Forever Knight

My Partner The Vampire

"Toni, you couldn't have given us a better honeymoon present.  Castle Brabant is the ideal place."  Tracy Vetter Taylor said as she poured herself a second cup of coffee.  "And where on earth did you find LeFavre?  He's perfect."

"Actually, we didn't find him."  Toni Knight said.  "LaCroix did.  Where, I don't know.  But you're right.  He's the perfect Charge d'Affair.  It's almost like he came with the castle."  Toni Knight answered.  "And before you even ask, he is mortal. But he knows all about vampires."

"And whose idea was it to turn the castle into a Honeymoon Hideaway?  It's fabulous.  There were three other couples there with us.  Two were French and the other couple was German.  We went to a lot of places together."

"Actually that idea was mine.  I meant it as a joke, but everybody liked it and LeFavre went ahead and did it.  Even though there is little or no advertising, word of mouth has made it one of the most popular spots in Europe."

"And how have things been here?  I didn't get the chance to apologize for blabbing about Nick being a Count to my parents.  I couldn't help it, though.  That smug better-than-thou attitude that they and the Taylors had, just set my teeth on edge.  I had to do something to burst their little bubble.  I hope it didn't cause too much trouble."

"Not too much.  I wish you could have seen them after you two left for Europe.  They almost fell all over each other trying to suck up to Nick.  It was relatively hilarious."

A baby's cry interrupted the conversation.

"That has to be Donny."  Tracy said.  "How is my newest 'nephew' doing these days?"

"See for yourself."  Toni said as she headed toward the nursery.  "He's six weeks old now and he thinks he's the center of the universe.  Of course, in the Knight household, he is.  Everyone adores him.  Especially the grandparents.  If you think LaCroix and Robyn spoiled the twins ... As the saying goes ... You ain't seen nothin' yet.   Of course, they still spoil Nattie and Joey, but even the twins spoil Donny. Would you like to feed him?"

"I'd love to, but I thought you were breast feeding him."

"I am, but I keep a bottle or two handy for others to feed him too.  The twins practically fight to see who's going to do it."  Toni went to a dorm fridge in their bedroom and removed a baby bottle.  She placed it in a small microwave sitting on top of the fridge and set the timer.  "We bought this for Nick's supplies, but it's the perfect place for Donny's bottles too.  Now father and son can feed together.  And they do, on many occasions.  All I need to do is to figure out how to put a nipple on Nick's bottle."  She said with a wide grin. 

Tracy picked Donny from the crib and sat in the large rocker.

"You look perfect there."  Toni said as she handed her the bottle.

"I'm practicing."

"Tracy!  You're not ... "  Toni made an exaggerated arc over her abdomen.

"Not yet.  But Mike and I both want big families."

"Wait until you get your first taste of morning sickness.  And labor pains.  Then there's three o'clock feedings.  And of course the baby spits up.  In public.  On your best dress.  Or wets on Mike's new suit.  Don't forget colic and potty training.  Maybe you'll change your mind."

"Not a chance.  Remember.  We are Joey's godparents, after all.  We've seen what you've gone through with Nattie and Joey.   You came through it okay."

"It's different when they're your own.  Trust me.  Of course, the moment you look into that sweet cherubic little face, and he or she smiles at you, everything else seems to fade into insignificance."

Donny finished his bottle and Tracy handed him back to Toni.  "Now for one of the less pleasant parts of motherhood."  She put him on the changing table. 

Nattie and Joey came into the nursery.  "Can we help?"  They said almost in unison.

"Of course."  Toni said.  "Nattie, get me a clean diaper.  Joey, throw this in the trash can."  She handed the soiled one to Joey.

"E-E-U-W-W!"  He held his nose and made a face as he held the offending item at arms length. 

"Is it too early to start potty training Donny?"  Nattie asked as she caught a whiff of the pungent parcel.

**********

"So, Taylor.  How's married life treating you?"  Captain Jerry Davies said as he put his arm around Mike Taylor and led him to the break room.  "Has that pretty little wife of yours got you properly domesticated yet?"

"Married life is wonderful.  I've never been happier."  Mike answered.

"And how are things going between Knight and you?"

"Couldn't be better.  Why do you ask?"

"Seems to me that things appear a little strained, but if you say everything is okay, I'll let it be at that.  You and Knight are the best team in the precinct.  Hell, in the whole force.  After all, it's not every team that makes 'Officers of the Year' three years out of five.  I'd hate to see anything come between the two of you."

"Don't worry, Captain.  I ... we won't disappoint you."

"Good."

**********

"Mike, what's wrong?"  Nick said as they drove their patrol.  He placed is hand on his partner's shoulder.

Mike gasped loudly and stiffened.  "What makes you think anything's wrong?  Why does everybody think there's a problem?  First the Captain and now you.  Get off my case."  He turned toward the window.

"I'm not on your case.  It's just that ever since you found out about me, you've been edgy and distant."

"No I haven't."

"Yes you have.  Just now, you almost jumped out of your skin when I touched you.  What's eating you?"

"Very funny.  You're asking what's eating me.  Ha. Ha.  Big joke."

"Is that what this is all about?  Is it because of what I am?  Remember.  Vampirism isn't contagious.  Not unless I bring you across, and I have no intention of doing that."

"I know.  And it's not like I want to be this way.  It's just that well ... it's going to take some getting used to.  I've never had a partner who was a vampire before.  At least not that I knew about.  This whole thing has blown my mind."

"2Tango25."  The radio dispatcher called.  "2Tango25"

"That's us."  Nick said, handing the microphone to Mike.

"See Battalion Captain Robertson at the scene.  21025 Oral Canyon Road."

"2Tango25 out."

**********

The house at 21025 Oral Canyon Road was little more than a shell by the time Nick and Mike pulled up.  The fire was out, and the fire crews were preparing to leave.

"The place was deliberately torched."  Captain Robertson said.  "We found an empty two gallon gasoline can in the backyard. Fortunately, according to the owner of the property, it was an abandoned structure that was slated to be torn down in a few weeks to make way for a new apartment complex."

"If you found gasoline, wouldn't that fall under Arson's jurisdiction?"  Nick asked.

"Not when there's a body inside with what look like bullet holes in his head."  Coroner Quincy McCoy interjected.  "All I can tell for sure is that the victim was male, probably black, maybe 30 to 35, and my best guess is that he was dead before the fire began.  I have serious doubts that the fire was started to conceal the crime, since there doesn't appear to have been any attempt to hide the body.  It was in plain sight in the living room, or what was left of the living room."

"Yeah, I guess that would be of interest to Homicide."  Mike said.  "Nick, why don't I have a talk with the owner while you go take a look at the body?"

"Be very careful."  McCoy said to Nick as he led him to the gurney where the body was encased in a body bag.  The technician unzipped the head section.  "I didn't want to do more than a cursory exam.  The corpse is in extremely fragile condition and I didn't want to inadvertently lose or contaminate any evidence."

As McCoy indicated, the body was burned almost beyond recognition.  There was evidence of at least three entrance wounds that Nick could count in the left side of the head and a large hole where the bullets would have exited.

**********

Nick and Mike came into the autopsy lab as Quincy McCoy was finishing the last of the analysis.

"Well, what's the verdict?"  Nick asked.

"My autopsy only confirmed what I said at the scene.  The victim died of acute neurosynaptic failure caused by three gunshot wounds to the head.  All three bullets entered the cranium above and slightly behind the left ear and two exited the right side, taking a sizable chunk of the skull with them.  Approximately 5.32 by 6.46 centimeters are missing. He was killed execution style.  The gun was probably no more than 3 to 8 inches away.  It's hard to be more accurate, but the charring erased any evidence of powder burns."  He laid a baggie with a flattened bullet in it on the desk.  "I dug this out of the right occipital lobe.  It appears to be a hollow point, one of the ones they call a cop killer. 

Forensics can give you the details. Death was instantaneous and he was definitely dead before the fire was started.  There was no internal evidence of smoke or heat damage to what was left of the lungs or other internal organs.  He was also tied up.  There were remains of fibers consistent with clothesline imbedded in his wrists and ankles."

"What about any identification?"  Mike asked.  "The owner said that drifters and homeless frequently camp out in there.  He thinks the victim might have been one of them."

"No identification that I could find.  Maybe Forensics might turn up something, but even if they don't, ID shouldn't be too difficult.  He had recent dental work done and it's quite distinctive."  He pulled back a flap of charred skin that was once the man's upper lip, revealing two tiny diamonds set in the front teeth.  Around the diamonds were elaborately carved filigree inlaid with bits of silver and gold.  Most of it had been melted away by the heat of the fire.  "There's only a few dentists I know of that could or would do this kind of intricate work."

He pulled the sheet from one of the hands.  Fused to the blackened skin were bits of gold and precious gems that had once been rings, bracelets, and other fine jewelry. 

"He definitely wasn't a wino or homeless squatter."  Mike observed.  "Not with that  impressive array of gems."  He pointed to one of the stones.  "What do you estimate?  At least a carat?"  He said to the Coroner.

"What about the owner?"  Nick asked.  "Any motive there?"

Mike shook his head.  "Since the place was to be torn down, there wasn't any insurance on it.   I sincerely doubt that he knew the victim, but I'll have a better idea after McCoy ID's him."

**********

The last strains of the finale died away and the house lights came up.  Robyn Parker felt with her foot under the seat in front of her for her shoes.  She found them and slipped into the pumps as unobtrusively as she could.  She felt something brush her leg and she saw Lucien LaCroix's sock clad foot searching under the seat in front of him.  LaCroix's eyes were riveted on the stage where the tenor and the soprano were taking their bows.  She slipped off her shoe gently nudged it toward his foot.  She tried not to break into a giggle as he tried to put his size 11 EE foot into her 7 1/2 B shoe.

"Why did you do that?"  He asked.

"I couldn't help it."  She answered, still suppressing the smirk.  "I never thought of you as the type to kick off your shoes in a darkened theater."

"Personally, I find dress oxfords quite uncomfortable.  I wish they had never done away with sandals for formal occasions."

"I guess that's another thing we have in common.  I never did understand why they couldn't make open toed Nikes."

LaCroix smiled broadly as he found his shoes and slid into them.  The entire cast was on stage and the audience was giving them a standing ovation.  "Would you like to go backstage and meet the players?  I happen to know the lead baritone quite well."

"Is he one of your kind?"

"Would it make a difference?"

"No."  She said taking his arm and heading for the stage entrance.

**********

The headline from the Times article blared 'Fire destroys abandoned building.  Gunshot victim found dead inside.'  He carefully cut the article out and pasted it onto the blank sheet in the folder

He touched his index finger to his lips and put it against the lips of the man smiling out from the framed picture sitting on the table before him.  "Don't worry, Pop."  He said.  "I'm going to take care of them all.  I'm sorry it took so long to get started, but they wouldn't let me out of the hospital until I could prove to them that I wasn't crazy anymore."

**********

Detective Parsons from Forensics laid the folder on Nick's desk.  "It's not much to go on, but it's the best we could do.  The fire destroyed almost everything.  Arson is going through every ash, but that could take a very long time.  I hope this is enough to get you started."

Nick picked it up and began reading the report.

"Well, are you going to share."  Mike asked.  "I don't have supernatural powers, you know."

"Sorry.  According to this, our victim is Nathaniel Purdy, a two bit punk better known on the streets as Nat Pretty.  Understanding is that he'd do anything for anybody ... if the price was right.  Identification was made through the dental work.  The bullets came from a .32 caliber handgun.  Saturday Night special most probably. Gasoline in the can was unleaded regular.  Can be bought at any gas station.  Same goes for the container.  Sold in at least a hundred places here in town.  Other than that, nothing."

"Can't you find out anything else?"

"How?"

"You know, use your powers.  Sample his blood.  Do something."

"Mike."  Nick said, leading his partner into an interrogation room and shutting the door.  "Didn't I tell you that no one could know that I am any different from any other mortal?"  Nick shouted at Mike.  "Didn't I tell you it could be dangerous, not only to you and me, but to everyone else?  Didn't I tell you about the Enforcers?"

"Yes."  Mike said softly.  "But I haven't said anything to anyone."

"Then what do you call that in there?  Supernatural powers?  Sample his blood?  If anyone picked up on that, we are all in very serious jeopardy."

Mike only hung his head.  "It was only a suggestion.  You don't have to get all bent out of shape about it."

"First of all, there's nothing I could gain by doing what you suggested.  The blood has to be fresh.  Second, even if I did find anything, it wouldn't be admissible as evidence and it might possibly corrupt the case.  Can't you see it now?  'Judge, I know this is true because I tasted it in his blood.'  If the courts didn't do anything to us, the Enforcers would.  I guarantee that.  Third, I wouldn't do anything, even if I could."

"Oh, you'd rather I slog through this the hard way then."

"MIKE!"

"Sorry.  I guess this has got me spooked.  When I was a boy, there was a fire at the school I went to.   I made it out okay, but several of my classmates were burned to death.  The sight of their bodies is still engraved on my brain.  They later found out that the fire had been deliberately set.  Whenever I come across an arson fire, it just all comes barreling back out of my subconscious and it scares the willies out of me."

"I can understand that.  Remember, fire is one of the few things that can kill me.  Don't worry, partner.  I'll do everything I can to see that we get this perp as fast as possible.  I'll also pretend that the past few minutes never happened.  "

"Thanks."

**********

Carrig, Wales 1228

Sir Raymond De Labarre, Lord Carrig, sat at his desk in the imposing grand office of the castle.  It had been nearly ten years since he had assumed control of the Welsh shire upon the demise of the original Lord Carrig.  Of course, the fact that he had a very strong hand in said demise was immaterial.  Things were going very well for him and for his loyal henchmen.  He had appointed most of them into high positions in his court, to replace those Welshmen who refused to give up their 'pagan' ways and accept the 'true' faith.  At least that was the 'official' reason.

"My Lord." Jereme` DuPrese, De Labarre's Second in Command, said as he came into the office.  "There are several affairs that require your attention. The first is the trial of  Llewellyn.  You remember him.  He is the one who purportedly cursed you and your line for the killing of his sister Gwyneth.  My men have found him in the hills where he has been hiding all these years and have arrested him for high treason.  I feel a swift trial and hanging will convince the natives that it is futile to resist your will."

De Labarre took a quill pen and a blank paper.  He wrote several paragraphs and signed it with a flourish.  "Done.  What are the others?"

"There is the matter of the revised contracts for the serfs."  DuPrese said putting a sheaf of papers in front of him to sign.  "And then the new taxes to be imposed on the freemen of the shire."  He laid another stack before De Labarre.  "And the new conscript quotas for the townships."  He laid a third stack on the desk.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, Sire, but it is of a more personal nature.  It has been over a year since your wife died in France.  Perhaps you should be thinking of taking another one." 

De Labarre nodded approvingly.

"I would also suggest that you choose her from among the noblewomen of the shire."

"Isn't that a contradiction in terms?  Nobility among these savages?"

"Be that as it may, but a union with a local woman would do much to secure your place here and would go far to dampen the likelihood of rebellion.  After all, they would hardly attack one of their own."

"You have a point there, DuPrese.  I shall take the matter under advisement."

**********

Los Angeles

"... and  Pierce carved this piece just four months before he died."  Robyn Parker said, holding up a small wood bas relief picture.  "It was one of his last.  You can see here where he had to re-carve several mistakes.  You have to remember, he was ninety two and nearly blind at the time.  For the last ten years of his life he worked mostly by feel."

"I did not know you were such a devoted fan of his."  Lucien LaCroix said. "From hearing you talk about him and his work, I feel as though I know Elijah Pierce personally."  She did not appear to notice as he gently slipped his arm around her waist.

"I knew him personally.  While Toni was studying at the College of Art and Design, she went on a work-study project with him at his barbershop and studio as part of her scholarship requirements.  They became fast friends and he spent many evenings in our living room spinning tales about his family and especially his grandfather, who was born a slave in Georgia.  He was a most remarkable man."

"Would you like any of these?  If so, I will gladly purchase them for you.  The owner of this gallery is an acquaintance of mine."

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary.  I have quite a collection of my own.  You recall that piece over the arch into the dining room?  That's one that he made for me."  She placed her hand on top of his and squeezed lightly.

*********

Nick walked over to the suspect.  "Look, Mallory."  He said, homing in on the man's heartbeat.  "We know you were in Phoebe Gillen's apartment the night she was strangled.  We know from the neighbors that you two had a violent argument only hours earlier."  He reached for his subconscious.  "Why don't you just tell us exactly what happened that night."

Mallory swallowed hard.  "I ... ah ... I don't know what you're talking about."  He made eye contact with Nick.  "I ... I didn't mean to kill her ... I was so angry ... And a lot drunker than I should have been ... Things just got out of hand ... The next thing I knew, the extension cord was in my hand ... I don't even know where it came from ... And then it was around her neck ... I just kept pulling ... And pulling ... Tighter ... And tighter ... She wouldn't stop screaming ... Then she stopped ... I guess I just panicked ... I swear ... I didn't mean to ... I didn't want to ...  I loved her ... I loved her."  Mallory buried his face in his hands and sobbed loudly. 

While the officer put the handcuffs on Peter Mallory, Mike almost pulled Nick into an empty interrogation room. "Another case solved by the great master Detective Sergeant Nicholas Knight.  How does it feel to have a hundred percent arrest record?"

"Mike, we've been through this before."

"Damn straight we have.  And it's beginning to be a broken record.  What's the matter?  Don't you think I can solve a case by myself?"

"If it wasn't for the evidence you brought in, we never would have considered Mallory as a suspect.  You're responsible for solving this case too.  It was only a matter of time before he would have confessed.  I just speeded things up a bit."

"But you were the one who whammied the confession out of him.  You are the one who will get all the glory.  Me, I'll just be an afterthought.  'Oh yes, he does have a partner too.  Good old What's-His-Name'."  Mike turned and strode out of the interrogation room, slamming the door after him.

**********

"Jenkins."  Nick said to the computer that controlled the Smart House. 

"Yes, Nick."  The computer's synthesized voice answered.

"Check to see if the bottle of Champagne in the refrigerator is the proper temperature."

"Yes, Nick."

"While you're at it, turn down the lights to half intensity and put some romantic music on the stereo."  Larry Groce, Robyn, and Arnie Sherrod had teamed up to give the computer state of the art Artificial Intelligence.  The effect was so authentic there were times when Nick almost forgot that Jenkins was not a real person.

"Specify."

Nick thought for a moment.  "Start with 'Magic For Two' followed by 'Romance In The Air', then 'Inspirations for Lovers'.  Finish with a Barry Manilow medley.  Repeat the selections until further notice."

"Very well, Nick."  Soft music came from the hidden speakers in the room.  "Nick." Jenkins said.  "Is this a special occasion?  Toni's or your birthday?  Your anniversary?  There are no entries in the online day planner."

"Jenkins, this is a very special occasion.  Toni and I both have tonight off.  Toni is taking the kids to the Feldmans.  Miriam has been begging us to let her babysit them.  There haven't been too many times lately that we get the evening to ourselves.  Especially not since Donny was born.  She should be back any minute and I want everything to be just right."

Nick sensed strongly that he was not alone.  There was no question there was another vampire in the house.  From the strength of the vibes, he knew it was an Enforcer.  Before he knew what happened, the Enforcer had grabbed and blindfolded him.  Nick felt a cold hand on his neck, then a sharp pain at the point where the neck met the shoulder.  A warm, swirling darkness enveloped him.  

"Nick."  Jenkins said.  "Nick?" 

**********

Normandy, France 1229

"I am leaving at the next town."  Nicholas announced as they made camp in a cavern in the cliffs above the English Channel.

"And why is that?  You have not had the necessary tutoring to be on your own yet.  If you leave us now, you will surely end up on the end of a stake or left in the sun."  LaCroix sneered at him.

He tried to stay out of LaCroix's way as much as possible on this journey.   His master had been in a foul mood ever since they left Castle Brabant, and his wrath was directed specifically at him.  He knew it was because he had forbidden his vampire father from bringing his sister Fleur across.  LaCroix had been smitten by the younger Brabant and Nicholas flew into a rage when he found out what the elder vampire had in mind for her.  In the end, Nicholas somehow prevailed, and LaCroix reluctantly agreed not to bring her across.

"It's personal."  Nicholas said strongly.  "There is something I must do in Wales."

"When I have completed my business in Cherbourg, we are going to Paris.  I thought I made that perfectly clear at our last stop.  There will be no more of your foolish quests."  

"I must do this.  I will arrange passage on the next ship out, and when I am finished, I will meet you in Paris."

"Very well, Nicholas.  If you insist on going to Wales, then we shall all go to Wales."

"As I said before, this is a personal matter and it is something I must do alone.  Trust me.  I know enough to survive.  It should only be a few weeks at most."

"You know nothing of survival.  Janette will accompany you.  That is all I want to hear on the matter."

**********

Los Angeles

He laughed cruelly as he circled the picture in the brochure with a red felt marker.  There was no question in his mind. She was the one.  Her face was etched on his memory.  Now she would pay.  All of them would pay.  He had promised his father.  They all would pay for what they had done to him.  He picked up the phone and dialed the number in the ad.

**********

Slowly the blackness dissipated.  He had the distinct impression he was no longer in his own house.  The Enforcer removed the blindfold.  Nicholas blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the low level light.  As the room came into focus, he realized that he had been here before.  This was the anteroom to Lady Zera's chambers.

The Enforcer pulled him to his feet and led him to the ornate chamber door.  Once inside, the Enforcer silently took his station in front of the doorway.  Presently an equally ornate door on the other side of the room opened and Lady Zera entered.  Behind her, a second Enforcer carried a large black cat.  She strode forcefully and regally to a large throne-like chair sitting in the middle of the room.  As it was the last time, the throne was bathed in a brilliant white light that did not seem to have any source.  When she had seated herself, the Enforcer placed the cat on her lap, bowed, and wordlessly went and stood beside first one.  Nick went to her, bowed deeply, took her proffered hand and kissed the large ruby ring on her index finger.  "My Lady Zera."   He said softly.

"Nicholas de Brabant."  The ancient said.  "We have brought you here because of some very disturbing things that have come to our attention.  We know that your partner, a mortal named Michael Taylor now knows of our existence."

"I did not tell him.  He figured it out by himself."

"That is immaterial.  He knows and that is not good.  You have revealed yourself and certain others to entirely too many people.  We agreed to protect your immediate family, including your mother in law, but we cannot extend that protection to Michael Taylor or any of the others.  They are your responsibility."

"I know.  I take full responsibility for them."

"There is more, de Brabant.  Your actions over the past years have caused severe discord among the Community.  First, you marry a mortal woman.  Then you sire children by her.  When Natalie and Joseph were born, most of us thought that they were a fluke, a one time occurrence.  The fact that they carry the vampire gene enabled the Community to accept them, or at least tolerate them.  Then your second son was born, and the fact that he appears to be totally mortal is unacceptable to quite a few of the Community.  Some see your behavior as a threat that will expose them and bring about their downfall.  Others see you as a savior ... perhaps even as a god ... who has laid the groundwork that will enable them to come ... as they say .... out of the closet ... and be accepted into the rest of society."

"I only did what was in my heart.  I do not intend to bring pressure on the Community one way or another.  What can I do to resolve this dilemma?"

"Whatever your intentions may have been, it is done.  Regardless of what you do or do not do, this has, and will continue to divide the Community.  I only pray that it is not an irreconcilable split."

Nicholas only lowered his head and stared at his feet.

"Another thing, de Brabant.  You will not reveal our secret to any other mortals.  If even one more person discovers our existence, we cannot be responsible for the consequences."  She held out her hand for his tribute.

Once more, he was blindfolded.  He felt a stab of pain as one of the Enforcers grabbed his neck.   Again the darkness surrounded him.  When he regained consciousness, he was in his living room.  He looked at the clock above the fireplace.  Only two minutes had passed.  He heard Toni's key in the front door.

**********

Toni signaled a lane change and pulled her tan Mazda into the center lane.  The evening had been nearly perfect.  She and Nick had so little time to enjoy each other lately and they savored every moment.  Almost before she realized it, though, it was time to get the children and bring them back home.  She hated to break the mood.  Unfortunately, this was a week night and Morris started work at 7 the next morning.  People like Morris and Miriam Feldman needed their rest, too. 

"Are we home yet?"  Joey asked.

"Why couldn't we have a sleep-over at Aunt Miriam's.  You let us other times."  Nattie demanded.

"Three reasons.  One, you two have school tomorrow.  Two, Donny doesn't have any overnight supplies.  And three, it wasn't in the agreement with Aunt Miriam and Uncle Morris."

"But I wanted to."  Nattie pouted.

"Tough.  You'll get over it."

Donny slumbered peacefully in his carrier strapped into the front seat.  Toni was thankful that at ten weeks, he had not learned to speak yet.  The twins, though, kept up a running chatter more than enough to take up the slack.

"I gotta go!"  Joey announced.

**********

Lucien LaCroix sang lustily as he eased his Porche onto the freeway.  The night had gone especially well.  He had thoroughly enjoyed Robyn's company at the Garth Brooks concert.  He had never thought of himself as a country music aficionado, but he had really enjoyed this one.  Maybe it was the company.  It definitely was the company.  Whatever the reason, he was in exceptionally good spirits as he drove. 

Traffic was exceptionally light.  It was after midnight and there were only a few cars on  the road.  He had bought the auto for its sleek looks, and he was anxious to see what kind of speed this machine had.  There was no better time than the present.  Gently, he pressed the accelerator to the floor.  The Porche responded with lightening quickness.  The smile turned to a grin as he watched the speedometer climb.  70 ... 80 ... 85 ... 90 ...95 ...

From apparently out of nowhere, a tan car pulled into the lane ahead of him.  With a vampire's reflexes, he swerved, missing the slower moving vehicle by mere inches.  In the other lane, a car veered to avoid him.   He watched in detached amusement as the driver of the first car went into a skid, but quickly pulled out, narrowly missing another auto.  "Boneheaded mortals!"  He yelled at the drivers.

Almost immediately, his radar detector sprang to life, bleeping furiously.  At the same time, the area behind him was bathed in a swirling display of red, white and blue lights and a piercing siren sounded.  LaCroix glanced into his rear view mirror and saw the patrol car following behind him.

**********

Nick could almost see the smoke coming out of Toni's ears as she slammed the door behind her.  She cradled Donny tightly and even the twins were strangely silent.

"You look like you are about to rip someone apart."  He said as she stomped into the hallway. 

"I am ready to bite someone's head off, or at the very least, sic you or one of your kind on him."  Toni fumed.  She laid Donny in his playpen in the living room and plopped into a chair.  Without being told, the twins headed for their rooms.

"What happened?"

"I was on my way home from Miriam's with the kids when this ... this ... JERK... in this little sports car nearly runs into me on the freeway.  He must have doing at least a hundred or more.  It's a lucky thing I took that defensive driving course or all of us would have been splattered all over highway.  It's not so much for me, but Nattie, Joey, and Donny were in the car with me.  If I EVER get my hands on that ... that ... IMBECILE ... I'll ... I'll ... "  She gritted her teeth and growled.

Nick put his arms around her and held her tightly.

"I'm glad we had our romantic evening earlier."  She said, wrapping her arms around his chest.  "Right now, I'm not in any mood.  I am going to need a lot of cuddling and TLC though."

**********

"Well, how did your night of unbridled passion go?"  Tracy asked as she approached Nick's desk.

"Night of what?"

"You know, how was last night.  I saw Toni drop the kids off at Miriam Feldman's and I figured you two would be using the time to the best advantage."

"The night went great.  We had a truly beautiful time together.  But on the way back from the complex with the kids, some idiot nearly rammed Toni on the freeway and really shook her up.  If she hadn't been such a good driver, they all might have been killed."

"Any idea who it was?"

"No, but Traffic probably does.  Toni said that she saw a freeway patrol pull the car over shortly after.  I'll have them run a check on all tickets handed out during that time period.  Somehow, though, I don't think you came here to talk to me about my love life, or Toni's driving."

"Are you sure you're not psychic, too?"  Tracy said.  "It's about Mike.  He's becoming paranoid about you.  At first, I put it down to the unfamiliarity of having a vampire for a partner.  I figured that once he got used to it, everything would be okay.  Lately though, he thinks that you are using your powers to make him look incompetent."

"I know.  Everybody has talked to him about his attitude until we're purple, but all it seems to do is make the matter worse.  Speaking of Mike, where is your darling husband?"

"He said he had something to do before he came in.  He said it wouldn't take long.  At least that's what he said."

**********

Carrig, Wales 1229

Jereme DuPrese stood in the doorway of the great room of the castle.  "Sire."  He said.  "There is someone here who claims to be your nephew."

Lord De Labarre looked at the young man standing behind his Second.  "Nicholas!"  He shouted, going to and embracing the man.  Nicholas barely returned the greeting.  With a wave of his hand, De Labarre dismissed DuPrese, who bowed and left the room.  "Let me look at you!"  De Labarre said, pulling Nicholas closer to the fireplace.  "It's been, what, seven years since you left this beautiful country for the Holy Land.  You must tell us all about your adventures."

"Us? Uncle Raymond. Who is us?"

"My wife and I, of course."

"But I thought mother said that Aunt Marie died two years ago."

"She did.  May she rest in peace.  Oh, I forgot, you would have no way of knowing.  I have remarried.  She's a lovely girl.  Her name is Brynwyn.  At the moment, she is in the village on a shopping spree.  She should be back tomorrow at the latest.  It would not do for a woman in her delicate condition to be out too long.  That's right, Nicholas.  I am expecting our first child any day now.  Imagine!  A little brother or sister for Jean-Pierre!  I am so lucky."

"But Jean-Pierre is married and has three children of his own!"

"I am well aware of my son's marital status, Nicholas.  That is why I did not protest too loudly when he took control over the estates in France after your Aunt Marie's death.  They were through her line anyway.  I am willing to let that portion pass to him and his descendants.  If this child is a boy, I will have an heir to my holdings here in Wales as well.  As I said, I am very lucky.  In a sense, I owe it all to you.  Seven years ago, when that girl was killed ... what was her name again?"

"Gwyneth."  Nicholas said softly. De Labarre did not notice the slight flecks of gold rimming his nephew's eyes.  As quickly as they appeared, they were gone.

"Ah, yes, the good maid Gwyneth ... The peasant uprising that followed her death gave me the opportunity as well as the implied permission to seize total power in this shire and keep it for the God-fearing peoples rather than that rabble."  He put his arm around Nicholas.  "You will stay until Brynwyn returns, will you not?"  It was more an order than a request.

"I have a traveling companion.  A lady ... "

De Labarre winked lewdly.  "Of course.  I'll have the servants prepare quarters for you and your lady.  With connecting doors, of course."

**********

Los Angeles

He watched with sinister amusement as the dark blue sedan pulled up beside the building.  The sign on the car door read Maxim Realty.  "Yes."  He said to himself.  That was the company.  There was no doubt in his mind now.  He was doing the right thing.

Regina Clay walked toward him.  "This is a joke, right?"  She said.  "You can't be serious about wanting me to list this place.  It's nothing but a shack and it looks as if it's ready to fall down any minute."

"Oh. I am completely serious."  He said, opening the rickety door and motioning her inside.  "Come on in and I will show you just how serious I am."  He fingered the clothesline in his pocket.

**********

"Well, partner."  Nick said as Mike slid into his desk.  "Where have you been?"

"As if mattered to you."  Mike said grumpily.  "You can handle anything that comes up without me."

"Mike.  Let's not start ..."

Nick was interrupted by Captain Davies.  Davies laid a crime report on Mike's desk  "Here's another one for you.   The Arson Killer has struck again.  Meet Doctor McCoy at the scene."

**********

Quincy McCoy stripped off his gloves and slowly shook his head.  "Where do all these sickos come from.  Same MO as the last.  Bound with what looks to be clothesline and shot in the head three times at close range.  Then the body and the house was torched.  Again, it was an abandoned structure.  This whole area is to be razed in a couple of weeks for a shopping mall.  This time it was a woman.  According to the ID in the car ..."  He pointed to a blue sedan.  " ... her name is Regina Clay and unless I miss my guess, she was about five months pregnant.  I'll give you a complete report after the autopsy."

Mike turned at that and ran for the edge of the area.  There was the sound of violent retching.  A few minutes later, he returned, pale and sickly looking. 

*********

Well, what's your opinion on our arsonist?"  Nick asked as they drove back to the station.

"Look, why don't you vampires solve this crime and let us poor mortals alone?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're a vampire.  If you managed to hide it all this time, how do I know that there aren't more vampires around, and I'm the only normal one here."  He coughed loudly.  "Pull over here.  You may not get sick, but I feel horrible.  I'll just have Tracy pick me up and take me home."

"No way.  I'll drive you home and then I'll book you off."

**********

Tracy watched as Mike exited the Caddy and walked to the door.  She didn't need to use her psychic powers to see that something was definitely wrong.    She had seen the symptoms building for some time now.  He had hardly talked to her since they came back from Brabant, and when he did, it usually ended in a fight.   He was also drinking much more than usual.  Mike never would have acted the way he had in the past few weeks if things were going well.

"Hi, honey."  She said as he opened the apartment door.  "Everything all right?  You look like ten miles of unpaved road.  After the rainstorm."  She said, trying for a little bit of humor.

He took several torn papers out of his pocket and dropped them on the kitchen table.

"What's that?"

"Why don't you read my mind and find out for yourself?"  He snarled at her.  "If you really want a good laugh, it's my resignation.  I turned it in to Ganlon before I went to work tonight.  You know what he did?  He tore it up!  He said I was acting stupid and childish.  He said that I was walking the edge and that if I didn't get a grip, I was going to fall off.  He told me to back off and take a few days to think about it.  I told him to go to hell.  Imagine, he wanted to suspend me just because I wanted to leave the force.  Now they don't even want me to quit.  They just want to keep torturing me."

"Who?"

"All of them.  They're all in it together.  How do I know you aren't in league with them too?  I need a drink."  He went to the cabinet and took out a bottle.

Tracy grabbed the bottle from his hand.  "You don't need a drink."

"Don't you start on me!  I feel sick enough as it is, and the last thing I need is you yelling at me."  He shouted.

She grabbed him and forcefully pushed him into the recliner.  "What you need is a good old fashioned ass kicking."  She said, getting in his face.  "This thing between you and Nick has gone far enough.  You are letting it affect your relationships with everyone else.   No one is against you!  We all want to help you.  Why can't you see that!  You had better snap out of it real fast.   Ganlon is right.   You are going to go right over the edge and you could wind up in a rubber room wearing the jacket that laces up the back."

"If you feel that way about me, maybe we shouldn't have gotten married in the first place.  Maybe I should get a divorce.  Know any good mutant lawyers?  At least I thought I could count on my wife to be there for me."

"Mike, I love you with all my heart and soul.  Right now, though, I don't like you very much.  Maybe what you need is a little time by yourself to think about things."  She went to the closet and took her jacket and purse.

"Where are you going?"

"OUT!"

**********

"Nicholas."  LaCroix said, sitting down at Mike's desk.  "I need a small favor.  I was driving along the freeway last evening and I'm afraid I was not watching the speedometer too closely.  I went over the limit a bit.  This stupid idiot pulled in front of me and I had to swerve to avoid him.  Then there was this officer behind me.  He completely misinterpreted my actions and wrote this citation to me.  Of all the rotten luck, he was a resister as well."  He handed a pink ticket to Nick.  "Will you take care of it for me?  I know you can."  He started to get up.

"LaCroix.  This ticket requires a mandatory court appearance.  I can't do anything about it.  Going 103 in a 65 mile zone is a little more than a bit over the limit.  According to this, you narrowly missed hitting the other car and when you swerved, you nearly caused two other accidents.  That's reckless driving and endangerment.  Do you know the occupants of the car you nearly hit?"

"Of course I don't know them.  What difference does that make?  He never should have pulled in front of me."

"But you do know them.  It was Toni.  And she had the children ... your grandchildren ... with her.  Your thoughtless actions could have cost them their lives, as well as the occupants of the other two cars."

LaCroix's face became pasty white.  "Atonia? The children?  Nattie, Joseph, and little Donald?"  He leaned back and sighed loudly.  "I had no idea.  What shall I do, Nicholas?  I nearly killed them."

"You can pay the fine, take whatever other punishment the judge gives you and make a solemn vow to drive much more carefully in the future."

"I will.  I swear.  You have my word."

**********

Mike pulled the covers over his head.  Between the fever, the nausea and the headaches, he hadn't gotten any sleep at all.  In addition, Tracy was still out, and he had no idea where she was, or when, or even if, she would be back.  Somewhere in the medicine chest he remembered seeing some sleeping pills.  He needed something.  The booze certainly didn't help.  There was only enough in the bottle for two good drinks.  All that did was make him sick to his stomach to add to his other ailments.  He rooted around until he found the correct bottle.  The directions said 'Take Two Before Bedtime'.  He shook three into his hand.  As bad as he felt, he needed all the help he could get to fall asleep.

Holding his head, he crawled back into bed.   Minutes later, he was in a fitful sleep

He was still in his pajamas.  Mike looked over his shoulder half expecting to see something.  Or someone. There was something eerie and evil about this place, wherever it was.  He had the impression that he had been walking in these halls for a long time.  How long, he was not sure.  He must have entered this maze-like hallway somewhere, but he could not remember where.  He knew someone was following him, but every time he tried to catch a glimpse of his pursuer, there was no one there.  He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned the corner.  He thought he saw Bill Ganlon standing at the end of the hallway.  "Inspector Ganlon!"  He shouted, running toward his superior.  "Thank God you're here.  Let's get out of here.  You do know the way out, don't you?"

"You kow the way.  All you have to do is give in."  Ganlon smiled broadly and he held out his arms.  His teeth were fangs and they showed pearly white against his pale skin.  His eyes shone with a florescent yellow glow.  Mike screamed and ran back the way he came.  As he turned a corner, he nearly collided with Robyn Parker. 

"Robyn!"  He gasped.  "You've got to help me!  It's Inspector Ganlon!   He's a vampire and he's after me!"  He looked over his shoulder.  Bill Ganlon was slowly closing the distance between them.

"That's nice, Michael."  Robyn said.  Her lips parted and Mike saw the tips of fangs protruding from under her upper lip.  Her eyes had an eerie yellow tint to them.  "We're all vampires here."  She said, smiling.  "Won't you join us?"

"We're all one big happy vampire family."  Toni called.  Blood trickled down her chin.  She held Donny to her bare breast.  His little fangs had pierced her pale skin and the blood ran down her chest as he suckled from the wounds.  Beside her, Nattie and Joey held hands and smiled bloody smiles, their eyes glowing.  "Hi, Uncle Mike."  They called.  In the distance, Captain Jerry Davies grinned at him, showing fangs and yellow eyes.

In panic, he turned in every direction.  He was surrounded.  "Help Me!"  He screamed.  "SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF THIS MESS!!"  He buried his face in his hands.

"Mike."  Nick pushed his way through the crowd.  Gently he lifted Mike's face level with his own.  "Don't panic.  There is a way out."  He said calmly.  His eyes were blue and his teeth were regular.  "You know the way out.  Trust your instincts.  You have a good head on your shoulders.  You know how to get out of this.  Just follow your heart." 

"Don't listen to him."  Tracy called.  "Come to me, darling."  Blood dripped from her lips.  She wiped it with her index finger and stuck the finger in her mouth and sucked on it.  "Let me make you one of us."  She put her lips on his neck.  He could feel her wet cold kiss on his jugular vein.  He felt the tips of her fangs pierce his skin.  She growled with ecstasy ...  He screamed.  No sound came from his lips.

He opened his eyes.   Hoiman was sitting on his chest, his cold wet nose pressed into the base of his neck, purring loudly.  His sandpaper tongue licked the sweat from his shoulder.

"Hoiman!  Where'd you come from?"  Mike let out the breath he did not realize he was holding.  He scratched the large gray and white cat behind the ears.  Hoiman purred even louder.  "I just had the craziest dream."  He said, panting wildly. 

Hoiman rubbed against Mike's chin. 

"I dreamed I was in this maze ... And I was being chased .... Everyone was there ... Ganlon, Robyn, Toni, Davies ... even Tracy.  They were all vampires.  Nick's kids were vampires too ... It was really weird ... Nick was the only one who was normal."

He reached into the bookcase headboard and took a tissue out of the box.  He wiped the sweat from his face and then blew his nose into it.   "Thank goodness it wasn't real ... It was only a dream ... It was all in my mind ... I was seeing vampires where there were none ... and the only real vampire there was just a regular guy... my friend and partner, Nick Knight ... Maybe Ganlon and Tracy are right.  Maybe this vampire thing is getting to me.  Maybe I do need a little time off."

**********

"I know it's late, but I didn't have anywhere else to go."  Tracy Taylor said as Toni opened the door.

"Come on in."  Toni said.  She noticed Tracy's red, puffy eyes.  "Have you been crying?"

"Uh huh.  And I've been driving around all night.  Mike and I just had a huge fight about this thing between him and Nick.  It was a beauty.  He's really gone overboard about it.   I thought about going back to the apartment, but I have the feeling we'd just get into it again.  I think the best thing I can do is give him a dose of tough love and let him work things out himself."

"That may be all any of us can do for him right now."

"Can I borrow your guest room for a couple of days, until he comes to his senses?"

"Of course.  You know you're always welcome here."  

**********

"Well, what news is there on the latest arson killing?"  The detective asked as he pulled a chair across from Nick.  Nick glanced up, not really noticing.  Noting Nick's puzzled look the detective added.  "Mike Taylor just called in and asked for a week's emergency sick leave.  Something about having the flu and being all stressed out.  Captain Davies said he sounded a bit confused and disjointed.  The Boss told me to work with you until he came back."

"Oh."  Nick said.  "Mike has been looking a little bummed out lately." Mentally, he breathed a sigh of relief.  Maybe Mike was going to get his act together at last.  He opened the Forensics report.  "Nothing here we don't already know.  There doesn't seem to be any correlation to anything.  Victim one was a petty street hood.  Victim two was a pregnant real estate salesman.  Nothing in common there.  Both were bound and shot execution style with a .32 caliber handgun loaded with hollow point bullets, then the bodies were burned in a set fire."

"So, that means so far we have nada.  Zip.  Zilch. Zero.  Right partner?"

"NADA?  ZIP?  ZILCH?  ZERO?  PARTNER?"  Nick snapped his head up from the report he was reading.  Sitting at Mike's desk was Don Schanke.

"Man-o-man it feels good to be back in harness again.  Just like old times."   Schanke said, propping his feet on the desk.

"But ... But ... But ... How ...Why ... "

"If you are through making like a motor boat, Nick, it was all the Big Guy's idea ... and mine, too ... sorta.  He knows how worried you are about your partner and He sent me to tell you that everything's going to be okay.  Mike just needs some time to get everything straight in his head.  In fact, he's getting the help he needs right now ... as we speak."

Nick smiled a wide grin.  "That's wonderful news, Schank.  Mike's a good man and a good partner.  In a lot of ways, he reminds me of you."

"You couldn't have paid me a better compliment."

"Is there anything I can do to help him?"

"Actually the best thing you can do right now is nothing at all.  I know, I know, that's the hardest thing to do, but in this case, all that so called ... good advice ... you and everybody else has been giving him has only served to mess him up even further.  You might want to pass that along to the others."

"I will, Schank.  I promise."

"Good.  The Boss will be glad to hear that.  There's a second reason I'm here, too.  I heard you had another kid, and that you named him after me.  I just gotta see my namesake."  He glanced at his wrist.  There was no watch.  "It's almost sunrise.  Why don't I meet you at your place and you can introduce me to the little guy."

**********

Mike wandered into the complex parking garage.  It was nearly 3 AM, but he had only dozed lightly since going to bed.  The nightmares that he had experienced the evening before had seriously spooked him and he could not, or would not, allow himself to fall into a deep sleep.  He had booked the week off and spent the day talking things over with Hoiman.  Although he was just a cat, vocalizing his fears did help Mike try to put everything into perspective.  The fact that Tracy was not with him made their king size bed seem twice as big and uncomfortable.  Also, the since he had been working nights for the past six years, sleep was not coming easily.  Maybe a drive in the desert would help him relax.

He noticed a light in the corner where Jeb Puckett had set up an impromptu repair area some months earlier.  The tall Southerner was studying Automotive Engineering at UCLA and was a professional race car driver as well.  His sideline business dovetailed perfectly with his career objectives.  As a happy result, the tenants in the Co-op had the best running cars in all of Los Angeles.

"Hi, Jeb.  What are you doing here at this hour?"  Mike asked as he approached the car.

Jeb stood up quickly, hitting his head against the hood of the auto he was working on, knocking out the latch rod.  Mike grabbed the hood just as it was about to catch the red headed youth and pin him in the engine compartment.

"Hey yourself, Mike.  I might ask you the same question.  Me, I'm working on a refinement for this here engine I'm designing for Kyle Petty.  If I can get it to do what I want, this puppy will go from 0 to 150 in less than 5 seconds flat."

Mike let out a low whistle.

"Shoot."  Jeb said with a lopsided smile.  "Back home in Havens Corners, a li'l kid on a Big Wheel can do that."  He wisecracked.  "Right now, I got me a problem that really has me stumped.  There's this here rattlin' noise that I plumb can't find nowhere."

"Let me take a look."  Mike said bending over the engine.  He poked a few spots, examined some others.  "I can't see anything that might be rattling."  He said.  "But this belt seems to be a little loose."

Jeb tested it.  "You're right.  If that'd snapped on the raceway, it could have been real de-sastrous."  He said.  "Hand me that there wrench and I'll just tighten her up a might.  I think we'd better check all the belts and hoses while we're at it."

Mike moved the air cleaner assembly from side to side.

Jeb snapped alert.  "Jiggle that one again."  He said. 

Mike did so.  "I didn't hear anything." 

"I do."  Jeb removed the hose and shook it lightly.  An almost microscopic pebble fell out.  "There's the bad boy.  It's been driving me crazy."  He replaced the air cleaner and handed a set of ear protectors to Mike.  "This baby gets a little loud.  I ain't got around to putting a muffler on her yet."  He put on a set and got behind the wheel.  The engine roared, literally, to life.  "Beautiful."  Jeb said with a very satisfied smile.  "Purring like a kitten."

He turned it off and climbed out.  He walked to a cooler sitting against the wall.  He opened it and took out two cans and handed one to Mike.  "It's break time."  He said.  Mike popped the top and drank a long sip.  He hadn't realized how thirsty he was, and the cold beer was just the thing.  He noticed that Jeb's can was different from his.  Jeb's was red and had a picture of a stag on it.  The words 'Red Deer' were emblazoned across the top.  As soon as Jeb opened it, Mike knew it wasn't beer.  His face drained of all color as the reality that the young man standing with him was a vampire, hit him full force.

"Something wrong?"  Jeb asked.

"I forgot you were a vampire.  You look and act so ... normal."

"Most of us do look and act just like everybody else.  You ought to know that from being around Nick.  'Course, I'm still more or less of a fledgling.  There's some of us who are really deep into this vampire thing and they look awful weird, but you mortals ... that's what we call y'all ... you'd never ever see them.  Heck, they'd look weird even it they was mortal, so's that's no clue."

"A fledgling?  How old are you?"

"I've only been a vampire for about 23 years.  They's plenty more who are older than me."

"And how old is Nick?"

"Nick, he's over 800 years old."

"800!  He must be one of the oldest ones around."  Mike said admiringly.

"Shoot, no.  I don't rightly know exactly, but I hear tell that LaCroix is almost two thousand years old.  And there's some that's even older than him."

"How long can you guys live?"

"Barring sharp sticks, bonfires, and sunlight ... forever."

"I never heard of blood in a can."  Mike said, pointing to Jeb's can.

"It's something Tino and me been fooling around with.  It's deer blood, and a friend of mine down at the brewery puts it in cans for us when business is slow there.  Ain't no good ol' boy or brother would be caught dead ... excuse the pun ... drinking 'wine'.  That's an open invitation to get your ribs kicked in.  Wouldn't do no real damage, but it sure would hurt like heck.  This way, we can fit right in with the crowd and nobody's the wiser."

"Tino's a vampire too?"  Mike gasped.  "And all the times I've roughed him up.  It's a miracle he didn't drain me."

"Oh, shoot!  Now I've done it." 

Mike knew vampires couldn't blush, but he was sure that Jeb's face reddened for a second or two. 

"I shouldn't have said nothing about Tino.  I'm in for it now.  I'll be lucky if the Enforcers don't stake me in the sun for that."  

"Maybe they'll give us matching anthills."  Mike joked as he took another sip of his beer.

"May-be."  Jeb replied as the two dissolved in laughter at that thought.

**********

Robyn pulled into the parking garage of the court house.  She looked carefully to be sure no one else was around before she opened the trunk.  "Coast is clear."  She whispered. 

Lucien LaCroix cautiously extricated himself from the Dodge Neon and shook his arms and legs to work out the kinks and restore feeling.  He was wearing a heavy overcoat and leather gloves.  He had his hat pulled down over his head and wore thick polarized sunglasses.  "I thought you said your trunk had plenty of room.  I felt like a sardine or a pretzel in there."

"It does have lots of room.  It's just that when someone is over six feet tall, anyplace can be a bit cramped."

"Never mind.  Let's just get in there and get this over with.  I don't see why I they had to schedule me for a 9 o'clock hearing.  Why couldn't this have been taken care of at Night Court?"  LaCroix grumbled as they rode the elevator to the floor where Traffic court was located.

"They schedule everyone for 9 AM.  Your case may not be heard until late afternoon.  Besides, Night Court doesn't hear traffic cases."

They stepped off the elevator into a crowded hallway.  LaCroix pulled his coat over the exposed parts of his head and dove behind a bench as the sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows that made up the outer wall of the anteroom hit him.  Robyn grabbed him and half dragged, half pulled him to a door.  "Quick." She whispered.  "In here.  This is the men's room.  You can stay there until your case is called."

**********

Carrig

"You could not have come at a better time, Nicholas."  Lord De Labarre said as Nicholas came into the Great room. Janette followed a step behind.  "There is going to be a hanging tomorrow.   Now you will see how justice is supposed to be dispensed.  The traitor's name is Llewellyn.  My men just caught him again this morning."  He noticed Janette.  "And who is this lovely creature.  She must be your traveling companion."  De Labarre traced his hand along her shoulder.  "I am Raymond De Labarre, Nicholas's uncle and you are ..."

"Janette."  He was too interested in her cleavage to notice the sneer on her lips.

"Llewellyn.  Wasn't he Gwyneth's brother?"  Nick asked.  He watched with thinly disguised loathing as his uncle toyed with one of the ties on Janette's blouse.

"You do have a sharp memory, my boy.  We arrested him last year, but before he could be brought to trial and hanged, a group of his followers managed free him from the dungeon.  This time, there won't be any chance of that.  We are going to hang him immediately."

"Without a trial?" 

"My dear boy.  You were a soldier.  You should know that a trial for one so obviously guilty as Llewellyn would only be a waste of time and money and would merely give his men another chance to release him.  The peasants are already thinking of him as some sort of a hero.  So you see, I can't let him live.  Enough of that talk.  I have had the scullery help working all day to prepare a veritable feast to honor the two of you.  Let's eat and drink like old times."   De Labarre put his arm around Janette and led her toward the dining hall.  Nicholas followed.  His uncle's neck was looking more and more tempting every time the older man touched Janette.

**********

Los Angeles

Robyn was right.  It was almost 4:30 when the bailiff finally announced LaCroix's name.  She went to the restroom door and knocked loudly.  "You're next."  She called.

By now, there were only a few people in the hallway and none of them seemed to notice the oddly dressed man dash from the bathroom into courtroom 43.  Once inside, LaCroix removed his outer clothing and took a seat.  It was only a few minutes until the bailiff indicated that the judge was ready to hear his case.

"Mr. LaCroix.  According to these records, you received your license only three months ago and already you are in trouble with the law. That isn't good."  Judge Alice Kiersten said.  "You are charged with one count of speeding, in that you were going 103 miles per hour in a 65 mile zone.  One count of reckless driving, in that you changed lanes illegally and without sufficient clearances.  And three counts of involuntary endangerment in that your actions placed three other vehicles in jeopardy.  How do you plead?"

"Guilty to all charges."

"Mr. LaCroix.  You do understand that a guilty plea could result in loss of driving privileges and possibly a jail sentence."

"Yes, your honor. I do, and I am willing to take any punishment you give."

"Do you wish a lawyer to be present?"

"No, your honor."

"Do you have anything to say on your behalf before I pass judgment?"

"I am guilty as charged.  Although I did not know it at the time, one of the cars involved was driven by my daughter in law and had my three grandchildren in it.  The knowledge that they could have been killed or seriously injured by my actions is a far greater punishment that anything you could give me."

"Very well.  I agree with you, Mr. LaCroix.  You will have to live with that knowledge for the rest of your life.  But to further fix that information in your mind, I sentence you to 103 hours of Community service.  One hour for each mile.  You will ride with a First Response Emergency Squad for that time.  Perhaps seeing firsthand the agony and suffering traffic accidents can cause will make you think long and hard before you speed again.  In addition, you are fined 150 dollars.  That is double the standard fine since you were going over one hundred miles an hour.  Plus there is an additional five dollars a mile for every mile over the speed limit.  Plus court costs.

He lowered his eyes.  "Thank you, your honor."  He said softly.

"LaCroix ... I thought I recognized that name.  Aren't you the radio personality known as the Nightcrawler?"

"Yes, your honor.  I am the Nightcrawler."

"Then I further sentence you to give at least one ten minute monologue on traffic safety every time you are on the air for the next sixty days."

"Yes your honor."

"Next case."

**********

Tracy fiddled with the meat on her plate.  Toni was a great cook, but she just wasn't hungry.  It had been six days since she had walked ... no stormed ... out of their house in anger and there had been no word from Mike.  She must have picked up the phone at least a thousand times, and dialed the number the majority of those times.  Her reasoning self always prevailed, and she always hung up before the phone started ringing.  This was his problem, she told herself.  He would have to deal with it.  The best thing she could do was stay out of it. 

"Mommy says we have to eat a little of everything on our plates if we want to grow up to be big and strong."  Joey admonished.

"Don't you want to grow up big and strong?"  Nattie asked.

Tracy smiled at her 'niece' and 'nephew'.  "You are right.  I should eat more, but Aunt Tracy has a lot on her mind right now."

"Want to talk about it?"   Joey offered.

"Yeah.  We listen real good."  Nattie finished.

"Even if the other person don't always understand what the problems is, sometimes it just helps to say it out loud."  Joey said, patting her shoulder.

< How did they get to be so wise at such a young age >  Tracy thought.  "Maybe I'll talk to Uncle Mike.  He is the one who can help me the most."  She said aloud.

"Good idea!"  Nattie nodded emphatically.

"Now.  Eat your green beans."  Joey ordered.

**********

Mike slid into his chair.  Nick looked up briefly and then continued with the paperwork in front of him.  Mike loudly cleared his throat.  "Welcome back.  I missed you."  Nick said softly.

"I missed you, too.  And I've been doing an awful lot of thinking this past week.  You know Tracy and I had a big fight and she walked out on me.  I'm not upset about it.  She had every right to do what she did."

"She's been staying with us."

"I know.  She called me last night and we had a very long talk.  Lasted almost all night.  I got a lot of things sorted out.  Nick, I've been a first class, Grade A asshole the past few weeks.  Why didn't you just slap the living crap out of me right off the git go?  I don't even know where to start to apologize."

"Then why try?  There's nothing to forgive.  Everyone acts like an idiot sometimes.  Even me.  Especially me.  I can't even begin to count the number of times I have gone off on the wrong track.  Now, partner, we've got a lot of work to do on this Arson Killer case before he strikes again."

"Okay ... partner ... where do we begin?"

"Let's start with trying to find what the common thread is between these killings."

"We know that there is no connection between the victims except for the manner in which they were killed.  Could it be a professional job?"

Nick shook his head.  "Doubtful.  The gun used was probably a Saturday Night Special.  A pro would be more likely to use an Uzi or a .357 Magnum."

"Sounds like someone could be out for revenge."

"You may be on to something there."

"What about the sites?  Both buildings were to be demolished in the near future.  One for a shopping center and one for a housing development.  Could that be the hook?"

"Possible.  Possible.  What if our killer was killing people to avenge the death of a loved one who died in an arson fire?"

"Or what if the loved one died in a fire that was set to clear land for a commercial development?"

"Mike, You are in rare form.  I'm going to run this through the Records computer and see what turns up.  Welcome back, partner."

**********

"Golden State Insurance."  The receptionist said into the telephone headset.

"Could I speak to Tim Norris?"  The voice on the phone said.

There was a long pause.

"This is Tim Norris.  How may I help you?"

"I am interested in insuring a property.  I was told you were one of the best in the business.  Would it be possible for you to meet me at the site at 9 o'clock tonight?"

"I'm not a salesman anymore, I'm an adjuster.  I used to sell, but that was years ago."

"I realize that, but if you could come out and give me your opinion of the property, it would help me know just how much insurance I would need."

"I think I could do that.  How about Thursday evening?"

"Great.  Here's the address ... "

**********

Carrig

Nicholas made his way along the dank passageway of the castle dungeon.  From what he had gathered at the dinner table, Llewellyn was to be hanged at sunrise.  The partying had lasted all night.  By now, most of the participants were either drunk or asleep.  This was the first opportunity he had to act.   Through the battle slits in the walls, he could make out the first hazy lights of the false dawn.  The actual sunrise was only a few minutes away.  Time was short.  Especially for a fledgling vampire like himself. 

A guard leaned lazily against the heavy oak and steel door ahead of him.  That had to be where they were holding Llewellyn.  The guard snapped to attention as Nicholas approached.  "Halt!"  He thrust the point of his pick against Nicholas's stomach and gave a small shove for emphasis.   "No one is allowed to see the prisoner.  Lord Carrig's orders."

Before the guard could react, Nicholas grabbed the end of the spear and broke it in half.   In one motion, he twisted the man's neck until he heard the popping sound of bones breaking.  For good measure, he sank his fangs into the dying man's neck and drank his fill.  He grabbed the handle of the door and pulled ... hard.  The door gave way.  "Quickly, Llewellyn, this way."  He called.

Llewellyn stepped into the hallway.  "Who are you?"

"A friend."

**********

Los Angeles

Nick laid a stack of papers on his desk.  "Our favorite killer is still running true to form.  Here's the Forensics and Autopsy reports on our latest victim.  Bound with clothesline.  Three shots at close range to the head.  Abandoned building burned to the ground.  What did you get from the witnesses and the owner?"

"Not much.   Victim's name was Tim Norris, a claims adjuster with Golden State Insurance. This time there is to be one of those multi-use complexes going up starting next year.   And before you ask, Golden State did not have any policies on this or any of the other properties.  I've already checked that out.  Other than that ... "  Mike shrugged his shoulders.

"Anything back from our records search of deaths on abandoned properties?"

Mike opened a folder and took out a sheet of paper.  "Seven matches.  Two were homeless or winos, no other information available.  One had no immediate family, and one an unidentified.  Research teams are checking out the other three now.  We should know something by tomorrow, but I wouldn't bet the farm."

"Did you input the information from this killing?"

Mike shook his head yes.

"And ... "

"Nada.  Zip.  Zilch."

"NADA?  ZIP?  ZILCH?"  Nick practically shoved Mike into the interrogation room.  He focused on his partner's heartbeat and made eye contact.  "Sleep."  He said softly.  Mike's head nodded and his body went limp in Nick's arms.  Gently, he sat the sleeping detective in a chair.  "Okay,  Schanke, you can come out now.  I thought he came back too quickly to be doing it on his own.  I was also under the impression that there was some kind of rule about possessing someone's body without their permission."

"There is."  The voice of Don Schanke said.  "And I'm not possessing him.  I'm over here."  He materialized in a chair on the other side of the table.  "Point of information.  He's doing this recovery bit on his own.  I'm just monitoring him to see that he doesn't go off on another tangent."  He rolled his eyes and raised his arms in a gesture of frustration.   "Oh ye of little faith."

"Then why is he using your speech and mannerisms?"

"Well, I have been kinda giving him little suggestions subellin ... sublemim ... you know ... through his subconscious.  Maybe he picked up some of my habits as well as my profound wisdom."

"As long as he doesn't develop a taste for souvlaki.  Does he know that you're helping him?"

"Nah.  He can't see or hear me through normal means.  He thinks it's all his idea.   Most of it is.   You could tell him if you want, .... ' Hey Mike, you're being haunted by the ghost of my former partner ' ... but I think that would do him more harm than good, don't you?   I mean, that would really tip him over the cliff.  Particularly at this stage of the game."

"I agree.  Anyway, as the old saying goes, three heads are better than one."

I don't think you've got that quite right, partner, but then, who am I to argue.  Why don't you wake him up and we'll get back to work.  By the way, he won't remember anything about this, will he?  And, out of curiosity, did you ever do this to me?"

"No, he won't remember unless I want him to, and I don't want him to.  As far as doing it to you, let's just leave that as one of the great mysteries of the Twentieth Century."  Nick grinned and winked.  He put his face to Mike's ear.  "When I count to three, you will wake up."  He whispered.  "You will not remember anything that took place from the time you left your desk."  He reached into Mike's shirt pocket and took out his pen and put it in the detective's hand.  "You will remember coming in here, but it was to get your pen.  1 ... 2 ... 3 ..."

Mike got up.  "You know, I'd forget my head if it wasn't tied on real tight.  I don't remember leaving my pen in here, but here it is.  Let's get back to work.  I have an idea.  It's kinda far out, but what the hey, it's worth a try.  We've checked out the victims.  We've checked out the sites.  We've even checked out similar deaths.  All blind alleys.  How about the properties themselves.  They were all slated for some kind of large scale developments.  Maybe that's our key."

"Go for it."

**********

"Bingo!"  Mike called as he scanned the information on the computer screen.  Nick moved to look over his shoulder.  "Every one of those sites had different owners, but they were all being developed by the same Company.  Gleason Enterprises.   And they're located right here in Good Old Los Angeles.  According to this web site of theirs, they will be dedicating their latest project, Melrose Executive Office Plaza, next Tuesday.  I'm going to run Gleason through the computer and see if there were any arson related deaths in connection with any of their other projects."

"Why?"

"Gut hunch."

**********

Carrig

Nicholas pulled his cloak tightly around his head and ran out of the deep shadows of the doorway into the inner courtyard of the castle.  Their quarters were on the other side of the yard.  De Labarre had done that so that Nicholas and Janette would have a 'sunny and cheerful' view from the huge windows that lined the inner walls of their quarters.  There had to be a way to get to the rooms without going outdoors, but Nicholas had wasted precious time looking for it.  He had stayed with Llewellyn until he was safely out of the castle, and by now, the sun was fully risen and was high enough in the morning sky that there were little or no shadows in the enclosure.

He reached the door on the opposite side of the quadrant just as smoke began to billow from underneath his cloak.  Even through the clothing, he could feel the blisters and burns eating into the skin of his back and arms.  He bit his lip until it bled to keep from crying out in pain.

He darted through the halls and stairs, ignoring the pain from the patches of sunlight that fell through the windows and slits.  At last, he reached his rooms and practically broke the door to get inside.

Janette was waiting.  She was not pleased. 

" Je suis sur le feu. (I'm on fire.) Je suis affamé.  (I'm hungry.)   Aidez-moi. (Help me.)"  He gasped as he pulled off his scorched clothing.  Instinctively, he snuggled into the crook of her neck, his fangs extended.  " J'ai besoin de vous, mon amour. (I need you, my love.)"   He whispered.

His head snapped back suddenly and painfully as Janette grasped him by the hair and pulled him off her. 

"And just WHAT do you think you are doing, Nicolah?  And WHERE have you been?  Don't you realize just how dangerous the sunlight is?"  Janette hissed.  "I SHOULD throw you back outside and let the sun finish what it started.  Have you forgotten the most basic things we have been trying to teach you?  When you are much, MUCH older, you MAY be able to tolerate the daylight in VERY small doses.  At your tender age, though, you are EXTREMELY lucky that you were not immediately fried to a crisp."  She released her grip and Nicholas dropped to his knees.  "Now.  From that position, BEG me not to recount to LaCroix the ASININE episode that just transpired.  At least answer one question ... WHY?"

"It was something that I owed to a very lovely lady who was murdered because she loved her land.  The prisoner, Llewellyn was her brother.  I could not let him die like a common criminal.  He is not a traitor.  He's a patriot.  He only wants to free his homeland from the tyranny that my uncle has inflicted on it."

"And that is why you had to come to Wales?  To free him?"

"In a sense."

"Then we can leave?"

"Not yet.  There is one more thing that I must do before I leave."

"And what is that?"

"Revenge."

"Le meilleure revanche ... c'est revanche. (The best revenge ... is revenge.)"  She whispered.  "I understand."  Gently she assisted him to his feet.  Lightly embracing him so as not to disturb the scabs that were forming on his rapidly healing body, she lovingly guided his mouth toward the base of her throat.

**********

Los Angeles

"I think we've go a match!"   Mike announced triumphantly.  "There was an arson death connected with a Gleason property.  And guess what!  It was on the very same parcel that their new office complex is sitting on."

"Then why didn't it show up on the first run?"  Nick asked.

"Because the death was ruled a suicide."  The important thing is that it matches all the other criteria."  This is the investigating officer's report."  He held up a printout.   "According to this, the victim's name was Hugh Poole.  He owned a place called Pop's Restaurant that stood about where the lobby of the Melrose Building is.  He was the last holdout.  In fact, Gleason had to invoke Eminent Domain try to force Poole to sell.  Seven days later, Poole was found in the ashes of the restaurant with three bullets in his brain.  A gun was found nearby and it had Poole's prints all over it.  Since Poole had no will, and the property was under eminent domain, it was bought from the estate at a fraction of its actual value."

**********

"So you see, Captain."  Mike said to Jerry Davies.  "We have every reason to believe that Wayne Poole is our killer.  After his father's death, he claimed that the fire was arson and that Nathan Purdy murdered his father.  He accused the real estate company that was handling the acquisitions, which, not so incidentally, was Maxim Realty, of putting out a contract on his father because he wouldn't sell.  Then he blamed the insurance agency, you guessed it, Golden State, of reneging on the policy on the restaurant, because the Arson investigation concluded that the fire was set by Hugh to get the insurance money."

"He even went as far as to stalk Martin Gleason and write threatening letters to the press and to the courts."  Nick continued.  "He even torched some of Gleason's buildings.  Fortunately there wasn't much damage.  Finally, he became so obsessed with the whole thing that he had to be committed.   He was released only ten days before the first arson murder occurred."

"Sounds like you two are on the right track."  Davies agreed.  "Have you contacted him?"

"We tried to, but there's no phone listed for him.  He gets his mail through a post office box.  Pays for the box in cash.  The address from the Post Office records is a parking lot.  No bank accounts, no employment records, no nothing." 

"You think he'll strike again tomorrow at the opening ceremonies for the new building?"

Nick nodded.  "Although it doesn't fit the pattern, his final victim almost has to be Martin Gleason.  We'd like to put a guard on Gleason tomorrow and maybe until Poole is caught."

"I think we'd better pin a shadow on him starting right now. "  Davies patted both Nick and Mike on their shoulders.  "Since it was your idea, gentlemen ... and I use the term loosely ...  you two get the honor.  I'll clear it with legal and see that Gleason is notified.  Get going."

**********

Martin Gleason was not a happy camper.  He sat in his penthouse office atop the Gleason Building and glared at the two detectives across from him.  "When Inspector Ganlon called and told me what was going on and that he was sending two babysitters, I told him where to go and what he could do when he got there.  If it weren't for the fact that Commissioner Gordan's sister is married to my wife's brother, I never would have agreed to it.  I have my own security force and believe me, there will be guards coming out the wing wang tomorrow."

"I realize that, Mr. Gleason, but as you know, your life is in danger."  Nick said.  "Wayne Poole is insane and he has killed three times already.  We have every reason to believe you're next.  Besides, it's not up to us.  We have our orders, too."

"Okay.  I'll agree.  But, like I told the Inspector, only until after the opening ceremonies.  By the way, you do have tuxedos, don't you? If you are going to be up there on the dais, you will be dressed appropriately.  Before the opening, there's a hundred dollar a plate dinner in the executive dining room, profits to charity of course.  You pay your own way.  I'm not going to subsidize the LAPD."

Mike and Nick both nodded.

"Good.  Now you can start earning the taxpayer dollars they pay you.  I want to go over to the construction site tonight before it opens, just to make sure everything is ready.  You two might as well tag along.  That way, you can get an idea of the interior of the building."

**********

Emergency Medical Technician Jason Bailey held out his hand. "Welcome to Engine Company 51, Mr. LaCroix.  I understand you'll be riding with us for a while.  I hope you aren't too queasy around the sight of blood and gore.  We're one of the First Response squads.  You'll get a lot of it around here."

**********

He slipped into the basement.  It wasn't hard to get past the guard at the front desk.  He had 'found' a hardhat in one of the construction trailers and had merely told the security officer that he had to make last minute adjustments to the ventilation system.  He exchanged the ID card he also 'found' with the hat for a temporary pass.  Carefully, he opened the duffel and took out the can of gasoline and some rags.  He spread the gas on the rags and placed a detonation cap taped to a remote trigger in the middle of it.  He poured a line of gas to the furnace.  He pried open a door and dropped a bundle of gas soaked rags into the elevator shaft, followed by another detonator package and more gas.

**********

Nick and Mike followed Martin Gleason as he made is way through the offices.  They both were awed at the seeming opulence of the complex.  The lobby was tiled in Egyptian marble.  The elevators were completely lined with smoky mirror-like tiles, including ceiling.  The floor was of black tile, polished to a mirror like shine.  A row of small lights encircled the ceiling.  It gave the overall impression that the occupants were floating in space. The executive suites were paneled in real mahogany and the fixtures were real gold plated.  The carpeting on the floors was Berber, and at least an inch thick.

"Now that you've seen how the other half lives."  Gleason said as the exited the elevator.  "I want to stop by the equipment room.  When we came in, the guard said that there was a problem with the ventilation and I want to talk with whoever is working on it.  I want everything to be perfect for tomorrow."

Nick perked up.  "You two go ahead.  I thought I heard something and I want to check it out"

"That won't be ... "  Gleason said, but he was talking to thin air.

"He's always like that."  Mike said smiling slightly.  "You get used to it after a while."

**********

Carrig

"Well, my boy."  Raymond De Labarre said as he led Nicholas into the courtyard.  "I want to apologize for the fact that there was no hanging this morning.  I'll just have to redouble my efforts to capture that weasel Llewellyn.  He seems to have more lives than a cat.  Next time, I think I'll give the order to execute on sight.  That way, there won't be any opportunities for rescue."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Of course.  Everything will be legal and proper.  There will be a trial ... in absentia, of course ... and he will be 'killed' trying to escape capture.  Enough shop talk.  We may as well settle down and make ourselves comfortable.  Her ladies in waiting tell me that Brynwyn has gone into labor.  If this baby is anything like Jean-Pierre, it may be tomorrow or even the next day before it is born."  He took a seat on the marble rim of the fountain and motioned for Nicholas sit beside him.  He took a deep breath and held it a few seconds.  "It's so beautiful here on the summer nights.  Not too hot and not too cold.  While we're waiting, tell me all about your adventures in the Holy Land.  I do envy you, going off to battle for God and Church."

Nick winced noticeably.   "It was not nearly as glorious and daring as everyone was led to believe.  There were endless marches through arid and hostile territories.  Replacements, both of men and equipment were almost nonexistent.  There were many times when we had barely enough to eat. Most of the time it was what we could scavenge from the surrounding area. When we did fight the enemy, it was gruesome and bloody.  I was wounded twice, once seriously.  I was captured and imprisoned in a Saracen dungeon.  There I was tortured and treated in the most inhumane manner.  My only crime was that I was a Crusader."

"You poor boy."  De Labarre said.  "You seem to have recovered nicely, though.  You will also find that the weather in Wallingshire to be very favorable for recouperation."

"Wallingshire?"

"Of course. It lies just to the west of Carrig.   When I took possession of this shire, I also 'annexed' the shires on all sides.  That way, there is little chance that anyone could lay claim to my holdings, either by law or by force.  I had planned to give Walling to DuPrese as pension for his years of faithful service, but he'll just have to do the best he can on his own.  I can think of no one better qualified to administer the shire for me than my own nephew.  The title of Lord Walling is a very prestigious one.   Think of it as a reward for gallant service in the holy wars."  He smiled paternally and patted Nicholas on the shoulder.  "Perhaps when you and your lady produce heirs, we can arrange some agreement to unite them with mine.  That way, we can keep everything in the family, so to speak."

Nicholas fought the sickening feeling in his stomach.  Even though he knew it was impossible for him to sire children, especially with Janette, just the thought of uniting his family with De Labarre's once again, was disgusting to him.  "I did not come here for that purpose."  He said. 

"Then why did you travel all the way here?"

"To give you something."

"Something for me?  How thoughtful.  What is it?"

"What is due you.  All the months I spent in that Saracen prison gave me time to think.  There was only one person other than myself that knew that Gwyneth would be at the lake that morning.  I remembered that I had mentioned to you that I was going to meet her there.  I did not kill her.  Therefore, it had to be you."  His voice became hard.  "I did the penance for the sins you committed."

De Labarre nodded.  "I had to do it.  She was a threat to my power here.  Sooner or later, she would have convinced the people that they could overthrow me and reclaim their lands.  I regret that you had to take the blame for it, but I know you realize that it was necessary.  Please accept the title to Walling.  It is the least I can give you for your pain and suffering." 

"I do not want Walling.  But here is something else you can give me."

"What is that?"  There was a touch of fear in his voice.

"Your life."  Nicholas turned toward his uncle, rage shining out of his eyes.  "Not for me, but for Gwyneth and Llewellyn and for all the others you have persecuted and murdered to further your own greedy ambitions."  He put his hands around De Labarre's neck and tightened his grip.

"Nicholas!  Stop that!  You're out of control!"  De Labarre gasped.

"I was never more in control."  Nicholas hissed.

De Labarre pulled Nicholas's hands from his throat and drew his sword. "Stay away from me!  I swear, nephew or no, if you come any closer, I will run you through."  He said, jabbing at Nicholas.

Nicholas grabbed the blade and pulled it out of his uncle's hands.  He easily broke it over his knee.

De Labarre backed away at a fast clip.  "Mercy.  I beg you.  Mercy."  His eyes were huge with fear and sweat glistened on his forehead.

"Like you showed Gwyneth?"  His eyes blazed a red-gold and his fangs were elongated.    

"In the name of God, Nicholas, what are you?" 

"This had nothing to do with God.  This is what you have made me."  Nicholas growled as he viciously sank his fangs into the elder knight's neck.

**********

Los Angeles

Nick slowly approached the dumpster, gun drawn.  As he was about to open the lid, a large gray striped tomcat jumped out, hissing and screaming at him.  "So much for my killer.  Now I am hearing things that aren't there."  He mumbled as he holstered his gun.  He started back toward the front of the building.

**********

Gleason opened the door to the equipment room.  "Anyone here?"  He called. There was no answer.  The smell of raw gas nearly overwhelmed them.  "What the hell is going on here?"  Gleason said as he and Mike started into the room.  He almost collided with Wayne Poole.

Poole pulled a gun out of his pocket. 

Mike reached for his holster, but before he could draw his gun, Poole karate chopped him across the throat.  Mike went down like a sack of potatoes

"Mr. Martin Gleason.  You don't know me.  My name is Wayne Poole.  You killed my father and now you are going to die."  Poole said, waving his gun in Gleason's face.

"I killed your father?  I never killed anyone.  I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'll tell you what I'm talking about.  Then you'll know why you're going to die.  I owe you that much."  He pointed to a chair in the corner of the room. "Have a seat."  He took out a clothesline and tied Gleason's hands and feet to the chair.  "I wasn't going to do anything until tomorrow night, but since we're all here now, I guess now is as good a time as any." 

He began pacing the area.  "Do you remember a man named Hugh Poole?  Probably not.  He was my father.  When he got out of the Army after World War 2, he bought a restaurant.  He called it Pop's.  Used his GI bill to do it, too.  He got married and he and his new bride moved into the apartment upstairs.  We were born there, my brothers and I.  I'm the oldest.  Pop said that I had to take care of them.  We worked in the restaurant after school and weekends and summers all our lives.  Nobody worked harder than Pop.  Sometimes it was two or three in the morning before he'd go to bed and he'd be up again at seven to serve breakfast to the guys on their way to work at the warehouse."  He put the gun to Gleason's head.  "You ever in the service?"

Gleason nervously shook his head no.

"Figures.  If you had been, maybe you would have more respect for veterans.  Pop gave us all a great sense of loyalty and duty.  He said it was our duty to give back to this country for the freedoms that we all enjoy in this great land.  I spent eight years in the Navy.  Got out in '63.  Right before 'Nam heated up.  My brothers weren't so lucky.  Jesse was next after me.  He was in the Air Force and was killed in the Tet Offensive.  Darrin, he was the youngest, he was a Marine Sergeant.  He bought it during the evacuation of Saigon.  Six weeks later, it was all over.  Their names are engraved on the Wall in Washington DC.  I'm real proud of them.  Pop was too.  You proud of them?"

"Yes."  Gleason said softly.

He waved the gun in the direction of the outer wall.  See that circuit box?  That's where the Canyon Theater used to be.  I remember going there every Saturday.  We'd sit in the back and eat popcorn and watch the movies all day.  Rocket Man was my favorite.  Darrin liked Commando Coty.  You remember that warehouse that I told you about.  It's now your parking lot."  He pointed to the other wall.  "And over there was St. Veronica's Church.  Pop was married there and we were all baptized there, too.  I was an alter boy.  Do you believe I was an altar boy?  Dominus Vobiscum ... Et cum spiritu tuo.  See, I can still do it.  Were you ever an altar boy?"

"I'm a Methodist."

"You destroyed all of this.  Your people came in and drove those hard working people out of their homes and businesses."  His tone became hard and he put the gun to Gleason's temple.  "And for what?  For this?  How could you do that?  How could you do that to them?"

"I paid them a fair price for their properties."

"What is the price of a man's life?  Pop worked all his life in that restaurant and you took it from him.  When he wouldn't sell, you hired a thug to come in and kill him and burn down the building.  He died for what he believed in.  Are you going to do the same or are you going to beg like the others did." 

Slowly the world came back into focus for Mike Taylor.  First he heard the shouting and then he saw Poole with his back to him, his gun pressed to Gleason's left ear.  Carefully, Mike reached inside his jacket and drew his own gun. 

Poole wheeled and pointed his gun at Mike.  "Don't even think of that."  He yelled.  He held up the remote detonator.  "You shoot me and this whole place goes up in a great big fireball."

"You don't want to do that."  Mike said softly.   "You kill him and you'll be just as bad as he is.  That's not what you want, is it?"   He wished he had Nick's persuasive powers.  < Where are the vampires when you need one? >  "I've been where you are and I know what you're going through."

"No you don't know. You can't know. They killed my pop and they must pay."

"I do know.  Trust me on that.  From what you said about your father, he was a good, God fearing man.  He taught his sons right from wrong.   He wouldn't want you to sin in his name, would he?"

Poole was silent for a moment.

"Now, put down the gun and the detonator and tell me more about your father.  I think I would have liked to know him."

Poole began to lower his hand.

At that instant, Gleason tipped his chair against Poole's side.  Poole and Mike fired in almost the same instant.  At the same time, Poole pressed the detonator.

**********

Carrig

Janette came into the courtyard as Nicholas was lowering his uncle's lifeless body to the ground. 

"That's what you really came to Wales to do, isn't it."

Nicholas nodded and strode toward the entrance of the castle. 

Janette shook her head.  "Nicolah!  Have you learned nothing that LaCroix and I have been trying to teach you?  We leave him here like that and before we reach the gates, a mob with stakes and flaming torches will be waiting for us." 

She ran her fingernails across De Labarre's neck and face.  She used the broken edge of the sword to rip his clothing and chest.  Then she did the same to Nicholas.  "Your story is that a wild animal attacked.  The two of you fought it off, but not before it ripped De Labarre's throat out.  You, yourself were mauled by it."

A lady in waiting ran into the courtyard.  "She has delivered!  Brynwyn has delivered.  It's a boy.  She has a son ... "  She froze as she saw De Labarre's body and the ripped clothes and blood on Nicholas.  " ... Father in heaven ... "  She made an exaggerated sign of the cross.

Both vampires winced and shrank back. 

"A wolf from the moors got in here somehow ... " Nicholas explained.

**********

Los Angeles

Nick heard the shots.  At the same time, he picked up the sounds of the explosion.  Using all the speed he had, he raced to the front door.  It was locked.  He knew he had left it open.  This was not a problem.  Seconds later, he was inside.  Even though the fire was in the basement, he could feel the heat from here.  "Mike!"  He called as he flew for the stairway.

He rushed against the heavy steel door and tore it off its hinges in one motion.  The room was a blazing inferno.  He was almost literally thrown against the far wall of the hallway by the heat and flames.  "Mike!"  He shouted.  "Mike, where are you?"

"In here."  Mike shouted over the roar of the flames.  "I'm trapped by a huge pipe.  I think my leg's broken.  Poole's dead.  I shot him just as he shot Gleason.  I don't know how bad he's hurt or even if he's still alive."

"Hang on, partner.  I'll have you out in a second."  Nick answered.

"NO!  You'll be killed!   Get out while you can!"

"Not without you."  Nick pulled his jacket around his head.  He could already feel the searing on his arms and legs.  Steeling himself against the pain, he crashed into the wall of flames.  The smoke and heat was burning his eyes.  He couldn't see.  "Keep talking."  He told Mike.  "I'll follow your voice."

"Nick, get out.  I'm in an air pocket.  With a little luck, I'll last until the fire trucks get here.  If you try to get to me, you'll burn up."

"As I said before.  No way."  Nick found the pipe that was across Mike's legs and with one mighty effort picked it up and flung it across the room.   He picked up the fallen detective and slung him across his blistered shoulder.  In the distance, he heard a low groan.

"Help me."  Martin Gleason moaned.

Homing in on the man's weak heartbeat, Nick started across the burning floor.  He could feel that his back and legs were already burning up.  "Just a few more minutes."   He silently prayed.  He screamed as his shin hit Gleason's chair.  With fingers he could barely feel, he tore the ropes from him and hoisted him on his other shoulder.  He could hear the sirens as the fire engines pulled into the lot.

**********

Battalion Captain Robertson stared in disbelief as he saw the figure stagger out of the building.  He appeared to be nearly burned to a char, but he was still moving.  And he was carrying two others with him!  Within seconds, the paramedics were at his side.  As they took the two men from him, Nick collapsed.

EMT Bailey directed the paramedic team to tend to the others while he examined the man in front of him.  His face was nearly burned away and all the hair on his head was singed off.  There was no flesh on his hands and arms.  Scraps of smoking cloth clung to the burns on his torso and legs, and there were only blackened strips of flesh clinging to the bones where his feet should have been.  There appeared to be no pulse or other vital signs, but with a body as badly burned as his was, the likelihood that he was still alive was nonexistent. 

"There's a true hero."  He said to one of the other medics.  "Gave his last bit of life to rescue his fellow man."  He took a body bag from the truck and gently began to put the corpse into it.

Lucien LaCroix came toward him.

Bailey motioned him back.  "You don't want to see this one.  He's beyond help." 

Just then, Nick let out a small, barely audible sigh. 

"I don't believe this!  He's still alive!"   Bailey shouted.

**********

Carrig

"He's beautiful."  Janette cooed as she ran her finger along the sleeping infant's jaw line.  There was a sorrowful smile on her face.  Nicholas understood it was for the children she would never have.

Nicholas looked at the infant snuggled in his mother's arms.  "I'm sorry about your husband."  He said to Brynwyn.

"Don't be.  I am not sorry he is dead.  The wolf that attacked the two of you actually did me a favor.  As soon as I was sufficiently recovered from childbirth, I had planned to kill him myself.  If only to prove Llewellyn's curse to be true.  You see, tomorrow would have been De Labarre's fifty-fifth birthday." 

She gently traced a line across her son's forehead. "He was a mean and cruel man."  She continued.  "Our marriage was arranged solely to cement his hold on this area.  There was no love between us.  Not even attraction.  The only time he showed any interest in me was after I became pregnant.  As far as he was concerned, I was only a means to an end.  His only concern was for this child.  He wanted a son to keep the natives from regaining possession of the shire."  

She smiled sarcastically.  "How paradoxical.  Through his seed, the shire will be returned to its rightful owners after all.  This child is heir to Carrig.  It is his due.  He is also Welsh, and I will see to it that he is raised a Welshman.  I can do no less for those who died for this soil.  Especially for my sister."

"Sister?

"That is the final irony.  Not even De Labarre knew.  Gwyneth was my younger sister."

As they left the bedchamber, Janette turned to Nicholas.  "What now?"

"My mission here is complete."  He said with a small smile.  "Now we go to Paris." 

**********

Los Angeles

The siren wailed through the night as the ambulance raced to the hospital emergency room.  Inside, Nick lay on a stretcher.  His arms and legs were encased in burn bags, and his face and head was swaddled in antiseptic soaked bandages.  Burn cream was spread on every exposed part of his body.  An IV dripped into his right arm and an oxygen tube had been inserted into his nose. "I need ... "  He said in a hoarse whisper.

Mike Taylor extended his arm across the narrow aisle between them.  His left leg was enclosed in an emergency splint and the burns on his face and hands were also covered with bandages and burn bags.  An IV was connected to his other arm.  "Here, partner.  Take a much as you need."  He said, holding his wrist to Nick's mouth.

The detective's blood sang to him.  He could feel his fangs starting to elongate.  The vampire demanded to be satisfied.  "No."  Nick said in a ragged murmur.  He turned his head almost imperceptibly.  "I cannot.  You need the blood to heal your own wounds.

"He's right." Lucien LaCroix said, gently pushing Mike's arm away.  "Besides, to get enough blood to do him any good, he'd have to drain you, and every other mortal in a half mile radius."

"LaCroix, how ... "  Nick said hoarsely.

"The driver thinks I am riding with him.  As for Mr. Bailey, here ... "  He pointed at the technician slumped in the seat in the front of the compartment.  " ... He believes he is treating you for severe second and mild third degree burns."

"But I didn't see you come in, or hear you hypnotize them."

LaCroix shook his head slowly .  "Nicholas, Nicholas."  He smiled broadly.   "I am more than twice your age.  I am proficient in techniques that you could not even dream exist."  He took a scalpel from the emergency kit and made a quick slice across his wrist.  He held it to his son's mouth and the younger vampire drank hungrily.

"Won't he drain you?"  Mike asked as he watched in fearful fascination.

"Not likely."  LaCroix answered.  "My blood has all the components he needs to heal quickly and completely.  He only needs to take a small amount to reap the benefits.  I can easily afford to lose that much."  He gently lifted his wrist from Nick's face.  He placed his arm to Mike's mouth.  "One mouthful.  No more."

"I won't turn into a vampire, will I?"

LaCroix smiled and slowly shook his head.  "I thought Nicholas had explained these things to you.  I would have to drain you first and then replace your blood with mine.  This small amount will only enable you to heal more rapidly.  Although, from your actions of late, the thought of draining you is exceedingly tempting.  For Nicholas's sake though, I shall restrain myself."

Steeling himself, Mike filled his mouth with the elder's blood.  He made a grisly face and swallowed quickly.  He fought a wave of nausea at the thought of vampire blood in his stomach.  Almost immediately, though, he felt the pain receding.

"My blood will remain on your system for about three hours.  Other than the healing, there should be no residual effects."  LaCroix said.  With a rush of air, he was gone.

"Hey, partner.  Did I just see what I thought I saw?"

"If you think you saw LaCroix give us a transfusion, vampire style, then you saw what you thought you saw."  Nick said.  His voice was strong and firm and there was just a hint of a chuckle.

"Then I guess I think I saw what I thought I saw."  Mike laughed at the word play. 

Technician Bailey came to Nick.

"You both are the luckiest men I have ever come across.  You ... " He pointed to Taylor.  " ... were in the middle of an explosion and only suffered minor burns and a fractured leg. 

While you ... "  He said to Nick.   " ... Should have been burned to a crisp.  Instead, you only have second and a few small third degree burns.  I also checked with the other ambulance.  Mr. Gleason is in stable condition with a non threatening chest wound.  He'll need surgery, but the medics and the doctors we talked with seem to think he'll pull through just fine."

Nick held up his free hand.  Through the transparent burn bag, he could see the new pink skin that was growing over the regenerated nerve and muscle tissue.

"You two must have some powerful guardian angels or something like that."  Bailey said.

"Or something like that... "  Mike and Nick said in unison

"By the way partner, did I thank you for saving my hide back there?"  Mike asked as the ambulance pulled into the hospital lot.

Nick nodded.  "Yes you did."

"When?"

"When you offered me your arm a while ago."

**********

The End

Don't you believe it!