think it would be a wise idea if I were in a different part of the yards when he found me.  It would be a little difficult to explain what I was doing talking to you without him being here.  After all, you're supposed to be his snitch.  See you around."  With a rush of air, Nick was gone. 

When Mike caught up with him a few seconds later, Nick was several hundred feet from the black vampire.

**********

La Ville D'un Cheval

He watched her from the shadows of the woods.  The moonlight on her blonde hair made it look like spun gold.  She stood at the well, filling the large bucket from the smaller one that she raised and lowered into the water.  Absently, she hummed a melody that Nicholas recognized as one his mother used to sing as she did her chores.  A shaft of pain struck his heart as he hummed along to himself.  The maiden was truly enchanting.  She was perfect.  She would make a delightful meal.  And he had tracked her by himself.

She looked up as the stranger came into the farmyard.

"Fair maid, I have traveled a long way and I am quite thirsty.  May I trouble you for a drink?"  Nicholas said.

The maid poured some water into a cup sitting in the edge of the well and offered it to him.

"I am extremely hungry.  Would you also be so kind as to make me a snack?"  He said, putting the cup to his lips.

The farm girl disappeared into the house and returned a few minutes later with a plate of meat, cheese and bread which she gave to Nicholas.  While she was gone, Nicholas had  emptied the cup onto the grass.  She sat on the rim of the well and indicated that Nicholas should join her there.

"Are you not afraid to be alone with a stranger in the night?"  He asked.

"Of course not, Milord.  You have an honest face and you are obviously a gentleman.  Is there a reason I should fear you?"

Nicholas smiled.  < If only she knew. >  He thought. 

There followed some pleasant conversation in which Nicholas learned that she was the daughter of the farm owner and that her father and three older brothers had gone into town for the

Every so often, he would move closer to her until he was sitting next to her.  He put his arm around her waist and drew her close,  "This is going to be too easy."  He said to himself as he repeatedly kissed her neck.  His fangs extended and his eyes began to fleck.

She screamed and ran into the woods.

**********

Los Angeles

"Here's the report on Arlo Salankes from the interview team."  Mike said, laying the folder on Nick's desk.  "It doesn't tell us anything we don't already know.  He gives the word scumbag a whole new meaning.  Owns a house in Beverly Glen while his tenants live in squalor. 

According to his ex-wives, he was a real penny pincher.  Never bought them one thing more than they absolutely needed.  Even their divorce settlements were extremely lopsided in his favor.  All one wife got out of it was two beanbag chairs.  And that's because they were hers to begin with. 

His neighbors describe him as a nasty, petty sort of man who had a habit of calling the police and or suing for the slightest offenses.  I checked with Hollywood precinct.  They say he has turned in a complaint list as long as your arm.  He even called them on the neighborhood church because they were singing too loud at Sunday services!  A real sweetie pie, this one."  

"Knight! Taylor!  In my office!  NOW!"  Captain Jerry Davies shouted from his doorway. Inspector Ganlon was standing by Davies's desk.  It  was obvious he was not a happy camper.

He held up a copy of the National Peeper turned to page two.  The headline read 'Serial Killer Stalks Los Angeles Monsters'   "The tabloids are having a field day with this."  Ganlon continued.  "How did Rathman get all this misinformation in the first place, you ask?  May I quote ... 'According to Detective Sergeant Nicholas B. Knight' ... The brass asses are in a positive snit."

Nick hung his head.

"Okay people, let's review the situation."  Inspector Ganlon said to Mike and Nick.  "We have two murders.  Both victims were not the most lovable kind.  One a corporate bigwig, the other a slumlord.  Neither of them were killed at the scene.  Both were dressed in Halloween costumes.  One a witch.  The other one like Simon Legree.  No fingerprints.  No unaccountable DNA.  The only real evidence is two notes.  According to Forensics, they were both written by the same person, but nobody has a clue as to who that is.  Whoever it is, is a pro.  I want the killer found and I want it yesterday.  DO YOU READ ME, PEOPLE? YESTERDAY!"

"YES SIR!"  Taylor shouted, snapping to attention, his chair clattering to the floor.

"At ease, Taylor.  You're not in the military now."  Davies said. 

Red faced, Taylor picked up the chair and sat down again.

"Now."  Davies continued.  "Let's see exactly what we do have."

"Little or nothing."  Mike replied.  "The writing on the notes was in block print that any third grader could have done.  The paper and ink were mass produced products available just about anywhere.  As for the costumes, the witch was an off the rack Halloween costume.  Simon Legree was a modified magician's costume. They both can be purchased at over a hundred places in the area.   Everything else is stock stuff.  According to Forensics, the rope used to tie Salankes to the tracks - clothesline.  The gas used to burn Gorton - unleaded regular grade.  That leaves us right back where we started from.  Like you said, Inspector.  The killer knows what he is doing and he hasn't made a mistake yet.  Don't worry, though.  When he does, we'll be right there to nail him."

"Is there any relationship between the victims?  No matter how distant?" Inspector Ganlon said.  "I'll take anything to keep the bigwigs off my ass." 

"Not that we can find."  Nick said.  "As far as we can tell, they didn't even like the same deodorant.  We've checked out scenarios until we're purple. Nothing."

"Any chance they're random killings?"

"That's a possibility, but Tracy ... Ah ... I mean ...Miss Vetter ... doesn't think so."  Mike said.  "I gave her the notes to psyche.  Except that they were written by the same person, a male Caucasian, between 25 and 35, she couldn't pick up anything.  It's possible he wrote them with gloves on.  According to her, that would blur the psychic image.  And it also would explain why we weren't able to get any good fingerprints off them."

"Keep trying.  Oh, Sergeant Knight.  One more thing.  DON'T talk to the press."  Ganlon said as he picked up his coat.  "That's an order."

"But I didn't.  I ... "

It was too late for explanations.  Ganlon was gone.

**********

He closed the folders and laid them aside.  There were three possibilities for the next one.

One was the owner of an 'escort service' that was nothing more than a high priced call girl operation.  The client list contained the names of most of the leaders of the corporate world as well as political dignitaries.  Entertainment personalities were also included.  His base fee was in the four figure range.  He kept all the profits and his 'girls' were kept in virtual slavery.

 Next was a divorce lawyer noted for his win-at-all-cost tactics.  When he was done, most of his client's ex spouses were left with almost nothing but the clothes on their backs.  If they were lucky.  Of course, his clients saw little of the settlement.  Most of that was taken up in overblown legal expenses. 

The third was a well known politician in Sherman Oaks.  According to the news article clipped to the folder, he had just paid over fifty thousand dollars for a Matisse at a recent auction.  He was also over two years behind in his alimony and child support payments while his ex wife worked two jobs to sustain her and the children.

Decisions.  Decisions.  He spread the folders before him and closed his eyes.  Blindly he mixed them and picked one from the pile.

Yes.  This one will definitely be the next one.  Next question.  How should he be dressed?  Slowly he smiled as the picture formed in his mind.  Yes.  That would be most appropriate.

**********

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Knight, you've made an excellent choice."  The agent said handing Nick and Toni a folder full of papers.  "That house is one of the best we've had on the market in years.   If you both will sign here ... "  She pointed to one of the documents.  "And here ... "  Another place.  "And here ... here ... and here.  Please initial there ... and there ... and sign this.  And initial these four places marked with an 'X'.  As soon as the bank approves your loan application, the house is yours."

"And how long should that take?"  Nick asked as he handed a paper to Toni for her signature.  She signed it and placed it on a rapidly growing pile by her left arm.

"Your references are in excellent shape and according to the credit bureau, you have AA rating.  It shouldn't take more than a few days at most.  Now, if you'll just sign these, we can get the process started."  She placed several more papers in front of the two of them.

"More paperwork?  I'm getting writers cramp."   Toni grumbled.  "You could sell your soul to the devil and there wouldn't be this many forms to sign.  What is this one for anyway?"

"Actually, there is no paperwork involved in selling your soul.  That's a myth."  Nick whispered in her ear.  "All it takes is a bite on the neck.  I know.  I've been there."  He growled softly and gently nuzzled her earlobe.  She blushed.

"That is an application for mortgage insurance on Mr. Knight.  If he should die before the mortgage is paid off, the house is free and clear."

< Nick?  Die?  Not unless I stake him in the sun. >  Toni thought as she signed the documents.  She smiled broadly as she thought of Nick lying in the desert sun.  On a stack of forms.  A giant number two pencil through his heart.

**********

"Really, Nicholas!  A mortgage?"  LaCroix said as he looked at the packet of papers Toni and Nick had set on the bar of the After Sunset.  They had gone there to tell LaCroix and Clarissa about the house. "How plebeian can you get?  I know you want to be mortal about this, but I thought you had learned a little about finances over the ages.  I had assumed you would pay cash for this little hovel that you insist on living in.  But a mortgage ... ?"

"True, I could have written a check, and probably saved a bundle in the long run. However, I'm afraid I'd have a little problem explaining to the Internal Affairs people what a policeman was doing with two hundred fifty thousand dollars just laying around in his checking account.  Not to mention the IRS."

"You could always say it was a gift from a rich ancestor."  LaCroix  rolled his eyes.  "Oh, I forgot.  You and your little hobby.  You must play the game.  Oh, well, it's your money to throw down the drain as you please.  I still say you should have taken me up on my plans.  It would be so much more worthy of you and your family than that ... shanty."

"LaCroix."  Nick said.  "We have our dream house.  If you want the house at the Maison so badly, why don't you build it yourself?"

"I just might do that.  The apartment upstairs has been appearing a bit ... cramped ... lately."

**********

La Ville D'un Cheval

Janette Du Charme took LaCroix's arm as they strolled along the main plaza.  "Are you certain you do not want me to carry those packages for you?"  He asked. 

Janette had several large bags stuffed with things she had bought at the fair.  She handed him the sacks and stopped at a booth.  There were a myriad of fine silk and lace scarves, blouses, cloaks, and other apparel for sale there.  She picked out a few things and, after a bit of haggling with the booth owner, held out her hand to LaCroix.  Grumbling, he reached into his money pouch and handed her several coins.  She took them and snapped her fingers, her hand still extended.  Reluctantly, he put several more coins in her palm.

As they strolled further, Janette became aware of a performer following them.  He was a mime and he was duplicating LaCroix's actions perfectly, although in a very caricatured manner.  Janette could barely suppress a giggle.

"Something amuses you, my dear?"  LaCroix asked.

"This festival.  It is so ... amusing."  She lied.  "It is very quaint.  I am glad you brought me here."  The mime was still following them.  She noticed that a small crowd had gathered and was watching the mime intently.

LaCroix stopped.  The mime stopped.  LaCroix turned.  The mime quickly ran to position himself at LaCroix's back.  LaCroix turned back.  The mime returned to his original place.  LaCroix started to walk.  The mime paced him, step for exaggerated step.  LaCroix quickened his pace.  The mime did likewise.  LaCroix broke into a run.  The mime followed.  LaCroix stopped suddenly and turned with unnatural speed.  The mime did not.  Suddenly the mime found himself dangling several inches off the ground with LaCroix's hand around his throat.  He was snarling at the mime and his eyes were flecked with yellow.

"LACROIX!  NO!"  Janette said sharply.  "Put him down!  He has done nothing to harm you!  This is his part to play in the festival and he has given me pleasure.  Let him live!" 

"Only for you, ma cherie."  He whispered to Janette.  Slowly LaCroix lowered the mime to the ground. 

Janette tossed a few coins at him.  "For your trouble and pain, Monsieur."  She said.  He quickly picked them up and stuffed them into his pouch. Clutching his throat and choking and coughing, the mime ran into the crowd.  He paused frequently and looked over his shoulder repeatedly, fear engraved on his face, to make sure that LaCroix was not following him.

**********

Los Angeles

"So.  You got the house."  Mike Taylor said as Nick approached his desk.

"How did you know?  We only signed the papers a few hours ago."

"You forget my intricate spy network.  I know what happens even before it happens."  Mike said, furrowing his brow and swinging his head from side to side, peering through squinted eyes.  "Actually, Tracy called me.  Clarissa told her."

"If you know so much, how come you can't find our monster killer?"  Nick asked with a sarcastic grin.

"So, how much is your castle on Highway 101 going to set you back?"

"You're changing the subject.  What's the latest on the killer.  And it's on Perry Avenue, not 101."

"Okay, okay, so shoot me. 

Ever since Ganlon went on his tirade, every available officer has been overturning every available rock looking for clues.  Nothing.  Word is that this killer is becoming some sort of a hero.  You know, getting rid of the bad guys and all that.  There's even a rumor that there's a defense fund started for him to use whenever he's caught.  If he's ever caught." 

**********

"Mommy, I don't feel so good."  Joey said as he came into the living room.  

Toni stood up from the box she was taping.  "Where does it hurt, honey?"

"My tummy hurts."  He replied.  He definitely had a greenish cast to him

"Joey drink Daddy pop."  Nattie said from the doorway to the kitchen.

"Tatew tale"  Joey said, sticking out his tongue at his sister.

"Not!"  Nattie replied, sticking her tongue at her brother

"And how did you get to Daddy's ... pop?"

"He climbded up in the frigitater."  Nattie said.

"I fink I frow up."  Joey said as he doubled over.

Toni grabbed the boy and rushed him to the bathroom with only seconds to spare.  She held him over the commode as a river of red liquid gushed out of his mouth.

Nick came into the bathroom just as Joey finished.

"We are going to have to have a family talk."  Toni said as she wiped the blood off Joey's face.

Nick and Toni sat on the couch.  The twins stood in front of them.

"You must never drink Daddy's ... pop again."  Nick said firmly.  "It's not pop, it's medicine.  Daddy has to have it to stay healthy."

"It tasteded like bloodys."  Joey said, making a face.

"It ... is blood."  Nick said.  "While we're at it, we might as well tell them the truth."  He said softly to Toni.

"You a bunpire?"  Nattie asked. "Bunpires drinks bloodys."

"And how do you know about bunpires ... I mean vampires?"  Toni asked.

"Grandfavver."  Nattie said softly, hanging her head.

"Grandfather told you about vampires?"

Joey shook his head.  "Oh! No-o!  We seed it on TB ... D'ac'la."

"He let you watch Dracula?"

Nattie shook her head no.  "Grandfavver thinkded we sleepying.  We wasn't"

"Yes, I'm a vampire."  Nick admitted.

"Mommy a bunpire?"  Joey asked.

"No, Mommy is mortal."

"Grandfavver a bunpire?  He drinks bloodys too."

"Yes. Grandfather is a vampire."

"Grandma?" 

"No. Grandma is mortal, just like Mommy."

"I don't wanna be bunpire."  Joey said emphatically.  "I wanna be a ... a ... a ... asternut!"

"An I wanna be a dokker ... like Annie Nat!"

Nick took the two and hugged them closely.  "You can be whatever you want to be. One thing.   You can't tell anyone who isn't family that Daddy and Grandfather are vampires.  Other people just wouldn't understand.  Promise me you won't tell."

They both nodded solemnly.  Suddenly something caught their attention in the kitchen and they ran out of the room.

"Maybe we did the wrong thing.  Maybe we shouldn't have told them.  I'm concerned they won't remember to keep it a secret."  Nick said.  "What if the Enforcers found out"

"Don't go getting yourself all warped out about it.  We did the right thing.  I don't think we have anything to worry about."  Toni said.  "Even if they do say anything, who is going to believe a two year old when they say their father is a vampire.  After all, children this age are known for the stories they make up."

"I hope you're right."

**********

La Ville D'un Cheval

Janette stiffened.  "Nicholah ... "  She whispered as she clutched LaCroix's arm tightly.

"I know."  He said.  "It seems our wayward prodigy has decided to go out on his own."

"Aren't you going to help him?"

"All in good time, my dear.  He does not appear to be in any great danger.  For now.  I think I'll let him flounder in his own folly for a while.  Come.  They tell me the puppet show here is one of the finest in the area."

**********

Los Angeles

Tino flattened himself against the wall as the sedan sped past him.  He swore to himself about drunk drivers as he continued walking into the alley behind the row of offices.  If he was correct, Martin Childress would be leaving his office in a few minutes.  He had a bone to pick with this particular man, if that's what you wanted to call him.  Tino had several other names for him, none usable in mixed company.

Tino had kept touch with his biological family.  The current generation believed him to be a distant cousin.  His great-great-grandson had written him that his daughter had gone to Hollywood to take a job at one of the studios in hopes of being discovered.  He asked Tino to keep an eye out for her. 

He found the girl.  She was not working for one of the major studios, however.  She was with Hot Models Escort Service, a combination call girl and porno film company.  Childress was the owner, and kept his girls in line with drugs and violence. 

Tino slipped behind a dumpster to wait for Childress.  His foot touched something soft.  He looked down.  Stifling a scream, he ran to the street and to the nearest pay phone.

**********

By the time Nick and Toni arrived at the house, Larry and his crew were busy taking measurements of everything.

"You need all of this just to install shutters?"  Nick asked.

"Mope.  Be war insthawwdig ... "   Larry took the pencil out of his mouth and started again.  "We're taking measurements for the Smart House."

"Smart House?"

"It's their idea."  Larry pointed into the den.  Robyn Parker and Arnie Sherrod were engrossed in the blueprints that were spread on an impromptu table of plywood laid across two sawhorses.

"We got the idea from the security system at the complex."  Arnie said.  "Robyn added a few ideas of her own and it just sort of took off from there.  This is the result."

They listened as Robyn explained how every facet of the house, from temperature to lighting to communications would be tied into a master computer.  "I can't take all the credit."  She said.  "Smart Houses have been around for many years. We, Arnie and I, that is, have just added a few refinements of our own to the project."

"And just how am I supposed to pay for all of this?"  Nick asked.

"Rich relative?"  Robyn replied.

"Funny.  Ha Ha.  You been talking to LaCroix?"

"How about the De Brabant Foundation."   Toni suggested.  "After all ... Monsieur De Brabant ... is a relative ... and he did say that we could have anything we needed from the Foundation.  And he does owe the twins a very belated christening present."

"We'll discuss this later.  Privately!"  His cell phone rang and Nick went into the kitchen to answer it.

"Stepbro ...  Come quick!"  There was definite panic in Tino's voice.

"Tino?  Where are you?"

"Corner of Sunset and Hill.  You ain't gonna believe this, but there's a stiff in the alley here.  I think it's another one of your monster murders."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."  Nick flipped off his cell phone and returned to the living room.  "Police business."  He said to Toni.  "They're sending a car for me."  He lied for the benefit of Arnie and the others.  "You can drive the Caddy home." 

Once outside, he made sure no one could see him before taking to the air.

**********

Nick set down in the alley beside Tino.  Tino led him to the body.  Martin Childress had a werewolf mask on and a dog collar around his neck.   He was secured to a fire hydrant with a dog leash.  His shirt was covered in blood.  Nick counted six bullet holes in his chest.  There was very little blood at the scene.  Childress was probably murdered elsewhere and the body placed here. 

"Mind telling me what you were doing here?"  Nick asked Tino.

"I was going to do what somebody already did.  Namely off that piece of human trash.  I think if I had been a minute or two earlier, I coulda caught the sonofabitch.  Just as I was coming into the alley, I saw this car peeling outa here like a bat outa hell."

"You didn't by any chance get the make and model or a license plate number?  Did you?"

"It all happened too fast.  All I remember was a late model tan car, I think."

"So you did see it.  You do remember."

"Man, I don't know what I remember.  I wasn't paying that much attention to the car.  My mind was on giving Childress a reverse blood transfusion.  He's got my great-great-great-granddaughter in his stables.  When I found her, she's whacked out on speed and got a good case of herps.  From the looks of her, she's not eating right neither.  Somebody been beating on her too.  She had lotsa bruises, but they ain't in places that would show.  Nobody messes up my kin and gets away with it."  Tino pounded his fist into the dumpster for emphasis.  He left a fairly large dent in it.

"If you saw the car, then it registered in your subconscious.  Although I hate to do it, there is a way to get to that information.  It's recorded in your blood.  It could be the piece that finally cracks this case."

"If you think it will help ... "  Tino pushed the sleeve of his sweatshirt off his wrist and held his arm to Nick.    

**********

"Well!  It's about time we got lucky!"  Mike said as he reviewed the reports on Childress.  "Thanks to my man Tino, we have a solid clue to who our killer is.  It's a good thing he was looking in that alley for a place to sleep and happened to see the car leaving."

That was the story Nick and Tino had concocted while they were waiting for the others to arrive.  They conveniently 'forgot' to mention the real reason Tino was there.

"Tell me again, why did he call you instead of me?  And how did you get there without a car?"

"As he said, he was so rattled when he saw the body, he forgot your number.  I had given him my card with my cell phone number, so he called me.  Toni and I were in the area.  She dropped me off and then took the car home.  I knew I could hitch a ride back with someone."  He had filled Toni in on the story.  Just in the off chance anyone might ask her.

According to the reports from Forensics, Childress, like the others, had indeed been killed elsewhere and his body dumped in the alley.  There was another note.  This one, also like the others, was in block letters and said merely  'Number three'.  The mask was a standard Halloween mask and the dog collar and leash could be bought in any store that carried pet supplies.  Nothing to go on there. 

According to the autopsy,  Childress was shot six times at point blank range with a .32 caliber handgun, a type commonly known as a Saturday Night Special.  The only unusual feature was that the bullets were silver coated.  According to legend, silver bullets were the only things that will kill a werewolf.

The people they had interviewed at Hot Models had said that Childress hadn't been to work in two days. They also said that it was not uncommon for him to be absent for extended periods of time.  Particularly when he was 'breaking in' a new model.  They said Childress liked to be able to report on the escort's abilities from first hand experience.  He also liked to 'teach' each escort the 'rules'.  Personally.

According to his neighbors in Malibu, he was noted for loud and lewd parties.  His house had heavy security. It was surrounded by a nine foot electrified fence and there was evidence it was regularly patrolled by guards with dogs.  The guard at the front gate refused to admit the interview team without a warrant.  Considering the circumstances of his death, that it was probable he was a victim of a serial killer, the team did not feel a warrant was necessary at that time.

The phone rang.  Mike answered it.  "Well, we can scratch one beautiful clue.  That was Angie Roberson in Robbery Division.  The car was stolen.  Belongs to a sailor stationed at Long Beach.  He's been on duty with the USS Alder on patrol off the Mariannas for the past six months.  His wife reported the theft two months ago.  Long before the first murder occurred.  Back to square one."

**********

La Ville D'un Cheval

He ran after her.  She was his prize and he wasn't about to let her get away.  He knew he would be in trouble for leaving the house after they told him to stay, but if he could prove that he was capable of taking care of himself, it would go a lot easier for him.

He saw her trip and fall.  Instantly, he was at her side as she attempted to rise.  He pulled her to him.  She grabbed his arms roughly and shoved him backward with all her might.  He screamed in pain as he slammed into the trunk of a tree.  Then he saw it.  A dead branch had pierced his right arm and had impaled him to the tree.  He screamed again as he snapped the offending limb and pulled it from him.  The wound continued to bleed. 

"Damn!"  He swore. "Splinters!"  This was not a good sign. The maid was running back toward the house.  Holding his bleeding arm tightly to his side, Nicholas followed.  She entered the barn.  He followed.  She stood in a corner of one of the stalls, her eyes pleading with him.  He smiled.  He had her trapped.  Victory was only a bite away.  His fangs descended and his eyes became bright yellow.  He grabbed her with his good arm and held her against the wall.   He was so intent on his prey, he did not hear the footsteps behind him.  As he was about to sink his fangs into her neck, he felt something sharp jab him in the back.  He turned to face four very angry men wielding axes and pitchforks.  Things were definitely going from bad to worse.

**********

Los Angeles

He closed the folder.  As much as he disliked the idea, this one had to be next.  There was just too much evidence.  He could not ignore it any longer.  He sighed as he went to the footlocker and drew out the necessary items.

**********

Nick picked Toni up in his arms and twirled her around as they walked to the street. The officers of the De Brabant Foundation had quickly approved their request.  Especially after 'Monsieur de Brabant' talked to them.  Larry and the others had installed the smart house in record time.  Tomorrow, the movers would transfer their belongings from the apartment to the house. 

"Our home!"  Nick shouted as he whirled Toni around once more.   "It has a certain ring to it.  Our home!  I've never owned a home before."

"Never?  But I thought you owned a lot of properties all over the world?"

"I do, but I moved around so much, they were only places to live in.   I've never had a real home.  Until now."

"Our home.  You're right.  It does sound good."  She said, kissing him passionately in the middle of Perry Avenue.

**********

They watched as the van pulled away.  Everyone had pitched in and the house was almost set up the way Toni wanted it.  She had ridden back and forth in the van.  Tracy and Mike had stayed at the apartment, preparing each shipment of boxes and bags for pickup.  Nick and Clarissa had stationed themselves at the house to supervise the unloading.  Joey and Nattie spent the day with Teresa Giovanetti and Miriam Feldman.  Robyn, Arnie and LaCroix had come over after Robyn got off work. 

Soon after they had closed on the house, Toni had a 3D miniature of the house made, as well as exact Lilliputian replicas of each piece of furniture they owned.   Using this, they had decided on the placement of everything.  The twins used it as an impromptu doll house.  In exasperation, Toni had finally glued each piece in place.

"Okay."  Robyn said.  "Let me introduce you to your house."  She sat at the computer keyboard and typed in a few commands.  "Some people like to give the computer a name.  They think of it as almost a part of the family.  Or you can just call it Computer."

"How about Jeeves?"  Nick said.  "That's a good name for a servant."

"Jeeves?"  Toni giggled. "You've go to be kidding.  What about Sam?"

"Too familiar.  When I was in London one time, I had a valet named Jenkins."

"Jenkins.  Yes.  That's it."

Robyn typed in a few commands.  "Now for a voice.  Tenor, baritone or bass?

"I don't know.  Could we hear a sample of each one?"

"Of course."  She typed again.

"Good Evening.  My name is Jenkins."  A tenor voice came over a speaker hidden in the wall.

Everyone shook their heads no.

"Good Evening.  My name is Jenkins."  It said in a baritone voice.

It repeated the message in a low bass.

"I have one more."  Robyn said.

"Good Evening.  My name is Jenkins."  It was the silky and hypnotic voice of the Nightcrawler.

"I couldn't resist that one."

LaCroix growled in displeasure.

"Actually, I like the LaCroix voice best."  Nick said.

LaCroix growled again and fixed his glare on his son.

"I think we had better settle for the baritone."  Toni said.  

"Okay.  So be it."  Robyn said as she typed in another command.

**********

They looked around the apartment for the last time.   LaCroix stood by the door.  For all his protestations, Nick was certain he saw a look of sorrow in the old vampire's eyes.   The apartment held a special place in all their hearts, even in his.  Tomorrow, they would turn the keys over to Jeb Puckett.  He was in his second year in Automotive Engineering at UCLA.  While Clarissa had let him stay at the Maison, he really needed a place of his own.  When he heard that Nick and Toni were buying a house, he asked if he could have their place.  Of course they readily agreed.

They would continue to keep Toni's apartment as a studio and office.  Ever since she had won a technical Oscar for her work on Holy Grail and a design Emmy for Southern Seduction, she had more work than she knew what to do with.  She had, for all practical purposes, resigned from the police force, although she still worked for them on a consulting basis.  She had even hired a secretary and two more artists to assist her.  She was in the process of incorporating.

Joey and Nattie were running through the apartment, saying goodbye to everything.  Goodbye room ... Goodbye frigitator ... Goodbye sink ... Goodbye baf'tub ... Goodbye window ... etc. etc. etc.

Nick became aware that Hoiman was rubbing against his calf.  He picked up the gray and white spotted cat and sat him on the counter.  "I'm going to miss you most of all, boy."  He said, stroking Hoiman's back lovingly.  "If it wasn't for you, I probably never would have gotten the nerve, or the courage, to start seeing Toni.  Well, I don't have to tell you where that went, do I, fella?"  He nuzzled the cat's face and scratched his ears.

Hoiman jumped off the counter and padded to the pet flap.  He turned and went back, an indication he wanted Nick and Toni to accompany him.  They did.  LaCroix also followed, the twins trailing behind him.  At the door to the cellar, Hoiman disappeared for a few seconds, and when he returned, he had a freshly killed chipmunk in his jaws.  He put the chipmunk down and nosed the door open.  All the time he looked to Toni, Nick and the others to follow.  He went into one of the lockers. 

There was a sleek, long haired, smoke gray Persian female laying on a bed made out of rumpled clothing.  Nick recognized one of the shirts as one he had 'lost' several weeks earlier.  She looked like she should be gracing some mansion in Beverly Hills, not messing with an alley cat in Studio City.  Hoiman laid the chipmunk at her head.  From underneath the female, four tiny heads, with four sets of huge bright eyes, stared out at them.

Toni smiled broadly.  "Why you little devil."  She said, scratching Hoiman under the ears.  "Are these yours?"

Hoiman puffed out his chest and strutted to the female.  He nuzzled her.  She hissed and swatted him resoundingly.  He quickly backed off.  She rolled on her side, exposing the kittens.  Two of them looked like her, long haired and gray.  One was medium haired and orange striped, but the fourth one was a carbon copy of Hoiman.  Over the female's mild protests, he pushed the gray spotted kitten toward Nick.

"The others may be in doubt, but there's no question ... "  He picked up the kit and examined its underside.  " ... He is yours."  Nick put the kitten down.

Hoiman again pushed him to Nick.

"I get the impression he wants us to take this one for ours."  Toni said, picking up the kitten.  "Since he can't come with us, I think he wants us to have his son instead." 

Hoiman purred loudly and rubbed her leg.

"Thank you Hoiman."  Nick said.  "We'll be proud and happy to take one of your family into our family."

"He needs a name."  Joey said, petting the kitten.

"Yeah.  He has to be called sumf'n."  Nattie agreed.

"Since his father's name is Hoiman, how about Shoiman?"  Toni suggested.

After Nick stopped laughing, he said.  "No way."

"How about Felix, then."

The kitten sneezed loudly and gave his best kitten growl.

"Fred?"  "George?"  "Max?"   "Spot?"  None met with everyone's approval.

"You know, he looks like he has a Charlie Chaplin mustache."  Nick mused.  "Why don't we call him Charlie?"

"Yeah!  Chawwie."  The twins said in unison.  Even the kitten purred at that suggestion.

"Okay.  Charlie it is.  Welcome to our family, Charlie."   Toni said, holding him at face level.  Charlie licked her cheek furiously. 

"Who Chawwie Chap'in?"   Joey asked.

One of the gray kittens had crawled out from under the mother and was rubbing against LaCroix's leg, purring loudly.  "Look, little ... "  He picked the cat up and examined it closely.  " ... Girl, I will have you know I'm not a cat person.  Just ask your sire."  He placed her on the floor.  "In fact, I do not

approve of pets at all.  And if you even think about marking me, I shall personally feed you to a carouche."

The kitten only mewed and continued to rub on his trousers.

"I think she has already marked you as hers."  Toni said.  "I don't think they know how to spray mark at this age."

"Thank you for the lesson in cat behavior, Atonia.  It does not change my feelings about her one bit."  He picked the kitten up and held her at eye level.  Her purring could be heard across the room.  "I do not choose to take her as a pet."  He put her down. She started mewling pitifully and entwining herself around his pantlegs once more.

"I think she has chosen you, though."

LaCroix sighed heavily and lifted the kitten into his arms.  The kitten resumed her purring. Automatically, he began scratching her ears.  The purring intensified.  "I suppose I could find a use for her.  There are a lot of rats and other creatures in the area behind the After Sunset.  She could earn her keep by keeping them under control."

"Whacha gonna call her, Grandfavver?"  Nattie asked, stroking the kitten.

"Cat, of course.  That way, there's no doubt about what she is."

The mother cat growled menacingly and hissed loudly as if to say  "Not MY daughter, you don't."  She rose and walked over to LaCroix like the aristocrat she was.   She turned facing away from him.  Nose held high in the air, she delicately lifted her tail and let loose a pungent stream onto the cuff of his trousers.

"I get the message."  LaCroix said, his eyes turning gold and his fangs starting to descend.  "I shall defer naming the cat until I can think of an appropriate name."

The mother cat sat down before him and nonchalantly groomed her right paw.

**********

"Well, the Great American Real Estate Baron has finally deemed to grace our humble establishment with his presence."   Mike said as Nick took his place at the desk opposite him.  "Only kidding.  Tell me, though,  How goes things at Chez De Knight?  Get it, shady night?" 

"I got it, all right. Now what do I do with it.  Things are great.  That is, if you call hundreds of aches and pains great."  Although the minor sprains and strains had healed quickly, he was still a little stiff and sore in spots from some of the major ones.  "Toni's had me moving furniture all week.  She's changed her mind about the living room at least three times a day since the moving van left.  I won't even tell you how many times we've rearranged the bedroom."

"Accidentally or on purpose?"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have a perverted imagination?"

"As a matter of fact.  Yes.  You did.  On more than one occasion.  By the way, I thought you two had the house all planned out.  Remember the miniatures of each room?"

"As Toni keeps telling me, it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind."

"I got to thinking while you were off with the moving.  Silver bullets don't come cheap.  So I did a little nosing around to see if anyone purchased any silver in quantity lately and found quite a few buyers.  Factoring out jewelry shops and coin dealers, I came up with six names.  Since silver bullets aren't exactly an off the shelf item, I checked gun shops to see if anyone on the list bought any bullet making kits in the past few months."

" ... And?"

" And ... I think I hit pay dirt."   The phone rang and Mike picked it up.  After a few seconds, he handed it to Nick.  "It's for you."

"Knight here."

"Sergeant Nicholas Knight."  The voice said.  It sounded as though it had been electronically disguised.  "I know who you are.  I know what you are.  If you want to know who I am and what I am, come to the main shelter house in Griffith Park at ten o'clock tonight.  Tell no one.  Come alone.  If you do not, you will never know the truth."  Then there was only the sound of a dial tone.

Nick checked his watch.  Nine thirty.  Barely enough time to get to the park.  If he flew.  He told Mike he had to use the restroom.  As soon as he was out of his partner's line of sight, he headed for the rear door of the precinct.

**********

La Ville D'un Cheval

The men advanced toward him, makeshift weapons at the ready.  Nicholas had no doubt that these were the maid's father and brothers.  "  Please, Sirs."  He said haltingly as he attempted to search for an escape route.  "I meant your ... daughter ... and sister ... no harm."  His fangs and eyes had quickly returned to normal as soon as he became aware of the men.  "I was only attempting to steal a quick kiss."  Beads of sweat began forming on his forehead.  "She is a most ... comely maiden and I, Sirs, am a ... a man.  I am sure you can see ... that the situation  ... before you ... is ... a most natural one."   His voice began to inch toward the higher octaves.

The men continued to advance.  Nicholas retreated.  One of the brothers swiped at Nicholas's chest with an axe.  A bloody gash showed through his ripped shirt.  He cried out in pain and fell backwards against the rear wall.  The maid's screams of 'Demon' and 'Devil Spawn' did nothing to make Nicholas's plight any better.

**********

Los Angeles

Nick stopped outside the shelter house.  He extended his senses as far as he could in every direction.  No one.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  He could sense several heartbeats, but a sniff of the air told him they were from small animals in the area.  There was a dog, two or three cats, a rabbit and a doe nearby.  No human scents.  He looked at his watch.  Ten o'clock. Exactly. 

He suddenly became aware of a presence behind him.  It that same instant, he felt the sting of something sharp being thrust into the small of his back.  A burning sensation at the site told him something was being injected into him.  He turned, but his reactions were in very slow motion.  He was vaguely aware of a face, or maybe three of four, swimming in front of him. "N - o - o - o!"  He yelled, but it sounded like someone else's voice played at super slow speed.   He tried to maintain his balance as the ground beneath him began to pitch and yaw, but it was a losing battle.  Slowly, a warm spinning darkness descended on him.

**********

"Knight!  Taylor!  In my office.  Now!"  Davies shouted from his doorway.  Mike came running.

"Where's your so called partner?  I want the both of you in here."

"I don't know where Nick is.  He said he had to go to the bathroom over an hour ago and that's the last I saw him."

"And you don't think that's unusual?"

"Unusual?  For Nick Knight?  We're talking Mr. Peculiar himself."

"I see what you mean.   I just finished talking with Ganlon.  He's really excited about the latest direction of search.  How goes the quest for the elusive silver bullet?"

"Like I started to tell Nick before he got that phone call, I've narrowed it down to six.  One suspect looks really promising.  A Mr. B. Stoker.  I'm sure that's an alias, but the address he gave the gun shop owner is legit.  I was going to suggest that Nick and I check it out when he left to go potty."

"What did you say?"

"I said, we were going to check it out."

"No, I mean about the phone call."

"Oh, that.  He got a phone call while we were talking.  He didn't say what it was about.  He went to relieve himself right after that."

"Somehow, I don't think Nick was heeding the call of nature when he left.  It's just a hunch, but I think it might have something to do with the case.  There should be an entry on his caller ID."

**********

Joey tugged on the bottom of his mother's shirt.  Toni did not respond.  He tugged again.

"Not now, Joey."  She said, putting a plate in the dishwasher.  "I've got to get these dinner dishes washed before your grandfather and grandma arrive.

"Now!"  Joey demanded.  "Daddy hoorts."

"What do you mean, Daddy hurts?"

"I felted it."

"Me, too."  Nattie reinforced.  "Daddy hurted."

"I felt it too."  Lucien LaCroix said from behind her.  He and Robyn were standing at the kitchen door.  "Only a few moments ago.  He is in serious trouble.  I can find him using the bond between us.  You stay here.  I'll keep in touch by cell phone."  He started for the back door.

"Not on your immortal life."  Toni threw her arms around the elder vampire and held on tightly. "Mom, watch the kids.  We'll be back soon.  With Nick.  Jenkins?"

"Yes Toni."  The computerized voice replied.

"Maximum security on until I return."

"Security on."  Jenkins replied.

"It's too dangerous for you.  He's my son.  I'll take care of it."

"He's my husband.  I'm going with you.  That's the end of that."

"I know better than to try to argue with you.  Get your coat.  It's going to get cold." 

Toni returned in a few seconds.  She had her coat.  In the pocket, she had put Nick's 'persuader' from his time with the Chicago Police during the Roaring Twenties.  Better known as a billyclub, it was a six inch piece of leather covered pipe filled with lead.  The policeman carried it in his pocket or hung it from is belt.  As time went on, it evolved into the modern day nightstick. 

LaCroix headed out the door.  As soon as he had cleared the house, he took off with Toni clinging to him for dear life.  

**********

He peered through a thick fog. His head throbbed intensely and his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.  He tried to move, but his movements were slow and painful.  He became aware of ropes binding his hands and feet.  He tried to raise his head, but a tight pain across the lower part of his face told him the cotton-in-the-mouth sensation was because he was gagged.  His stomach lurched as the strong odor of garlic came to him. It was all over him.  His clothes, the ropes, even the cloth in his mouth were soaked with the juice.  He was lying in what appeared to be a large wooden box.  It reminded Nick of a nineteenth century coffin.  It too, was liberally sprinkled with garlic juice.

"Good evening, Sergeant."  A voice said.

Nick forced his eyes to focus.  The outline of a face became apparent.  Slowly, it filled in, and the rest of the man before him, too.

"I'm sorry about all of this, but I had to make sure you did not try to escape."  The man said.  There seemed to be a note of genuine concern in his voice.

"MM-WR-F"

"Please excuse me.  That must be very uncomfortable.  If you promise not to scream, I'll remove the gag.  Of course, it won't do any good to scream anyway.  This is an abandoned farm house and there's nothing else in hearing distance.  It would give me a headache, though."  He removed the gag.

"Who are you?"  Nick croaked.  His throat was raw from the garlic soaked gag.

"Oh, my.  I am forgetting my manners, aren't I?"  The man made a low sweeping bow before him.  "I am Carl Van Helsing.  At your service."  He was about 25 to 30 years old.  Medium build.  Dark blond hair framed a boyish face.  Wire framed glasses covered blue gray eyes.

"Why?"  His voice was returning and his head had cleared.

"Because that was the name I was born with."

"No.  Why this?"  With great effort, he raised his hands a few inches off his chest.

"Oh, that.  I guess you do deserve an explanation.  After all, it wouldn't do for me to kill you without a decent reason."

"You killed the others, Ellen Gorton, Arlo Salankes, and Martin Childress, didn't you?"

"I'm afraid I did.  I didn't want to, mind you.  I had to.  After all, each one of them was a monster in his or her own way.  I had to rid the world of them. It's my duty.  It's in my blood."

"What do you mean, in your blood?"

"Why, Van Helsing blood, of course.  My great-grandfather was Kurt Van Helsing, the vampire hunter.  You must remember him, after all you were probably there, Bram Stoker based his Dracula tale on my ancestor's accomplishments.  He also gave a portion of the proceeds from that book and others, to my great-great-grandfather.  This, along with the various rewards and tributes from killing vampires, made Kurt Van Helsing a very wealthy man.  Before he died, he established a trust fund for his descendants.  The only restriction was that they had to continue the family business of hunting monsters. 

My great-grandfather moved the family to America in the early years of the twentieth century.  He fought in World War I and killed many of the dreaded 'Huns'. Even though they were his distant countrymen, that qualified him for the trust.  My grandfather fought in World War II in the Pacific, and after that, joined the Justice Department, fighting Communists.  He got his share, too. 

Unfortunately, my father fought his monsters in a bottle.

I don't want to fight monsters, though.  I really want to be an Archaeologist.  I have a Graduate degree from the University of Illinois.  One of my teachers studied under Professor Gerard.  Gerard had some interesting theories about the ancient Myan ruins at Altun Kinel.  Unfortunately, before he could verify his theories, he was investigated by the House Un-American Activities Committee and branded a Communist.  Of course, he was blackballed and dismissed from the University in disgrace.  He disappeared shortly after that.  Much to my disgust, my grandfather was the chief investigating officer.

I would like to go to Altun Kinel and verify Gerard's work.  I don't know if he is alive or dead, but a genius like Gerard deserves better treatment than what he got.   Perhaps I could restore his good name and, in some small way, make up for the damage my grandfather caused.  Unfortunately, mounting an expedition like that takes money.  Money I don't have.  I thought if I could kill a few monsters, I could get the trust and use that to finance a dig.

"Why kill me?"

"Because you are a genuine blood sucking, flying, fang baring, golden eyed vampire." 

"You're sure of that?"

"My suspicions were aroused with the first victim when that reporter flashed his camera in your eyes and they turned golden.  I also saw your fangs.  At the second one, you moved with superhuman speed.  At the third scene, I saw you fly and watched as you drank the witness's blood.  I did some research, and found several inconsistencies in your records that were indicative of a vampire.

I also found out that you are a good cop as well, and are really well liked among your mortal companions.  I discovered that you rarely use your powers, and then only for good.   I think if circumstances were different, I could really like you and we might even become friends." 

"If you think I'm one of the good guys, why do you want to kill me?"

"Unfortunately, you are a evil creature of the night, and I must destroy you.  Nothing personal, mind you.  It's just one of those things that has to be done.  It's in the blood, you understand.  Yours and mine."  He went to the closet and took out a opera cape and a suit of tails.  He also had a large finely pointed wooden stake in his hand.  "I was going to use these on my next victim.  It would have been a divorce lawyer.  He is a bloodsucker, too.  But then, I found out you were the real thing. 

Don't worry.  It won't hurt.  I'll give you another injection of quinine and curare.  That's what I used in the park. That's another thing I must apologize for.  I knew you would be able to find me by my scent, so I sprayed myself with a product called Doe Scent.  The man at the gun shop told me all the hunters use it.  It was the only way I could get close enough to you without you knowing I was there.

I would never hurt anyone.  All the others were unconscious when I ... dispatched them."

"You killed them here?"

"Of course.  It has all the proper conditions.  Remote area.  No snoopy neighbors.  Plenty of space to work in.

I shall also see that your wife and adopted children are well taken care of.  Unlike the others, you do have family who will miss you.  I'm sorry, Sergeant." 

**********

La Ville D'un Cheval

The youngest brother thrust his wooden pitchfork against Nicholas's chest.  Nicholas winced and closed his eyes waiting for the final blow. 

Which never came.

The brother cried out in shock as he went flying across the barn.  The others turned to face their attacker.  Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief.  It was his master, Lucien LaCroix.  Janette stood blocking the barn door.  Although he favored his weakened right arm, Nicholas joined in the action.  Severely outclassed, the four men were quickly laying in a heap against the far wall of the barn.

The maid still huddled against the back of the stall where Nicholas had left her.  Fangs bared, Nicholas advanced toward her.  Suddenly he found himself flying through the air as LaCroix grabbed him by the neck and flung him against one of the support beams.  As Nicholas watched, LaCroix's fangs dropped and he sank them unceremoniously into the maid's neck.

"She was my kill!"  Nicholas cried out angrily, pounding with all his might on LaCroix's back.

LaCroix calmly finished draining the maid and turned toward him.  His eyes were still red and fangs still bared.  He cuffed Nicholas soundly across the face.  A rivulet of blood trickled down Nicholas's chin from the force of the blow.

Properly chastised, Nicholas could only stare in fear as LaCroix and Janette drank their fill from the others.

LaCroix grabbed his wayward son by the neck and pushed him roughly toward the door.  "No dinner for you tonight."  He growled.  "Let this be a lesson for you.  The next time I tell you something, I trust you will listen and obey."

**********

Los Angeles

Mike and Captain Davies sped to the address. 

Toni had called them on LaCroix's cell phone and told them that Nick was in trouble.  As soon as LaCroix had pinpointed Nick's location, she had called them with that information, too.  It was in the same area that the call to Nick's phone had been made. 

When they asked how she knew where he was being held, her reply was simple. "Do you want explanations, or do you want to rescue Nick?"  

They knew better than to press the issue further.  They simply got in Mike's car and drove.

**********

"But they aren't adopted.  They're my natural children."  Nick said.

"That's impossible.  Vampires can't father children.  Everyone knows they are sterile."

"And you're positive I'm a vampire."

"You have to be.  It's the only thing that makes any sense."  He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and took a hypodermic syringe and held it up.  He squirted a small bit of liquid out.  "That's so there are no air bubbles."  He put the needle against Nick's arm.  "I wouldn't want you to get any embolisms"

Nick took a deep breath and waited for the inevitable.

Which never came.

There was a sickening, smacking sound and Van Helsing fell to the floor.

Toni stood behind him, patting the billyclub repeatedly into the palm of her hand.  "Amazing what this little thing can do."  She said.  She felt for a pulse on Van Helsing.  It was strong.  "He'll have Excedrin headache number 1000, but he'll live."  She said matter of factly.

"Not for long."  LaCroix growled.  His his eyes yellowed and his fangs descended.  He picked up the unconscious man by the front of his clothes and held him in the air.  "This would-be hunter will pay the price for choosing the wrong prey."

"NO!"  Toni shouted. 

"He KNOWS!"  LaCroix shouted back.  "He has to be destroyed before he becomes a threat to all of us."

"Can't you see?  He's no threat.  He needs to be pitied, not destroyed.  He's quite insane.  No one will believe him.  They'll chalk it up to the ravings of a deranged mind."

"Perhaps you are right."  LaCroix said.  His fangs retracted.  He lowered Van Helsing to the floor.  "It's a moot point anyway.  If I am correct, Nicholas's partner and his Captain are about to enter the premises."

**********

"So, tell me.  What is going to happen to this Van Helsing guy,"  Robyn said as she and Toni prepared a tray of snacks for themselves.  LaCroix and Nick were at the refrigerator, preparing their own 'snack'.

"According to the Forensic psychiatrist, Van Helsling is most likely suffering from severe delusions."  Nick explained.  "He sincerely doubts that Van Helsing knows what is real and what is not.  Especially after he told them his theories about monsters and why he's hunting them.  The psychiatrist is going to recommend that Van Helsing be committed to a high security facility for the criminally insane."

"Tell me something, Nick."  Toni asked.  "If Van Helsing is real, does that mean Dracula was real also?"

"There was a Dracula."  He said, coming to her side and putting his arms around her waist.  "He was a fifteenth century Romanian ruler named Vlad Tepes or Vlad Dracul.  He was also known as Vlad the Impaler.  He was noted for his ... "

"I know the history lesson.  I want to know if there was an actual Count Dracula and if he was one of your kind."

"You mean was he a vampire?   I don't know.  I never met the man.  Maybe you should ask LaCroix."

"Ask me what?"   

Toni jumped at hearing LaCroix's voice so near to her.  Her hand jerked and the knife she was using to slice the sandwiches accidentally sliced into Nick's hand.  He brought it to his mouth and began to lick the blood from the wound.

"Oh no you don't!"  Toni smiled, taking his hand in hers.   "You've tasted my blood enough times.  Turnabout is fair play."  She put his hand to her mouth and sucked a few drops from the rapidly healing cut.

"Well, what does it taste like?"  He asked.

"Blood.  Salty and slightly metallic.  What else is there?"

"Mortals!  Such an appalling lack of imagination!"  LaCroix exclaimed.  "My dear!"  He explained.  "Each person has a distinctive flavor.  It is recorded in their blood along with their entire life history.  Don't you remember, I told you this when I tasted your blood before."

"He tasted you?"  Robyn said, her eyes wide.

Toni nodded.  "Several years ago.  That's when he told me that Nick loved me as much as I loved him.  By the way, you never did tell me what I taste like."

"I defer to Nicholas on that one."  LaCroix said, gesturing in Nick's direction. 

"How about Nick?  What does he taste like?"

"I haven't really tasted him since the Crimean.  At that time, he tasted of venison and musk.  Now, I fear he tastes more like cow."

"I believe you had a similar discussion about that subject with Clarisse not too long ago."  Nick said with a twinkle in his eye.  "As I recall, it cost you one thousand dollars."

"And I still don't know what you taste like.  All she said was that it wasn't cow.  I have no firsthand proof of that.  Only her word."

"And you forked over a grand just on her say so?"   Robyn asked.

"I have no reason to doubt her.  Clarisse cannot lie to me any more than Nicholas can."

"Would you like to find out firsthand what I taste like?  Of course, it will cost you another thousand.  For the children's college fund."  He bared his wrist to LaCroix.

"If I am going to pay to taste you, I get to pick the site."  LaCroix unbuttoned Nick's shirt collar and tilted his head to bare his neck.  Just as he was about to sink his fangs, he felt his head being jerked back.  Toni was holding his head, her one hand firmly against his forehead.  The edge of her other hand

was tightly pressed against his adam's apple.  She had him in such a position that he could do little without her crushing his windpipe.

"Sorry about that."  She said.  "I happen to know that the neck is an erotic zone.  If you want it there, you'll have to pay a premium.  Shall we say five thousand?"

"You drive a hard bargain."  He gasped.  Between his distended fangs and Toni's grip, he could barely speak.  "Will you take a check?  I'm not in the habit of carrying that much cash."

Toni looked at Nick.  He smiled and nodded.   Toni released LaCroix.

"Since what we are going to do is a relatively intimate experience."  LaCroix said to Nick.  "Why don't we go into the living room where we can have a bit of privacy?"  He took Nick's hand and led him toward the couch.

From behind the living room doorframe, Toni and Robyn stared in wonder and awe at the spectacle before them. 

Gently, almost reverently, LaCroix caressed Nick's cheek and neck.  Nick's eyes were partly closed and a look of extreme pleasure was etched on his face.  Tenderly, he kissed the path of the jugular vein.  Carefully he bent Nick's head and slowly pushed his fangs into his son's neck.  A look of exquisite bliss came over Nick as his father and master drank from him.  Slowly, his own fangs started to elongate and his eyes became flecked with yellow.

Toni stood transfixed.  She felt like a voyeur as she watched the scene, but she could not tear herself away.

With each mouthful that LaCroix took, the intensity of passion increased for Nick.  Finally he could stand it no more.  His eyes became gold, then red, and his fangs fully elongated.  With a sound like a hissing growl, he gently sank them into LaCroix's jugular vein.

A look of intense pleasure came on LaCroix's face as his son drank.  He growled softly and drew in a deep breath, then embraced Nick lovingly.  Nick returned the embrace.

Toni managed to turn away.  She knew from the experiences with Clarisse, that Nick and LaCroix were rapidly reaching an orgasm.  As much as she wanted to stay and watch, she knew that they would appreciate privacy at that moment. She and Robyn quietly retreated to the kitchen.

There was silence from the living room.  It was over.  A few moments later, LaCroix came into the kitchen, sat at the table, took out his checkbook and, minutes later, handed Toni a check for five thousand dollars.

"Well, what does he taste like?"  Toni asked.

"Since I paid dearly for that information, I prefer to keep it to myself."  He said.  "Perhaps, one day you will find out for yourself.  All I will say is that Clarisse was correct.  He does not taste like cow."  He paused a few seconds.  "Since you have tasted me as well, Nicholas, what do I taste like?"

"Oatmeal."

"Oatmeal?"

"Oatmeal.  With brown sugar and raisins"

"What about me?"  Toni asked.  "What do I taste like, husband dear?"

"You taste like Ambrosia."  He said, kissing her on the forehead.  " ... Mixed with peanut butter and apples.  Intoxicating and sweet, but sassy enough to keep things interesting."

"Do you think one of you could taste me?"  Robyn asked, holding her wrist to LaCroix.

Gently, he took her wrist and brought it to his lips.  Her scent filled his nostrils.  Baby's breath.  Her blood sang to him.  If she tasted anything like she smelled, he could ...   A cold feeling gripped his chest and his stomach tied in knots.  He felt his fangs involuntarily elongate.  With great effort, he pulled away.  Quickly, he handed her arm to Nicholas.  "Here.  You taste her."  He said gruffly.  "You are more familiar with modern foods than I am."

< That isn't the real reason, is it? >  Nicholas sent.

< No!  Leave it at that! >  LaCroix sent harshly.

Carefully, Nicholas put his lips on Robyn's arm.  Gently he let his fangs pierce her wrist.  He took a few mouthfuls and slowly withdrew.  He held it until he was sure the wounds had healed.

"Well?"  Robyn asked.

"You taste like Hazelnut Mocha Cappuccino.  Flavored with just a dash of nutmeg."

"That's my favorite drink!"

"What's I taste like Grandfavver?"  A tiny voice asked from the doorway.  All eyes turned.  Nattie and Joey were standing there.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"  Toni asked.

"We was, but we felted Daddy having funs like he do wif' you sometimes."  Joey said.

"Only he wasded having them wif' ... wif' ... Grandfavver."  Nattie continued.

< I don't think we better go there. >  LaCroix sent to Nick.

< Not until they are a lot older, anyway. >  Nick sent back.

LaCroix picked Nattie in his arms and gave her a nibbling kiss on the cheek.  He licked his lips elaborately.  "You taste like sugar and spice and everything nice."  He hugged her and put her back on the floor.

"Mine next." Joey said, raising his arms. 

LaCroix picked him up and repeated the kiss.  "You taste like ... "  He smacked his lips loudly.  " ... Snips and snails and puppy dogs tails."  He laughed and tickled his grandson.

"E-E-E-W-W!"  Joey said as he ran from the room. 

Nattie followed.  "I taste better 'n' you do."  She sang.

**********

Nick reached across the bed and circled his arm around Toni.  "Come here, woman."  He teased as he drew her close.

"What do you want, man?"  She teased back.

"You!"

"Why would you want me?"

"I don't know.  Maybe it's something in the blood."  He said.  He growled softly as he buried his face in her hair.

**********

The End

And I've got beachfront

property in Nevada for sale.