They had been dancing for hours. Nick had shed his shirt and shoes. His hair curled more as it grew damp. Urs had kicked off her shoes, as well. Her soft, cotton blouse had come unbuttoned far enough to reveal a smooth, pale cleavage. They wore identical smiles- broad expressions that hinted of seduction and romance; the feeling was mirrored in the smoky golden glow of their eyes. They looked so right together.

Tracy grinned, wondering how much a picture of Nick like this would be worth. The guys at the precinct called him the "Knightmare" and the "Ice Prince". They figured that since he wasn't doing it with the coroner, who obviously was hot for him, then he just must not be doing it at all. There were still bets on him, on when he would get a little action and with whom. Tracy had not been allowed to join the pool since they claimed she had an unfair advantage. She spent more time with Nick than any of them, and, she'd learned to her own embarrassment, that some of the cops were betting their money on her! Now was payback time.

She dug through her purse. There'd been that small, disposable camera she'd bought three months ago when her cousin had come for a visit. She hadn't had the pictures developed, as there were still some shots left. Pulling it out, she checked the settings, then quietly moved a little closer. The flash might draw attention, and then again, maybe not. Nick hadn't noticed anyone or anything but Urs for hours now. Tracy took the shot. And another. And a few more, before running out of film. Slipping the camera surreptitiously into her bag, she gasped at the voice so close to her ear.

"I would like to have a copy of that when you get it developed," LaCroix said smoothly.

Tracy grinned. "I think it will turn out nicely. It's good to see Nick like this. I haven't ever seen him so relaxed."

"Nor have I," LaCroix said. There was a sadness in his voice. "At least, not for a long, long time."

She wondered what was a "long time" for the vampire. Then a yawn slipped out and she shuddered.

"Let me show you to your room," LaCroix offered.

"I don't have to stay," she said, stammering awkwardly. "I could just go home, although I came in Nick's car, so I don't know how I'll..."

"You will stay in my guest room." End of discussion. Tracy followed him up the stairs to his apartment. The windows were heavily shuttered against the sun, she noticed, just like Nick's loft. Her sleepy eyes drifted across the simple, yet elegant furnishings that spoke of wealth, power, and sophistication. Her host was already down the hallway. She hurried to catch up.

"This is where Nicholas will be staying," LaCroix informed her. "No doubt Ursula will keep him contented, but I suggest that you lock your door. His stomach wakes up a good thirty minutes before his brain."

Tracy blanched. She'd never thought of her partner as dangerous before. Oh, he'd been rather violent towards Roy Benson two nights ago, but she'd never been afraid of him. "Yes, thank you," she said nervously. She caught the yellow lights in his eyes as well. He must have known that the vampires were getting tired and their control was slipping. He'd herded her here for her own safety. She smiled at him before closing the door. It had been the strangest of nights.

Nick and Urs did not quit dancing until the band put away their instruments. Nick begged Vachon to play one more number, but Urs smiled at him through half-closed eyes. "Nicky, I'm really tired. Can't we go to bed yet?"

Nick hugged her, twirling around in a circle as her feet came off the floor. "But I promised Tracy the last dance," he said lightly.

"Miss Vetter retired hours ago," LaCroix stated. "She is in Janette's room. I trust you won't mind, but since you brought her here, I thought it best."

Nick stared at him for a few minutes, as the lateness of the hour suddenly struck him. "Yes, of course. Thank you." Then with an arm around Urs, he headed upstairs himself.

Vachon eyed LaCroix coolly. The ancient vampire was about to dismiss the young Spaniard, but his inane grin was most irritating. "Is there something on your mind for a change?" LaCroix demanded.

Vachon grinned; the insult went right past him in his exhaustion. "I was just thinking. If my fledgling and your fledgling hang out, then that must make us like in-laws."

"Vachon. Don't think again. It isn't safe." Then LaCroix turned and fled to the quiet retreat of his apartment.

Tracy awoke, luxuriating in the feel of satin sheets on her bare skin. The room was bathed in rosy sunlight. She'd opened the drapes before going to sleep, as further protection from the vampires in the building. But now the sun was setting. It was time to move. A yawn shook her entire frame. It was a good thing that she didn't have to work tonight. She'd had entirely too much fun and too little sleep.

She stretched in front of the window, feeling the warm sun on her bare skin. Last night's clothes still lay in a heap on the floor where she'd dropped them. She didn't really feel like pulling them back on. The room had a decidedly feminine look to it. Pulling out a few drawers revealed that it was indeed a woman's room, a woman about her size with expensive tastes in clothes. She selected one of the more "casual" outfits, designer jeans and an over-sized v-neck sweater, then stepped into the private bath for a shower. Before long, she felt brave enough to venture out.

Nick sat at the piano, playing softly. His hair was damp from a shower as well, and he wore only a soft, faded pair of jeans and a bathrobe belted loosely. He seemed oblivious to her presence. She moved quietly into the room and listened to him play.

Of course he had a piano in his loft, but she'd never heard him play before. The song was sweet, hauntingly lovely. It wasn't something she could place, and she thought she knew a lot about music. Her dad had dragged her and mom to every fund-raiser concert from the time she'd outgrown a pacifier until she'd graduated from the Academy and struck out to be "independent", and still he sent her invitations. As the song ended, she stepped closer to the piano and into Nick's line of sight.

"That was lovely. What was it?"

Nick jumped, then he shrugged indifferently, but she saw a faint sign of a blush. It was hard to see on a vampire, but there it was. Nick grabbed his "wine" glass and swallowed half the contents. It didn't seem so strange now that she knew his secret.

"It's just a little something I've been writing," he mumbled.

"You write? Nick, I never knew that you wrote music too. What is it called?"

Nick got up from the bench and dodged into the kitchen. "Are you hungry? LaCroix wasn't really expecting company, so I don't know what he's got around to eat. Um- here, make yourself at home."

Tracy grinned as she saw him awkwardly pulling food items from the cupboards. He obviously didn't have a clue what mortals would eat. A box of spaghetti noodles, a jar of peanut butter, some oyster crackers, and a package of ho-hos. Nick poured himself another glass.

Tracy watched as he turned away from her before drinking. So he was still keeping up the charade? He wouldn't let her see his fangs, thinking she was still the fool? She wondered what if anything he remembered of last night.

"Really Nick. Wine for breakfast?" If he was going to keep up the game, then she was going to play too.

"Well, it was left over, and I can't let it go to waste now, can I," he replied.

"You still owe me a dance," Tracy reminded him. "So I thought, maybe you and Urs, Vachon and I could go out tonight. You know, double date?"

Nick was about to shake his head no, but then he saw Tracy's innocent, hopeful expression. He was already feeling guilty that he'd brought her here and then forgot about her, putting her in danger. And she was so trusting. "I'll mention it to Urs. What'd you have in mind?"

Tracy shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it. Vachon doesn't like to eat out, but maybe we could take in a movie or a play?"

Nick nodded. There was a play opening at the theater. He'd seen it before; he'd even acted in it once... February, 1872- the benefit under the direction of the composer himself, Mussorgsky, and his significant other, Rimsky-Korsakov... It might be fun to watch Urs watch it.

"Hey, Nick. Don't zone out on me," Tracy said, waving a hand in his face. "Where is Urs?"

"Still sleeping. I kept her up too late, I guess. Funny, she dances for a living, but last night I think I wore her out."

"You're a great dancer, too. Where'd you learn to dance like that?"

Nick grinned at her. "Twenty questions is over, pest. I'm going back to bed for a few more hours. Do you need a ride somewhere? I'll call a cab."

Tracy nodded. "Thanks, that'd be nice. Good night."

She watched through the curtain until the cab pulled up in back, then she hurried down the stairs and out, before she could meet any newly awakened hungry vampires. Would they have hangovers? Life was just too weird any more.

Back in her apartment she could almost forget about last night entirely. It still bothered her that her partner had kept such a big secret from her. She understood that it was the rules, and with a dad like LaCroix, she didn't imagine that he broke the rules very often. Still, she felt the need to get even, if only just a little. Nick still didn't know that she knew. If LaCroix didn't tell him for awhile, then she'd have time to play a few pranks.

The telephone interrupted her. "Vetter," she said, slipping into professional mode, just in case. She was on vacation now, but maybe Reese would change his mind and call her back.

"Hi, Tracy. It's Natalie."

 "Hi Nat," she responded nervously. She knew what Nat didn't. She knew where Nick was and with whom, but it wasn't her place to share that information. She'd have to speak with Nick about talking to Nat soon. It wasn't fair to her. But Tracy was a little angry with Nat, too. Nat had to have known about vampires- she and Nick spent too much time together for Tracy to believe otherwise, and there had been so many times that Tracy could have really used the advice and comfort of another woman.

"I heard that you and Nick are on vacation," Nat began. She was fishing, Tracy thought. She was too proud to come out and ask for information. She was hoping Tracy would volunteer something. Well, two could play that game.

"Yes. Nick collared that Benson killer, but he was really out of control," Tracy said. That was safe to share. Nat had most likely heard all about it, as there had been plenty of witnesses and even more gossip. "I convinced Reese that Nick probably came back to work too soon. I think he's still grieving for his grandma."

Tracy grinned. She wondered just how old that vampire would have been, to have been LaCroix's master.

"I heard about that," Nat said. Her tone was very concerned. "I was hoping to talk to him, to see how he's doing. But he's not at the loft. I was wondering, have you seen him?"

So, she did ask. That must have cost her a lot. Tracy thought fast. She couldn't have Nat go barging in on Nick and Urs, causing a lot of pain for everyone. "I don't know where he is now," she replied. It was sort of the truth. He was probably at the Raven, in the guest bedroom with Urs, but then, they might be in the shower together, or even on the couch by now... she hadn't ever thought of Nick as an insatiable lover. He always seemed so tightly controlled around her.

"But you have seen him. You went out with him last night? How was he doing?"

Tracy couldn't torture her any longer. So the woman hadn't trusted her, hadn't confided in her. She also lost her boyfriend, and didn't even know it yet. Tracy decided to offer her a little comfort. "He's doing much better, Natalie. That night, I took him to see a friend, that Nightcrawler. And the next day when he came in to work, he was just fine."

Tracy heard the gasp over the phone. Natalie didn't seem to like the Nightcrawler then. Why did Nick's dad like Tracy and not Nat? What was it about the coroner that bugged him? Here was another puzzle for her to figure out.

"Nat, I've got to go," Tracy lied, trying to get out of having to make up any more. "If I see Nick, I'll tell him you asked about him."

"Thanks, Tracy," she said.

Tracy fixed herself a big dinner, then after washing up she gave Vachon a call to discuss the double date.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Vachon hedged.

"Why? I've seen you hang out with mortals before," Tracy said petulantly. "Don't you like Nick? You were telling me just last night that he was a great guy."

"What does Nick think," the vampire asked hesitantly.

"It's fine with him. But he said he'd rather see the play than the movie."

"Okay." Vachon wondered if maybe he was still suffering from sleep deprivation.

"I'll come over to the church and meet you there. Bye!"

Next she called Nick. "Can you give me a lift? I told Vachon I'd meet him at his place, but I can't get my car started. Dad's going to have a new starter put in tomorrow."

"Urs isn't ready yet," Nick said.

"That's fine. Take me to Vachon's, then we'll all go back to get Urs. Okay?"

Nick reluctantly agreed. Before long, she saw the large green Caddy pull up in front of her apartment. Nick got out and came to her door, as polite as a 1950's date. Tracy wondered how old he really was.

She whistled at him as he stepped inside. He looked very different from the half-dressed vampire on last night's dance floor. He was in a tux. His idea of a date was a whole lot more formal than she'd ever imagined. "Nick, this is a play, not a wedding," she teased.

"It is opening night at the Jane Mallet Theatre. The occasion calls for more dignity than jeans, Button. Shall I wait while you rethink your attire?"

Tracy blushed. "Okay, okay. But, make yourself at home. It will take more than a minute." She had a closet full of clothes. It wasn't like she didn't have anything appropriate, but she did wonder about Vachon. Would he be in his biker black-leathers? Maybe this double date thing wasn't such a good idea.

She slipped into a slinky black evening gown that was slit up the side clear to her thigh and quickly tossed a few items in a smaller purse, then grabbed a string of pearls. Grinning, she had a sudden inspiration as she examined the clasp. Setting the pearls on the floor, she stepped on the tiny clasp and damaged it. Then she left her room and handed the necklace to her vampire partner. "Give me a hand, Nick?" she asked, as she lifted her hair off her neck.

Nick's fingers trailed along the smooth skin. His touch was cool, sensual. Tracy felt the hair on her neck tingle at the vampire's nearness. He fumbled with the clasp. She heard a muffled curse, felt his breath just behind her ear. She'd never really been attracted to her partner before, but there was something so erotic about a man being attracted to a woman... but then, he was just responding to her blood.

Tracy smiled knowingly. She'd seen him take his lover several times last night in the Raven, and heard suspicious noises later from his room. And necks still aroused him? Interesting. She wondered if Vachon would be as amorous.

She stepped away and took the necklace from him. "Oh drat," she said, trying to sound duly alarmed. "The clasp is broken." She glanced at the clock, knowing already that they had plenty of time. "Maybe we could swing by the jeweler's real quick and get it fixed? It won't take long."

"Tracy," Nick started, with that annoying "big brother" tone of exasperation.

"Sorry, Nick," she said lightly. "I don't have a lot to choose from, and these were my grandmother's pearls. I'd just enjoy the evening a whole lot more if I could wear them."

Nick sighed. "All right. Let's get a move on it."

Tracy sat up front and chatted amicably all the way to the mall. The stores were open later there than downtown. She noted the stares from the usual jean-clad clientele as she strolled through the mall in the black evening gown next to Nick in his tux. They were worth a picture tonight, she thought proudly.

"You know, maybe this was a good thing," she said.

"How so?" Nick was certain he'd never understand how a woman's mind worked.

"Well, I bet you haven't got Urs a gift yet, have you?"

"A gift? Why should I get her a gift?"

"You really have been single for too long, lover-boy. You should always get a girl a gift. Different gifts for every occasion. Flowers if you're sucking up for a date or apologizing for being a screw-up, candy for light romance, diamonds when you're dead serious, got it?"

Nick nodded vaguely, looking around for the jewelers.

"But you and Urs haven't known each other long enough for you to screw up yet or be too serious, so this calls for a trinket. Earrings or a bracelet, or something which says that you were thinking about her and you care about her. Right?"

A bracelet, Nick thought. That was a sweet idea. Urs had such delicate wrists and slender hands. A simple band of diamonds would be perfect. But, he couldn't let Tracy see the price tag... a cop would never buy diamonds.

Tracy handed the pearl strand to the jeweler and pleaded with him to fix it immediately. The skinny young man with too-thick glasses mumbled how it would be absolutely impossible to fix it tonight. Tracy pouted, fighting back a real tear at the thought that she might have actually ruined the pearls. They had been her only gift from her grandmother, a woman who had died so long ago that Tracy didn't even remember her.

Nick leaned in to the man's face and spoke very softly. "You will fix the clasp immediately," he said. Tracy concealed a grin as she recognized the signs of vampire hypnotism. Nick was really good at it, much better than Vachon. She wondered how many times Nick had hypnotized some one in the past and she hadn't realized it.

As the jeweler took her necklace into a back corner to work on it, Tracy glanced over the other items looking for something. "Here it is, Nick! This is perfect for Urs!"

Nick blanched as the dainty crucifix was waved in his face, and he staggered back, colliding with two customers behind him. Tracy pretended not to notice as she chatted on. "Isn't it pretty? I never had one like this, as we weren't brought up Catholic. We weren't really brought up to be Christian either, but Dad attended the Unitarian church, because the mayor went there. Always a suck up."

Nick had recovered and moved away from her. She saw him eyeing the more expensive pieces kept under a glass display case. A second clerk pulled the tray out and Nick pointed to the one he wanted. Tracy felt a moment of envy as she drooled over the thin bracelet set with tiny diamonds and rubies. It was so old-fashioned and sweet, and so like Nick. Urs had better appreciate him, she thought protectively.

Nick passed the clerk a credit card and waited while the gift was wrapped. Then he slipped it into a pocket. He directed the clerk to add the charge for Tracy's new clasp onto the bill.

"Nick, you didn't have to do that," she said, feeling a twinge of guilt.

"No problem. And thanks for the idea. Do you think she'll like it?"

Tracy looked up at Nick quickly. How could Urs not like it? What girl would reject a bracelet that was worth more than a year's salary? But Nick didn't look like he was joking. His face was so hopeful and a little worried, that she almost felt like patting him on the head. "I'm sure she'll love it," she replied.

Vachon was ready and waiting when they reached the church, and he was appropriately attired in a tux as well. Tracy couldn't do a thing except stare for many moments. He had showered, shaved the scraggly shadow from his jaw, and pulled the long black hair into a tidy ponytail. She almost didn't recognize him.

"Javier, what's this?" she whispered into his ear.

He grinned sheepishly. "Nick's orders, Trace."

Vachon held the back door of the Caddy open for Tracy, then he went around to the other side and slid in next to her. Nick pulled away, finally returning to the Raven for Urs. "You two wait here," he ordered.

"You know, Vachon, I could get used to this new look," Tracy said, snuggling up a little too closely to him.

Vachon swallowed nervously. "A-hem. Don't get too used to it. It won't happen very often."

Nick took the stairs two at a time. The gift in his pocket weighed heavily on his thoughts. Would she like it? What if she didn't? Excitement and dread warred within, and he knew it would all be over soon.

Urs was just coming out of their bedroom as Nick burst through the door. His breath caught, and if he'd have been mortal, he was certain he'd have fainted. Urs stood in a stunning sheath of white with silver sequins. Her blonde curls were gathered together with a simple jeweled comb. Though she wore no other gems, Nick thought she looked magnificent.

Urs turned around in a tight little circle and spoke with a nervous laugh. "Do you like it?"

Nick reached her in two quick strides and hugged her to him in a bone-crushing embrace. "I love it. All of it. Urs... you look good enough to eat."

She melted in his arms, not minding at all that her ribs were bruising. They would heal quickly enough, but the love of a man was unequaled.

Nick nuzzled her slender throat, feeling his fangs descend and knowing that the vampire was threatening to devour her again. He growled, tearing himself away. There wouldn't be time for that now, thanks to Tracy.

"Um, I got you something," he said nervously.

"Nicky, you didn't have to," Urs replied. "You are all that I want or need."

Nick pulled the slim box from his pocket and held it out to her. He stammered incoherently, as she loosened the paper. Pushing back the lid, she gasped at the dazzling brilliance of the simple bracelet. Tears filled her eyes. "Oh, Nicky! You shouldn't have!"

She didn't like it! "I'm sorry, Urs... I'm sorry. You can exchange it for something that appeals to you..."

"Sh-sh..." she said, placing a finger on his lips. "It is beautiful! It's lovely, it's perfect! No one has ever given me such a fantastic gift in my entire life! Please, will you put it on? I'm shaking too much right now."

Nick blinked back the moisture in his own eyes as he took the bracelet from the velvet case. He did the clasp, then brought the graceful hand to his lips and placed a kiss upon it. "You make me so very happy," he said, softly singing the familiar words to an old song.

"Nicky," Urs whispered. She hesitated. They'd never spoken the words before. But, it was a diamond bracelet! Surely, it would be acceptable now? "I, I love you!"

"I love you, too, my little bear," he exclaimed, crushing her to him again.

A loud, familiar honking sounded from the street below. It was his Caddy. Vachon or Tracy must be getting impatient. "Shall we?" he asked.

Urs placed her arm through his and walked beside him, the joy in her heart threatening to explode.

Nick pulled in front of the theater, leaving the engine running for the valet to park. He didn't seem to mind that his thirty-year-old Caddy would share the lot with Porsches and Jaguars. He took his date and entered the theater with as much dignity as a crown prince. Tracy stared at him, a little awed, as she wondered if the analogy wasn't so very far from wrong. Was the favored son of the ancient LaCroix a prince in his community?

They were handed programs and directed towards their seats- box seats no less. Tracy noticed the orchestra, and felt a sinking suspicion that this wasn't just a "play". She opened the program and skimmed it anxiously. "Nick! What is this? This isn't even in English?"

"Russian, Tracy. You know, you really should get out more," Nick said, with a smirk. She had pushed this double date idea. He thought that if he made it just a little too different from what she was used to, that there would never be a repeat. "This is the opera, Boris Godunov."

"An Opera? You have got to be kidding," she muttered under her breath.

Urs kept her arm looped through Nick's, while she admired her bracelet again. "I haven't been to an Opera in a long, long time," she whispered. "And I have never seen this one. Tell me about it?"

"It is a tale of political intrigue, public unrest, and a Pretender to the throne," Nick began, describing a time in Russia's dismal past that was not very different from many modern countries. His story was so vibrant and colorful, that Tracy felt she was really there, a part of the action, experiencing it first hand.

Then the curtains parted, revealing a courtyard near the Novodievichy Monastery outside Moscow. A stage full of peasants cried out pleadingly, as a police officer held them back. "Na kovo ti nas pokidayesh!"

"To whom art thou abandoning us," Nick whispered, for both the women's benefit, as he knew Vachon's Russian was sketchy at best. The boyar, Boris Godunov, had gone into retreat, and the masses were begging him to claim the throne of Russia, which was still vacant.

For the next three hours, the awe and mystery enveloped them. The music was passionate, bringing tears to the eyes of many. Vachon gallantly handed Tracy a handkerchief before many songs had passed. She was grateful for the dark that would conceal her own runny mascara and Urs's blood red trails. At the brief intermission, she grabbed Urs to accompany her to the rest room. She knew the vampire would not need it, but there was no way she was going to wait in line alone.

Urs twitched her wrist again, admiring the stones, not pretentiously, but with the wide-eyed wonder of a kid at Christmas.

"That is so gorgeous," Tracy told her.

"He is too sweet," Urs said. "And so thoughtful!"

Tracy hid a smile. That was one secret she would never break. This night had begun as a joke, a way to tease Nick, to get even with him, but it had turned out so differently. She would just enjoy the remainder of the opera, and plan the rest of her attack more carefully.

The prospect of a week off had seemed like an eternity to Tracy, but it had passed all too quickly. She'd flirted outrageously with Vachon. She's teased Nick a few too many times, and she'd hardly slept at all. She covered a yawn and stared at the reflection in the small mirror mounted inside her locker. She looked too pale. Hanging around vampires all the time had leached away the last of her summer tan.

"Come on, Button. No more time for day dreaming," Nick said, patting her back patronizingly.

"Don't call me that! I hate it when you call me that." Geesh, she sounded crabby.

"I know," Nick replied. His eyes were sparkling with mischief. He looked wonderful after his week off. Romance had done wonders for his normally gloomy disposition.

Several pairs of eyes stared at them as they took their desks. Nick tried to ignore them, but Tracy turned on the nearest victim. "What!"

Novak shrugged. "You two just seem mighty chummy tonight. I don't think Reese meant that you had to take your vacation together." He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. Nick was out of his desk and had the startled officer by his shirtfront before Tracy could even blink.

"That remark doesn't even deserve the dignity of a reply. You will apologize to Miss Vetter at once, and if I ever hear that sort of nonsense from your mouth again, you'll resent ever setting foot in the city of Toronto."

Novak paled visibly, horrified that an off-hand comment could have turned the relaxed Detective Knight back into the Knightmare so quickly. "Uh-uh, I'm sorry, Tracy, I, uh, didn't mean nothing."

"Nick," Tracy said, no longer angry. "Down boy. Let him go."

Nick unhanded him, glaring into his eyes for a moment longer, then returned to his desk, effectively dismissing the stunned officer from his mind completely.

Getting back into work began slowly. They pulled out an unsolved from the pile and spent two hours in research, looking for similar cases. After awhile Nick left without saying where he was going. Tracy hoped he was going to talk to Natalie. She needed a break, too, and went into the lounge.

The conversations stopped when she entered. She stared at them, first angrily, then with amusement. They had been gossiping about her, and their renewed fear of Nick made them more careful. Nick was a handy person to keep around. But, it was time to put the next step of her plan into action.

"Nick and I are not an item," she informed them all. She heard a few mutters, which included the coroner's name, and she felt a twinge of remorse for her. Nick had better talk to her, before she heard it from the gossip ring. "But I do know who he spends his days with."

A groan circled the room, as those who'd bet against the coroner suspected they were about to lose. "Nope," Tracy said, unable to stifle a giggle.

"Hey, we're going to need some proof before we pay up," the pro-Nat-ers complained.

"I've got proof. But what's it worth?"

Tracy skillfully negotiated a percentage of the pot, then whipped out the 8 x 10 incriminating enlargement of her partner. Nick was only half dressed and barefoot, dancing wildly with a seductive young blonde. Tracy had had to have the odd lights in the eyes touched up. Lots of photo places advertised getting rid of "red eye". She guessed that "golden eye" removal was similar.

"What is it with him," one disheartened and decidedly poorer cop complained. "He's got to be at least twice her age. What's she see in him?"

Tracy laughed out loud. "Nick is sensitive, thoughtful, and romantic. What's not to see, Gordon? Just because your idea of a hot date is pizza and bowling."

"You got it for him, too?" Gordon sounded shocked.

"Not me. I have someone of my own. And if you want more information, you'll have to get it the hard way. Nick's more like a brother to me. I guess I couldn't ever get too interested in anyone I work with." Then she pocketed her winnings and hurried back to her desk before her partner returned. She took back her photograph, although several offered to buy it from her. She wasn't through blackmailing him yet.

"There you are, Tracy," Nick said distractedly, as she slipped behind her desk. "Let's hit the streets."

Another night of cruising town. At least it was more interesting than research. "Where to?" she asked, grabbing her jacket.

Nick rattled off several destinations and reasons for going there. It was a stretch. He was probably just as restless as she was.

The night air was nippy. She zipped up and tightened her scarf, although Nick's coat was still open. "You know, Nick, you could catch pneumonia if you don't take better care of yourself."

He shrugged, but didn't bother to fasten the buttons. He switched on the radio. Shortly, the soft, velvet tones of the Nightcrawler whispered dark nonsense over the air. Vampire or not, Nick's dad was still pretty weird. He was retelling a Biblical parable! The prodigal son. She eyed Nick as the story unfolded with a new twist. Perhaps, the voice suggested, that when the son left and squandered his inheritance, it wasn't merely his own greed that drove him, nor his own childish impetuosity. Perhaps, it had been as much the father's fault? Had the elder ignored his child's needs? Failed him somehow, in his education?

Tracy noted the light smirk on Nick's face. Knowing now that the Nightcrawler was his dad, she suspected that this story at least, was meant for Nick. Was LaCroix publicly apologizing, in an unspecific, round-about sort of way? What ever the story meant, it pleased Nick. Maybe his dad wouldn't be such a bad master after all?

Thinking made her hungry, and at that moment she saw a fast food place that sold pizza by the slice. "Pull over!" she said.

Nick complied, listening distractedly to more of the monologue.

"I won't be long. Wait for me," she said, as she ducked inside. A large slice of garlic and pepperoni pizza and a coke would make a wonderful late night snack, she thought. She took her purchase and returned to the Caddy. As Nick pulled away from the curb, she opened the box.

The car swerved sharply, nearly spilling her drink. "Nick!" she gasped. "Want me to drive?"

He looked faintly nauseated, she noted wickedly. The garlic smell must be pretty powerful. She couldn't really smell it that much, but then she'd heard Vachon say that vampire senses were much sharper.

"Will you hurry up and eat that noxious food," Nick snapped.

"I'm eating. I'd appreciate it if you could drive a little more safely. I really don't want to wear this coke all night, thank you." She took another bite, savoring the hot, cheesy pizza. Giving up eating once she became a vampire wouldn't really bother her- she hated the constant ritual of three meals a day - but pizza was going to be hard to say good-bye to. She might have to eat it every night for the rest of the week. If Nick didn't kill her first.

Nick stopped the car and put down the top.

"Nick! What are you doing," she demanded. "It's cold outside!"

"Defumigating the car. And I'm not cold," he replied. He grinned at her as he pulled back into traffic. Another prank that backfired, she grumbled to herself. She turned his car heater on high, with the cold night wind blowing around her, and wondered what she would do to get even.

Much later the call came in. Another death to investigate. Nick turned the car around. Tracy glanced off at the horizon. It was still dark, but it wouldn't be for long. How could he be so calm about it? He should remind the dispatcher that he absolutely had to be home before sunrise!

"Vacation's over, Tracy," he said gently, misunderstanding her concern.

She loved being a cop and felt good about her job. But, she didn't like it that some one always had to die. She sat quietly in the Caddy, deep in thoughts as they drove to the newest crime scene.

Nick pulled up outside of St. John's. His throat was suddenly too dry. He hadn't been here in years... and one time was filled with memories of Schanke. Nick had hidden inside the confessional, struggling with his own fears while waiting for a serial killer to strike, when Schanke had decided it was time to confess his near occasion of sin with Alma, a young vampire he'd danced with at the Raven. It was a bittersweet memory. "I miss you, Schank," Nick whispered.

Tracy followed him out of the Caddy. Nick gave the church a wide berth, following the flashing police lights to the scene. Off to one side, near the trash cans and bordering the parking lot, was the ubiquitous yellow tape and the city coroner. For a moment Nat's eyes lit up as she saw Nick, but then the sadness returned. She bit on her lower lip, averting her eyes.

Tracy watched as Nick reacted to the body. She saw the tightening in his jaw, thought she saw the tips of fangs between his lips. His hands clenched and he stepped back. For the first time, she wondered if it was hard to be surrounded by this- did it make him hungry? Did it make the vampire want to emerge in full force? She admired him for his control. Tracy moved closer then to see for herself.

A boy of about thirteen lay awkwardly on the ground. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood. His face, relaxed in death, was so young and smooth... a child, cut off before he would ever become a man. Somewhere, some mother would grieve tonight. Sometimes, life's a bitch.

"Multiple stab wounds to the chest," Nat was reciting. "T.O.D. was maybe two hours ago... I can tell you more after I get him to the lab."

"Who found the body?" Nick asked.

"Father Rochefort called it in. He said he'd been putting out the trash," answered one of the uniforms.

"Do you know if drugs are involved? Could this have been a deal gone bad?"

"No," came a deep, anguished voice. Nick turned towards the sound. He nodded, a look of recognition crossed his face. "Hello, Father. Sorry to see you again under such tragic circumstances."

The young priest extended his hand. Nick hesitated only a minute, then returned the handshake. "I didn't realize that you were still serving here."

"His name was Rueben Maloney. He's a good kid. He's been an altar boy since he was seven years old. I know him. He wouldn't be dealing drugs!" Tears streamed down his face.

Nick led the priest away with a gentle touch. "These are questions we have to ask, you understand. We will do all that we can to find his killer."

Nick waited a few moments. When Father Rochefort was breathing a little easier, Nick continued. "Can you think of any reason someone would have wanted to harm him? Did he have enemies? Could this be a gang retaliation?"

The priest continued to shake his head, then burst into weeping again. "No gangs," he stammered. "No, I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Father. That's enough for now. I may need to talk to you again tomorrow, though."

He nodded, then went inside the rectory.

Tracy had watched the entire interview. She didn't often see Nick use such sensitivity, and with a priest no less! She'd seen how even shaking Rochefort's hand had caused Nick real discomfort. They seemed to know each other though. There was a story here, and she wanted to know what it was. Some other time, perhaps.

Nat had the body removed, and the area was searched unsuccessfully for the murder weapon. Nick gestured to Tracy that it was time to go.

"What was he doing taking the trash out this late at night," Tracy asked. Maybe if she dropped a few hints that might incriminate the priest, Nick would tell her how he knew him.

Nick walked around to the trunk and opened it. He smiled at her. "It isn't late for him, it is early. He's just getting up for the day. Now, you drive. The sun's almost up."

She just nodded as he crawled into the trunk and closed it. Even a week ago she would have thought that her partner was the strangest person she'd ever met, but now it seemed perfectly normal to drive his car while he rode in the trunk. "I guess watching the sunrise will be out in a few more days," she thought wistfully. But then, when they were both vampires, who would drive them home?

Two days had passed and they still had no leads into Rueben Maloney's murder. And through it all, Tracy was becoming increasingly more difficult to work with. She turned the volume up on his car radio until it hurt his sensitive hearing. She ate pizza and garlic bread. And the questions. She asked so many, seemingly innocuous questions, that he just started tuning her out. Maybe she was going through a stage. He'd have to stop by Vachon's later and see if he'd noticed anything different about her.

Meanwhile, he and Nat were doing the cold shoulder dance. He stopped by the morgue to talk, and she avoided him. She called the loft, but Nick and Urs were still staying at the Raven. And for once, the police gossip about Nick's newest romance never quite made it to the coroner. No one wanted to run the risk of pissing off the Knightmare that much.

"You really do have to talk to her," Tracy insisted.

Nick shrugged. "Yeah, I know. I just haven't a clue what I'm going to say."

"Coward," Tracy said. "See you tonight."

Nick parked across from the Raven and went inside. He'd managed to get back early enough that Vachon was still there, although the club was nearly empty. One mortal waitress was stacking chairs and sweeping, getting it ready for another night of business. LaCroix liked to make the vampire waitresses do this task, as their instincts made them work quickly, but they often used their powers of suggestion to get the mortal ones to swap shifts with them. Nick smiled to himself. He'd never known LaCroix to involve himself with mortals like this before. Ah, the plight of the modern businessman.

Nick gestured to Vachon, then went to the side opposite from where the waitress was working. Vachon put his guitar away before joining him. "Hey, Knight. What's up?" he asked.

Nick took a long swallow. The warm, wine-laced liquid soothed. His eyes felt heavy. Spending his days with Urs was wonderful, except he wasn't getting enough sleep. "Tracy," he sighed. A single word, yet it packed enough exasperation to alarm even his master through their psychic bond. LaCroix exited his sound booth, having signed off for the night. He grabbed a beverage and came to join the younger vampires.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Vachon was saying. "She's driving me crazy."

"A short trip," LaCroix said derisively.

Vachon didn't take offense, too lost in his own miseries.

"Tell me about your "perky" partner, Nicholas," LaCroix inquired. "What devilment is she playing upon you?"

Nick yawned widely, then mentioned about the pizza. The garlic smell was so strong in his Caddy that he was going to have to have the upholstery professionally cleaned. Vachon told how she kept snuggling up too close to him, that he was trying to avoid her entirely, rather than risk killing her. Nick told about the incident in the jewelry store, and several other annoying habits she had seemed to have picked up recently.

Neither noticed when LaCroix's eyes shifted to their amber glow. Encouraged by each other's sufferings, they just continued to tell all, so it came as quite a shock when LaCroix slammed his fist on the table and growled angrily. "I shall take care of this," he stated firmly through full fangs.

"LaCroix, no," Nick interrupted with alarm.

He glared at his naïve protégé. "Nicholas, she knows you are a vampire. She is taunting you deliberately. I will not tolerate such impudence from anyone!"

"She knows?" both vampires asked simultaneously, their surprise evident in their expressions.

"LaCroix, how could you!"

The ancient forced his anger to recede. It seldom helped matters when dealing with his son. "I did nothing. You revealed yourself to her. You and Urs were rather indiscreet last week. Right in the middle of the dance floor, as I recall."

Nick's sudden shock and anger wilted, as he was overcome with remorse. "What am I going to do," he breathed.

"You will do nothing."

Nick and Vachon turned twin looks of confusion towards him. "Miss Vetter is too curious for her own safety. I have given her an ultimatum- join us, or allow me to take her knowledge away."

"What did she say?" Vachon asked.

"Can you do that?" asked Nick.

LaCroix nodded slightly, enjoying his position as patriarch. "She will need to learn a little respect, however. I will not bring such an impetuous child into our family."

"You won't hurt her," Nick said, not sure if it was a question or a command.

LaCroix lifted an eyebrow at his son. Miss Vetter was not worth a family feud, however, he decided. "I will not hurt her today. But I intend to thoroughly intimidate her... now if you will excuse me?" Then he was gone. Nick reached into his extra sense. The sun would soon be up, so LaCroix must not be planning to do too much to her.

"That little vixen," Vachon said, toying with his glass. "If she becomes a vampire, I shall enjoy getting even with her."

Urs came down shortly and half dragged Nick upstairs. He was so tired that she just put him to bed. Poor boy, she thought with an indulgent smile. She was able to catch up on sleep while he played detective. She slipped into bed beside him and laid her face on his smooth, cold chest. Even in his sleep, he wrapped an arm around her, holding her securely. It felt like home, she realized, before sleep claimed her.

Tracy turned off the water to the shower and just stood for a few moments, dripping in the steamy confines before grabbing for her towel. She'd only been back on the job for a few nights and already she couldn't wait for her next night off. Just thinking about the big changes in store for her was overwhelming. Maybe she should take a vacation to the beach? Sit in the sun? Watch a few sunsets?

It surprised her how little the thought of never again watching a sunrise bothered her. She'd always thought of herself as a morning person, until she fell in love with Vachon, the ultimate in night owl personalities. Giving the towel a careless sling over the door, she pulled on the short pink teddy and stepped out into the hall, the cooler air there prickling the tiny hairs on her arms.

A glass of milk before bed should hold off the hunger that sometimes woke her up around mid-morning, but as she passed through the living room on her way to the kitchen, the large window shattered. She gasped in alarm. Suddenly LaCroix was standing mere inches away, glaring at her with crimson eyes, a vicious, feral look marring the patrician features.

Her heart seemed to be blocking her throat; she could barely breath. She knew he could hear her pulse rapidly racing, but she fought to control her voice. "That entrance may impress other women, LaCroix, but it just pisses me off. You're going to have to pay for that."

He took a step nearer, drawing back his lips to reveal twin daggers. "I'm not here to impress you, you impertinent child, but to kill you." The words were softly spoken, belying their perilous intent.

"But- but no! Not today," she stammered. "You gave me two weeks- I have two more days!"

LaCroix laughed. It was an evil sound, hissing around his fangs. "I rescind my overly generous offer, my dear. I would be a fool to bring over a child who annoyed me so."

Tracy felt true panic welling up inside and wished for a moment she could do that hypnotic thing Vachon did so easily. "But, what about Nick? Won't he be mad if you kill his partner?" She was stopped in her backward movement by a wall. LaCroix had her surrounded, one arm planted firmly on either side on the wall, his fangs moving ever so slowly towards her.

"He will pout for a few years, I am sure," LaCroix admitted. "Like he always does, but he will get over it."

Tracy felt faint. The wild beating of her heart, her sweaty palms, the room which was suddenly too warm... she fought to remain alert, knowing that if she passed out now, there would be no tomorrow. She forced herself to look this menacing creature in the face and defend herself, however futilely. "Is this about me picking on Nick? I- I'm sorry, LaCroix, honest. He doesn't have much of a sense of humor, I take it. I didn't mean anything by it. Really! Please?"

The ferocious beast stopped his attack, glaring at her a moment longer. "My son has a great many qualities," he began. His speech sounded so smooth and erotic around his fangs. She found herself oddly drawn to them, staring at them while he continued. "Both endearing and utterly annoying, but a sense of humor is not one of them."

"So I've noticed," she whispered nervously.

"I, however, find this very amusing."

Was he joking? Was her life going to be spared? She didn't dare hope. She blinked back the tears of terror threatening to spill. "I, I'm afraid I don't see the humor at the moment," she admitted.

LaCroix laughed again. This time she watched as his fangs receded. The crimson glow was fading to the amber light she had seen a few times in Vachon and Nick. Still, the vampire kept her pinned.

"I will excuse this objectionable conduct just this once, if... "

"If?" she encouraged, seeing the way out being offered, and being just smart enough to accept what ever terms and conditions he set before her.

"You will apologize to Nicholas and vow never to make a repeat performance."

"Done," she said immediately.

LaCroix straightened then, resuming his almost officious bearing of power. Tracy wished she could learn to put a lock on her mouth, as she knew just how close she'd faced death only moments ago. Still, the words were out before she could stop them.

"So what about my window, LaCroix?"

His hand flew to her throat. The thumb gently stroked the still wildly pulsing vein just beneath the surface of the skin. He didn't harm her, but the threat was evident. "While I do have a greater sense of humor than my Nicholas, I lack his pitiful mortal gift of patience, child. Do not forget."

"No, of course. I won't." She managed a limp smile. "I can promise you, that I never screw up the same way twice. I always manage to be original."

Just the edge of his mouth quirked in the faintest display of a smile. Tracy took a step away from him, hesitantly, and glanced outside through the cold opening of the shattered window. The sky was light. Sunrise has happened, and she was stuck with this demonic parent for the day. Poor Nick, she thought miserably. How many centuries had he lived under the oppressive rule of that dictator? This was a side of vampirism she'd never really considered before, since Vachon had no master. One thing was certain, she would have to do some serious thinking before she'd sell her soul to this creature. So what if he said he could protect her better than any other vampire in Canada? Who would protect her from him?

"Um, I have some, um, for Vachon... if you're hungry?" she offered.

LaCroix shook his head. "That will not be necessary."

So much for formalities. Now what? The cold wind reminded her just how little she was wearing. She returned to the bathroom and grabbed a robe off the hook on the back of the door and cinched the belt securely around her. Then she stared at the opening. The furnace was running at full blast, as the cold, autumn air assaulted the thermostat. She went to the closet and took out a plastic drop cloth from when she'd painted the kitchen, and a roll of duck tape. It would help a little, she thought. She felt the eyes of her uninvited guest on her as she moved. Ignoring him as best she could, she finished the task and swept up the broken glass. Then she placed a call in to the building superintendent to have it fixed. When she replaced the phone in its cradle, LaCroix was no longer in the living room.

Could he have left? But no, the sun was too bright. He wasn't in the kitchen or the bathroom... with a sinking feeling she pushed open her bedroom door. The heavy blinds were drawn and the pale figure was stretched out in the middle of her bed. He lay on his back, the long, white fingers folded over his chest, as though even in sleep protecting him from wooden stakes. She knew her bedroom would be dark enough. Vachon had stayed the day a few times... though not as often as she could have wished. Maybe that would all change shortly?

LaCroix looked different in sleep, she thought. Beautiful. She wondered again, just how old he really was. There was something compelling about him. But did she really want to be tied to him forever? Taking a blanket from the closet, she resigned herself to sleeping on her couch. That, plus apologizing to Nick, was not so great a penance for her continued life and safety. If only she'd bought a longer couch!

When Tracy awoke that afternoon, LaCroix was gone.

She waited in her car until she saw the old, green Caddy pull into the parking lot. Tracy hurried out to intercept Nick. It would be humiliating enough to apologize to him, she didn't want to have witnesses.

Nick saw her approach. He shifted nervously himself. What did he have to be upset about? Had LaCroix come down on him too? She quickened her pace.

"Uh, Hi, Nick," she said lightly.

Nick closed the car door and leaned against it, finding his keys very interesting at the moment. "Hello, Trace."

"I want you to know this is all your fault," she stammered. "If you had told me the truth last year... you knew I knew Vachon. You knew I knew about your community! Why didn't you trust me?"

Nick fidgeted uncomfortably. "Tracy, I just couldn't tell you. You have to believe me."

"But Nat knows, doesn't she?"

He nodded, looking even more miserable. Something in Tracy melted then. "I'm sorry, Nick. For everything. For teasing you, for the garlic, the necklace, and for making you feel responsible. Forgive me?"

Nick pulled her closer and hugged her, resting his chin on the top of her hair. "Sure thing, Button."

She punched him lightly in the stomach. "How do you live with that guy? Doesn't he just piss you off?"

Nick tilted her face up to look at her sincerely. "Tracy, you don't want to do this. You want to submit your will to him and let him take your knowledge of us away..."

Nick's eyes took on a sad, melancholic look.

"No, Nick. I don't have to chose LaCroix to do it, he said so. I want this. I really want this. And hey, if you didn't have to worry about me all the time, maybe you could spend more time doing your job."

"You're nuts, Tracy," he said.

Then a loud call interrupted them before the conversation could get any more intense. "Hey, hey, Tracy! None of that on the job!"

"None of what?" Nick asked, stepping away from Tracy and staring at her.

"They still think there's something going on between you and me," she admitted. "I told them they were way off, but there's always a few die hards who won't face facts."

Nick put an arm around her shoulder brazenly and advanced on the irritating officer. The other man gawked, taking an involuntary step backward at the Knightmare's approach. Nick glared at him, catching him in his trance. Tracy grinned. That ability to intimidate must run in families.

"Tracy is like family to me," Nick stated firmly. "If I touch her, or tease her, it is with the affection of a brother. You will never suspect us of any impropriety again."

The officer nodded meekly. Moments later, he found himself inside the women's bathroom without the faintest idea how he got there.

"And LaCroix said you didn't have a sense of humor," Tracy whispered.

"It will be our secret."

Late in the shift Father Rochefort called. Tracy noted with interest how the worry lines in Nick's face relaxed, his sharp voice softened, as he talked with the mild mannered young priest. When he hung up, he stood and grabbed his coat. "Come on, Trace," he said. "Father Rochefort has something he wants to talk about with us."

"So how do you know him?" she asked.

Nick shrugged noncommittally. "I've lived in Toronto for nearly six years, Tracy. I'm bound to know some people."

"Yeah, but this is different. You respect him. You don't treat him like everybody else."

"So now I don't respect people?" Nick grinned at her innocently, as he slid behind the wheel.

"You know what I mean, Nick."

"The man's a priest! I'm not going to invite him to the Raven for a beer." Nick squirmed in his seat, his voice raising a notch. Tracy knew she was hitting a sensitive nerve, but she wasn't ready to let it go.

"Come on, Nick. Look. If I chose the hypnotic lobotomy, then I won't remember any of this, and if I chose enslavement to LaCroix, then I'll be family. Either way, it can't hurt you to open up once in a while and talk to me!"

Nick heaved a sigh. "I'm voting for the lobotomy, myself, Button."

Tracy just glared at him.

"Okay. There was a serial killer in his parish about four years ago. The guy was a fanatic nutcase, claimed he was doing God's work, killing off sinners- prostitutes, winos, and the like. The priest heard him confess to the murders, and refused to tell me what he knew."

"But of course he would, Nick. Everyone knows that the confessional is sacred, like some holy secret, and the priest would burn in hell if he broke that."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't as understanding. I rode him pretty hard. But later, I realized what his faith meant to him, and I apologized."

He finished the story just as he parked beside St. John's. Tracy waited for him on the curb, and they walked to the rectory together. The light above the door was on, and Father Rochefort must have been watching for them as he opened the door before they had a chance to knock.

He looked fresh and awake, his hair was damp and just combed. Tracy smelled coffee perking. Nick must have been right. The priest was just getting up for the day, not staying up all night. He seemed a little uneasy though, as he escorted them into a living room and invited them to be comfortable.

"Father, I don't think you've actually met my new partner, Tracy Vetter."

"No, no I haven't," he said, extending a hand towards her. "I was so sorry to hear about Don. All those people. Such a tragedy."

Nick nodded, the sudden rush of grief still just as powerful as it had been a year ago. He wondered when it would get easier. "Now, you thought of something that might relate to this case?"

"Detective, I hope I'm wrong," he stated by way of getting started. "There's a boy in the parish, named Brandon Stout. I've known him as long as Rueben, I guess."

"Was he also an altar boy?" Tracy interrupted.

"No, he couldn't have done anything that complicated," Father Rochefort said. At her questioning look, he explained. "Brandon isn't quite normal, Detective. He's autistic. His mother says he's a highly functioning autistic child, as there are times when he seems quite coherent. He'll carry on a conversation, and he's really very intelligent. But there are days when he'll stare at nothing for hours and hours. He can do advanced mathematics in his head, but he can't learn to tie his shoes."

"Weird," Tracy stated. Nick scowled at her.

"How does he know Rueben?"

Father Rochefort shifted uncomfortably. "I feel just awful about this, Nick. His mother has spent her life taking care of him, trying to help him to learn, hoping to keep him out of an institution. But, he's getting so big now. He's almost as big as she is. When he's off in space, he's fairly harmless, but there are days when he has become violent. He hit her once, her face was black and blue for many days. I am worried about her safety."

"And you think this child might have killed Rueben?" Tracy sounded doubtful. Natalie had already told her that the angle of the wounds implied that although the killer was no taller than Rueben, but the force of the blows implied that the killer was also incredibly strong. Tracy figured they were looking for some short, fat sumo-wrestler type.

"I don't know," Father Rochefort replied. "I told Nick that over the phone. Maybe I'm leading you down a rabbit hole. But yesterday Brandon's mother told me that he came home with blood all over him. She thought at first that some bullies had attacked him, but when she finally got him into the tub, there wasn't a mark on him."

Nick stood up then. "Thank you, Father. We'll look in to it."

"Nick, please. Be tactful? Mrs. Stout is a good woman. If I'm wrong, I'd hate to have her suffer more needlessly."

Nick grinned at him innocently. "Of course, Father. I'm always tactful."

"Yeah right," Tracy muttered. "Mr. Congeniality."

Nick waved, then stepped out on to the porch.

"Nice meeting you, Father Rochefort," Tracy said with a wide smile.

Something felt wrong. Nick reached in his pocket for the keys. Someone was coming... his sixth sense was tingling. It felt strangely familiar, but it was not LaCroix. Glancing left and right, he saw nothing, but whatever it was, was coming fast. "Tracy, go back inside," he said firmly.

"Why? Forget something?"

"GO NOW!" He grabbed her arm and pushed her away forcefully. She stumbled but caught herself before she could fall, aiming a few curses in his direction.

The priest opened his screen door and stepped out to ask if everything was all right. Then seven dark figures whooshed from the sky. Nick braced himself. He glared at them through narrowed eyes. That these vampires were here to cause harm he had no doubt. They came with bared fangs and the crimson eyes of the predator. Nick drew back his lips and growled at them menacingly.

One slammed the front door closed, preventing Father Rochefort from going inside to call for help. Two made a grab for Tracy, but Nick launched himself at them. The first he tossed fifty feet away, crashing into the stone fence with bone-cracking force. The second he lifted overhead, throwing him into two more. As yet another lunged for Tracy, Nick turned to grab him. A loud shot resounded. Nick screamed in pain. He doubled over, clutching at the shotgun wound in his gut. It burned fiercely. Cold blood oozed between his fingers.

"Resist further, and the bimbo gets it in the face," the vampire leader promised.

Nick blinked. His vision blurred. The leader looked very young. His jaw was smooth; his eyes now were clear and bright like a child's, but Nick knew he was ancient.

"What the hell do you want," he demanded through clenched teeth.

"Why, you, of course. Isn't that obvious?"

"I don't know you."

The vampire held the shotgun in both hands like a cane and danced lightly, clicking his heals together. "Getting to know you, getting to know all about you, getting to like you, getting to hope you like me," he sang with a phony English accent.

Nick weaved on his feet. Tracy rushed to his side to catch him.

"Nick? Nick- are you okay?"

Tracy knew that vampires didn't feel pain like mortals did. Vachon told her once that the wounds from bullets and knives were no more than minor irritations. But blood still flowed from Nick. It soaked through his shirt and was pooling on the pavement, and he looked like he was going to faint. Just her luck, to get a vampire partner that passed out at the sight of his own blood.

The leader lowered his shotgun cane and sauntered closer to Nick. He reached out and caressed Nick's face affectionately. "Family always knows family," he lectured. "Even bastard children like yourself should have the ability to recognize your elders."

Nick's eyes drifted closed. It was too hard to concentrate with the earth canting awkwardly. He reached into that part of his mind where LaCroix could be found. "Help me..."

The leader struck Nick in the face with a forceful blow. "None of that! No-no! It is not time yet."

"Let my partner leave," Nick said. He stood up a little straighter, trying to summon the strength to appear intimidating. "Whatever this is, it doesn't involve her."

Tracy tried to argue with him, but Nick glowered at her. The leader laughed at the absurd thought. "Oh no, Bradant. She will prove most useful. I've heard that you can be rather difficult, and yet, I have also heard that you care about these mortals. They are my insurance. I have use for them later."

The leader prowled around Nick, a smirk on his face. There was an odd light in his eyes. Not a yellow or red flash of an enraged vampire. This light was glassy, sharp, unfocused. Nick felt uneasy at the vampire's touch. It was oddly familiar, and yet he was certain that they had never met before. Still, this vampire seemed to know a lot about him.

"So who the hell are you!"

Tracy winced as the leader struck Nick yet again. She lost her hold and Nick fell to the ground. She knelt beside him, feeling incredibly useless.

Blood dripped from Nick's lip now. Finding strength from somewhere, he lunged at the foppish looking tormentor. Four vampires grabbed him, restraining him from further movement, a fifth grabbed Tracy easily and held her in his clutches. The leader glanced at the sky and smiled.

"Soon, whelp. Very soon, now."

Nick struggled against the firm grasp of the vampires. The wound seeped more blood with each slow pulse of his heart. He felt dizzy. Once more he tried to reach his master through their link, but the leader stopped his concentration with a blow.

"Grab the other one, too," the leader directed lightly. "It is time."

One vampire grabbed Father Rochefort, but quickly released him, crying out and staring at his hands which were badly burned.

"A priest," the leader stated. "What in bloody hell are you doing hanging around a priest?"

Nick did not respond. It wasn't just a bullet he'd been hit with it. It burned like garlic.

"Shoot the priest," the leader said lightly.

"No!" Nick staggered, not even able to stand. "Let me hypnotize him."

"Permission denied," the vampire said with a sing-song voice, shaking his forefinger at him. "That was very naughty of you."

"Then, I will carry him."

The baby-faced leader tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "Self-inflicted torture... I like it! I like it!" He motioned for Father Rochefort with the barrel of his shotgun.

"Put your arms around me," Nick said.

"You can't carry me, Nick! You're injured. This man needs a doctor at once!"

The leader leaned back his head and laughed. His associates laughed with him, enjoying the macabre sense of humor. Nick let his fangs drop as the priest looked on. "I will be all right," he whispered.

"But you're bleeding," he stammered. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and laid it over the gaping wound, although it was about like putting a band-aide on a sieve. "What can I do to help?"

"You will have to have enough faith for both of us, Father." Nick's legs crumpled under him. If not for the hold of the two vampires he would have fallen to the ground.

"Put your arms around me, and hold on very tight," Nick said.

Father Rochefort wrapped his arms around Nick's chest. Nick winced painfully. He didn't burn, though, as the other vampire had. It was something Natalie would have been interested in, a part of his brain thought, the part that was becoming sluggish and numb. The two vampire guards then lifted into the air. Two more vampires grabbed Nick's ankles. They flew with him imprisoned, the priest clutching to him in mortal fear, far above the city of Toronto.

Only one vampire carried Tracy. He wasn't too worried about her escaping. She clung to him with a choke hold, her teeth chattering deliciously in his ear.

The leader of the band of reprobates led them northward. Nick tried to reach out to his master, but something was blocking him. He could sense nothing, not even the vampires around him. If it were just him, he thought he might still manage to escape, but with two mortals to protect, Nick knew he would need help.

"Nick, what are you? What are they?" Father Rochefort whispered. His voice cracked, his fear was palpable.

"I am a vampire," Nick said.

"What do they want with us? Where are they taking us?"

Nick was drifting out of consciousness. But it was strange. Ever since the priest had touched him, the pain from the gunshot wound had disappeared. He felt too warm. Why did touching this priest burn the other vampire? Was that also causing his body temperature to rise?

The priest started whispering softly the words of a prayer Nick had learned as a boy. The words were both comforting and horrifying. The soft, gentle voice drew him from the black void of unconsciousness, yet the prayer terrified him, as only things sacred could do.

"Father, can you do that silently?"

"If you don't shut up, doll-babe, I'll have to make you," the vampire hissed.

Tracy clenched her teeth, trying to keep them from chattering. She felt frozen. Her fingers were so numb she couldn't move them, and she'd ceased to feel her feet some time ago. She yearned for the winter coat she'd foolishly left in Nick's car. All she had on now was a stylish jacket and pants in a thin, no-wrinkle fabric, and nylons. One shoe had dropped at the priest's house, the other fell at least half an hour ago. She'd actually looked forward to flying ever since LaCroix had delivered his ultimatum, but now she wasn't sure if she'd ever enjoy it again, or would it always remind her of this night from hell? Assuming of course, she survived.

Natalie straightened, rubbing a kink in her lower back. It was passed time for a break, but she dreaded going in to the break room and listening to Grace or any one else give her unwanted advice on how to handle her love life, or lack thereof. They'd all noticed that Nick had been avoiding the morgue lately. They assumed it was just a lovers quarrel, and she and Nick would eventually kiss and make up. Only, they had never been lovers. And they had not actually quarreled. No, what she faced was a cold war, of sorts. She didn't know what he wanted anymore. She didn't know what she wanted either.

She fixed some hot peppermint tea and turned up the radio. The station was tuned to the Nightcrawler. Nick always listened to it. She'd started to listen too, about a year ago. Sometimes, it gave them something to talk about when she would stop by the loft after work. She'd learned that most of LaCroix's seemingly senseless diatribes were really lessons spoken for his son's benefit alone. Sometimes, she could hear the disgust in his voice as he berated Nick, but other times, especially lately, she'd heard something else. If she didn't know the sadistic scoundrel better, she'd almost have to say that just maybe he did love Nick. In a sick sort of way.

LaCroix was really off his usual beat tonight. He was reading a love poem. Natalie closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the sweet tea as she listened to his cultured voice recite the famous words.

... and sweet the coming- on
Of grateful evening mild; then silent night,
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon...

The poem was from Milton's "Paradise Lost". Eve to Adam, expressing joy and wonder at the beauty of the night. The word pictures filled her... "stars, the gems of heaven". Years ago Natalie had had to memorize the poem for school and it had not impressed her at the time. Somehow, it was easier for her to memorize the periodic table than several stanzas of a non-rhyming poem. But now the night was her work and her life. She smiled as LaCroix, reading Eve's words, spoke the last line.

"But wherefore all night long shine these? For whom
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?

"Yes, gentle listeners," LaCroix continued. "The night is exquisite. The gem-stars are brilliant. Herb, tree, fruit, and flower are glistering with dew. Go out, my children. Leave your beds, your offices, your sheltered abodes, and drink of this eternal beauty! Let joy- "

The soft lulling tones were shattered with a cry of pain. Startled, Nat dropped her tea. The cup splintered in tiny shards, but Natalie didn't notice. She held her breath as silence filled the air waves. What had happened?

She heard a muffled cry of pain, then only music, as someone put on a CD. Her heart was beating wildly. Why should she care? LaCroix was ancient. He was a big boy and could take care of himself. And that was what bothered her. If someone or something could hurt him, then it posed a threat to Nick. She grabbed her purse. She had to go see what was happening.

"Give 'im hell, dear," Grace cheered at Nat's retreating form.

On the drive over, Nat worked out several possible conversations, each sounding more ludicrous than the last. "Hi, LaCroix. Heard your show tonight. Some fan not like Milton? The sound effects were a little spooky. Um, have you seen Nick?" Well, maybe the words would be there when she needed them.

She pushed her way past the bouncer at the Raven, and went straight to the sound booth. The door was closed, but not locked. She knocked once then let herself in.

LaCroix sat in one of two leather loveseats, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. He made no move or response at her intrusion.

"I was listening," she said. Still silence. The room felt cold, dead. She shivered involuntarily. "I heard you. I came to see if you are all right."

Nothing.

"Look, I know you and I don't see eye to eye on anything, but I know Nick cares about you, and so I want to help. If there's something-"

LaCroix lifted his head then and gave her a blank look. Twin tracks marked the white face. LaCroix was weeping.

"My god, LaCroix. What's happened!"

"It's Nicholas," he whispered.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Something had happened to Nick! Her entire life stopped so suddenly that she felt motion-sick. "No," she denied. "No! Nick's okay. You're wrong!"

He turned away and sighed heavily. "We were just starting to get along again. He, he told me, that he..." LaCroix could not continue.

"Tell me what happened!" Nat moved into the room and knelt on the floor before the ancient vampire. She clasped his cold, white hands in hers. "Tell me everything."

"This is what YOU wanted for him," LaCroix hissed. Somehow his wrath was reassuring to her. Life wasn't really turning upside down. Some things would always be the same. "You encouraged him to seek a mortal's death!"

"Nick is not dead," she shouted at him.

"I felt his pain. And then, I felt nothing. I cannot sense him at all. It is as though he has ceased to exist."

Natalie shut her eyes. She could not imagine a life without Nick. LaCroix had to be wrong. "But, there are other things that would cause him to be shielded from you. Maybe he's doing it on purpose."

"The pain was severe. Not much can hurt us, but it was as painful as a wooden stake."

"Where!"

LaCroix touched his stomach low and to one side to indicate the area. His hand came away sticky with blood. Nat stared at it without understanding.

"You're hurt? This is your pain- not Nick's!"

He shook his head. "No doctor. It's Nick's. We are so closely linked, that I bleed for him."

Why did that not surprise her? "Look- this is far from his heart. This would not be a fatal wound!"

"Then, nothing. No more sensation of pain, no pleas for help. Nothing."

Nat stood and paced a small circle in his sound room. "But, even when you guys are staked, death takes a while. Surely, that he was cut off from your mind-link thing so suddenly must be a hopeful sign? Some one has hurt him, and they don't want him to reach you. Right?"

LaCroix closed his eyes and leaned back in the couch. "I am tired, doctor. Leave me."

"No. He's not dead! I tell you, I know he's not. And I'm not leaving. Sooner or later, he's going to try to reach you, and I will be here to drive. The sun will be up soon."

Nick looked bad. His eyes were closed, and his head hung awkwardly. Father Rochefort did not let go of him when they landed, but he shifted his arms so that instead of hanging on to him, he was holding him.

"Hold your breath," her vampire warned. Then she watched as the leader dove into the river. The others followed suit. Tracy hadn't thought she could get any colder, but now she was cold and wet. The river water got in her ears and mouth. Cold as melted ice, it slid between the layers of her thin clothing.

Swimming underwater for a short distance, they entered an underwater tunnel, then came up on the other side. They were in a cavern, dimly lit with three torches set in to the rock walls. The vampires dragged their prisoners to the back, opened a door, and shoved them in. The solid door was closed and latched on the outside.

"Are you all right," Father Rochefort asked softly.

"Yeah, sure. I'm peachy. My feet are froze and my hair's a mess, but otherwise it's a picnic," she snapped sarcastically.

She heard a scratchy sound, and moments later a small flame lit in the Father's hands as he held a cigarette lighter. Searching the inside of their surroundings, he found several candles and lit them. The cave prison was cast in a flickering, eerie light. Tracy looked around. The room was all set for mortal occupants. There was a small table with a bowl of fruit, a single bed with blankets, a chiffarobe full of clothes- all styles and none too clean, and a crude washroom. Tracy had a creepy thought that she and the priest were Hansel and Gretel, being fattened up prior to being eaten.

"Get out of your wet things," Father Rochefort said, turning his back to her. "You must get dry before you become ill."

Tracy rummaged through the clothes. Many were torn or stained, but she had to do something before she was the next statistic. She pulled on a sweat suit and a pair of socks. She didn't think she'd ever be warm again, but at least this was an improvement. "Your turn," she said.

He shook his head. "Help me with Nick. I think he's sick."

"Vampires don't get sick."

"Look at him. You and I are freezing. His skin is hot to touch."

Tracy went to her partner's side then. His forehead was hot and her fingers came away with a bloody residue. She tore his ruined shirt open. As his vampire heart pulsed once, fresh blood gushed from the large, gaping wound in his gut. She pulled off his wet shirt and folded it, then pressed it over the injury.

Father Rochefort removed Nick's jeans and wet shoes. He took a dry garment and briskly rubbed Nick dry. "Think we can get him to the bed?" he asked.

Together, they worked to get him the short distance across the floor. Then it was a struggle to get him on the bed, and in that time his heart beat again, renewing the blood flow. Father Rochefort took the top sheet and tore it into strips. He made a bandage and tied it around him.

"Nick! Nick, can you hear me?" Tracy asked. She touched his face to try to reach him. "Come on, partner. You gotta help. Wake up."

Nick tossed on the pillow, his face creased in pain. "Tracy," he whispered, not opening his eyes.

"Yeah, Nick. I'm here."

"Should have listened to me..."

"What, and leave you to their mercy all alone, I think not. When are you going to get it in your skull that we're partners and that means sticking together? Tell me how I can help. What's wrong? Why aren't you healing?"

"Sawdust and garlic oil." He groaned and turned away from her, shuddering convulsively.

Father Rochefort reached out and touched him comfortingly. At once Nick became still. The lines in his face relaxed and he slept peacefully, yet when the priest removed his hand, the vampire groaned again.

"You have a magic touch," Tracy said. "Don't let go."

"I do not understand any of this," the priest admitted.

"Me neither. But, I know wooden stakes can kill a vampire, and garlic poisons and repels them. These guys must want something from him, badly enough to torture him, but they don't want him dead. At least, not yet."

Father Rochefort shivered. "I need to change."

"Yes, you do. And crawl under the blanket with him. You're too cold and he's too warm. Maybe it will do good for both of you."

Nick cried out as the priest stood to take off his sodden suit, but he did not awaken. Tracy waited, her back turned, until the sounds of movement ceased. The young priest looked very uncomfortable in the narrow bed, stretched out next to the naked vampire. "This isn't a sin or something, is it?" she asked nervously.

"Showing compassion for one's neighbor is a corporal act of mercy, Miss Vetter. But I am glad that I went to confession yesterday. I suspect that we will need all the grace we can get."

For hours LaCroix sat on the couch without moving. His glass remained untouched. Natalie felt so hopeless. She was tempted to call the police department and have a APB put out on Nick's vehicle, but she knew that what ever had happened to him must be vampire-related. Getting the police involved would not be wise.

It must be midmorning, she thought, as her stomach warred with her brain. Her body wanted to eat or sleep, but she couldn't let it do either. If only she'd had some clue what he was working on last night! If only their relationship wasn't so strained right now, he might have confided in her, told her something, anything, that could give them a lead.

LaCroix doubled over suddenly. He made not a sound, but his jaw was tightly clenched, struggling to contain the cry of pain. His closed eyelids were glowing a faint reddish hue. Nat resisted the doctor's urge to run to his aid, keeping a relatively safe distance until the moments passed. Then LaCroix looked up at her. Although blood tears filled his eyes, his expression was one of relief mixed with rage. "He lives," he whispered.

"And can you find him now?"

He shook his head. "I sensed him, and then just like before, he was gone."

Natalie pressed him back against the couch as she saw the blood flow from his side. He was too preoccupied at first to take notice of her. She undid the buttons on his blood-stained shirt and examined the gaping wound. "Looks like a shotgun wound," she said. "Can't you block this? Do you always feel his injuries?"

LaCroix grabbed for his glass and drained it. Even while she watched the terrible wound shrank and faded. "Of course I could block him," LaCroix snapped. "But he has the uncanny knack of always getting himself in to trouble. He would never have survived this long without me."

"Would Nick be blocking himself intentionally?"

"No. I never taught him that lesson. The boy's too pigheaded for his own good."

She smiled. It was probably inappropriate, she knew, but after the tense, silent hours she needed the emotional release. "Guess he must take after his master," she commented dryly.

LaCroix chose to ignore her remark.

"So. Nick's alive. And you can't sense him. What can block this link you share?"

"Holy places will do it- cemeteries, shrines, sometimes churches... great distances will only weaken the link. In that one moment, I sensed Nicholas is no longer near."

A holy place... Nick had been going to meet with that priest at St. Somebody, about the Rueben Maloney murder. It could just be a coincidence, but maybe it might mean something. "Nick was going to see a priest tonight," she said aloud. "Father... Father-- Rochefort, I think. But, what was the name of his church!"

"You're asking me?" LaCroix said dryly.

"Damn! It's just on the tip of my tongue."

LaCroix placed his hands on her shoulders firmly and stared at her. She felt his presence inside her, probing, searching, and she was powerless to resist. "You know this name," he whispered. "Think. What is the name of the parish where Father Rochefort resides."

"Saint John's."

He released her abruptly. She didn't feel any of the disorientation that Nick's victims usually displayed after one of his whammies. That reminded her again just how much more powerful Nick's master was. Powerful and composed. And deadly. But for now his dark rage was directed towards Nick's tormentors.

Nat grabbed her car keys and coat from where she had tossed them many hours ago. LaCroix stood then and followed her. "Where do you think you're going, LaCroix. The sun is still up- it can't be much more than noon."

"You will drive. I am coming with you." He opened a closet door and withdrew two cloaks. He pulled one on, a full-length, hooded cape like in the Bela Lugosi films. It did serve the function of covering most of him from the sun's harmful rays. The second cape must be for Nick. She prayed they would find him soon, for although LaCroix's sympathy pain had healed, she doubted that Nick's had.

Several heads jerked up when they entered the bar. Vachon, Urs, Patrick the bartender, Bourbon and two other vampires in Vachon's band... Nat didn't know them by name. They'd been camped out on the tables, and now they looked at LaCroix expectantly.

The ancient eyed them disdainfully, but he spoke not a word. Vachon stood, but it was Urs who came forward. "We sensed Nick is in trouble, sir," she explained. "We want to help."

Nat stared at him, wondering how he would react to their offer. He merely nodded, as though worthy of their servitude. "Vachon, I require the services of your band's cargo van."

"You got it, LaCroix. But whose goin' to drive it? The stick doesn't work real well- you have to-"

LaCroix silenced him with a gesture. Vachon shrugged and took a step away from the angry vampire master.

Patrick carted a case of bottles towards the door. Natalie went out. She pulled the van as close to the door of the bar as she could, even driving up over the curb where it coughed belligerently. Then she opened all the doors.

LaCroix touched Urs with a gentle hand. "My dear, you will not come tonight."

Her brows puckered and she began to protest, in her quiet, gentle manner. LaCroix smiled at her indulgently. This one was a jewel. Vachon was a fool. "That these vampires could subdue my son speaks of their great power. I cannot let anything happen to you. Nicholas would never forgive me."

"But I want to help."

"And so you shall. You will stay here and wait for him. And when I bring him home, you will see that he gets the rest he needs."

Urs reached up, standing on her toes, and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. "Bring him home," she whispered.

Then, it was time. LaCroix and the four vampires flew out and into the van, slamming the doors closed with a violence that made the rusty vehicle tremble. Nat held her breath, hoping important parts weren't falling off underneath.

The van smelled foul of singed flesh. There was a shaking in the back, a few muffled curses, as arms and legs were adjusted, and the passengers ensured that they were out of the reach of any rays that might seep through the many small patches of rust. Nat pulled off the sidewalk, made a u- turn, and sped off in the direction of St. John's.

Tracy warmed up noticeably as she paced in the narrow prison cave. She eyed the bowl of fruit hungrily, but something made her hesitant to eat. They had poisoned Nick, what would keep them from poisoning her as well? When her stomach argued with her, she lifted an apple and examined it closely. The skin was smooth and unbroken. Still, it worried her. She took two apples and handed them both to Father Rochefort. "Will you say a blessing over the food?"

He smiled at her, sensing her fear. Laying one hand over both fruits, he asked God to bless them. Then he leaned on an elbow to eat one of the apples.

"You know, I got to hand it to you," Tracy said, making conversation. The priest shrugged.

"You're taking all of this pretty well, I mean. I knew about vampires before tonight's attack, but I take it you didn't. And still, you treat Nick the same, not like some damned monster."

"I'll admit that part of me is hoping this is all a very strange dream, and I will wake up and it will be gone," he answered.

"That could still happen. Assuming we get out of this alive, Nick will probably hypnotize you and make you forget it."

"Why?"

"It's part of their code, for one. And, he would do it to protect you."

Their conversation stopped as the heavy door was unlatched and pulled opened. The vampire leader stepped inside pompously. "Brabant! Get up! It's time to give us some information."

"This man is too weak to be interrogated right now," Father Rochefort declared.

The leader stared, horrified, at the priest. "Get away from him!"

Rochefort pulled back from Nick, no longer touching him. Nick cried out immediately, a loud, pain-filled sound. The leader tore off the blanket and glared at the bloodied bandages around Nick's gut. "You idiots," he shouted at his thugs. "You put too much in the mixture. It is generally more productive to interrogate the prisoner before you kill him! Go, fetch him something to drink."

One vampire left in a rush, returning shortly with a carton of bottles Tracy guessed were blood. The leader gestured the priest to move away from Nick. Then one of his thugs uncorked a bottle and held it to Nick's lips. Nick drank too slowly, some of the red liquid dripped down his chin. As the needed blood began to sooth the worst of his injury, he awoke. Eyes glowing, fangs descended, he grabbed the bottle from the thug's hands and drained it instantly. He grabbed the thug, intending to drain him as well, until the other vampires grabbed Nick's arms and restrained him.

"Feeling better now, young Brabant?" the leader asked.

"Go to hell," Nick answered.

The leader struck him in the face.

"Who are you and what do you want," Nick demanded.

"I will ask the questions. And you will only speak when spoken too. Has your master not yet managed to train you?"

"He trained me well enough, not to pander to a pack of puffed up miscreants like yourselves."

The leader's eyes grew livid. He lunged for Nick with his fangs, grabbed his head and shoved it to one side, preparing to bite him. Nick screamed in rage, renewing his struggles, kicking viciously. The leader restrained him with little effort. He stopped his assault on Nick, instead caressing Nick's neck with the tips of his teeth. Nick tried to pull away, but he was no match for the ancient youth.

"The poison will soon leach from your blood, whelp. Then I shall take what I need from you. Now, Brabant. Tell me where I will find Divia."

Nick just glared at him.

The leader stuck him several times. Tracy gasped at each blow, blinking back tears of frustration. When she would have gone to him, another vampire held her back. She knew Nick would heal, but it still seemed so wrong!

A red sheen doted Nick's brow. His eyes were glassy. If he were mortal, Tracy would say he was going into shock. She had to try to divert the leader's attention from him. "Who is this Divia?" she demanded. "And why are you looking for her?"

"Ah, so you are the intelligent one in your partnership, eh?" The leader eyed her lasciviously. Tracy felt dirty under his inspection.

"No, I'm the bimbo, remember?"

"Allow me to introduce myself then. I am Flavius Vacinius. Divia's consort."

"You lie," Nick spat. "She had no lover."

"You do know her, then! Where is she? I know she came to Toronto, and suddenly, I stopped sensing her. You are too young to have done her any harm. Was it your master?"

"Divia was a sick-minded little child," Nick retorted.

"Was!" Flavius held him by the throat. "What do you mean, was! What have you done to her?"

Nick tried to focus on Tracy. Her fear would keep him going. He couldn't give in to the encroaching darkness, for then she would be at the mercy of their tormentors. "Divia was my grandmother," he told her, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, Nick! I'm so sorry," she said.

Flavius released Nick. He danced through the small, crowded room. Grabbing Tracy, he whirled her around doing a clumsy three-step. "Oh Nick- I'm sorry- Oh Nick- I'm sorry," he chanted in a high pitched voice.

"You're really crazy, you know that?" she snapped at him.

Flavius shoved her away. She fell into another vampire that softened the landing. He grabbed one of his own thugs and continued the dance. The vampire leaned his head on Flavius's shoulder, the other's hand stroking Flavius's rump intimately.

"Crazy is as crazy does," Flavius recited sagely.

"Crazy is as crazy does," chanted his followers.

Nick coughed. His throat was bruised and injured. If he could have just a little more to drink it might heal, but the bottles were far away. His legs were still too weak to support him, and the garlic poison coursed through him. Father Rochefort made a tiny gesture with his finger. Nick understood. The priest was largely ignored by the dancing vampires. He would try to reach the bottles. He moved slowly along the back wall.

Tracy stared at the vampires. Although she'd seen Nick and Urs dance together just last week, this was different. It was up close, for one, and they were both guys... were vampires bisexual? Still, she noted the signs of arousal, and felt strangely drawn to watch. Flavius continued to dance, then he and his partner sank their fangs in each other's throats and drank, moaning as their bodies shuddered together.

Rochefort had succeeded. He held a bottle behind him and passed it to Nick. Nick grabbed for it, gulping greedily. Flavius ripped himself free from his mate, tearing the wounds in his neck, and batted the bottle away. The glass shattered; the blood spilled over the ground.

"Nicky is a naughty boy," Flavius announced again. He smiled widely. "Time to play our favorite game!"

Nick found himself pinned against the wall spread eagle. Flavius stood in front of him, then turned and took large steps away, counting as he went. When he was near the other side of the small room, he reached into a coat pocket and withdrew a small dart. He twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, letting the soft feathers brush against his cheek.

"Now, you will answer one question for every dart. If I like your answer, I will throw wide. If I do not, well, you'll learn. Where is Divia?"

"I don't know," Nick said immediately.

Flavius glared. His eyes bulged and a vein in his throat pulsed. "Wrong answer!" he screamed. He threw the dark with deadly accuracy. It plunged into Nick's chest, just above the heart. Nick screamed in pain. Tracy screamed in horror. Father Rochefort folded his hands and prayed, even as he wept.

"Let us try this again, where is Divia?"

Nick struggled vainly against his captors, unable to answer the question. He knew that the truth would be a death sentence for them all.

Flavius hurled a second dart. It struck Nick's right shoulder with enough force to sink up to the feathers. Father Rochefort lunged forward, but a vampire knocked him out with the butt of the shotgun.

Nick was losing the war. He'd fought hard, he reflected. The Saracens had him outnumbered... he blinked. There was a woman present. She was weeping for him. He didn't remember there being a woman in this war. Unless she was an angel. A pale, blonde wraith here to guide him on to the afterlife. But that could not be right. He was cursed, damned. There would be no salvation for his soul, no second chance, no peaceful hereafter. He was in hell.

Flavius stared at the bleeding wounds of his prisoner. The dark, cold fluid taunted him, dripping deliciously down the pale, smooth stomach. He glided over and knelt before Nick, inhaling the aroma. Had enough of the garlic passed through his system yet that he could taste him? It was so tempting. He placed his fingers lightly on Nick, trailing them up slowly, drawing them through the rivers of red. He brought a drop to his lips and inhaled. It was heady. There was a special sweetness to this one's blood that he had not ever found before. But the faint garlic smell was repulsive. He drew another dart and resumed his position across the room.

"We'll try an easier question, Brabant. Do you know who Divia is?"

"Yes," Nick whispered. Divia was the demon child, mortal daughter of LaCroix and the prostitute Selene. She became a vampire, and later murdered her master. In 79 AD, as Vesuvius erupted, she brought LaCroix across, making her father then her son. Nick knew this. But he did not know much more about her, except that she evil. She was more evil than the sum off all the evil creatures Nick had ever met, both mortal and vampire. She had tried to kill Vachon and Urs. She'd attacked Nick and left him for dead. Then she'd tried to kill LaCroix. She had failed. And she was dead. Nick had watched with his master as her body burned to ash. He had seen the ash scatter in the wind. She was gone.

The dart sailed through the air, whistling past Nick's ear to strike the rock wall. It clattered to the floor. Nick trembled. How many darts did Flavius still hold in his pocket?

"Do you know who I am?"

A lie. Nick knew he had to lie. This vampire was as crazy as Divia. "Yes, master," Nick whispered. "You are Flavius. Divia mentioned you often."

The vampire shrieked gleefully. "Yes oh yes! Yes oh yes! She loves me!" He threw another dart, barely missing Nick. "She loves me not!" Another dart. Another miss.

"We were lovers while we were yet children, you know," Flavius said in a stage whisper. "Divia, my little sister. Oh how I love you!"

Sister? The word filled Nick with resentment. Would that make Flavius also a son of LaCroix? Was he to be murdered by his own brother? Why hadn't LaCroix ever mentioned him! Nick felt betrayed.

"And Divia loved me!" Flavius shouted. "Only me! Not Lucius. He tricked her away. He was cold, heartless. He never loved any one. Never. I told my father Lucius had raped me. I wanted him dead. All is lost... Lost. Lucius will die!"

As Natalie pulled up to St. John's, she saw Nick's Caddy parked there. A cold dread lodged in her throat. It was a confirmation that Nick had been here last night. She burst from the van, racing towards the old, green monstrosity. Both Tracy and Nick's coats were in the back seat. Undoubtedly, their cell phones were, too. Why did they even own phones, if they weren't going to have them when they needed them, she thought angrily.

A wind whooshed past her, dressed in black. "LaCroix! Get back in the van," she scolded.

The smoking cape hovered over the pavement where a scorched spot left a stain. LaCroix touched the burn spot, inhaling. "This was Nick's blood," he told her.

Nat knelt before the spot. It was fairly large... Nick must have lost a great deal. "Well, let's go inside. Maybe Father Rochefort knows something."

LaCroix grabbed her and flew back to the van. Once under the shelter, he threw back the hood and glared at her with full fangs. Nat ignored them. She knew LaCroix was just worried about Nick. Hell, if she had fangs, she'd be flashing them about now too.

"No one is inside," LaCroix told her. "Head north."

"North. North on the highway? North as the crow flies? North where, LaCroix?"

"Go north," he repeated.

Nat turned north on the freeway. It was a clear, cold afternoon, which ticked her off. Why couldn't it have been cloudy today? Did even the weather have to work against Nick? How fast do vampires fly, she wondered?

LaCroix stiffened and let out a cry of pain before he was able to bring the sensations from his son under control. They were hurting Nicholas again! His fury grew exponentially with each passing moment. Whoever these vampires were, their unlives were forfeit! Forcing the pain from his thoughts, he concentrated on sensing his son, but he did not allow Nicholas to know he was coming. These beasts had been somehow blocking their link and now it was open. LaCroix did not want to take the risk of them discovering that he was on the trail. As each new wave of agony washed over him, he was torn between wanting to comfort his precious child and wanting to destroy the beasts who dared to harm him.

Divia! Nicholas was thinking about Divia! She could not have come back from the scattered ash... she could not be here! LaCroix had seen her die. He had killed her once, and he would do it again. The first time had hurt him and he grieved for the death of his child, but he no longer thought of her like that. She was a demon. There must have been something wrong in him, a curse from the gods of Rome, that he could create such a tainted offspring.

"Follow the river," LaCroix demanded. Nat slammed on the brakes, slowing barely enough to make the turnoff. Her vampire cargo muttered oaths as they were tossed about in the back. She smelled a metallic odor as two bottles of the blood they'd brought along were opened and passed around. It slightly repulsed her, but she knew they needed their strength to fight off whatever lay ahead.

The road branched and she took the dirt logging road that fronted the river. They had to be getting close, she thought. She could almost sense something herself.

"Stop! Back up," LaCroix said. "Here."

The car stopped. Natalie looked out expectantly, distressed to see nothing but trees, rocks, the river, and sky. No vampires. No signs that any living creature had even been here. Except... something sparkled oddly in the dirt. She jumped out and followed it. Sunlight glinted off of something that should not be here in the middle of nowhere. She stooped and picked up a small blue glass bead. Looking back in the direction they had come she could see another bead, and another. Retracing her steps she followed them in the opposite direction. Four more beads lead right to the water's edge.

"This doesn't make sense," she muttered.

"Well?" LaCroix demanded imperiously.

Nat returned to the van and held out the beads. "What do you make of this?"

LaCroix recoiled, pressing into the vampires behind him. "Rosary beads, doctor. You have a sick sense of humor."

Rosary beads! They must have taken Father Rochefort with them, and he was dropping holy bread crumbs for them to follow! "LaCroix! Can you follow these, without touching them?"

He nodded curtly.

"They lead right up to the water though."

"They could have flown through the water for a time," Vachon volunteered, "to conceal their trail. It will be impossible to follow unless we can see more beads down there."

LaCroix shuddered. Although he was fairly impervious to the cold, he did not relish the idea of wearing wet clothing.

"I should go," Vachon said.

LaCroix looked at him as if he'd just uttered absolute gibberish.

"Well, you're pretty worked up right now. Do you honestly think you can still sneak up on them?"

LaCroix didn't answer. Vachon was hard to detect. LaCroix wasn't sure if it was because he was a New World vampire and therefore not related to most of the community, or if it was more that he'd spent most of his 500 years hiding from his twin. Either way, Vachon was the right choice for this reconnaissance mission. "Doctor," he said. "Pull the van closer to the water so our Spaniard can display his swimming ability."

Natalie maneuvered the van as close to the river's edge as she dared. Vachon pulled off his coat and shoes. He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. Then he flew from the van. They watched from their shelter as he dove into the river in a puff of smoke.

Natalie found herself holding her breath as she waited. Before long, the river erupted and a wet vampire flew back inside the van, spraying cold water on all of them.

"I found it," he said. "Those beads are glowing, even under the water. They light up a trail all the way to a cave. I didn't go very far inside, but I sensed at least seven vampires- maybe more. And I heard Nick."

Without a word, LaCroix and the others removed their excess clothing. Wet coats and shoes would not greatly impede their swimming, but they knew they were going in to do battle. Natalie pulled off her shoes and jacket as well. She dreaded the thought of going for a dunk this late in the autumn, but Tracy and Father Rochefort were probably down there. Her help was needed. She took two of the bottles they had brought along and put them in her medical bag, then did up all the zippers and Velcro flaps. Bourbon handed her a plastic trash sack to cover the bag and keep the contents as dry as possible.

LaCroix surveyed his small band quickly. Vachon was the oldest among them, and he was still relatively young. If only there had been more time to gather reinforcements from the elders in the community. But time was running out. Nick's pain was severe and he was growing weaker by the moment. LaCroix spoke to the youngest vampire, the drummer. "You will come last, and bring the doctor with you." Without waiting for confirmation, LaCroix dove into the swift flowing stream. Immediately Vachon, Patrick, and the bass player followed. Then Natalie grabbed on to the drummer's neck and took a deep breath.

"Ready when you are."

The shock of the cold water nearly took her breath away. The odd little glowing lights of the blue beads lit up the river bed, as welcome a sight as runway lights to an airplane on a foggy night. She couldn't explain how the blue beads would be visible in the cold water reflecting the blue color of the sky. Her concept of science changed every time she hung around with vampires.

Tracy was screaming at their captors, taunting them, trying to draw their attention away from Nick. Nick was only whimpering now, too weak to resist the torture any longer. These impressions crossed LaCroix's mind with lightning speed as he soared through the water towards the cave.

"I am coming, my son," LaCroix promised, offering comfort to him at last. Then he burst from the water and took off through the small cave in the direction of the sounds. He broke down the door at the back and zeroed in on the vampire torturing his golden child. With a cry of rage he tore him from Nick's throat.

"He killed her!" the other vampire cried in shock as Nick's blood dripped from his fangs. "I thought it was you!"

LaCroix slammed the vampire into the rock wall. Fangs flashed. He tore at the other's throat and quickly gulped. Flavius! He knew this ancient one... The child was Selene's!

Flavius recovered his initial shock and fought against LaCroix. Although he was older than the Roman General in vampire time, it wasn't by enough to make much of a difference. He and Lucius were brothers.

LaCroix fought hard and dirty, throwing Flavius into the walls, tearing at his throat, grabbing anything in his reach to wield as a weapon, not hearing anything in the room around him, so intent was he on his goal. Flavius fought well, too. He attacked with a wild terror that few vampires could match. Flavius pierced him with more of his darts, the tips of which had been dipped in garlic oil.

Vachon led the others in their attack. The vampires let go of Nick and turned to face this new threat. Nick crumpled to the floor.

Nat rushed to him. His skin was hot to touch and covered with blood sweat. She fumbled with the plastic cover of her bag to dig out the blood he needed. "Hang on, Nick. Drink this," she urged.

Nick did not respond. All around her bodies and objects were flying around the room, but all she could see was her knight. She knew without a doubt that he had bought Tracy and Father Rochefort's safety with his own suffering. Gently rolling him on to his back, she pulled six darts from his body, overcome with sorrow for his pain. The wounds from the darts bled without closing. She brought one dart to her nose and sniffed. The faint presence of garlic assailed her. She didn't no how to treat this. Nick had been shot with garlic-filled bullets once before. He'd described it as a thousand biting ants crawling all over his body... She hadn't treated it then. It had just taken time to run it's course. However, the gaping hole in his stomach was not just garlic but sawdust. She knew that wood splinters could kill, and the wounds would not heal until all of the wood could be removed. But how did one remove sawdust? She brought his cold, limp hand to her lips and kissed it, weeping for him.

Tracy went limp in the hands that held her. Moments later she drove both her fists into the region below his belt, hoping it would startle him enough to release her. She might not have succeeded, but Patrick fell into her attacker and the three of them went down. She rolled out of his reach.

Nat was with Nick, the vampires were at war. She went to where Father Rochefort lay limp on the floor. A purple bruise was swelling above Rochefort's temple.

"Wake up, Father," Tracy called to him, gently shaking him. "Come on. Help is here."

Father Rochefort blinked, wincing as even the slight movement hurt. With Tracy's help he sat up and leaned against the wall. "Dear God," he prayed at the war raging around him.

Just then the tide shifted. The rogue vampires were losing their matches- Vachon's target collapsed, then Patrick's, then the drummer's... LaCroix was flat on the ground, bleeding from multiple small wounds, and Flavius hurled himself on top of the ancient. Just at the last moment LaCroix raised a stake and Flavius impaled himself upon it. The war was over. The victors staked all of the fallen. The small cave became rank with the fetid fumes of the dying as slowly they were reduced to ash. Father Rochefort made a sign of the cross as he stared in horror.

"Father, you can still help Nick," Tracy said, hauling him to his feet.

The priest gasped at the sudden pain, but one look at Nick banished all thought of his own injury. Nick was barely conscious, but he was groaning painfully. The priest went to his side and took Nick's hand. The vampire became calm at once, the handsome features relaxed.

Nat looked at him with surprise but Tracy just shrugged. "He's got a magic touch, doctor."

All the vampires hovered around her then. Nat inhaled deeply. "Okay, people. Back up and give me some room. Move him to the bed. Tracy, can you get some more lights in here?"

Father Rochefort released Nick for the vampires to carry him. Nick cried out, silencing again as the priest rejoined him. Nat pulled out her visor with the magnifying lenses and proceeded to pick the pieces of sawdust from the gaping wound.

LaCroix glared at the priest. He could not sense his son as long as the holy man was touching him, but then he would not deny that the priest did seem capable of relieving Nick's pain. Vachon passed him something to drink. Only then did LaCroix notice his own wounds and discomfort. He took in the others who had come to his aid. Although some were bleeding, and the drummer's arm hung limply in its socket, none of their injuries were serious. He bestowed a smile of gratitude on them all. He didn't know if they had volunteered their help for Nicholas or for him, but it didn't matter now. He owed them. And he always paid his debts. And Nicholas would owe him, for a long, long time. He suspected though, that the debt would not be necessary to keep his son with him. Nicholas now called him father. They were a family again.

Natalie worked for less than half an hour. The little pieces of sawdust mysteriously kept floating to the surface, making it easier to pick them out. Finally, the wound ceased to flow and the edges began to fade. The healing process was slowed because of the garlic, but at least she thought that the wood was all gone.

LaCroix took over then. Slashing Nick's wrist and his own, he held the wounds together. He winced at the discomfort Nick's poisoned blood caused as it mingled with his. LaCroix's garlic-oil wounds were far less severe and already healing.

Nick never awoke. He remained in a deep slumber, quiet as long as the priest held him. "I guess, Father," Natalie said, "that if you don't mind, I'd like to take you back to Nick's place."

"He saved our lives," the priest answered simply. "What ever I can do, I do gratefully."

"Is Nick well enough to travel?" LaCroix was speaking to her much nicer now, she thought.

"Yes, I think so."

She closed her bag and packed it again in the plastic. Tracy grabbed several armfuls of dry clothing and tossed them in the bag as well. Then they took the plunge back into the icy river. On the outside Nat was surprised to see that the sun was just setting. The battle had lasted longer than she'd imagined. They all changed quickly into dry clothing, even the vampires did not seem to appreciate their cold wet things, although they said not a word of complaint.

"Don't suppose you thought to bring my coat, did you," Tracy asked hopefully.

Nat shook her head before scolding Nick's young partner. "No. And if you had thought to bring your cell phone, help might have got here a lot sooner."

"Yes, I guess you're right," she said sheepishly. "I really should have been prepared for the possibility that seven insane vampires would want to abduct me and my partner. What was I thinking?"

"Ladies, shall we discuss this later," Vachon interrupted diplomatically.

The ride back to Toronto was silent. Natalie drove cautiously, as, except for Nick, who had not yet regained consciousness, none of the vampires wanted to bump up against the priest. Natalie caught the looks that passed between Tracy and Vachon, and her heart was heavy. They obviously were moving much faster into a relationship than she and Nick had in the past six years. Well, if Nick didn't want her in his life anymore, then maybe it was time for her to move on....

At LaCroix's direction, she parked at the rear of the Raven, for all the good it did. The rear door was flung open, and dozens of vampires hovered around inquiring after Nick. They gasped in awe and kept a wide berth as the young priest helped to bring Nick inside.

LaCroix was annoyed by their presence. He wanted everyone to go away, to leave him and his child in peace. But something about their worry pleased him. For the past century Nick had alienated himself from others of his kind with his foolish quest. Their concern for him now was proof that not only had he returned to the fold, but he had regained their respect as well.

"My children, thank you for your concern," he said magnanimously. "Please, give the doctor some room here. I will let you know when my son regains consciousness, and when he is ready for visitors. Patrick, free drinks tonight for my gallant warriors."

The mention of anything free drew the crowd away. They pulled Vachon, Patrick, and the others with them, undoubtedly to pry more details from the returning heroes. LaCroix smiled at the predictability of the young.

Upstairs, Urs turned down the covers on the bed she and Nick had been sharing. She watched with quiet anxiety as LaCroix laid down his son. The priest's help was no longer needed, it seemed. Nick remained in a deep slumber. She brushed the soft curls off his face tenderly. "How may I help?" she asked.

"Nicholas will awake very hungry," LaCroix replied.

She averted her eyes, a faint blush staining her pale face. "Yes, of course," she murmured. She went to the kitchen to have another drink.

Natalie had seen the exchange. So the rumors about Nick and a new lover were correct, she realized with longing. For some warped reason she could not explain, she was grateful that the other woman was not Janette.

Tracy put a comforting hand on her arm. "Natalie, I'm sorry," she said.

"Yes, well, I'm not really surprised. I felt him pulling away from me for some time."

"It's not that he's leaving you, Nat. It's that he needs a different sort of relationship than what you can give him."

Nat shrugged. Nick was surrounded by creatures that cared for him- they had risked their lives for him tonight. Nick didn't need her anymore.

Seeing Father Rochefort slumped on the couch in the living room, she went to him and sat on the coffee table. "Let me look at you," she said in her professional mode. "That's quite a bruise. Any dizziness? Nausea?"

The priest shook his head, wincing slightly. "I don't think it's a concussion, doctor," he answered.

"Here, I have something of yours," Nat said, pulling the rosary beads from her pocket. She poured them into his hands. He looked at her questioningly. "You're the real hero, Father. Without these to follow, we might not have reached Nick in time."

Tracy leaned over Nat's shoulder and stared at the tiny glass beads. "You could see those? They're so little! How could you have followed them?"

Nat shrugged. "They glowed, Tracy. The sun hit them just right, even the ones under the water. We might have wasted valuable time trying to find that cave entrance, but for these beads."

"The sun, right," Tracy remarked.

LaCroix turned toward the priest, glancing down his patrician nose disdainfully. "I am - grateful- for your assistance to my son. No doubt, he will want to tell you that himself. Will you spend the night here until he awakens?"

The priest stood slowly, then nodded at his host. "What about my memories?"

LaCroix looked startled for a moment, then eyed Tracy. She must have said something to him about the code. "I will let Nicholas handle that."

A look of relief washed over the priest. He held out his hand to shake, then stared at it awkwardly when LaCroix did not accept it. "Thank you, " he said, putting the hand in his pocket.

Natalie closed her bag and stood. "Well, I'm beat. And I'm late for work. Tracy, you'd better come up with something to tell Reese, before he puts an APB out on you two."

"You're right. LaCroix, I need to go. Thanks for coming to get us." She reached up on her toes then, and kissed the ancient on the cheek. "I owe you one."

"You owe much more than that," he said smoothly. "And I always collect my debts."

Tracy grinned. "I'm counting on it. Sir." Then she hurried out the door. Natalie shook her head. Everything was changing. She needed a vacation.

Urs came back into the room. "Natalie?" she asked softly. "Nick is asking for you."

Nat hesitated. She wanted to just walk out to show Nick how angry she was. But he'd been so hurt. She couldn't add to that now. Summoning her courage, she slipped in to the bedroom.

Nick lay in the middle of the bed, a pale shade on the black sheets. He looked so tired. Nat moved closer and sat down on the edge.

"You came for me," he whispered. He raised a hand weakly, reaching for her. She took it in hers and held it. His skin was losing the feverish touch, slowly cooling to vampire normal.

"You needed help," she answered lamely. "That's what friends are for."

"Nat. You've been my best friend for six years."

Tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but Nick had already seen them.

"I've hurt you. Again. Nat, I'm so sorry."

Nat touched his face. "We often do hurt the people we love, Nick. It's part of the risk we take."

Nick's eyes closed. For moments he didn't speak. Then his grip in her hand tightened. "Still friends?"

What would her life be like, if he had never come in to it? He'd opened her to things she'd never known to exist. He'd taught her about herself. So she loved a vampire. Unless he could become a man, they could not have the relationship she wanted. But she didn't want to lose him. "Friends forever, Nick," she answered, and kissed him chastely on the forehead. "Get some rest. Good night."

Late the following night Tracy joined her future family in LaCroix's living room. "I told Reese you were sick," she said to Nick with a grin. "He took it pretty well, considering we were able to close the Rueben Maloney case. It was the autistic kid. Father Rochefort is with both mothers now. They're working on the funeral arrangements together."

Nick nodded. It was such a tragedy. Yet, it sounded as though the mothers would be able to move beyond their pain and grief, to find comfort. They had both lost a son. One to a violent death, and one to an inexplicable chemical imbalance in the brain.

Urs rubbed the back of his neck.

"You still look kind of tired, Nick," Tracy commented.

"He's had a constant string of visitors," Urs answered quickly. "I think nearly every vampire in the province has been by tonight."

Tracy's grin widened. "Didn't know you were such a popular guy, partner!"

"Me neither," Nick said sheepishly.

LaCroix handed his son a beverage. "You do look quite exhausted. I suggest you retire shortly."

Nick stiffened slightly, but Urs kept up her gentle massage. "That sounds like a great idea," she whispered into his ear.

Nick pulled her on to his lap and nuzzled her neck playfully. Tracy stared, still shocked to see her straight-laced partner behaving in what she thought was an uncharacteristically forward manner. She watched his fangs, the golden glow of his eyes, the movement of muscle through his silk shirt... and realized with surprise that her future brother was incredibly sexy.

Nick stopped teasing Urs and gazed at his master. There was something unfathomable in that look. A history of emotions, forty lifetimes of memories...

"LaCroix," he said.

The ancient sat down, crossing his legs casually. He waited for Nicholas to speak that which weighed heavily on his mind, knowing that his son would sleep better for it. LaCroix would have preferred to avoid yet another journey into emotionalism.

"Flavius was Divia's brother, but not your son."

LaCroix nodded.

"And he was just as insane."

LaCroix closed his eyes. He could recall now brief images in Flavius's blood, although there was a disgusting flavor of garlic in the memory. Yes, Flavius was insane. And he had been held a prisoner by the enforcers for many centuries, which was why their paths had not crossed before. The enforcers had known that as an ancient, Flavius's blood had potent healing abilities. They'd kept him, like a lab rat, for their own needs. Flavius's death had bought him freedom, of a sort.

"Don't you see?" Nick was becoming more insistent. "They were siblings! They inherited their mental weakness from their other parent! Selene made them insane- not you. I thought that you would want to know."

A heaviness clutched at him as he closed his eyes to the pain. His child... his daughter, whom he had loved and killed. It was not his fault. "Thank you, Nicholas," he whispered.

Nick stood then and took Urs's hand. At the hallway he turned back and smiled at Tracy. "Welcome to the family, sis." Then he disappeared.

LaCroix eyed the pretty little blonde before him speculatively. She had an annoying, "perky" smile, but she smelled wonderfully of lilies. She was disobedient, yet duly sorry when she faced the consequences of her actions. She had risked her short, mortal life to try to save Nicholas. And she was highly intelligent. Although part of him hoped she would just let the Spaniard do the honors, LaCroix knew that if she joined his family, his unlife would never be dull again.

"So, Miss Vetter. Have you reached a decision?"

She nodded. "Yes, I have. I must tell you, it was touch and go there for a while."

He offered her a slight nod of encouragement. It might possibly be the last time she felt comfortable to just speak her mind. It would behoove him to discover what was on it.

"Yeah. I'm just now breaking away from my mortal father. He's still trying to run my life, get me off the streets and out of danger into the desk job of the corporate crime division. I really wasn't sure about taking on a master that is cut from the same cloth."

LaCroix bristled. He would have to meet this notorious "double" of his, and show Miss Vetter just how different they were.

"And I'm not sure about your sense of humor. It's a little dark, but at least its there. Nick is really cool. I'm getting used to his quirky little habits, like zoning out behind the wheel and drooling at crime scenes. He's much too serious, though.

"I really like the way you came to rescue us. Not that my dad wouldn't rescue me, if the chance presented itself, but, hell, he's just not very observant. He's never around when I need him. I like this mind-link thing- it seems like it would be really comforting- only Vachon claims he doesn't know anything about it."

Vachon had mentioned as much to him once. He didn't feel that it should be his responsibility to train all the orphans of the community, however. Perhaps, Vachon could learn from Tracy... LaCroix suspected that she would be a quick learner.

"But, what really convinced me to join your family, LaCroix, is that you guys need me."

LaCroix snorted. "You can't be serious."

"You may not even realize it, but you do. You love Nick, I know you do. But maybe it wasn't fashionable when you were a child for a guy to learn how to express himself. And Nick loves you. He listens to your creepy broadcast every night. He mopes around when you are angry with him. But, you two spend more time fighting than breathing, am I right?"

"Our relationship has been, unpredictable," LaCroix agreed, a smile touching his lips. She was audacious, but in a cute sort of way. He was grateful for Vachon though. Cute could get annoying.

"So, I'm ready. I want this. I want to learn to be a vampire, and I want you to teach me."

"I see." LaCroix was silent for a moment as he considered one last time this task before him. He'd made other children before, gave them a few quick pointers and sent them on their way. He'd largely neglected their training, but he knew that Miss Vetter would be different. Although he doubted he would hold her reigns as tightly as he did Nicholas's, he knew that she was to be part of his close, little family. Somehow, maybe having another woman at family reunions would be a pleasant idea. He imagined Tracy and Janette together... it would certainly give his older daughter another target for her petulant moods!

"In preparation for this event, I have made dinner reservations. Have you ever been to Azures?" LaCroix stood, taking Tracy's arm and linking it through his own.

"Wining and dining... sounds great. And much later maybe we can dance. Nick still owes me one. Only, if you don't mind, Dad... could I call you "Lucien"? Just for tonight?"

LaCroix smiled at her indulgently. Soft golden flecks appeared in the cool blue of his eyes. No, life would never be dull again.

The End.

Thanks for reading!