#11 Dancing in the Dark

Chapter one:

LaCroix reached for his robe and slipped into it quietly, so as not to disturb his mortal lover. It was only mid-afternoon, but sleep had managed to elude him. Natalie, however, had worked late last night and would not likely arise for several hours yet. He turned to gaze at her, as his thoughts wandered.

Her beauty did not meet the current popular fashions - her eyes were too wide set, her face a little too square and her nose turned up slightly, which was in contrast to today's bone-thin twiggy blondes with big toothpaste grins and perfect features. Still, fashions come and go and he had lived to see hundreds of definitions of beauty.

He discovered that he did admire her appearance. The mountains of riotous hair just begged to be touched. The wide, blue eyes sparked with life and vitality. Her fuller, rounder figure was more comforting to lie with, and her curves seemed to fit just right. She also possessed a keen intellect and singular wit. He enjoyed sparring with her on occasion, and sometimes found that he had to adjust his own perceptions afterwards. It wasn't often he could learn something new, and seldom from one so young. She would make a worthy mate.

Rising from the bed they shared, he moved on silent feet to exit their private suite. He wasn't hungry, but perhaps a small glass of his favorite blend would help him to relax and return to sleep. As he poured, the carouche awoke as well. LaCroix poured a little cow blood in Perry's dish, grateful to have found a good use for the noxious liquid. Perry cocked his head and woofed softly before he lapped it up.

LaCroix took his glass and looked in on each of his progeny. First he went to Tracy's room. She lay curled against Vachon's shoulder, blonde hair mingled with dark. One slim hand lay over the young Spaniard's heart, almost a protective gesture even in sleep. Vachon looked much more relaxed than he had in weeks. The nightmares that had plagued him ended when he exchanged blood with his twin. LaCroix felt a stirring in his loins at the fresh young vampires. Perhaps if he remained awake much longer, he would join them for a little late afternoon....

Turning away quickly, LaCroix peaked into his old bedroom where Janette now rested with her newest fling. The room had been hers before she'd sold him the nightclub. Her presence now seemed to restore balance. Although she had only been gone for a few years - an eyeblink for an immortal - he had missed her. She was different now, yet still the same in all that mattered. She had lost the power of a millennium. She remained elegant and aloof, a little condescending and self-centered. She would add spice to his little home.

She had told him some unsettling news, fearing the Enforcers were after "her master." Both had decided that the strange note she'd received must have referred to him, since very few knew Nicholas had become her master and fewer still believed it. LaCroix was not overly concerned. It touched him that she cared enough to hurry home to warn him. He thanked her, which surprised her. "I shall always consider you my daughter," LaCroix had whispered into her ear.

"And I shall always consider you a bossy grandpapa," she had remarked lightly, before telling him in her blood her true feelings.

The Inca was an oddity. LaCroix had not yet formed an opinion of him. He and Vachon were as different from each other as morning and night, and yet they were the same. They were as magnetic poles, both the same and pushing against each other. They were dark, with black hair and fathomless eyes. Both were about the same height, weight, and build. But Amaru was elegant and refined while Vachon was crude, uneducated and indifferent. Amaru seemed governed still by his mortal values, while Vachon had had no values to speak of. Yet Amaru did not seem brooding and pensive, as Nicholas was wont to be. Perhaps the Inca might have a positive influence on his son?

LaCroix turned away from them to peer inside the only room left. A smile spread as he gazed at his beautiful child. Nicholas lay on his side with an arm wrapped around the cat. The sheets were twisted and half off, revealing more smooth, firm limbs than the private, solemn vampire generally displayed. Urs curled up against him, her arms wrapped snuggly around his waist. LaCroix scowled then. Twin wounds in Nicholas' throat were still open, although his son had been sleeping for hours. Anger welled up inside him. It was so unjust that his son should still suffer from this strange affliction!

Nicholas stirred in his sleep, his brow puckering and his hand moved as though to push away some unseen threat. LaCroix sheepishly acknowledged that he had somehow disturbed his sleep by the fierce thoughts. Silently, he knelt before his favorite.

All is well my son, he thought, concentrating on the bond they shared. You may rest now.

He leaned over and licked at the twin wounds to speed their healing and to reassure the sleeping vampire.

"Thanks, LaCroix," Nicholas murmured.

"Go back to sleep," he said.

The brow smoothed and relaxed; LaCroix sensed only vague, halcyon thoughts from Nicholas. Silently he left the room, but still felt no more ready to return to bed than he had an hour ago. He settled in his favorite chair, wondering if perhaps he should find something to read.

Perry trotted out and sat before him, looking at him expectantly.

"I am concerned for him," LaCroix said. "He has lived on his own before, but it is different now. He was always just a little too naïve and trusting for his own good. How much more vulnerable will he be now that he is blind?"

Perry nodded companionably.

"You will not leave his side." LaCroix dropped his mental shields and allowed his ancient presence to wash over the carouche, enforcing the command. The carouche cowered for a moment, going down on his paws and glancing up at him with golden eyes, tail wagging hesitantly. Then he stood, hackles raised, and LaCroix sensed the carouche as well.

Strange, fantastic thoughts, pictorial images of a language he did not speak, came to him, images of golden retriever pups and his golden child, with Perry the alpha leader. The carouche bared his fangs and growled.

LaCroix laughed. Again he wondered what it was about his son that stirred the hearts of others? All who met him wanted him. Some wanted to possess him, some to dominate him, and some to kill him, but no one was ever indifferent.

"I will be taking Tracy to Chateau Moliere. It is near South Harbor on Mount Desert Island in Maine. It will be difficult to reach me. There are no telephones and the closest community is on the mainland. If you should run into trouble, stay with Nicholas and send someone else to get me."

The carouche seemed to nod, and LaCroix was struck again at his apparent intelligence. The carouche had a good deal more of it than a lot of vampires he knew. They fell into companionable silence then, sensing one another yet not really communicating. LaCroix felt a little drowsy. Perhaps the carouche had a calming effect? He might be worth keeping around… LaCroix shuddered as a yawn threatened to escape.

There was a stirring from down the hall. Vampire and carouche turned as one. The Inca, still impeccable even at this hour of the day, entered. He came before LaCroix and waited respectfully until the ancient invited him to sit.

"I wish to speak with you regarding Janette," the younger vampire began.

LaCroix's only response was a raised eyebrow. That much he could have guessed.

Amaru shifted once, the first gesture of unease LaCroix had ever witnessed. He smiled predatorily as he found the weakness in the Inca's armor.

Amaru wasn't sure how to proceed. When he had written the "anonymous" warning note for Janette, it had been to encourage her to go home where she would be safe. He had her best interests at heart, but she had told LaCroix about the note. The Inca wondered how the ancient vampire would take the deception? He knew something of the abusive power the ancient was capable of wielding and had no wish to learn more first hand. Besides, if LaCroix knew, then he might pass the information to Janette through blood and she would once again be vulnerable. No, her only protection was to stay here with her master leaving Amaru free to search for the vampire threat. If LaCroix continued to think that he was in danger, well, that could not be helped. Amaru glanced at the General again and didn't think that much ever ruffled his feathers.

"I have business to attend to. She is much too young to be alone in the world, and entirely to stubborn to realize it. I would like to leave her in your care until I return."

LaCroix chuckled at the Inca's description of his one-time daughter. It was fitting. He suspected that Janette would balk at his protection as well, and since she was no longer his child, he had little control over her. He wondered if his son would ever be able to assume his responsibility as her master? Probably not. Nicholas had a few other progeny still and he never saw them. LaCroix would be leaving with Tracy, though… She was looking forward to it, and he did not want to disappoint her.

"I will see that she is safe and protected," LaCroix said smoothly.

"You shall have to tell me your secret, then," Amaru replied.

The chuckle deepened into a laugh at the frustration radiating from the younger vampire. He would hire Diggin, of course. He had wanted to send Diggin to Montreal, but Nicholas was too aware of him now. With his obstinate, difficult children, it was best if they did not know they were being watched.

"Have you and the Spaniard made your peace?" LaCroix asked, surprised that he should care.

Amaru shrugged, a small gesture that was identical to Vachon. "Perhaps. For now, until he irritates me again, which will undoubtedly be the day I return."

LaCroix smiled. The vampire twins were certainly interesting. Infants were a lot of care and masters seldom undertook the double chore of creating twins. No wonder their master went to greet the sun after she'd realized what she had done. Still, it would be amusing to have them in his family group for a time. Gold flecked his eyes as he imagined Amaru's initiation. Draining his glass abruptly, LaCroix arose. It was time to rejoin Natalie.

"Until you return," he promised.

Amaru jumped, sensing something ominous in the simple phrase. "Good day, LaCroix," he stammered.

Perry watched them leave, each to their mate. It had been too long since he had had a pleasant romp with some sweet bitch. Perhaps when Nicholas was safely home from the blind school, Perry could take a few nights off? With a wide yawn and a sigh, the carouche leaped back onto Nicholas' bed and circled around before flopping over his feet, and dreamed.

Chapter two:

Janette flounced on Nick's bed and pouted. "Tell me again where you are going?" Nick reached for another shirt from his closet. By texture, style, and smell, he recognized it as the midnight blue linen sport shirt Urs had given him. He folded it and laid it on top in the open suitcase. "I am going back to school, Janette. For six weeks."

"But I just got back. Can't you put this off a while longer?"

Nick smiled ruefully. He'd love to. Every time he tried to imagine getting on the plane and leaving, he felt sick to his stomach and he knew he would never be able to do it. Vachon had unwittingly saved the day when he suggested taking their new boat.

"I've put this off too long already. I have to do this," he said quietly.

Janette caught her lower lip with her teeth as she regarded him openly. He had changed. It was unusual for their kind, for centuries could pass without notice. Nick seemed somehow more mature. She felt tears prick at her eyes as she mourned for the loving, faithful knight who had needed and desired her above all else.

Nick closed the suitcase and went to kneel before her. He reached out and took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. "You will always be very special to me, mon aimée."

She gasped, startled that he had read her thoughts so clearly. He had changed in more ways than one. She pulled one hand free and brushed through his hair, cupping his chin tenderly. "Study hard, Nicholas. That you will return to me."

He grinned. "Naturelement."

Janette watched him latch the suitcase and begin to pack a smaller carry-on bag. With an exaggerated sigh, she rose and left. Amaru might still amuse her.

Nick hefted the suitcases. Had he thought of everything? Six weeks wasn't that long, really. It would go quickly. He carried them out and set them beside the front door.

"You must be eager, my son. Your plane won't leave for three more days," LaCroix commented dryly.

"I'm not taking the plane," Nick said.

LaCroix set his glass down and glared at his capricious child. For three weeks now Nicholas had been vacillating - to go or not to go - and driving him half-insane! "You will be on that plane, Nicholas, and that's final!"

Nick never flinched. He came straight to LaCroix and faced him calmly. "I will go to the school. I merely chose not to take a plane. Vachon and I are going to sail up the lake."

For a few moments LaCroix fumed silently, while admiring the silent strength he sensed in his son. "You did not want my driver to take you," he said reproachfully. "You said you had to go alone." Nick smiled sheepishly. "That's true. Leaving you is going to be hard enough. I want to say my good-byes here."

LaCroix felt a sudden constriction in his throat. Six weeks was going to seem like an eternity! And how would things change over the summer? Would the fragile relationship he and Nicholas had made even survive? What if Nicholas no longer needed or wanted him in his life? He pulled his child in for a quick embrace.

Nick laughed softly as he endured the bear hug. Just moments ago he had reassured Janette, and now he sensed insecurity from the strangest of places, his indomitable master! "You could write, you know," he said lightly.

"There is nothing I could write, my son, that I would want anyone reading aloud to you."

"I promise to keep your letters private. They have computers that transcribe print into Braille, or read it aloud with a voice synthesizer. Consider your letters "extra homework"."

"Then I shall write at great length," LaCroix promised. "And I shall expect a reply in kind."

The front door opened as Tracy and Vachon burst in. They had their arms around each other and the scent of their blood fresh on their lips. No bite marks remained, yet the young couple fairly radiated contentment.

"Are these your bags?" Vachon asked, indicating Nick's luggage.

"Hey, everybody! Nick's leaving," Tracy called.

Urs, Janette, Amaru and Natalie all joined them in the small living room, ending the private moment between master and child. Natalie hugged Nick, and cautioned him to take care of himself. Urs kissed him quietly. She had said her farewell privately earlier. Janette kissed him, and Amaru shook his hand. Nick took a firm grip of Perry's harness and started for the door. With one hand still on the doorframe, he stopped. No one spoke, for they all knew how difficult this decision had been for him. Urs wanted to comfort him, and Tracy wanted to kick his butt to urge him through the door.

Then Nick whirled around, releasing his hold on the harness. "LaCroix!" he cried.

LaCroix came to him. Nick flung his arms around his neck and bit hard, sucking his master's essence desperately. LaCroix closed his eyes, trying to shut out the others as they witnessed the tender moment, and he concentrated on reassuring his child. He returned the bite, drawing only a small taste of Nicholas before he tried to close the wound.

Nick licked the blood from his fangs but kept his face buried in the protectiveness of his master's solid embrace. "I am afraid," he whispered timidly.

"I know," LaCroix replied. "But if I was truly afraid for you, I would never let you go."

Nick straightened then and smiled at him. "Of course. Thank you."

LaCroix almost told him about Samson, the bodyguard he had hired to follow Nicholas, but he held his tongue. In eight hundred years Nicholas had continually fought against his protectiveness and yet was constantly endangering himself, thereby reinforcing LaCroix's opinion that he still needed to be protected. Samson's task would be impossible if Nicholas knew he was there.

Samson was not his first choice. The vampire was younger than Diggin, and not as diligent. He would take his job seriously only until something pretty came along to distract him. But Nicholas was too aware of Diggin, perhaps because of the familial tie. Janette, unfortunately, was too weak to sense Diggin with any regularity. Still, her weakness now would protect her, since Diggin would be able to guard her even from her own foolishness.

Nick reached for Perry's harness again and this time, he left. All assembled stared at the closed door for several minutes before silently drifting away. Each sensed that the heart of the family had been taken from them.

*****

Vachon tossed Nick's suitcases in the back of his van. "Man, I didn't honestly think we'd get out of there."

Nick opened the door and climbed in. He wished he could say something witty or stupid, anything to loosen the tightness in his chest, but nothing came to mind. Vachon didn't make any other comment. He climbed in the driver's seat and drove off.

The first block passed, and then a second. Nick felt LaCroix in his mind, felt the link begin to fade. He sensed loneliness already, overwhelming sadness, but no fear. Then, carefully, the link between them ended as if LaCroix sensed Nick's presence and shut the metaphysical door between them. Nick rubbed at his stomach. A vile taste burned his throat.

Wordlessly, Vachon pulled over to the curb and waited while Nick threw open the door and knelt over the gutter. He sighed, hoping his friend wouldn't do this all the way to Montreal. Just listening to him puke was enough to unsettle Vachon's stomach as well.

Nick stood uneasily. He felt weak and a little dizzy, but he knew from long experience that the sensation would pass. He groped for the van door and pulled himself back inside. Perry laid his head on Nick's lap and whined softly. Nick patted him. "Let's go," he said, forcing a cheerfulness he didn't feel.

Vachon drove on. They had only finished the paperwork on the boat the night before, after which they had packed all the bottles LaCroix had given Nick for this trip, plus more for Vachon and Perry. Dawn had driven them home. Now, with the night still young and the winds promising a pleasant beginner's ride at 15 knots, they should have a good sail before they'd need to throw out the anchor for the day.

At the harbor, Nick seemed to change. He grinned at Vachon, a heart-stopping, boyish expression of sheer delight. Vachon smiled back, and allowed his own enthusiasm to run loose. "We should name her before we go," he said. "And drink a toast. It's tradition."

"Aye, tha' t'is, laddy," Nick responded with a thick brogue. "An' "New Freedom" is a right fittin' name, if I do say so meself."

Vachon laughed. "New Freedom it is." He poured a glass for each of them, knowing that Nick needed it right now. "To New Freedom, new adventures, and a helluva good sail," he said.

Nick cheered and drained his glass. They both threw their empty glasses at the hull of the boat, listening for the tingle of breaking glass. Vachon grabbed Nick's bags then, and Perry grabbed Nick, as they flew out over the harbor to the little sloop that they now owned.

Nick sat where Vachon indicated and listened attentively while he received a crash course on modern sailing. He wrapped the jib sheet around his hand to secure it. He heard Vachon grunt and curse amicably as he tugged another sheet to hoist the mainsail, then take his place at the tiller. Almost at once Nick felt the tug as the wind caught the sails, and then they were off!

Vachon gently instructed him: spill off some air, tighten the sheet, and tack. That was the hardest part, for it often had to be done swiftly, but if he wasn't careful, he could knock himself out when the jib boom swung across the deck. Then, he would settle on the opposite side and trim the sail again. The boat would cant slightly on edge, the sounds of water spliced by the bow and passing on either side, even the night sounds of gulls over the water, all lent to the sense of adventure. Nick couldn't seem to stop grinning. He felt like a kid with a new pony, ten feet tall and rich as a king!

Perry swallowed yet again as the boat made a sudden dip and left his stomach wishing it had stayed home. With growing dread, he realized how much his charge was enjoying himself, when Perry hoped something dreadful would happen to the boat and he'd never have to sail again. He struggled to keep from vomiting, and had renewed empathy for what Nicholas had been suffering these past six months.

Vachon smiled up at the familiar constellations. The Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Cassiopeia, and all the rest, were welcome friends of the night. The boat had the latest in computerized navigational equipment, but Vachon preferred the sextant and stars for steering a course. He gazed at his companion. Nick hadn't looked this happy since ever. Not in all the two years Vachon had known him! He felt his fangs drop at the thought of how they would spend their day. Nick's blood was delicious even on a bad day, how much better he would taste come dawn!

*****

Tracy went to her room and pulled out a suitcase. LaCroix had told her nothing about where he was taking her. She had no idea what to pack. Somehow, she doubted that her cut-off jean shorts and Blue Jays tee shirts would be appropriate, but then, what would? She reached out hesitantly through the bond to find her master. He was in his private suite, but he seemed closed in on himself. She sighed. Now was probably not a good time to interrupt. She was still a little shocked that LaCroix had actually let Nick leave.

Hurriedly, she tossed in some casual clothes, one cocktail dress, other necessities, and zipped it shut. Then she slipped downstairs into the Nightclub. LaCroix would be able to find her when he was ready. She wasn't going to sit around the apartment, which had the feel of a tomb right now. The mortal band was too loud and lacked any real talent, she thought critically, as she accepted the drink Patrick poured for her. But then, Vachon had an unfair advantage of nearly five centuries of practice!

She missed him already... and hoped Vachon was taking good care of him.

*****

Natalie finished dressing for work, tucking a scrunchy in her pocket to tie back her hair later. "So when are you leaving?" she asked LaCroix, who hadn't said in word in over half an hour.

His shoulders raised and lowered as he sighed. "Shortly, I suppose," he said with seeming indifference.

"You know, you'll have to chuck that attitude or you'll hurt Tracy's feelings," Nat said.

The ancient vampire made no response that he had even heard. Nat sat down beside him and took his hand in hers, patting it reassuringly. "Why did you let him go?" she asked.

"He will be safer there," LaCroix said softly.

Nat's eyebrows shot up. "Why? Are you expecting trouble?"

"No. No one ever expects it then, do they?" He pulled his hand from hers and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Janette thinks that I may be in danger. She received a note threatening "her master". Since no one in the community really knows what happened between her and Nicholas, she believes the note refers to me."

Natalie gasped. "You? In Danger? Why? What for? What are you going to do?"

LaCroix chuckled. "I assure you, my dear, I am in no danger. Whatever vampire holds whatever grudge, real or imagined, is no threat to me."

"You sent him away to protect him then," she stated. She saw the satisfied look and knew she'd guessed right. "But what about Tracy? If you're the target, isn't it dangerous to keep her with you?"

LaCroix didn't answer at first. He rose from the couch and went to the window that over looked the city. He drew in a deep breath, his voice sounded flat. "If I am stronger, then she is safest at my side where I can protect her. If I am weaker, we will both die. That is our way, Natalie. Your world cannot protect her. Mine will not."

Natalie checked her watch. She was going to be late, but that didn't matter. Lucien was leaving tonight, and regardless of the confidence he proclaimed, there was still a possibility she might not see him again. As old and powerful as he was, she was terrified that there could be another even older.

"Lucien. You take care, you hear?" she murmured, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his waste.

He patted her hands, then pulled her around and embraced her. He kissed her forehead. "Always, my dear. And you enjoy your cruise."

She forced a smile. Unable to speak, she kissed him again and waved, then grabbed her purse and left.

*****

Amaru departed next. He gave Janette no explanation and no promise of when he'd return. It was the rule she had set when first they'd met, to protect herself from another possessive, suffocating lover, but now she regretted it. Although his blood promised he loved her, he had never spoken the words. He called her his "little bird, little mosquito," and "sweet infant," but never his lover. Janette wept two large tears of self-indulgent loneliness. Then she dried her eyes and went in search of better entertainment.

The Raven called to her. It had been her home for twenty years, and many faces still looked familiar. Patrick was new, as Miklos had left when she had, but he smiled at her congenially.

"House special, Missy Boss?" he asked.

She cocked an eyebrow at the moniker. Patrick filled a glass and passed it to her, carrying on a conversation as though they were old acquaintances.

"Boss Jr. has talked about you some, and Alma; I feel like I know you already," he replied.

Janette laughed. "Well, Patrick? I know nothing about you - a situation we shall have to rectify immediately."

His eyes widened in shock, wondering if she was truly offering what it sounded like. He glanced around the bar already filling with customers. "Ah, Ma'am, I," he stammered.

Janette sent Alma to work behind the bar with no more than a gesture, before tugging the bartender into the backroom.

****

"Why aren't you finished packing yet," LaCroix asked, as he joined her in the nightclub.

Tracy fidgeted. "I am, sort of, mostly. Only, I didn't know what I should bring. I mean, where are we going?"

He nodded, accepting her excuse. "Yes, of course. Forgive me, child. It has been rather hectic here lately, hasn't it?"

Tracy giggled nervously. She loved her vampire father. She feared and respected him, but she didn’t feel comfortable in his presence.

"We are going to Chateau Moliere. It is a hotel owned by an elder member of the community, and I have reserved the entire establishment for six weeks. It is on the coast of Maine, but this time of year the weather should be pleasant. Since we will not be going out publicly other than the flight there and back, you may dress in whatever you find comfortable."

Tracy heaved a sigh of relief. "Great. Then I'm all set, Dad," she said, and reached up on her toes to peck his cheek.

LaCroix huffed with exaggerated irritation, but his dimple winked an appearance. He called the driver to fetch their bags, then they settled in his limo for the drive to the airport.

Tracy leaned back into the soft cushions, reveling in the wealth and comfort her new parent could provide. She gazed up at him, wondering if he'd mind if she told him how she felt. Probably. LaCroix didn't care for too much honesty in communication. Her love and gratitude would be manifest in every drop of blood he took from her, so perhaps verbalizing it wasn't necessary. She snuggled up closer to him.

LaCroix smiled at his impetuous infant. She was learning, he acknowledged, grateful that she hadn't peppered him with a thousand questions by now. Still, her effervescent personality remained, youthful and vital, amusing and not too irritating. He knew she was curious about the trip and wondered how long she would be patient.

Where was Nicholas by now, he wondered, suffering a sharp pain of loss. Caring for his son had filled his days and nights for nearly six months. He missed feeling needed, wanted, by the one who had so often pushed him away. With firm restraint, he forced his thoughts to turn away. Perhaps engaging Tracy in idle conversation would do them both some good.

"It is time for you to learn another language," he began.

"Really? I always wanted to, but I don't have much of a knack for it. I mean, I tried French in high school, and I failed miserably. I don't think I can even find my way to the bathroom without pointing to a picture."

LaCroix brushed aside her fears indifferently. "You are no longer limited by your mortal inadequacies, my dear. We are superior in every way, and acquiring new languages is a simple matter. I think we will concentrate on Spanish, first, unless you have another preference."

"No, Spanish is fine," she said. "It'll be cool, really. Vachon and Nick were trying to talk in Latin once, when they didn't want Urs and me to understand, but Vachon's Latin sounded more like Spanish. I don't think he went to church much as a boy. I mean, Nick knows a whole lot more Latin than he does."

"Nicholas's Latin was deplorable before I tutored him," LaCroix sniffed. "But you are right about Vachon. He had a very different childhood from Nicholas."

"Really? He told you? What was it like? Did you know him then?"

LaCroix chuckled. He had been right to talk with her, as the loneliness faded beneath the sunny warmth of her affection. He told her a few snippets of Vachon's life, then brought the conversation back to the topics of her education.

Tracy plastered a smile on her face, hoping LaCroix would not look too closely. Deportment? Rhetoric? Philosophy? How would these make her a better vampire? She wanted to refine her whammy, to control her strength so she wouldn't ever hurt someone in anger again, and to understand her new culture.

The limo stopped and the driver opened their doors. Tracy stood, stretching her legs. She loved to fly, with or without a plane. She looped her arm through LaCroix's and followed his lead. The crowds always seemed to part for him, as though the unsuspecting mortals had no wish to rub elbows with the ancient vampire. Never had she been ushered through the masses and to her seat - in first class, of course - so swiftly!

LaCroix withdrew a book from his carry-on luggage to read on the journey, so their conversation ended. Tracy flipped through the in-flight magazine restlessly and wondered how Nick was faring.

Chapter three:

Natalie could not concentrate. She had no interest in her job these days, and when she uncovered the cause of death, she had no interest in running the report over to the precinct. Neither Nick nor Tracy would be there. Then after work she didn't care to visit the Raven. Janette had ensconced herself there, and Natalie couldn't find a friendly face anywhere. She still returned to LaCroix's apartment, as it was more her home than Janette's, but it was strained. Janette took every opportunity to make her feel inferior, and shy, quiet Urs was caught in the middle. Natalie had to get away!

She had two more days before her cruise. Just two more days; she could survive. Natalie had never done anything like it before, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Tracy wasn't the only one who needed time to adjust. Natalie's world was changing, but she hadn't changed with it. She was no longer in love with Nick. For six years she had defined her life around him. Now, he was a dear friend, but he was not her soul reason for living.

LaCroix was her lover, but not her life, either. She wasn't sure how she felt about him. She loved feeling special, like she did the night he took her to the symphony. She loved talking with him, even arguing with him. He was intelligent and formidable. But, she wasn't sure she loved him. LaCroix was a two thousand year old vampire master, capable of unbelievable maliciousness, capable of murder. He had killed and he would kill again. Could she live with someone like that? Should she even want to?

Natalie hoped that this two-week cruise from Nova Scotia down to the Bahamas and back would give her some time to put her life in order. Perhaps, if she put some distance between her and her Toronto ties, she could finally discern what she wanted.

*****

Tristan melted into the shadows as he observed the mortal woman. She had been the topic of one too many council gatherings. Some charged that she had knowledge of the community and must pay the price. Others argued that it was her work and not LaCroix that found a cure for the Fever, and therefore she deserved their protection. Those faithful to LaCroix insisted that LaCroix had discovered the cure, and even their blood revealed that they spoke truth as they knew it. Discord was common at council meetings, but this had gone on long enough. Tristan was to gather information on the mortal and report back.

He followed her when she left her work. She went to a drive-through to order breakfast, then to the Raven. That might be evidence, though only circumstantial. The Raven belonged to LaCroix, yet hundreds of mortals frequented it. Tristan went inside and mingled with the crowds to better observe her. She seemed to know the bartender and LaCroix's offspring, Janette. There was no love lost there… he smirked into his drink. He had not ever had the opportunity to meet the lovely Janette, which was the main reason he had been given this assignment, but he had heard of her. His fangs itched. Until this assignment was completed, that was one desire he would have to deny. He drained his beverage and signaled the waitress to bring him another.

The mortal had two drinks, then left. Tristan nearly gave himself away, so startled was he to see her open the door to LaCroix's private apartment! She whirled around, her eyes wide, as she searched the corridor. She did not see him, but she pushed open the door and slammed it shut behind her, locking it securely.

That was definitely odd. It was almost enough, although if she were merely LaCroix's thrall and still ignorant, then it would greatly displease a respected elder of the community to end her short life. He needed something solid, proof one way or another… but dawn was approaching. He could not stay here.

*****

"Hello, Nat," Urs said sweetly.

Natalie offered her a smile. Her opinion of the shy, quiet vampire had changed much over the past year. At first she had been angry and jealous, but now she saw Urs as someone who might even become a friend if given half a chance. "Hello, Urs. How've you been?"

"Missing him," she answered truthfully. "It's going to be a long summer."

Nat agreed. "You should make some plans of your own, go somewhere, do something exciting. Don't just sit around and feel lonely."

Urs shrugged, the simple gesture a unique blend of the sensual and innocent. "I thought about it. But I have a new job, and six customers depending on me. Maybe in a few months I'll hire an assistant, but for now I like being independent."

Natalie kicked off her shoes and tried to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling she'd had in the hall, the feeling that some one was watching her. She'd had it all night. Maybe it was just her overactive imagination running wild because her lover and protector had left. "So, you really like this job?"

Urs laughed. "Not you, too?"

"What do you mean?"

"I battled Nick's snobbishness for months. He felt that cleaning houses was too plebian."

Natalie laughed self-consciously. "I know that house cleaning companies have really come up in the world. They charge more, for one. I guess I just can't imagine any one really liking to do something I'd pay anything not to have to do again for as long as I live."

Urs laughed again. "Well, to be honest, I would never want your job, either, Natalie."

"I guess you're right," she admitted, joining her in laughter.

"Now isn't that sweet," Janette purred, her voice syrupy as she came in. "Aren't we just the perfect little family?"

Urs rose quietly. "Welcome home, Janette," she said. "I think I shall retire."

"Coward," Nat muttered under her breath. "Janette, I felt something tonight. Like I was being followed."

"So report it to the police, dear. Isn't that what you mortals do?"

"Janette! I think he was a vampire."

Janette laughed, making an exaggerated gesture of indifference. "That, my dear, is impossible. If a vampire wanted you, you would be dead. Good night."

Natalie shuddered. She wasn't sure why Janette said such hurtful things… it wasn't like she was still vying for Nick's affection. Still, she was right about one thing. If a vampire really wanted her dead, she wouldn't be here to worry about it. Perhaps she could sleep after all.

Chapter Four:

Vachon lowered the mainsail and tied it to the boom. Dawn was drawing near. It was time to drop anchor.

"What can I do," Nick asked.

Vachon glanced up mast. It would be easier to wrap the jib around the forestay himself, but he wanted Nick to enjoy sailing. He hoped this was only the first of many adventures together. Keeping close to Nick, and unobtrusively protective, he instructed him to releasing the port and starboard ropes and pulled in the forestay. Then Nick helped him pull down the mail sail, pack and tie it against the boom. When the sails were both battened down, the sheets coiled and locked, the anchor lowered and locked, Vachon looked around thoughtfully.

Vachon brought Nick below, reminding him to duck through the stairs. There the boat scrimped on space and anyone taller than five feet was at risk of knocking themselves out. It was the only design flaw he'd found so far. Hopefully, it would be the last.

The kitchen was tiny, but not awkwardly so. He showed Nick where the refrigerator was, so the vampire could find it himself if he woke up hungry in the middle of the day, then helped him to the table. Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out his deck of cards.

"Up for a game?"

"Deal me in," Vachon said.

"What about you, Perry?"

The carouche whined pathetically without even raising his head from the bed. Vachon chuckled. "I don't think he's found his sea legs yet."

Nick tried to sense the carouche. "Will you be okay?" he asked.

Perry groaned. He didn't need Nick worrying about him. The young vampire worried about every thing else under the sun. Although he felt like dying, and wished the demon god of the sea would sink the boat permanently, he tried to turn the vampire's attention away. He snapped irritably.

"Okay," Nick said. "Hope you feel better." He dealt out several hands of Black Jack, then Gin, but before long he felt the familiar lethargy steal over him.

Vachon gathered up the cards. Nick stood and stretched. Often times at home he and Urs would sit in the hot tub before retiring. Now he would find new routines. Concentrating, he tried to recall the layout of the small yacht from his last trip here.

Vachon led him to the master bed. "We could flip for it, or share it, whichever you prefer," he said, trying to sound casual.

Nick grinned. "Well, since we are both master of the boat, I suppose we should share it."

Vachon needed no further encouragement. He tugged Nick's shirt free from the waistband of his pants and unbuttoned it. Nick had always been very private, layering his clothing and keeping it firmly buttoned, but since his blindness he'd loosened up considerably. Perhaps, because he could no longer see himself, he was less concerned with how he looked.

Nick reached for him, tugging his shirt free as well. Within moments they were undressed and crawled onto the bed. The swell of the waves gently rocked them, the sighing wind sang their lullaby, and silently through the kiss of blood, they satisfied all their desires.

Chapter five:

The Chateau Moliere was the most elegant building Tracy had ever seen in her entire life. It sat proudly at the peak of a lesser mount, with smooth columns of polished rose quartz that spanned the entire length of the three-story antebellum structure. The front hall seemed otherworldly, as the softest sound echoed in the open area. No doorman was there to take their bags, no host to welcome them. A concert grand piano sat idle in the massive ballroom, and dozens of comfortable couches and occasional chairs beckoned to be used. Crystal chandeliers reflected small diamonds of light. Tracy stood in awe, wondering if she should go back outside and wipe her shoes more diligently.

"As I said before, we have the entire hotel to ourselves," LaCroix said, interrupting the silence. "You may select any room for your own."

Tracy giggled excitedly. She shouldered her bags and flew up the wide double stairs to the second level and quickly began inspecting all her options. None of the doors had locks on them! But then, locks wouldn't stop a vampire, anyway. The rooms were all similar, like most motels, with one or two queen-sized beds in each, end tables and lamps, but differed in the quality of the furnishings and that every room had a full entertainment center. The room at the far north end had a private balcony, and was done in dusty rose with moss green accents. She tossed her bags in on the bed to stake her claim.

LaCroix selected the room directly across the hall. Tracy peeked around the door. His room was crimson and black - two colors she had come to associate with him. He meticulously removed his clothing from the suitcases, laying some in the dresser and hanging the rest in the closet. "There are still a few hours until dawn, my dear. Come downstairs after you have unpacked and we will begin."

She had a whole six weeks in this glorious tomb, with no one's company but LaCroix. Tracy sighed, wondering how long the excitement would last. She shrugged. For now it was fun. Perhaps if she proved too irritating, he would end their stay here early?

LaCroix rose from a chair when she came downstairs. He opened the front door and held it for her. So, they were going out.... She tried to hold her curiosity in check. If only he would tell her what he had in mind! LaCroix rose into the night sky and Tracy quickly followed.

Mount Desert Island spread out below them with its soft green-carpeted mountains and valleys. Tacky white farmhouses, rusted trailer houses, abandoned vehicles, and tiny vegetable gardens shouted man's presence, while the moss-covered granite, wild blueberries, and massive pines whispered eternity. The solid bridge to the mainland passed below, and then they flew out over farms. A small band of migrant workers were skinny-dipping in a stream that flowed through the large potato farm where they were currently employed. LaCroix landed near them and headed in their direction on foot. Tracy felt a thread of anxiety. As yet, she had not killed anything except a few dozen rats. Although her mortal inhibitions were falling aside with surprising ease, this was one thing she did not think she would ever be able to do.

LaCroix stayed in the shadows out of sight from the small group and compelled one man to come to him. Tracy's eyes grew large, she swallowed nervously. The man walked like one sleeping, straight to the ancient master. LaCroix turned him, holding him against his chest with one arm and loosened the kerchief tied around his neck. His nose crinkled a moment at the distasteful odor. The man smelled of sweat, tobacco, and gasoline. He pulled the man's head to one side, baring the throat, and offered him to Tracy.

She gulped again and shuddered. "LaCroix, I... I don't want to do this," she murmured.

His eyes blazed. "That is of no relevance. You will do it now!"

She felt a blood sweat break out and trickle down her back, making her shirt stick to her skin. She felt LaCroix in her mind, urging her to comply. She stepped closer. Now she smelled the man as well. Beneath the sweat and tobacco, his blood called to her. It was hot and pulsing. She had never tasted human blood fresh from the source before! She leaned closer, until her teeth grazed against the stubbled whiskers of his throat. Standing on her toes, she moved further back, behind the ear where the skin was smooth. Then she sank her fangs and drank.

Juan Diego Salazar, illegal alien from Mexico, one of six children in the Salazar family, migrated from state to state, sometimes digging potatoes or hoeing cabbages, sometimes harvesting sugar beets, or corn, he scrimped where he could, sleeping under his truck in warm weather and inside the truck in cold, to send his money back to Texas to give to an uncle to bribe an official to look the other way, to bring another brother over here, where they hoped to share the American Dream. His life filled her, his hopes and disappointments, and his language.

LaCroix tugged her, forcing her to release the man. "Enough, my daughter. You shall not kill him tonight."

She stared up at him, confused, Salazar's blood still dripping from her fangs. "You don't want me to kill?" She knew she was elated, yet something primal surged within, demanding she finish the task.

"No, Tracy. Tonight's lesson is Spanish. Comprendes?"

A grin split her face. She did! She knew Spanish! All of it! She could say anything, even think in Spanish! It was so easy!

LaCroix lapped at Salazar's throat to close the wounds. Then he shook the man to wake him. "You have had too much to drink," he said, planting the suggestion firmly. "You are tired. You will sleep well, and tomorrow you will not remember this moment."

Salazar murmured his agreement and left. His companions called to him, but he ignored them as he staggered towards his truck. Tracy understood their teasing jeers.

"All that Juan knew, you know, but this knowledge is already beginning to fade. Your vampire blood is absorbing his, changing it, using it to nourish you. When the last of his blood is gone, the knowledge contained in his blood will pass as well."

Tracy grunted. "Easy come, easy go."

LaCroix lifted an eyebrow at her expression. "You must take his memories and make them your own. While you have his knowledge, use it. Speak it. Everything that you say, you will lock into your perfect memory and retain. Let us join his companions... would you care to take a dip with them?"

She grinned broadly. "Are you going to swim, too?"

LaCroix ignored her question, sniffing disdainfully as he stepped out of the shadows and joined the small band of mortals.

The easy camaraderie quickly changed to suspicion. LaCroix ignored them, gesturing to Tracy. "Mi hija, Tracy. Soy LaCroix. Podriamos compartir el arroya con usted?" (My daughter, Tracy. I am LaCroix. May we share the stream with you?)

One young man whistled suggestively. Tracy didn't care. She was stronger than they, and her master was here. She shimmied out of her clothes and ran into the icy cold, spring fed stream. Some of the girls hesitantly spoke to her. When she replied fluently, even with the dialect of their neighborhood, she was instantly welcomed. They swam and chatted, dunking and splashing, and later gathered around a small campfire to dry. The workers skin was pimpled with the chill of the late night air, but Tracy was comfortable. She learned their names, their families, theirs plans to have a dance on Friday and would she like to come. Then she pulled on her clothes and followed LaCroix back to the Chateau Moliere before dawn.

Tracy was yawning uncontrollably as LaCroix led her into her room and undressed her. "Eso esta tan fresco, LaCroix! Pensé siempre que aprendiendo otro lenguaje sea duro, pero ésa era diversión!" (That this so fresh, LaCroix. I thought whenever learning another language is hard. But that one was fun!)

LaCroix winced at her poor grammar and poor attempt to translate an English idiom. Already the blood skill was fading. Still, he smiled at her indulgently. Tracy could be exhausting and impulsive, but she brought such life to everything. His fangs tingled. He allowed them to drop. "You have not yet mastered the language, my daughter. You will feed from them again, several times, then we will turn to literature. You will read Don Quixote before the summer is over."

"Hm. Great," she sighed sleepily, without much enthusiasm.

LaCroix pulled her into his embrace then. Training fledglings was never at the top of his favorite activities, but it did have a few perks. "Someta a mí, mi niña!" he whispered in her ear, using the power of his voice. "Déjeme probar su sangre, su esencia... déjeme alimentar en usted, porqué tengo hambre. Mi bonita, mi infante. Ahora someta a mí!" (Submit to me, my daughter! Let me taste your blood, your essence... let me feed on you, for I hunger. My pretty, my infant. Submit to me now!)

Tracy craned her neck to offer him her blood. Maybe six weeks with him all to herself wouldn't be so dull after all.

chapter six:

Natalie checked her watch yet again. Two more hours and she would be out of here, on her first real vacation in probably six years. She was going on a Bahamian cruise, not a coroner's convention! All the anxiety she'd been through since meeting Nick, and since falling in love with LaCroix, all the major decisions she had yet to make, were temporarily put on hold. She was planning to enjoy herself! To spend time alone, away from work and responsibilities, to rediscover who she was. Damn, if the watch hands didn't start to move, maybe she'd just book off early!

Her door burst open and Mike pushed a gurney inside bearing the too-familiar black body bag. "Sorry to drop this on you, Nat. I know you're leaving tomorrow. Kind of a nasty one to end with, too. Guess you get used to it after a while, don't you."

"Mike! You didn't bring me another case did you? Save this one for the day shift."

"Can't," he said, shaking his head sadly. "Captain wants this guy I.D.ed pronto. If not sooner."

Nat pulled on a pair of latex gloves with a weary sigh. The night was dragging anyway, she might as well get busy. "Why? What's important about him?"

He stayed her hand before she could undo the zipper. "It's bad, Nat. I warned you. He's all cut to pieces. Captain wants the perp off the streets yesterday."

Nat nodded, but she only half heard him. The room seemed suddenly colder. She heard her own pulse thrum in her ears, felt the hair on her neck prickle with an all-too familiar recognition. "Thanks, Mike," she said quickly. She had to get him out. She took his arm in hers and walked him to the door. "Say hello to Melissa for me, okay?"

He laughed. "You don't get out much, do you. Melissa's out. It's Maggie now."

"All right. Hi to Maggie. Now go, so I can finish. I have a boat to catch."

"I'm going. Have a great trip."

She peeked around the edge of the door until Mike was some distance down the hall and not likely to return. Then she bolted the door. Whom would she find inside the bag? It couldn't be Nick... he was safe on his boat somewhere between here and wherever. It couldn't be LaCroix, or Vachon. She clenched her fists and released them, searching for the courage to pull the zipper. "Blood," she murmured. "If he's hurt, he'll need blood."

Pulling open the cooler, Nat counted out three packets and set them on a tray. She pushed the tray close to the bag. "Now or never." Nat grabbed the zipper and yanked it down.

The vampire didn't move. He didn't look familiar, either. Could she be mistaken? Perhaps he was just another dead body? Pulling off a glove, she reached out hesitantly to feel his cheek. It was cold, but soft, not stiff with death. A mortal should still be warm. She jumped back, unwilling to be his first meal.

Beneath the dried blood of a dozen knife wounds, the dirt and torn clothing, he was devilishly handsome. Black hair, pale complexion, smooth jaw. Dark, elegant eyebrows, long, straight nose; his features were refined, even sophisticated. He must have been brought across somewhere in his early thirties, although Nat knew that was no measure of his true age.

Still, vampires were fairly indestructible. How had he been injured? Was there another band of hunters on the loose? Something didn't fit. Nervously, she nudged the tray of blood closer to him.

The vampire bolted upright and gazed at her with crimson eyes.

"Blood, there, on the tray," she stammered.

He ignored the tray, rising instead to his feet and stalked her. Natalie took a step back and another, until the wall stopped her from moving. "Please," she whispered. "Take the blood. Let me help you. You've been injured, and we'll have to get you out of here somehow without arousing suspicion."

His head cocked to the side as he appeared to consider her words. Tristan was aching. He had known his wounds would have to be real, as he could not fool a coroner, but he had not hurt like this in centuries. He took the first packet and drained it, the other two quickly followed. "How to you know about us," he demanded.

Natalie crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "You guys aren't as secretive as you might think. Mind telling me what happened?"

"Who is responsible for you?"

Nat stuffed her hands in the pockets of her lab coat to hide their trembling. Her ability to sense vampires had grown since moving in with LaCroix. Perhaps it was a result of their lovemaking - maybe some of LaCroix's saliva mixed with the blood in her veins, or the other body fluid was absorbed, sensitizing her. She hadn't had a chance to study the phenomena as she had been devoting all of her spare time to trying to help Nick. Somehow she felt this vampire was very old and powerful. She didn't think he was quite as old as LaCroix, perhaps, but there was something about him that chilled her blood.

"We mortals are pretty much responsible for ourselves," she answered. While her life expectancy had just plummeted, she didn't want to drag Nick down with her.

The vampire let his fangs erupt. They were monstrous-looking, longer and more dangerous that LaCroix's, which she had come to think of as more sensual than deadly. There was nothing erotic about the being before her now. His eyes were blazing and his multiple wounds were quickly fading.

Natalie blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, desperately trying to think of an escape that didn't place anyone else in danger. "Do you need more blood? I can get more," she stammered. "And you'll need a change of clothes. You know you can't be seen walking around like a reject from the crypt. What size are you?"

The vampire pressed her against the wall, his cold breath on her neck. She felt the fangs, felt her shirt collar pulled to bare the skin, and she closed her eyes, wondering how long anyone would mourn her passing.

Suddenly, the vampire released her. She leaned against the wall, willing her knees to support her, although she felt faint and nauseated. Her hand went to her throat. She fingered the area with growing surprise. He had not bit her!

"You belong to LaCroix?" he asked, the shock evident on his face.

She was too scared to take offense at the archaic notions that she should belong to anyone. She simply nodded.

"This is most peculiar."

"You're telling me?" Nat quipped. "When I studied pathology, I never intended to become doctor to the undead. Look, you need time to heal, and I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow. We need to cover for you and get you out of here fast. Then if you like, we can play twenty questions at the Raven before I go."

The vampire nodded slowly. He staggered when he tried to take a step. The doctor quickly took charge as she eased him into a chair. She handed him a fourth packet, then carefully cut away the remains of his shirt, checking for wounds. The vampire did not seem to mind, she noted. Nick had always been so private, unwilling to expose any more flesh than necessary.

"Do you have a name?" she asked.

"Tristan will do."

"Natalie," she said. "Natalie Lambert. How did you get hurt?" She couldn't find any more wounds, although new pink skin covered the areas where the tattered shirt had been stained with blood. She knew that Nick was always very tired after he had healed, tired and hungry. It was a small price to pay for such a fantastic ability to heal. This vampire seemed to have healed very quickly, though. He was either much older than Nick, or just that much healthier.

Tristan ignored her question, as he hadn't thought up a good story. He had never really intended to talk with her. He had thought he could just take the information from her, make her forget she ever saw him, and be on his way. Discovering she belonged to LaCroix changed everything. Although Tristan's position with the Enforcers gave him power over LaCroix, he did not want to cross swords with the ancient unless it became absolutely necessary. Pretending weakness had given him an edge. The mortal woman laid aside her fears to help him, becoming more open and forthright. He wondered just how far he could push the charade.

Natalie slipped off her lab coat and offered it to the vampire. "This should get you as far as my car. Okay?"

Tristan startled at her touch. The warm, mortal hand stirred him. Five hundred years with the Enforcers, and five hundred years before that, he had thought he was beyond such pitiful excuses for pleasure as comfort and kindness! Why did the skin tingle where she had touched him? Why did he feel his undead heart pound in his chest? He should kill her now and be done with it.

Natalie rolled up the body bag. There were copious amounts of blood in it, but she could stretch it out on the roof and expose the vampire blood to sunlight. The empty bag would be easier to dispose of then. She rolled a spare lab coat around the black bundle and tucked it under her arm. Shutting down the computer, she took one last glance around the room before she flicked off the lights.

Grace wasn't around, thankfully, Nat thought as she hurried her newest patient through the hall. Where to now? He still wasn't fit to be seen anywhere, not even the Raven. She stole a sidelong glance. He was slightly built. Nothing of LaCroix's would fit, but Nick had lost weight during the six-month illness. Some of his newer things might do.

She took Tristan through the back entrance and up to the apartment, struggling to overcome the sensible warning bells in her conscience that objected to inviting strange men anywhere. If he really wanted to harm her, there was little she could do to protect herself.

Tristan looked around. LaCroix's scent dominated the room. It was his turf and Tristan couldn't help feeling like a trespasser. There was a feeling about the place that he couldn't quite define. The mix of scents, mostly vampire, and Natalie's, of course. There were as many as ten different creatures living here! Imagine! Vampires were by nature solitary beings. How had they managed to form such bonds without killing one another?

Natalie lead him to the main bathroom and hung a robe on the back of the door. "You should clean up. I'll lay some things on the foot of the bed," she said, indicating Nick's room.

"Why are you helping me?" Tristan asked, confused.

"Because you need it. Now hurry up. I have a boat to catch and I am not going to miss it." She gave him a wide, friendly smile.

Tristan showered, then pulled on a light blue shirt and a pair of stone-washed jeans. They were a little long, but otherwise fit okay. It would be enough to get him back to his temporary apartment across town, while he thought about what to do next.

The mortal woman greeted him with another smile and a full glass of blood, most likely from LaCroix's own private stock. Tristan continued the charade of the injured vampire and groaned softly as he settled onto the couch. He sipped at the blood wine, savoring the delicate flavor and envied LaCroix.

"Now," she began. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I will, if you tell me why LaCroix hasn't brought you across." Tristan hoped she would have a good excuse. Oddly enough, he didn't want to see her harmed.

Natalie tucked her feet up under her. She knew enough about the Code to know that this vampire would feel it was his duty to kill her. Knowledge of their existence was forbidden, absolutely, no exceptions. At least he linked her to LaCroix, which was definitely safer than getting Nick involved. "He plans to," she said then. "But we are waiting. LaCroix doesn't really have time for another infant right now, and I'm still a little unsure if I want this. He has promised that if I chose to remain mortal, he will remove my knowledge and memories and they will quietly leave Toronto."

The handsome vampire smiled, flashing white, perfect teeth. "That is good," he replied. His voice sounded cultured, and with a slight English accent. She wondered where he had come from. During the Fever, and since moving in above the Raven, she had met most of the local community. She had never seen him before.

"I was careless," he replied, briefly telling her about his injuries. "A gang of indolent youths overpowered me."

"Street gangs. That's what Captain Reese suspected. What are you going to do about it?"

The vampire stared at her evenly, not answering the question. Natalie blinked and looked away. He would exact his own justice and she could do nothing about it. Sometimes she hated the position they put her in!

"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Are you offering?" Tristan wondered at the strange surge of excitement that prospect offered.

"No. I am not in the habit of picking up strays and I'm sure LaCroix would not approve," she snapped, unashamedly tossing out the name of the ancient vampire to offer her some protection. "However, LaCroix has been known to help vampires in need on occasion. You can check with the bartender downstairs, if you like."

"Thanks," Tristan said. "But I have a small apartment across town. Thank you for your help, Ms. Lambert. I shall be going. I hope you enjoy your cruise."

Nat stood and followed him to the door. "Thanks. I do, too. You be more careful now."

Tristan smiled at her one last time. "Good night."

Nat heaved a sigh of relief as the handsome vampire left. Life with vampires was never boring. Then she called the cab to take her to the airport.

Chapter Seven:

Nick stood on the deck gripping the railing as he faced towards the harbor. He hated to see the journey end, not only because he was uneasy about what might lie ahead, but because he had thoroughly enjoyed the trip. He felt relaxed and contented, as he had never felt before. Not once since boarding the boat had his stomach rebelled. He wondered idly what it would be like to just stay on it forever. Being blind wouldn't be such a handicap here... as long as Vachon was with him. No, maybe it wouldn't work, but sailing certainly was something to look forward to again and again.

The sails were down and Vachon was guiding the boat in to the harbor under power. The faint smell of gasoline and the hum of the motor were almost obscene after the simple purity of sailing.

"You okay, Nick?" Vachon asked. "You seem pensive."

Nick rolled his shoulders. "Yeah. Fine. So what are you going to do?"

"LaCroix gave me the address for the local hangout. I figure I'll head over there and hang out. What about you? Will you have any free time?"

"I guess. I'm not sure. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know. Maybe we can meet for a drink later."

Vachon dropped the anchor. Searching the harbor for mortals, he slung Nick's bags over his shoulder. "Ready?"

Perry barked decidedly. Nick laughed. "It's a real shame you don't like sailing," he said. He took the harness, then the vampires and carouche lifted into the night.

Vachon hung around. Although Nick insisted he would be fine, Vachon was anxious for him. There were always people who would try to take advantage of a blind man, and there might be trouble with the local community as well. Nick seemed nervous, too. He had called for a cab, but instead of waiting patiently, he paced, fidgeted, patted the dog, and began to pace again. Vachon wished he could think of something comforting to say but his mind was a blank. Instead he remained silent and steadfast, amazed at the depth of his feelings for the other vampire.

Nick heard the cab approach before either Vachon or Perry. "It's about time," he muttered. "You can leave now, and you can write to that overprotective Roman bastard and tell him you did your job."

"Nick, don't," Vachon said softly.

Nick winced. He really enjoyed Vachon's company. Most of the time he acted like Nick was just a regular guy and not a disabled liability. "I'm sorry," he said. "It isn't you."

"I know. You're nervous, maybe a little scared. It's okay. Do you want me to go with you?"

"No."

Vachon shrugged indifferently. "That's fine. You take care, and give me a call. 'Bye."

Nick extended his hand, but when Vachon took it, Nick pulled him into a quick embrace. Then he straightened, and let the younger vampire leave.

The cab pulled up in front. He jumped out to toss Nick's bags in the trunk while Nick and Perry climbed in the back seat. "À où?" he asked.

Nick switched naturally to French, answering, "The National Institutes for the Blind." He gave the street address he had memorized.

The cab driver pulled away from the curb. Nick leaned back into the cushions and listened to the sounds of the city around him. Much was the same as Toronto, the street noises, an airplane or two, the wind in the leaves and the bustle of people. But much was different. Montreal had it's own scent. And the softer sounds of French were more pleasing to the ear than English. A long time had passed since he lived here last and in spite of the gnawing pain in his gut and the fear of what might lie ahead, he felt strangely exhilarated.

The cab lurched; the driver, ducking in and out of traffic, cursed expertly at the vehicles that dared to be in his way. Perry whined. Although he had never been car sick before, he was still uneasy from his ordeal at sea. Nick patted him affectionately. "Almost there, boy."

The cab stopped. "They expecting you?" he asked.

"Yes," Nick said. "Why?"

"Place is surrounded by a gate and security system. Just seemed different." The cabby rolled down his window and pulled up close to the surveillance camera at the left of the gate. "I got a passenger," he said.

"Nicholas Knight," Nick informed him, which he passed on to the camera.

The gates parted. The driver whistled through his teeth and drove forward. "Some place they got here," he said. "Never knew this place even existed. Sure is fancy."

Nick wished the man's information were a little more detailed. He reached out with his senses, but could learn little. The area was large with few buildings, as the night sounds seemed unfettered. There were mortal hearts, but he couldn't tell how many.

Finally, the cab stopped. The driver pulled his bags from the trunk and set them on the ground. Nick paid him, and waited as the cab left. Now, he was truly all alone. Panic overwhelmed him. What if he got all turned around? The grounds were huge, he could walk around and around all night long and never find shelter. Why hadn't Vachon insisted on coming? Nick would have argued, but he would have caved in in the end. He didn't want to be here.

Suddenly, he couldn't keep it down another moment. He keeled over and emptied his stomach.

Perry nuzzled him tenderly, and licked at his face.

"That's right," Nick said softly. "I'm not really alone. Will you get me to the front door?"

Perry barked once. He guided his charge up the steps, across the wide veranda and to the double doors of the Victorian home. Nick squared his shoulders and knocked.

The doors parted almost immediately. Nick was irritated as he imagined that whoever it was had seen him disgrace himself. "Good evening," the woman said pleasantly. She smelled nice, like powder and cookies. Her heartbeat was slow and slightly irregular than normal. Nick decided she must be on the down side of old.

"Good evening," Nick replied. He extended his hand for her to shake. "I'm Nicholas Knight."

She held his hand in two of hers and patted it comfortingly. "Welcome, Nicholas Knight," she said. Her voice had a pleasant quaver. Her hands felt gnarled and cold. "Just call me Aunt Mary. I used to be the head teacher here, but now I am retired. My only official position is to answer the door and help you get settled, but if you need anything, or just want to talk, I have the only bedroom on the ground floor and my door is always open."

"Thank you, Aunt Mary."

She looped her arm through his then, and talked while she guided him. "The main stairs are here in the front hall, and it curves as it goes up," she said, accending the stairs with him. "There are eight bedrooms up here, this one is yours. The bathroom is at the other end of the hallway on the left. I'll let you get your things unpacked, then come back downstairs and you can meet some of the staff."

Nick thanked her before she left. Now he was really alone. He took two steps before he bumped into the bed. It was tall and noisy, a narrow bed with a thick feather-stuffed comforter and iron bedposts. He set the suitcases on it, then moved to the walls to grope his way around for the dresser. He didn't have far to look. The room seemed to be very small. It had a small window, but he was relieved to touch the steel sheet that had been temporarily placed over the glass. LaCroix seemed to have thought of everything.

Beneath the window was a small refrigerator. Nick unpacked the bottles first, sipping from one while he put the rest inside. The familiar, ancient blood soothed as it coated his throat and raw stomach. "Thanks, LaCroix," he whispered.

Perry leaped onto the bed, the springs complained noisily. "Great," Nick thought. He hoped he wouldn't have any nightmares while he was here. It didn't take long to put his clothes away. He stored the empty suitcases under the bed. "I guess it's time," he sighed.

Perry yawned. He came to Nick's side and guided him down the stairs.

Nick felt the banister. It was smooth and polished, the wood felt worn but well cared for. This place was nothing like he had imagined. Instead of modern bricks and tile, it was antique wood and polished brass. It couldn't be a very large facility. Nick wondered how many other students were here. He turned in the direction of the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Hello," said a much younger voice. "My name is Colette, and I will be your instructor."

Nick shook her hand as well. It was small and warm, with long nails, several rings and a bracelet. He introduced himself again, although she must have known who he was.

"You are a most unusual student," she said. "For one, none of our others have a guide dog. And they all have their lessons in the day. Which is just as well. I will be able to give you one on one instruction. We'll see how much we can cram into the six weeks."

"Sounds like fun."

Colette gave him a brief tour of the home. It wasn't enough for him to become familiar with anything, but just enough that he could explore it on his own later, which was probably her intention all along. There was a parlor, a sitting room, a library, Mary's bedroom, a dining room and a kitchen.

"The attic was remodeled last year, thanks to a very generous grant," Colette explained. "We fixed the roof and insulated it, and turned it into a more modern recreation room. Couches, stereo, cards, games, the usual stuff. The children love it. They are all in bed now, but maybe you can meet them tomorrow."

Nick felt a presence. He stopped abruptly, missing whatever Colette was telling him, as he reached out with his senses. It felt like a vampire! But, why would there be one here? Was one of the teachers from the night shift? But Colette was mortal. It didn't make sense. Nick was certain that he was the only blind vampire on the planet. Then, the presence was simply gone. Perhaps he had only imagined it.

"Nick?" Colette asked. "Is something the matter?"

"No," he replied. "I'm sorry. You were saying?" She brought him in to the library then. He sat at a table and she placed a book of Braille in his hands. "This is basic," she said. "This is the most important thing you can learn here. A blind man who doesn't read Braille is as handicapped as an illiterate sighted man."

Nick didn't answer. Larry Merlin had told him basically the same thing a few weeks ago. Nick had only procrastinated this long because he had expected his eyesight to return. He was attentive then, pushing all the regrets away as he studied the alphabet.

Colette seemed pleased at his progress. Nick thought it was painfully slow. He could learn Chinese in minutes simply by consuming Chinese blood, but memorizing the letters the raised abstract bumps on paper symbolized was agonizing.

Finally, she closed the book. "That was very good," she praised him. "Now, I have a gift for you."

She placed a wristwatch in his hands. "The crystal raises like this, and the numbers are in Braille. What time is it?"

Nick felt the tiny, sturdy hands and the numbers they pointed to. "Four o'clock," he said, surprised. They had been studying for hours.

"Very good. My shift is over. We'll work from ten until four. Then the rest of the night is yours. You may explore the entire building, but perhaps you should wait to go outside until someone can show you around tomorrow, okay?"

Nick nodded. "That's fine. I'll probably retire early anyway."

"Oh, and I work six days, then I have two days off. Weird schedule, I know, but my husband works on the police force, so I was lucky to be able to pick hours that coincide with his."

"A cop, huh? So am I."

"Yes, I read that in your file. Challenging. Are you sure you want to return to that work? Isn't there something else you'd like to do now?"

Nick gritted his teeth. It was the same old argument he'd heard from LaCroix and Nat and Reese. Sure, his eyes would be handy, but not necessary. His partner could see. He had other senses, and they had been growing stronger. He used his vampire skills to solve most of his crimes anyway. "I'm a detective, Colette. I can do this."

"Good. Glad to hear the conviction in your tone of voice. Then I will do all I can to help you learn new skills so you can get back to work." She shook his hand. "See you tomorrow."

Nick opened the book again to review what he had learned. It was too early to go to bed, and he didn't feel up to exploring tonight. Then he felt it again. The hair on his neck tingled. "Hello?" he called.

No one answered. He listened intently, but he could not hear a heart beat, not even the slow, almost nonexistent beat of a vampire. Was he as jumpy as a kid in a thunderstorm? Nick laughed at himself. Perry hadn't sensed anything. "Come on, boy. Let's go to bed."

The home seemed strangely empty as Nick retraced his path to find the stairs. No one else was awake. He passed by his door, walking the length of the hallway. He touched each door and reached out with his senses. Two children slept in the room closest to his. Judging by their heart rate and pulse, he guessed they'd be around ten or twelve, just before puberty when their bodies would sound more like an adult's. The next door held two children, and the next. The last door belonged to a man and woman, perhaps a married couple, the resident managers for the school. Nick realized then that he was the only adult student. Something seemed very odd about that. What kind of school had he come to? He had a lot of questions; perhaps he could speak with the couple tomorrow before they retired. Yawning, Nick decided that perhaps it was time to sleep after all.

There was no lock on his door, though, which unnerved him. The children would be at risk if they inadvertently opened the wrong door. He lifted the dresser and placed it in front of the door. It would have to do. He had to shove Perry over repeatedly before he could find enough room to stretch out his feet. He usually shared a much larger bed; these six weeks could prove rather confining. Perry licked his face and stretched out beside him, sharing the pillow.

Nick sensed contentment from the carouche. "Yes," Nick agreed. "It does seem like a nice place. What about Colette? Was she pretty?"

Perry woofed softly.

Nick chuckled. "I know she's married."

Pretty is as pretty does, the carouche responded.

"Hm. Thanks. 'night, Perry."

Chapter eight:

Amaru recalled the memories he had taken from the revenant's blood last week. Amaru had discovered he was following Janette, although he had been unable to discover why. The man had been a minor acquaintance of Janette's, a neighbor in their apartment building in Buffalo, New York. The man remembered walking along the lake one night; he remembered the fear of the dark stranger who approached him. But he did not remember what the stranger looked like. Then, the man ceased to exist. His will had been drained away with a good part of his blood. He was dead, his spirit sent on to the next life and only his body kept alive by the vampire's blood and the vampire's command.

The strange vampire was also partly manifest in the man's blood. Amaru had sensed very little, only that he was old, powerful, curious, and an Enforcer. Following his trail would be not only challenging, but dangerous. Enforcers were the most powerful of the vampires, regardless of age or lineage. Amaru had had little to do with them in the past, but he knew all vampires feared them.

Why had an Enforcer wanted someone to follow Janette? What was he searching for? Was she still in danger, under suspicion for some infraction of the code? If they wanted her dead, she would be already, for not even LaCroix could protect her from vampire justice. That she was still among the undead was encouraging. Perhaps she really wasn't the target at all, but someone associated with her.

Amaru himself?

The Inca stopped in his tracks. Could he have unwittingly offended some ancient, broken another obscure law and thereby placed Janette under suspicion as well? Dread washed over him. He sank into the sofa of their apartment, where he had come to pick up the trail.

'Review the facts,' he told himself. 'An Enforcer sent a revenant to follow Janette. The revenant had not harmed her, but only followed her. I killed the revenant. That was bound to offend someone, but it could not have been the original cause of the problem... No,' he decided. He was not the target.

If it were LaCroix, then perhaps Janette was in more danger now than before. Perhaps he should return to her? No, not yet. He could not let fear and indecision govern his actions. He would return if he sensed she were afraid, but until then he must try to track down the Enforcer and confront him, politely if possible.

Could Nicholas be the target? Few knew that he was actually Janette's master now, but that he had been her vampire brother and lover was indisputable. And Nicholas was often under suspicion. He had outwardly rejected the vampire culture for over a century. He defied his own master with regularity. He befriended mortals. And now, he was also blind. Any vampire with a grudge against him would use the blindness as an excuse to justify harming him.

That was it! Amaru leaped from the couch, pleased that he had figured out the first piece in the puzzle. He went to the refrigerator, but the bottles stored there were old and unappetizing. He took a packet from the freezer and set it in the microwave to defrost. His fangs itched while the blood warmed.

So what should he do now? Should he inform Nicholas of the danger, get himself involved and maybe killed? Amaru was not afraid for himself. He had been given a holy order to stop senseless killing, but not to stop killing entirely. Were the Enforcers justified in killing Nicholas?

The golden vampire was guilty of letting the mortal coroner know about vampires. That had happened six years ago, and so, if the Enforcers were still upset about that, then they were certainly taking their time to punish him. The usual punishment for such carelessness was death. Always the mortal was killed, sometimes the mortal's friends and family were also killed, just to make certain that the issue was closed, and often the careless vampire was beheaded.

Not always, though. If the vampire was contrite before the Enforcers, and even helpful, then they might be satisfied with mere torture. Amaru thought back to his first encounter with the Enforcers...

Knowledge of vampires had been common among his people. The princes of the night were honored and revered. Amaru had been humbled to be chosen for the dark gift. After Vachon had stabbed him and left him buried in the shallow grave, he had risen with the first hunger and drained the first mortal to cross his path, his own blood brother.

He could still see the look in his brother's eyes. First there had been alarm, that he had been captured and subdued so easily when he had always been praised for his skills. Next had been regret that he was going to die, and finally, joy. He had smiled at Amaru as the life flowed out of him, honored that he could serve his own brother with such a holy gift.

Amaru had buried him, weeping tears of blood. He hadn't felt very holy then, he'd felt like a killer. It was the first time he had ever killed indiscriminately, and it had been the last. As a man, he had killed only for food, or to protect his people from their enemies. As a vampire, he had only killed those who deserved to die. But his brother had died that he might live. That was a debt he could never repay, he could only live rightly and pray that his life brought honor to his brother's memory.

Then he returned to his people. They had held a feast to celebrate his transformation. They took turns dancing before him, slitting their wrists to let the precious fluid flow into the earthen bowl, to mix together, until all had offered a piece of their soul. Then Amaru drained the contents of the bowl, drawing the soul-bits into himself, and pledging to protect them. For two years he remained in their midst. Then, the Enforcers came.

They were from across the sea. They were hideous and vengeful, demanding obedience to a code he knew nothing about, and speaking only in a language he did not understand. They had nearly drained him and broke all his bones, leaving him crippled and powerless. He watched them destroy his village. After three days, they fed him from their own blood. Healing came at once, along with knowledge of their ways, their language, and their code. They offered to let him join them in their quest to unite other New World vampires, but he had refused. Silently, he buried his people, the last of his family. Then, he turned his rage away from the Enforcers towards his true enemy, the one who was indirectly responsible for all his pain, the Spaniard, Vachon! Five hundred years of pursuing him, all to ease the pain of his loss.

Amaru shook his head, surprised at the blood tears he still shed for his family. "Forgive me, Javier," he whispered. "For it is they I hate and not you."

He would pay a visit to Nicholas, to judge for himself if the blind vampire deserved to die. Then, perhaps he would find his twin.

*****

Urs wound the cord around her arm then slipped it over the handle of the vacuum cleaner. The apartment was nearly finished. Two males lived here with more money than sense, their slovenliness made Vachon's church sparkle by comparison. At least they had their own washer and dryer. She opened the dryer door and started to hang their shirts before wrinkles could set in.

They were her newest customers. Now she had six homes to take care of. She could do two a night, which left her four nights a week to feel sorry for herself. Not very good, she mused. Toronto was lonely with Nick away. Tracy, LaCroix, and Vachon had all left, too. Natalie would be gone by morning. That left only a few acquaintances in the Raven, and Nick's immortal beloved.

Janette hadn't started picking on her yet, as the mortal coroner had been around. Urs suspected that with Nat away, her time would come. It didn't really bother her. Janette was weaker than she was, but Janette had a certain sophistication that had always intimidated the dirt-poor dancehall girl from San Francisco.

Urs smiled shyly. Janette was only being hateful because she loved Nicholas and she was afraid of losing him. She had loved him for centuries, Urs had only known him for two years. Now, though, Janette was also his child. It was instinct that she should crave him, even if she despised him. An infant always wanted it's master. Was Nick really such a brick that he didn't realize that? Or was he getting even with Janette for hurting him in the past?

The laundry was done. Urs glanced around a final time to see if she had overlooked anything. The small desk beside the telephone was cluttered. It was probably not her job to file the papers, but she could at least stack them up more tidily. She took a dusting cloth and wiped the desktop, then sorted the papers.

A pair of plane ticket stubs fell to the floor. She picked them up and added them to the pile, clucking to herself that they hadn't just thrown the stubs away. Curious, she glanced at the tickets, even while her conscience warned her it was none of her business.

Greece? They had flown here from Greece? That was different. But then, it really was none of her business. She gathered up her cleaning supplies and started to leave.

The window opened and her two customers flew inside. "Good evening, Urs," the one said smoothly. "You're a miracle worker. The place looks great."

She blushed under the praise. "Thank you," she stammered, and braved a glance at him. Her mouth dropped and she blurted out, "That's Nick's shirt!"

Tristan smiled. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry. I shall leave it here, and you may collect it next week, if that is satisfactory. Mine was torn, and a mortal loaned this to me."

Urs nodded politely, trying to keep her irritation with Natalie private from her customers. "Of course. Good evening, then, Tristan."

The younger vampire whistled at her as she left. She ignored him. She had told Joe rather firmly last week that she was not interested. She flew to the church where she kept her business supplies, then picked up a pieced quilt she was working on. She would not return to the Raven until Nick returned. She didn't really want Nat or Janette's company right now.

****

Janette glanced at the crowded nightclub. She could not believe that she had lived and worked there for twenty years! Tonight she found it boring. She did not want to be here.

Patrick had been somewhat amusing, but he was exactly what he seemed, nothing hidden and no surprises. His blood had satisfied her bloodlust, but not her need for passion. Alma could have him.

Caspian put a beefy arm around her shoulder. "Hello, little one. Why so somber tonight?"

"I am not a little one," she snapped, shirking off his arm.

Caspian laughed good-naturedly. "Have you met Trevor? I adopted him six months ago, at LaCroix's urging, in fact. He has been my delight. Trevor," he called, waving to a young vampire across the bar. "Come and meet Janette, LaCroix's daughter, and sister to Nicholas."

The young vampire nearly flew through the crowds at his master's bidding. The look on his face when he gazed at Caspian was pure devotion. Janette's brow puckered. She had met Caspian a few times, and found him boorish and clumsy. Perhaps there was more to him than she realized?

"Yes, master," Trevor asked eagerly.

Caspian introduced him. "Perhaps you two young people would like to dance?"

"Can you dance?" Janette asked disdainfully.

Trevor's answer was to pull her into his embrace and spin her out onto the dance floor. He lacked Nick's grace, but he made up for it in enthusiasm. Maybe she wouldn't be bored after all.

Chapter Nine:

"You let her go!" Joe shouted. "What the hell was this whole trip for!"

"My assignment was only to gather information and report back to the council, Joe. I told you that before."

"She knows about us. You proved that beyond all doubt. She must die."

Tristan ignored the younger vampire. He was tired from the evening's ordeal, although all the self-inflicted wounds had healed completely. He was sorry the council had sent Joe along. Tristan preferred to work alone. Joe was too emotional, too wrapped up in this assignment. He must have some hidden agenda.

Joe was new. He was a little young for full time service, but the enforcers had agreed to use him as an assistant, and in time, if he proved useful, then they would initiate him into the force. Tristan had served them for two centuries as an assistant before his own initiation back during the war with the Colonies. He could not remember being as eager and impatient as young Joe was now.

"She is LaCroix's. He has promised to take care of it. Although it is irregular to put off her conversion like this, I'm sure the council will grant the ancient some leeway. He has never failed to keep the code in the past."

"But her knowledge of vampires is only part of the problem. Rumors have it that she is actually trying to find a "cure", to turn a vampire back into a mortal. That she was responsible for creating the Fever in the first place, that it was one of her failed experiments!"

Tristan shivered. He had been in Greece during the Fever, which had never spread beyond the Toronto area, and yet news of the threat had reached him even before the cure had been discovered. The Fever had shook the entire community to the core like nothing else had ever done before. Not even the vampire hunts of the fourteenth century had been as frightening.

"Where did you hear this from?" he asked, schooling indifference into his voice, when he wanted to shake Joe senseless.

"Around," Joe said vaguely. "In the Raven. Although she lives there with LaCroix, there are those who don't trust her."

Tristan turned to stare out the window. Natalie had not been completely honest with him. He had sensed that she was hiding something. He had allowed his inexplicable infatuation with the mortal woman and his fear of offending the ancient LaCroix to interfere with his duty. "She is leaving town tonight," he began.

"Then we've got to hurry, before it's too late!"

"Down, boy. I agree that we should learn more from her before returning to the council, but that is all. She is not to be harmed."

Joe opened his mouth to argue, but Tristan silenced him with a gesture, allowing his age and the power of the Enforcer that lived in his blood to overwhelm the younger vampire. Joe closed his mouth and nodded reluctantly.

"So, she said something about taking a plane, and then a cruise. I shouldn't go back to the morgue, I bear a strong similarity to a missing corpse." Tristan gave a mischievous smile. "You go and see if she left any pamphlets about this cruise around her office, and I'll head to the Raven."

*****

Toronto sank beneath the wing, the lights of the city diminishing until they were completely obliterated by low clouds. Natalie wiped a stray tear. Airplanes were such lonely things. The roar of the engines, the thrum of plane as it vibrated all around her did not fill her with excitement, as it did the little boy across the aisle. Planes made her sad, for although they took her someplace new, that always meant leaving something behind.

She was not sad at leaving Toronto. It was just a city. A lovely place that she had been happy to call home for many years, but her tears were not for it. She wept for Nicholas, that he still suffered. He was still a vampire, only now he was weak and blind. She couldn't search for a cure for him any longer. He had chosen to end that quest, whether voluntarily or at LaCroix's insistence, she didn't know. She wept for the lost dreams of one day marrying a mortal Nick, and having two mortal children, and a lovely little home in the suburbs, and maybe even a day job.

Natalie wept for herself. Nick no longer set her heart to racing, no longer made her weak-kneed and giddy with desire. Only her memory of the Nick she'd fallen in love with could still stir her soul. Now her fickle heart desired LaCroix, Nick's overbearing, egotistical, domineering abusive master! If she believed in a superior being, she would think that this was all some cosmic joke and she the fool.

She loved LaCroix, but did she like him? Could she imagine living with him even a decade, let alone eternity? Sometimes just staying with him one more hour was almost more than she could bear. Then, he would gaze at her with those penetrating eyes of ice blue; he would whisper words into her ear, and she knew she would not want to go on alone.

Natalie reached into her purse for a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. Then she pulled out a compact and powdered her nose, covering the last of her melancholy with the façade of a happy woman on holiday. She was not going to think about vampires on this trip, not even once! The steamy romance novel she'd bought online was just the thing to take her mind off her worries. She flicked on the light above her seat and turned to the first page....

The airline attendant announced it was time to fasten seatbelts as the plane prepared for landing. Natalie was startled that the time had passed so quickly. Her panties were damp and her face flushed as the heroine's romance was graphically described on the printed page. She was almost embarrassed to be seen carrying such a book! And she couldn't wait to get inside her stateroom on the boat to finish it!

Tucking the book inside her purse, she gathered her carry-on bag and followed the other passengers from the plane. She had just over an hour to collect her suitcase from baggage claim and hail a cab. It was cutting it close, but not too close. And it was just her luck that a cab was waiting for her, whisking her bags from her, and helping her so swiftly, it was almost as though the driver feared the rising sun. Nat's stomach lurched as she stared at him. Was she seeing vampires everywhere now?

"Driver, stop," she said. "I think I forgot something. I want to go back inside and check." She hoped her voice didn't give away her fear.

The driver ignored her. He hit the doorlocks and squealed tires as he pulled away from the curb.

"Stop!" Nat shouted. She pounded on the window glass frantically. This had been too long a night! First the vampire corpse in her morgue just hours ago, and now this cab driver from the twilight zone! Then she reached over the seat and wrapped her hands around the driver's throat, tightening her grip and screaming in his sensitive ears, noting with the small part of her brain that was still sane that his skin was cold to touch.

The driver struck her forehead hard. Her hands loosened as she fell unconscious on the floor in the back of the car.

*****

LaCroix closed his eyes. For a moment, he thought he sensed Natalie's presence in his mind. It was ridiculous, really. She was a mortal, and too far away. Normally, he could only sense her right after making love, when she was in his arms in his bed. Even if her plane had landed, she'd be in Nova Scotia, many miles north of here. And the feelings he had were of terror...

He opened himself to her, trying to sense her again. There it was. He was able to sense her! Only, instead of terror, she seemed to be asleep. A smile touched his lips. He was getting foolish these days.

"Senor LaCroix, es hora de dormir? Siento la salida del sol el acercarse," Tracy said around a yawn. (Senor LaCroix, is it time to sleep? I feel the sunrise approaching.)

Tracy was many things, he mused. She was exciting and passionate, loving and adorable, but she was not a scholar. The Spanish lessons were painful. He would share her bed, and then he would sleep peacefully in his own room. Five days down; only thirty-seven more to go.

Chapter ten:

Nick struggled through the first page of text. Somehow Colette had discovered that most of the books she'd had him read were ones he had read before and therefore remembered. He'd used his near perfect memory as a crutch to help him decipher the new alphabet. It had worked for days. Tonight's book was a romance so new that it had not yet been released. No one had read it, save the editors and maybe the author's agent. Nick hadn't yet made it past the author's name.

Colette sighed. "When you cheat, Nick, you hurt no one but yourself."

"This is so damned stupid," he growled. "What do I care what her name is!"

"You can do this. You've learned the alphabet, you just need to put the letters together. Trust yourself. Spell her name again."

"K... k?"

"Try again. The second letter is not a k, although it has the two left dots like a k. Feel the space between the two letters?"

"Z?"

"Don't ask me. Tell me. Is it a z?"

"Damn it, I am not six years old!" Nick shouted.

"Then don't act like it. Now try again."

"K, z, o, l, o... d? Um, z, i, n, s, k, i. And don't ask me to pronounce it, because I haven't a clue."

Colette laughed. "I imagine even her college professors stumbled over that name. It is Kzolodzinski. It's a Polish name. Anna Kzolodsinski is a new author of Romance novels. You won't find that name on the paperback edition, though. Her publisher has convinced her to write under the pseudonym of "Angela Lovelace"."

"Thanks a lot. Why'd you make me struggle through it, then?"

"To practice the letter "z". There might not be another one in the book. Now go on."

A knock sounded at the front door. Nick closed the book and grinned boyishly. "Should I see who is there? Aunt Mary's gone to bed."

"I will get it," Colette said with exasperation. "You keep reading!"

Nick grumbled. Reading this romance novel would not help him be a better detective, but recognizing most words was easier than names. If he got a few of the letters right, he could guess the rest of the word. The beginning was even sort of interesting.

He jumped when Colette came back into the room. Someone else was with her. Nick had been concentrating so hard, he hadn't felt their approach.

"Nick, this gentleman says he's here to see you," Colette said.

Nick stood, reaching out with his senses to try to identify the caller. It was a vampire, but he couldn't tell whom.

"Greetings, Nicholas," Amaru said.

Nick gave a half smile, curious to know why the Inca was here. "Hello," he said, extending a hand. Then he introduced Amaru to his teacher.

"Amaru? That's an interesting name," Colette said. "But I'm afraid you've come a little early. Nick's lesson goes for another hour. You're welcome to wait."

"Thank you, I will," he said.

Nick heard him back out of the library and take a seat in the parlor, but he knew it wasn't far enough away. Amaru would still hear his pathetic attempts. He rubbed his face in his hands, feeling embarrassment and frustration getting the best of him.

"Is he a good friend of yours?" Colette asked.

Nick shrugged. "Not really. He's my best friend's twin brother."

She nodded. "Well, just a few more pages, then we both get a break. Have you made plans?"

"No. What about you?"

"Oh, yes. Jase and I have a date with a motel room. I have to get him out of town on our days off, or we don’t get a moment's peace."

He laughed. "I know what you mean. Before, when I was still on the force, I often got called in even on my vacation. It got so bad, I just stopped applying for time off."

"Well," she said, "you've worked hard. You've learned a new alphabet, and you've learned your way around this entire estate. You've met knew people, and even just getting here was a major step for you. You haven't been blind very long. You've really adjusted very well. You should go out and party."

"Feels like I've been blind forever," Nick said quietly.

She patted his shoulder. Then, shaking the book before him, commanded him to continue.

At the end of the hour, Colette took the book and closed it. "That's enough. I'm out of here. Hope you have a good time, Nick."

Nick almost grabbed the book back from her. The plot was finally starting to get really interesting... for a silly romance, that is. The heroine seemed overly emotional to him, angsting all the time about whether or not the hero loved her, when, he obviously did. He made love to her, after all. What more did she want? He heard Amaru return, though. He touched the book cover. Maybe he would finish it before Colette returned, and then when she made him read, it wouldn't sound so deplorable.

"Hello, Amaru. I must admit I am surprised to see you. What's up?"

"I believe you've come to know Vachon," he said, using the cover story he'd been working on all the way here. "What sort of person is he? I had always found him to be without honor, but he seems to have changed."

Nick whistled to Perry. "Perhaps we should visit outside. The grounds here must be lovely. I smell a profusion of plants and flowers."

Amaru was speechless as the weight of Nick's disability suddenly became real. At the going-away party, Nick had been surrounded by friends, in the safety of dance hall. He had danced gracefully all night long. The fact of his blindness had not seemed significant. Now, to hear him struggle just to read, to consider that everything Amaru had seen - the once-elegant, somewhat shabby home, the gardens, the stables, all he took for granted, was a challenge to the elder vampire.

"It isn't so bad, really," Nick said softly. "You get used to it."

"What?" Amaru stuttered. He knew he hadn't spoken his thoughts aloud, and the blind vampire could not have read the pity written on his face.

"I used to wake every evening expecting to be able to see, that in my sleep my vampiric nature would have healed the injury to my eyes. I think I gave up that hope the day I sent in my application to this school. I am the only adult student here, struggling with the most basic lessons the children mastered years ago. Embarrassment is a great motivator."

For a few moments they walked in silence. The moon was full, casting the path of shredded tree mulch in soft light. The gardens were overgrown with sweet fern, hollyhocks, hostas, and daisies. Tree branches arched above, partially blocking out the stars. There were places where the paths diverged, but Perry and Nick always took the path to the right. Amaru imagined the layout of the grounds from having flown here. Nick's chosen path would circle the grounds, eventually leading them back to the home.

"So, what do you want to know?" Nick asked.

"Vachon has never cared a whit about anyone or anything other than himself. Has this changed?" Although it was Nick he was investigating, he could learn a lot about the vampire by the way he talked about others.

"I met Vachon the same time I met you, just over two years ago. I didn't like him very much. His carelessness had placed my partner in danger and changed her life forever with her knowledge of our kind. I wanted to kill him."

"Why didn't you," Amaru prodded. Nick would have been justified. Allowing Tracy and Vachon to live was one of the gravest offences to the code.

"I don't know. I told him it was because he hadn't killed Tracy. I told him I was making him responsible for her, that his life depended on keeping her safe. But the truth is, I looked into those large, soft brown eyes, so like Raleigh's, and I just couldn't do it."

That wasn't good, Amaru thought. Nick was confessing to weakness. He knew the code, knew what must be done, and he had been unable to carry through. "Who is Raleigh?" he asked, starting to turn the conversation more towards Nick.

The golden vampire chuckled. "He was a rottweiler, a pet dog I had a while ago."

Amaru laughed. "I see the similarity, then!"

"I put him in charge of Tracy, and I kept an eye on him. I know that his infatuation with Tracy was a big motivator, but he seemed to blossom under the responsibility. So, have you settled things between you?"

"Perhaps," Amaru answered vaguely. Things between him and Vachon were complicated. Although he felt he had nothing in common with the Spaniard, he had to acknowledge that he was all the family he had left. The vague sense of longing he had lived with since his vampire birth, the desire he had come to realize was the instinctual desire for his master, was lessened when he was in Vachon's company. He tasted the familiar in Vachon's blood, he found himself and his mother through the bloodkiss.

"What about his care of his fledglings," Amaru asked. "He has brought over others in the past and left them to struggle on their own. Do you not agree that the master has a duty, and obligation to protect and teach his own progeny?"

"That is an odd question for you to ask me," Nick said lightly. "You, who have no master, and I, who have defied mine for centuries!"

"It took me a long time to admit that our mother was wrong. She was beautiful, and I wanted to love her, to be just like her. But I have learned that the code does have certain advantages. Vampire infants, through their own ignorance, are the greatest threat to our continued secrecy. Someone should be responsible for them."

Nick thought about his own creations. There had been only a few times when he had chosen to share the dark gift, and of those, he had had to destroy most. They had not made the conversion well, killing indiscriminately. But some of his children still lived, one was even in Montreal.

Serena...

For a moment, anger colored his blood. Once she had flirted with him. She had made advances, attempting to seduce him although it was well known that she cared not for men at all. Finally, Nick realized that she wanted immortality, not sex. So he had brought her across. Only, the foolish woman had wanted a baby. It had been a cruel mistake, one which he had regretted ever since.

But he had turned away from his responsibility. He had never trained her, protected her, or demanded anything of her. Perhaps, he had been wrong.

He had given her what LaCroix would never give him, freedom. Now, he knew that without LaCroix to watch over him, he would be dead. Although he still chafed at LaCroix's power over him, he knew he liked feeling loved and protected. Perhaps, while he was in Montreal, it was time to set things straight with Serena? He would have to give it more thought.

Amaru walked silently beside him, waiting for an answer. But, Urs was not the fledgling he was concerned about. Nick sensed an ulterior motive from the Inca. He would continue to be as honest as he could, but he wondered about the real reason that brought him here.

"Yes, the master should be responsible for his progeny," he said.

"For how long?"

Nick drew a deep breath. "For as long as it takes," he answered. "Perhaps, forever."

Amaru smiled. Good. Nicholas was not in defiance with the code, so whatever was going on between him and Janette must just be temporary. Perhaps, he was avoiding her to teach her a lesson? She was rather disrespectful.

Nick stepped off the path onto the grass. He unhooked Perry's harness, petting the carouche's golden coat affectionately. "There, boy," he said. "I'll see you back at the house."

The dog barked once, glaring at the dark visitor. He knew Nick freed him so he might hunt alone and because Nick wanted privacy, but he wasn't sure if he should trust the younger vampire.

The Inca glared back at the golden eyes of the carouche, allowing his fangs to erupt. Nick patted the dog again. "I'll be fine, Perry. Go along."

The dog leaped into the air, already catching the scent of a nice fat rabbit.

Nick loosened the top buttons on his shirt, baring his throat and shoulders. He held his arms open in invitation.

Amaru hesitated. Sharing blood was almost sacred to him, not a casual exchange, yet Nick's blood would tell him all he needed to know.

Nick touched his arms, moving his hands up to the shoulders, friendly yet not demanding. Amaru sensed that a single word or gesture would end it now. He gazed at the blue eyes of the elder vampire, so blue and so open, so full of emotions too numerous to define. Amaru sensed that the blood of this one would be like none other he had ever tasted. He stepped closer, accepting the invitation.

Gently, Nick drew him in, touching the smooth throat of the Inca with first his fingers and then his teeth. He felt the blood pound through the vein, felt the intake of breath as the Inca's teeth lightly scraped his throat. Nick struck first.

Amaru shuddered as he felt his blood pour into the older vampire. He sensed Nick's essence, a potent wine and sweet like honey, he sensed the hunger, as Nick gulped him greedily, as though he had not fed well in many days. Amaru was almost hesitant to return the bite, but as he felt weakness steal over him, he struck.

The essence he only sensed before became overpowering. Amaru tightened his hold, crushing the older vampire to him as he drank. There was light in the blood! It was as if he drank the very sunshine itself! His body convulsed as the passion of the kiss crested. Hesitantly then, and a little embarrassed, Amaru withdrew his fangs.

Nick licked at the twin wounds and stepped back. He smiled shyly at the young Inca. "So," he asked. "Do I pass your inspection?"

Amaru was startled. That was twice that the elder vampire had known his thoughts! Had Nick offered his blood to him, partly to assuage his fears? He wondered at the hunger he had sensed, though. Nick was very strong and powerful, so why did he not feed?

"Forgive me, lord," Amaru answered, giving the title of respect due an elder. "I see that your blindness does not make you weak. You are no threat to the community."

Nick laughed. "You don't need to worry, Amaru. I have been under suspicion so often that I no longer get worried about it. Say 'hello' to your brother when you see him, and tell him I have off tomorrow."

Amaru nodded, forgetting the gesture would be lost on the other. His voice was still thick with the emotions he had gleaned through the bloodkiss. "I will," he said.

Silently, Amaru escorted Nick back through the paths to the home where he stayed. Nick walked gracefully up the stairs towards the door, where he turned and smiled once more. "Thank you for coming," he said. Then he disappeared inside.

Amaru stared at the door for long moments. Nick was such a complex creature! He hoped that one day he would be able to be counted among Nick's friends. Lifting into the sky, he trained his senses on his lucky brother, who had already been counted.

Vachon was on his boat in the harbor, not yet asleep but preparing for bed. Amaru hesitated to enter. Dawn was approaching; it would force them to share the day, and yet he had so many questions.

"You are welcome, my brother," Vachon's thoughts said in his mind. Amaru smiled, lighting on the deck of the small yacht.

The familiar face peered up at him from the stairs below. Amaru saw him as Nick had, the similarity in the soft, beguiling eyes to that of a beloved pet, and he almost laughed.

His feet had barely touched the lower deck before Vachon threw him up against a wall, his fingers clenched around his throat. Amaru's eyes flared golden at his brother's deception.

"What did you do to Nick!" Vachon demanded. The scent of Nick's blood still clung to his brother.

Amaru shoved him away and rubbed at his own throat, but he did not launch a counterattack. Vachon's protective streak amused him. "I didn't "do" anything to him. He offered me his blood freely."

"And you took it? Did you hurt him? He isn't like us anymore. You shouldn't have done it."

Amaru casually took a seat at the table. He did not want to fight with Vachon. It was time they learned to talk, at least like civilized beings, even if they could never become the brothers he yearned for. He waited while Vachon poured them each a drink and sat down at the table as well before he spoke.

"Nick is fine. He is doing well at the school and he asked me to tell you that he has off tomorrow."

Vachon felt his blood warm, his teeth tingle, as he anticipated Nick's company. He wondered if his anger with Amaru was purely protectiveness, or was it mixed with jealousy? If he shared with Amaru soon, he would taste Nick in his blood.

"Nick seemed hungry, though. Doesn't he have supplies delivered there at the school?"

Vachon sighed. "Yes. He is always hungry now. It is part of the illness, the reason why he does not heal. He cannot keep food down. Only vampire blood, and then, only some of the time."

Amaru was speechless. "How, how long?" he stammered.

"Six months."

Here he had thought the elder vampire was weak, and yet, he controlled the hunger while living among children, the most tantalizing blood of all. Nick was not weak, but incredibly strong. Amaru felt humbled.

"He may be under suspicion from Enforcers," he said.

"Do you work for them now!" Vachon accused.

"No. I came here on my own. Some one was after Janette, but I believe they were really gathering information on Nick, not her. I came to see for myself if the suspicions are justified."

"And?" Vachon wondered how he could even be related with that creature opposite him.

"I find him to be honorable, courageous and aware of his duty. Should I tell him about the Enforcers?"

Vachon leaned back and stared at his twin. Amaru did not pose a threat to Nick, in fact, he seemed willing to interfere on his behalf. Perhaps, he had judged him too harshly. "No. Nick has enough on his mind right now. And worry only makes his illness worse. It is enough that I know. I will try to keep watch over him. Perhaps, though, you should tell LaCroix?"

Amaru hesitated. LaCroix still believed the deception he had given Janette, that LaCroix was the one under investigation. He knew that the ancient would not be pleased to learn the truth, and he was sure he did not want to be anywhere near an angry LaCroix.

"Believe me," Vachon said softly. "It is better to face him yourself, rather than have him come after you."

"I will. But first I must speak with the mortal, Natalie." She was in Nick's blood. He was afraid for her, that because of him, she was marked. Amaru knew that it was only Nick's perceptions of the truth, and not necessarily the truth. Still, if Nick was under investigation, then Natalie should be made aware.

Vachon put their glasses in the sink. He held out a hand in invitation. Amaru was surprised when he accepted. Seldom did he find release with others of their kind, and then, mostly only women. Now, to share twice in the same night? Yet he felt a strong yearning, a loneliness that he knew only Vachon could soothe. He laid aside the centuries of anger and hatred, opening himself to the possibility that they could be more than brothers. Through the blood, they found the grounds for reconciliation and forgiveness, and through the other, they found themselves.

Chapter Eleven:

Amaru left at nightfall the following day. Vachon wanted to ask him to stay. He had only just discovered his brother still lived last week, and for the first time in their existence, he sensed if not friendship, then at least acceptance in his brother's blood. But Amaru was driven by duty. He would depart tonight for the Enforcers, who were meeting in Greece these days.

He showered and dressed carefully, eager to see Nick. He had stayed away all week, as it was Nick's wishes to be left alone, but he had worried about him constantly. Although LaCroix had bottled his own ancient blood, was it enough? Nick had lived among mortals for centuries, but would he keep the vampire's eyes carefully concealed?

Finally, he flew out over the city, landing on the steps of the school for the blind twenty minutes later. He took the brass handle in his hand and knocked.

A pleasant-looking older woman smiled, her face alight with laugh lines and crinkles. "Good evening, young man," she said.

"I'm here to see Nick," he said.

She stepped back and gestured for him to come in. "He is in the parlor with the children."

Vachon followed her through the small, tidy rooms crowded with antique furniture, and wondered how a batch of blind kids could learn their way around without breaking something. In the parlor was a spinet, and Nick sat on the bench. One child sat beside him, two more hovered near, and six others sat on the floor or furniture. Nick was playing a children's song, and they were all singing the refrain.

"Oh, they're always in the way, The cow eats them for hay. Mother eats them in her sleep, She thinks she's eating shredded wheat, They're always in the way!

It wasn't until they came to the next verse that Vachon discovered the song was about "Dear Old Daddy's Whiskers". He smirked, as Nick's dad would never grow a beard.

"Come now, children," a younger woman called when the song had ended. "It is bedtime."

They made the typical childish response, a long pathetic groan, and she made the typical adult response of ignoring it completely. Nick rose, and turned to him then. "Vachon! It's good to see you. These are my "classmates". Kids, say hello to Vachon, and then you'd better do as she says."

"Hello, Vachon," came nine mournful voices. "Good night, Nick! See you tomorrow!"

The blind children ranged in ages from about four to fifteen. Several had other disabilities as well, leg braces, hearing aids, or poor coordination indicating a nervous disorder. Vachon felt for his friend, being the odd fish in the pond. But then, Nick was probably used to it by now.

Perry jumped to Nick's side as the vampire rose. Together they left the home, emerging into the night, then together they lifted into the air. Nick never flew alone. Although Perry could probably protect him from the eyes of mortals, he was hesitant to try. Even flying with one hand on Vachon's arm, and the other firmly clutching Perry's harness was a frightening experience. Rushing blindly, more aware of the air currents, or the creatures who shared the sky, and terrified of getting lost, it was exhilarating even as it left him feeling emotionally drained.

"So, where to?" Vachon asked. "Do you want to check out the coffee house?"

"Maybe later. Would you take me to this address," Nick asked, giving Vachon the street name of his own apartment.

Vachon shrugged. He had looked forward all week to spending time with Nick alone, and now the other wanted to visit friends of his? It didn't matter. He knew that some time before dawn Nick would need his blood. It comforted him, even though he knew how it must make Nick feel to be so dependent on others. He knew how it would bug him.

The apartment was in an upscale neighborhood, the penthouse suite. Vachon wasn't sure if the friend was vampire or mortal, so he landed on the street and they walked the rest of the way.

The doorman stared at Vachon disdainfully, but he said nothing. Vachon glanced at himself. The shirt was clean, and so was his hair. What bee did he have up his butt?

Nick felt the elevator buttons, drawing Vachon's attention to the Braille numbers beside the standard ones. Then he pressed the correct one, and the elevator doors closed. Nick seemed to shudder as the small, confined area slowly lifted. Vachon might not have noticed if he hadn't been so closely attuned to Nick, but something about the elevator definitely bothered him. He didn't have time to think about it, as the doors parted and they stepped out into an elegant foyer.

Nick went to the only door and knocked. The door opened, and a pretty young vampire greeted them. She was slender, with brown, shoulder-length hair and a fresh face devoid of make-up. Her eyes widened, first in anger then reticent invitation. "Hello, Nick," she said.

"Robin. I wasn't sure if you were ready to see me."

"That makes two of us."

Vachon felt the undercurrents as strongly as an ocean tide. The woman did not seem familiar. She was not related, and she was very, very young. What had happened between them?

"Come in, since you're here."

"This is Vachon," Nick said, "And my carouche, Perry."

Robin was about to make some snide remark about the company Nick kept, when she noticed the strange harness on the carouche, and the way Nick hesitantly entered his own apartment. He seemed afraid, or unsure. She saw the one he called Vachon guide him to the couch, and only then did Nick sit down.

"Ohmygosh, Nick, what happened?" she blurted.

Vachon glared at her. She had no manners.

Nick shrugged indifferently. "It's a long story, Robin. I am in Montreal only for a few weeks, and I wanted to see how you are doing."

Robin fidgeted. She wasn't really angry with him anymore. He had explained to her that he had been possessed by a demon, that he hadn't meant to nearly rip her head from her shoulders with his bare hands... She had taken his blood then, and read the bizarre truth. Then he had given her the use of this perfect, penthouse apartment, and promised that he would find her a new home. He looked so young and vulnerable now. She discovered that she was ready to forgive him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she offered.

"Thanks," Nick said. She returned quickly with a full bottle and three glasses. "Um, I'm sorry," she stammered. "Does your carouche need anything?"

Nick reached down to pat Perry's head. The dog gazed up at him, licking his arm. "No. He's fine for now. But thanks for asking," Nick said.

Vachon accepted the glass and settled back to observe. Eventually he would learn the answers. For now he would simply enjoy the play of emotions on Nick's face, and the pretty infant before him.

"Have you made friends here," Nick asked.

Robin smiled. "Some. I feel the old ones regard me with disdain, like I'm some insect they would just as soon crush. But there are a few other orphans like me, and we kind of hang out together."

"And the apartment? Is it okay?"

Robin looked at Vachon, her eyes wide in amusement. His sighted companion could see how gorgeous the place was! "Yes, Nick," she said, trying to sound serious. "The place is okay. Really, it's more than okay. How long has it been since you were here?"

"I bought it when the building was just going up," he said. "I lived here only a few years. When I decided to return to police work, I couldn't very well explain a penthouse."

They relaxed then, engaging in smalltalk, until Nick rose to take his leave. "I know someone, a woman, who would be good for you," Nick said softly. "You need someone to older to see to your training and safety. And she would benefit by having someone else besides herself to worry about. May I introduce you to her next week?"

Robin hesitated. She had met many in the community... were any of them people she would want to be tied to? "I don't know, Nick," she said.

"The final decision is yours. I will just introduce you. If you two don't hit it off, you don't have to accept her."

"Okay," Robin agreed. "I'll meet her."

Nick extended his hand, but Robin surprised him by stepping in for a hug. "Thanks for coming," she said.

"Mind telling me what that was all about," Vachon asked as the door closed behind them.

Nick grabbed his arm, his eyes golden and the outline of fangs visible. "Outside! Get me out, now!" Nick whispered.

Vachon felt Nick's torment wash over him with tidal force. He glanced around, saw the skylight and lifted Nick through it. The elder vampire crumpled to his knees and heaved. Vachon stared, just now aware how much stress Nick had been concealing. He knelt beside him, holding his shoulders as the spasms shook him violently.

"Come back to the boat," Vachon said soothingly. "Spend the day with me."

Nick nodded weakly. Vachon pulled Nick's arm over his shoulder, supporting him more than guiding him, as they flew out over the harbor. Nick fell asleep in his arms before they landed. He carried him below and laid him on the bed. "So, Perry," he said, speaking to the dog the way Nick often did. "School must be pretty rough."

"Woof," Perry agreed.

Chapter Twelve:

"Joe, you imbecile! I warned you! She was not to be harmed!"

Joe lifted his chin and glared reproachfully at the elder vampire. "She'll be all right. I didn't break anything."

"It is not normal for them to be unconscious this long. I'm taking her to a hospital tonight."

"That's risky," Joe objected. "Too many questions asked... let's just drain her and be done with it."

Tristan lifted Joe by the throat and tossed him into the cement wall. "No! You would not live another day if you harmed one of LaCroix's possessions."

Joe hated Tristan. The skinny Enforcer was a disgrace to the organization. He was a weakling, afraid of wielding the incredible power he had been given. Joe would not make the same mistake. This mission was a two-edged sword. He hoped to strike revenge at LaCroix for humiliating him, and tear Tristan down, so he could step in and fill his position.

Joe still burned every time he thought about LaCroix. He had only made some careless comment when he saw Nick stumbling around. How was he to know the vampire was blind? Who ever heard of such a ridiculous aberration? But LaCroix had nearly killed him. He'd forced Joe to apologize and then he had banished him, not just from the Raven and the lucrative remodeling job, but from all of Toronto. Joe had gone immediately to the Enforcers. Nick was a freak. LaCroix would suffer for his humiliation.

They flew Natalie to a vacant lot and left her. Tristan placed her purse nearby, removing her wallet and any identification. It would look like a simple mugging. Then, he dialed the emergency number to report the body and flew to a rooftop to watch.

Shortly, an ambulance arrived. She was quickly connected to IVs and a heart monitor, then loaded onto a stretcher and carried away. The vampires followed. He would have to keep an eye on her, to see what if anything she remembered of her abduction. Only when she was healed could she be interrogated. To press her for information too soon might cause permanent brain damage. Tristan fumed at the delay Joe had caused. He would make a full report, recommending Joe be fired immediately.

"I'm going," Joe stated through clenched teeth. "I know where I can find willing vampires to help me bring justice, since you are too feeble-minded. You will not stop me again!"

Tristan stared at the diminishing form of the angry young vampire. When had this assignment gotten so out of hand, he wondered sadly. He flew then to the hospital. Dressed as an orderly, he could observe Natalie without raising suspicion. "Wake up, Natalie," he whispered to her urgently when they were alone. "I will not harm you. I promise. You must wake up now!"

*****

He could not find her! Natalie had taken the plane to Nova Scotia, but there the trail ended. She had missed her cruise. Amaru checked the hotels, but no one registered under her name. He even checked the hospitals, but she was not there either. Although he knew Janette despised her, he called the Raven and asked to speak with her.

"So, do you miss me yet," Janette purred into the phone.

"I started missing you before I had even left, parajó,"* he replied. He talked with her briefly, asking polite questions. Janette could be difficult when she chose, and he didn't have time to play games with her. "Have you heard from Natalie?" he asked then.

"No. Thankfully."

"She missed her cruise," he said.

Silence answered him. He counted to ten, then continued. "I fear that she has come to some harm. Do you have any idea where she might have gone, or why she didn't get on that boat?"

Janette chewed her lip. Natalie had been afraid; she had mentioned feeling like someone was watching her. Janette had been only teasing when she told Natalie that if she were in danger, then she would be dead, as Janette was powerless to protect her from others of their kind. Hesitantly, she told Amaru about Natalie's fears.

"And you did nothing? You did not even tell this to LaCroix?"

Janette flinched at the accusing tone in his voice. "LaCroix isn't here, Amaru. He went away with Tracy."

"Who is with you!"

"I can take care of myself," she snapped. "But LaCroix has left Caspian in charge of the community in his absence."

"I am coming. Together we shall search for answers."

Janette replaced the phone in its cradle. Amaru was coming back to her, but he was angry. And it was Natalie's fault. That woman seemed determined to ruin her happiness. Janette called her every name she could imagine in every language she knew. Then, she called Urs for help.

Amaru arrived before dawn. Janette was contrite, ready to inform him of all she had managed to uncover. She sat primly on the edge of the couch, wondering if he was still angry with her.

The Inca closed the door and leaned against it. Janette was so lovely. He had missed her. She should be throttled for her petty jealousy and foolishness, and yet, he forgave her. He smiled. "Hello, Urs."

Janette waited until he spoke to her. "Natalie said once she thought she was being followed by a vampire. I brushed it off, I told her that if a vampire wanted to hurt her, she would be dead before she could ask for help. Then, two nights later, she had another vampire turn up in her morgue. She brought him here. I do not know what happened between them, as I stayed downstairs, but he left first, then she took a cab to the airport. That's all I know."

"Did you see this vampire? Did anyone else know who he was?"

Janette shook her head.

Urs brought Amaru a drink, then sat nervously. "It might not be related," she began. "But my newest customers are missing."

Amaru turned and asked her to explain.

She shrugged her shoulders, almost apologizing for the interruption. "It might mean nothing. But they were newly arrived - and the older one was wearing one of Nick's shirts. He said Nat had given it to him. They hired me to clean for them, and they are really messy, but last night their apartment was exactly as I left it a week ago. I think they have left town."

"How can we find out who they are?" Amaru demanded hotly.

Janette flinched, but then she gasped. "We still have his trousers. I was going to throw them out for they are badly stained."

Amaru followed her to the bathroom, where a pair of men's jeans were tossed into the corner. Urs shook her head. If she had been here, she would have already tried to remove the stains, or the pants would be in the trash. Janette was so helpless at times.

Amaru looked at the stain. The blood was old, and the knowledge it once contained had faded. All he could tell from the faint scent was that it was the same he had found in the revenant he had destroyed. "We must contact LaCroix," he said coldly.

Janette went to the phone and dialed downstairs. "Tell Caspian to come at once."

Caspian quickly entered, moving faster than Janette would have guessed possible for such a large man. Trevor was right behind him. Both were filled with concern. Amaru briefly explained the situation. Caspian then placed a call to a friend in Elsworth, the closest community to the motel where LaCroix was believed to be staying. "I suggest that we all meet in Halifax," Caspian told the other vampire. "We will search for her trail from there."

Diggin swept into the room, startling all of them. "I will come as well," he said.

Chapter Thirteen:

The second week of lessons went a little easier. Nick had finished the novel, but Colette had expected as much. She came equipped with another story he had not read, and then another. He progressed to reading the newspapers using an electronic gadget that transcribed printed text into Braille.

As the night drew nearer when he would meet Robin again, his stomach twisted on him, gnawing with pain and hunger that would not be satisfied. Twice, when he'd slipped into the bathroom to flush down the blood he had tried to consume, he thought he felt a vampire nearby. Only, no one was ever there.

Colette snapped at him, claiming he wasn't trying. Finally, she tossed the books on the floor. "That's it. We'll knock off early tonight, Nick. I can find plenty to do at home before Jase gets off. And when I come back, I hope you're ready to work. Six weeks isn't very long, and we have a lot to accomplish!"

Nick called after her, but she stormed from the home without a backward glance. Perry laid his head in Nick's lap.

"It's okay, boy," Nick said. "She's right. My mind is elsewhere tonight. I dread what I must do."

Perry licked his cheek. Nick smiled. "Okay, enough moping. Let's go."

He called a cab to take him to his downtown apartment, where Robin was waiting for him. She climbed in the backseat beside him with a shy greeting. She smelled clean and fresh, and the sound her shoes had made on the pavement told Nick she was wearing high heels.

"Robin," Nick said quietly, so the driver could not overhear. "Do you trust me?"

She hesitated. He had nearly killed her once. She had found the truth in his blood and knew in her heart that Nick would never intentionally hurt her. She nodded. "Yes, Nick. I trust you."

He squeezed her hand. She thought his hand trembled slightly, and wondered why he seemed more nervous than she was. The cab stopped and let them out. Nick paid the fare, staring blankly down the street until the car was out of sight. Then he drew in a deep breath.

Nick seemed to transform right before her eyes. His shoulders squared and power rolled off him in waves. His eyes took on a hard look, concealing the gentle knight of moments ago. Robin drew back, a little afraid, wondering if the demon had returned. Nick passed Perry's harness to her then, and told her to wait. Climbing the stairs, he banged on the door.

"Go away," came a female voice from inside.

Nick kicked the door, splintering the doorjamb. It swung in with a bang. Robin heard the woman shriek, but she could not see her from her position. Nick stormed through the opening. "Serena!" he shouted. "It's time we ended this!"

Serena rose from the couch and glared at the bane of her existence. "You are not welcome here," she snapped disdainfully.

Nick bared his fangs and hissed. He struck at the source of her voice, his hand meeting her face squarely. She staggered, cursing at him. He flew at her, pinning her to the ground. Straddling her, holding her down with one hand, he reached inside his shirt and withdrew a sharpened hawthorn stake.

Serena screamed. "What are you doing! Why are you doing this!"

"I grow tired of you," he threatened. "You came on to me! You flirted with me, whom you thought to be a mere "man" because you wanted me to give you a baby. You used me, Serena! Don't deny it! I think you got what you deserved."

He shook the stake at her, tightening his hold on her throat. "Yet I apologized, Serena. Over and over. I said I was sorry, and you treated me with hatred. I gave you your freedom, as you wished, and like a spoiled child, you continue to revile me! I have had it with you, with your pathetic, miserable introspection. I shall do us both a favor and end your wretched existence now!"

"No!" Serena screamed, even as she saw him draw his hand back, preparing to drive the stake through her heart. Tears ran down her face, her voice failed her as she sobbed incoherently.

"Please, Nick! Don't do this, I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

"You are already dead."

She shivered. Where had this vampire come from? She had never seen him like this before. Tonight he was powerful, vengeful, intimidating. She tried to find him through their bond, but that only frightened her more. His mind was full of rage; he was like one possessed. Her life as a vampire flashed before her eyes, the years she had wasted as she sought a cure for the very condition that had allowed her to live so many years. She wept with fear; she wept for the loss.

"What is this?" Nick roared, flicking a tear away with a finger.

She winced. "I don't want to die," she repeated, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please, master, I don't want to die."

Nick clenched his teeth, angry with himself that he had had to do it this way, hating how much like LaCroix he sounded, and yet, Serena had finally for the first time responded to him as a fledgling should.

"Give me one reason why I should keep such a worthless child," Nick demanded.

Serena bared her throat. "Take it," she pleaded. "I know I have been spiteful. I will change, I vow! Drink, and know I speak truth!"

Nick sank his fangs into her. The blood spurted into his throat and he gulped, struggling to keep it down. He couldn't take more than a few mouthfuls. Then he withdrew and closed the wounds. Her blood was tragic. It tasted familiar, mostly because she was his child, but also, he tasted the longing for something that could never be. He had made her like this. Somehow, he had passed his own wretched quest for mortality on to her. He knew he was going to be sick. Nick swallowed, forcing the blood to stay down a little longer.

"You say you want to change. Prove it," Nick demanded hotly.

"How?" her voice trembled.

"Adopt an orphan. Take on her care and training, turn your thoughts away from yourself. Do this, and I will let you live for as long as she does."

Serena shook. Nick got off of her, yanking her to her feet. He didn't dare move, as he had come in here without his dog. He couldn't let her see his weakness now. So he kept a grip on her, letting his anger intimidate her still.

"Me? Adopt a fledgling? I don't know how to care for one," Serena whimpered.

"Then you will learn. That is my condition." He hefted the stake again.

"I'll do it!" Serena shouted.

Nick released her. He tucked the stake back inside his shirt. "Good. Robin, you may come in now."

Robin stepped inside, holding the carouche who bared his fangs and growled menacingly at Serena. She stared at them.

"Robin, this is my child, Serena," Nick said by way of introduction. "She needs you. She just doesn't know yet how much. I think you will be happy here. If you have any problems, you know where to find me."

Robin came closer. She smiled at Serena. The other vampire could be lovely, she thought, but she dressed in manly styles that did nothing to show off her figure. The blood tears on her face were beginning to be reabsorbed, restoring her face to simple beauty.

"Robin's master died of the Fever," Nick explained, his voice suddenly gentle. "She needs a home, and I think she would be more comfortable with a woman, or I would take her in myself."

"What happens now?" Robin asked. "What should I do?"

Nick felt the blood rebel. He had to leave soon, or all might be lost. "For now, just get to know one another. If, in a few weeks, you want to become bonded, I will explain the ceremony. After a bonding, it cannot be broken."

Serena stared at her master. He was different. His eyes didn't seem to focus on her, filled as they were with a power all their own. He seemed even more frightening than his ancient creator, LaCroix. For the first time, she realized his age and power. "Master, I will take care of her," she said softly.

Nick nodded once. "Take her into the bedroom and comfort her. She is frightened."

Serena obeyed. When the door closed behind her, Nick called for Perry to help him. Perry directed him towards the phone, where he called first a cab, and then a carpenter to repair the door. Once outside, he ducked behind a bush and tossed more blood upon the ground. His knees gave out. He sat against the wall and trembled. He had vomited more in the passed week than he had for months. Nick wondered if he had the strength to stand.

Perry licked his face comfortingly.

"Thanks for the offer, Perry," Nick said. "But I don't think I could drink your blood, even if I could get through all that fur."

"Woof."

"I love your coat. It is soft, and I remember how silky it looked when I first met you."

Again, Nick felt a vampire presence. Panicked, he lurched to his feet, finding strength he didn't know he had. Then, the presence was gone. "I'm really losing it, Perry," Nick sighed.

The cab pulled up. Nick opened the door and sank into the seat gratefully. Briefly he considered searching for Vachon, but he was too tired. He slept on the short trip to the blind school, and then staggered inside.

He climbed the stairs, wondering if he'd been right. Serena had wanted a baby, not a fledgling. Could she find some happiness in caring for Robin? The vampire orphan was strangely endearing, a frightened, lost soul longing for a home. He pushed open his door and froze. The room was not empty.

"Hello, Vachon," he said. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah, well you should have. You look like hell. What's been going on?"

Nick closed the door and leaned against it. He released Perry, afraid to move another step. "I'm tired, Vachon," he said. Then his eyes closed and his feet gave out on him.

Vachon lifted him, laying him gently on the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt, growling at how thin Nick had become even just this past week. Maybe the school was not such a good idea? Should he take him home? But no one was there, not LaCroix or Tracy, anyway. He continued to undress Nick, then tucked him in the small bed. It had been a long time since he'd shared a twin bed with anyone, but he was not going to leave Nick like this. He shoved the dresser in front of the door to guarantee their privacy, then he climbed in next to Nick.

Hours later, hunger stirred the elder vampire. Nick's fangs erupted and he growled fiercely. Vachon clamped a hand over Nick's mouth. "Hush! There are mortals nearby," he warned, but Nick was not fully aware. The vampire bit his hand, sucking his blood savagely. Vachon winced. The hand was not the most pleasant place to give blood, being more sensitive than the wrist. Still, he comforted Nick with soft words and permitted the assault. The vampire stopped, withdrawing his fangs and returned to deep sleep. Vachon brought his bruised hand to his lips and licked the jagged wounds.

"The things we do for love," he sang quietly.

As the sun neared the horizon, Nick awoke again. This time he seemed himself and didn't even seem to remember attacking Vachon in his sleep. Vachon glanced at his hand. The wounds had healed although it was still a little tender. He shrugged it away.

"So, Nick. You had a wild night, huh?"

Nick closed his eyes and reached through the faint bond with his child. Serena seemed happy, all things considered. She was currently exchanging blood with Robin, and the match seemed to suit them both. Nick smiled, and pulled away from the link, without his child even knowing he was there.

"Yes, a wild, successful night. I want to celebrate. Do you feel like going riding?"

They shared blood, then Vachon drank heavily from the straight blood in Nick's fridge, not touching the special bottles LaCroix had prepared. He followed Nick outside to the stables. They saddled up and lead their mounts out into the yard. Nick swung a leg over his horse easily, seeming unconcerned about riding blind. "Perry, lead on," he said. Then, whether he followed by scent or by sound, Vachon didn't know, but Nick rode hard and fast in the wake of the carouche. Vachon kicked his horse's flanks and followed. Too soon they reached the far wall of the estate. Perry flew over the wall easily, but Vachon held his breath. The horses were not capable of flying. Nick leaned into his horse, as if he was aware of the brick obstacle. The horse leaped, barely clearing the summit. Nick gave a victorious shout as they landed. Vachon's horse vaulted the wall as well. On they rode, with only the moon to guide them, the wind in their face, their hair blowing wildly, the sweat and lather of the beasts between their legs, and Vachon could not remember a happier moment.

Chapter Fourteen:

A knock at the door rescued her. Tracy tried not to smile too brightly as LaCroix released her. Her feet hurt and the evening gown was scratchy. A soft waltz continued over the CD player. The Spanish lessons had been bad enough, but then LaCroix had expanded her training to include ballroom dancing and social etiquette. Tracy had never felt quit so boorish and clumsy before.

LaCroix opened the large front door and stared at the intruder. It was a messenger. "Forgive me, master," he said. "I bring bad news. Caspian called."

LaCroix felt a stab of fear. He reached out instantly for his children. Both were open for the contact. Janette seemed upset about something, but not terrified, and Nicholas seemed positively ecstatic. He gestured for the messenger to come inside.

"Someone has kidnapped Natalie Lambert. Her tickets to Nova Scotia were used, but she never boarded the ship."

LaCroix gave no outward sign, but for a brief moment, Tracy felt his pain. Then his mind closed itself to her.

"Caspian said he would meet you at the airport."

"Thank you," LaCroix said. "Do you require sustenance before you return?"

"No, thanks," the messenger replied. Tracy didn't blame him for wanting to make a hasty retreat.

"Shall I pack?" Tracy asked.

"No, there isn't time. We shall leave at once."

Tracy shook her head. "I am not going to look for her in a ballgown. Let me at least pull on some jeans and a pair of running shoes."

"Very well," LaCroix snapped. "But be quick about it."

Only minutes later Tracy was flying through the sky, desperate to keep up with LaCroix. He hadn't bothered to wait for a cab. She knew she could never fly all the way to Nova Scotia. Her stomach was rumbling already.

"Keep up," LaCroix shouted at her.

Tracy blinked back tears. Her wonderful, private vacation had been cut short. She didn't mind missing out on the dancing lessons, but... Tracy was tired of feeling in last place.

They flew only to Trenton, a small town on the mainland just across from Mount Desert Island. There was a tiny airport there, where LaCroix chartered a small plane. Soon they were in the air again, only this time Tracy could relax.

Half an hour later, LaCroix put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead. "Forgive me, daughter, for interrupting our time together," he said.

Tracy gave him a smile. "That's okay, LaCroix. I'm worried about her, too."

Then he held out his wrist for her. "Drink. We have a long night, and you will need your strength."

"But what about you?"

He gave her a half smile, touched at her concern. "I can manage far better than you, my child, with little sustenance."

Tracy took his wrist and stroked the back of his hand lovingly. "Thanks, Dad," she said.

The plane jolted on the landing, waking Tracy out of a restless sleep. She looked around dazedly. The night was fading into dawn. They wouldn't be able to do much tonight.

A rented Ford van met them at the plane. Tracy squealed in surprise, for Amaru, Caspian, Trevor, Janette, Diggin and Urs were all there to greet them. LaCroix sat up front with Caspian, and they spoke softly in some ancient language. Tracy hugged Urs, surprised at how great it was to see familiar faces.

Caspian said they had already been to the airport, asking the employees if any recalled seeing Natalie. There were so many people that came through, and even with a hypnotic push, no one could recall if Natalie had been there, or who she was with when she left. Caspian drove to the lodgings he had procured for them, a four-bedroom summer cottage, fully furnished. Urs had already hung blankets over the windows. The troop retired for the night, although hours later Tracy thought she could still hear Caspian and LaCroix talking.

"Natalie, please be okay," Tracy whispered.

Chapter Fifteen:

Soft voices kept talking to her, disturbing her sleep. Natalie wished they'd shut up and leave her alone. Maybe she should just tell them so. Her mouth wouldn't respond. Her tongue felt heavy, her throat dry and painful. She swallowed, which made the pain definitely worse. She coughed.

"You're waking up! That's right, come back to me, Natalie," whispered the voice.

There was something familiar about it. A cultured voice, with a faint English accent. The image of the handsome young vampire she had rescued the night of her departure came to mind. "Tristan?" she whispered.

She heard a laugh that sounded more relieved than happy. "Where am I?"

"You are in the hospital. You got whacked on the head pretty hard."

More images came to mind, the airport and the demented vampire cab driver. So why was she here? The cabby had been a stranger, one she'd never seen before. Was he somehow linked to Tristan?

She blinked and forced her eyes to open. Yes, it was definitely a hospital room. She saw the IV dripping into her arm, the heart monitor checking her vitals, and the closed curtains. Sunlight filtered around the edge; her vampire was stuck here for the day.

"Tristan, tell me what happened, and tell me everything!" she demanded.

Tristan brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, entirely too close for a new acquaintance. Nat flinched at his touch.

"Another vampire, Joe. He was supposed to follow you. He was not supposed to knock you senseless and nearly kill you."

"Great. That makes me feel better," she said snidely. "So what happens the next time?"

"If I have my way, he will never have a next time. He should not be granted the power of the enforcer."

"You're... an Enforcer?" Nat stammered. She stared at him in horror. She knew from Nick that they were the most feared of their kind, a sort of KGB of secret police, but with incredible power, strength, and of course, immortality. Then she remembered his fangs, much longer than LaCroix's and twice as deadly looking, and knew without his answer that he was indeed, an Enforcer.

"You're doctor is coming," Tristan whispered. "I shall be back."

Nat didn't remember blinking, but in the space between seconds, Tristan was simply not there. She argued with the doctor, demanding to know her exact condition, what medications he was giving her, and when she could be released.

The doctor was quite unprepared for that. He asked her for her name, and Natalie stared in shock as he scratched out the "Jane Doe" on her file. The entire shift of floor nurses, physician's assistants and orderlies all came in then, to welcome her back. Nat waved half-heartedly. She was tempted to tell them that somewhere in her room a vampire enforcer was hiding, and that a vampire had been responsible for her injury in the first place, but she knew that would only win her a short trip to the psychiatric ward. Finally, the doctor brushed all the visitors away.

"You get some rest, Ms. Lambert, and I'll see that a tray of food is brought up here shortly."

Rest was not to be allowed. Suddenly Tristan was there again. "I need to take you somewhere immediately. Do you feel well enough to travel?"

"I am not going anywhere with you," Nat said firmly.

Tristan opened the narrow closet where someone had hung the outfit she'd last been wearing. He laid the items on her bed and turned his back, waiting expectantly. "We must leave at once," he snapped. "It isn't safe for you here."

"Why? You’re the enforcer. You're the one with all the power."

"Joe hit you, Natalie. I saw that you were brought to a hospital, and I have kept your location from him, but he is gone. I don't know where he is right now. I could go in search of him, but he might double back and kill you before I can catch him. It would be safest to keep you with me."

Natalie laughed humorlessly. "No. I am not going. This is my vacation. I want to get away from vampires. I will go no where with you."

Tristan whirled around, his eyes blazing and the deadly fangs extending over his lower lip. "Nicholas is responsible for your knowledge, not LaCroix!"

Nat's face blanched. Had she been delirious? Had she revealed more than she ought? "No," she started to deny.

"You led me to believe that LaCroix was responsible for you, and so I was willing to look the other way, to grant the ancient sufficient time to honor the code. But Nicholas is under suspicion himself! You're chances of survival were slim and none, and slim just flew out the window!"

"What are you going to do to Nick?" she whispered.

"Get dressed," Tristan said coldly.

Nat struggled to sit. Her head throbbed painfully. She removed the saline drip and covered the small wound with a tissue for a few moments. A head injury could be serious, but she had no fever or infection. If the vampire wanted to protect her, did she have any other choice but to comply?

"I will do nothing to Nick," Tristan promised. "But he will face the challenge. Joe brought accusations back to the council that LaCroix's son had discovered a cure, and was beginning to cross back over. He claims the blindness is a result of the cure, and the council believes him, as there has never been a vampire wound before that did not heal."

Natalie wished she had chosen to travel in soft sweats instead of the form fitting skirt with a back zipper. Her blouse had a blood stain on the front. Joe must have broken the skin when he'd struck her. Her head was throbbing, and now her stomach rumbled as well. How long had she lain here? "I don't think I can walk," she said.

Tristan turned around then. "We won't." He scooped her into his arms and went to the window.

"But the sun," she stammered.

"As you know, I am an Enforcer," was his cryptic reply. Forcing the glass open, he lifted into the sky. Natalie clung to his neck, afraid to look down. His skin felt hot to touch and it reddened, but it did not blacken and shrivel up or smoke, as she had seen Nick's do. He flew too fast, like a rollercoaster ride about to break free from its tracks. She felt a scream in her throat, but she made no sound to distract the being holding her life in his hands.

Tristan flew with her to what must have been his apartment, for he seemed familiar with what few belongings were there. Natalie saw her own suitcases as well. "What does this mean," she demanded. "Whose side are you on?"

"Find something clean to wear," he ordered her. "We will catch a plane to Florida tonight, where you are going to catch up with your ship."

"Why?"

"Because Joe knows you missed your boat. He knows you aren't there, so temporarily it is the safest place to be."

It made sense in a strange sort of way. Right now though, her head throbbed and on an ocean cruise was the last place she wanted to be. She started to lift one suitcase, but Tristan took it for her and carried it to the bathroom.

"Be ready in thirty minutes. If you tell me what you would like, I will order you food."

What to order? She couldn't even think. She should order a pepperoni pizza, extra garlic, just to annoy the vampire that was annoying the hell out of her. They might serve dinner on the plane as well. "Just get me an ice-cream shake," she said. Cold, smooth, non-greasy. It might not be nutritious, but at least, it should stay down.

Thirty minutes was enough time for a quick shower. Then she emerged in more comfortable traveling clothes, navy pants, a white top with a nautical emblem, and a pair of white tennis shoes. Tristan had placed her chocolate shake from a fast-food place on a glass plate on the kitchen table, with a napkin, knife, fork, and spoon, as though it was a full meal in a fine restaurant. It made her laugh, in spite of the incongruous situation she seemed to be in.

Tristan returned her suitcase to the living room, and another small bag was next to hers. He tried to look calm, but Natalie saw beneath the façade that he fidgeted, anxious to be off. She slurped the shake too quickly, making her headache worse.

A doorman came to take the suitcases then, and Tristan put an arm around Natalie. She would have shrugged it off, but he hissed in her ear. "For now, we are travelling as Mr. and Mrs. Giovanni Lambertini. Play the part, or we will both be discovered."

"Is Joe so strong that you are afraid of him?" she challenged.

"No. But I'd guess that he won't come back alone. He'll get a small army to help him, by telling them that your experiments are responsible for creating the Fever. He will not have any trouble finding willing accomplices."

For the first time, Natalie realized the danger she was in. She leaned closer to Tristan, wishing instead that he were LaCroix.

"How long do you think it will take for him to find our trail?" she whispered.

Tristan snorted. "Hopefully, he will not succeed. While you were unconscious, I planted false trails all over the city. It could take him months."

"But, how long must I hide?"

"Hush, now. We'll talk later."

Natalie closed her eyes. She didn't trust Tristan, but there was no one else. She felt sick with worry for Nick, and part of her wanted to blame LaCroix for not being there to protect them. He probably didn't even know that she was in danger! Her limbs felt like dead weights, as the activity had all been too much for her, and she succumbed to exhaustion.

Chapter Sixteen:

"Good evening, Nick," Aunt Mary called cheerily as Nick and Perry came down the stairs. "I have something for you!"

Nick grinned. At first it had irritated him somewhat that she seemed to treat him like one of the children, until he realized that she treated everyone that way - Colette, the caregivers, the grounds keeper, even the delivery men and meter reader. He imagined what it would be like to see her patronize his ancient father, and almost laughed. "Good evening, Aunt Mary," he said. "Now what do you have?"

Nick heard her reach into several pockets, murmuring softly as she asked herself where she put it. Although he knew she was old and forgetful, he was just as sure that this was part of the charade to build suspense. "Well, if you find it later," he said, feigning indifference.

"Oh, no! I think, yes! I put it on the table, in case I went to bed before you arose. Here it is! You have a letter."

His smile was genuine. "From whom!" he asked, reaching out eagerly to accept it.

"The script is so lovely. You don't see people with penmanship like that these days. I think it says "Lucien LaCroix". Does that sound familiar?"

"Yes, that's my, my father," he said. It was just easier to say that then to try to explain the relationship.

She placed the letter in his outstretched hand. "Would you like me to read it for you?"

He beamed proudly. "No, thanks. I think I can manage on my own."

Nick took the letter into the library before opening it. He withdrew two pages of sturdy paper covered with the raised bumps of Braille. How had the master done it? He must have found a typewriter somewhere… it was probably his overprotective neurotic obsessive behavior, not wanting to send a simple note in cursive in case Nick hadn't mastered Braille and the computerized technology that would transcribe the letter for him, forcing him to ask some one to read it aloud. He laughed when he tried to decipher the first words, for it was in Latin! This would take some time, but he felt oddly eager to read it. He missed his family.

"My son, … I trust that this missive finds you well. How are supplies holding out? Let me know when I should send more.

"Our journey here was pleasant. Miss Vetter did not annoy me with another round of twenty questions. The in-flight movie was a new rendition of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow". A delightful film, really. The blood flowed constantly, dozens of heads rolled across the screen, and even a tree oozed dark red when attacked with an ax. Although it stirred my appetite, I was loath to see it end.

"Tracy is progressing slowly with her Spanish. The first mortal had been from a small, rural community, and he had an unfortunate vocabulary. She is quite fluent in shipyard cursing, but more erudite language remains beyond her grasp. She sees no handicap in this, as she feels confident that she can communicate quite well with Vachon. No doubt, she is correct.

"Chateau Moliere is quite unchanged. I am filled with memories of our last visit here, at a pleasant time in our past, and I find that I miss you.

"I trust you are studying hard. You always did throw yourself whole-heartedly into any endeavor. That is one thing that I have often admired about you. Please take care.

"LaCroix."

Nick set the letter aside, wiping an errant tear away swiftly before any mortal could notice. "I miss you, too," he whispered. Then he sat at the computer Colette had been teaching him how to use. The computer was equipped with Braille keyboard, the latest Occular Character Recognition technology and combined with synthesized voice enhancement, so he could hear what he wrote.

"Dear Sire," he began. Then he worried. What was the proper address? "Father" sounded to submissive, "master" too formal. "LaCroix" too distant, and "Lucien" to intimate. He deleted the word. Then he began again.

"To my master, Lucien LaCroix, who has been both father and friend," he wrote. That should just about cover it.

"I was pleased to receive your letter this evening. The Latin review was a nice touch.

"Our journey here was perfect. I love the boat. There is something so elemental about sailing, something pure and refreshing. It soothes both man and beast, with the exception of one carouche. Perry was "sick as a dog" the entire voyage. I hope he finds his sea legs soon, for I hope to take the boat down to Chicago soon.

"I met with Serena last week. She seems to have met a crossroads and I think she is better off for it. We made a tentative truce, at least. Robin is staying with her now, which leaves my apartment here empty again. I offered it to Vachon, but he prefers to stay on the boat.

"Learning Braille was challenging, but the rest seems easier. This is a very small school, like nothing I imagined, and I have one-on-one instruction. This week marks the half-point. I confess I am eager to return home.

"Say "hola" to Tracy for me.

"Forever, Nicholas."

He listened to his letter once through, then printed it. He inserted an envelope next and used the wizard feature to paste the address. He tucked the letter into his pocket then. If Vachon stopped by, he could ask him to post it for him.

Once again Nick felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle from the presence of a vampire. He bolted from his chair and whirled around. "Who's there," he demanded.

No one answered. The house was silent, for all the mortals had retired hours ago. He made his way to the door and reached out with his other senses. Could it be Vachon? The Spaniard was often hard to detect, as he came from a different line and he had spent centuries hiding from the Inca. But Vachon would not be playing this cruel joke. Nick knew someone was watching him, and had been watching him ever since he arrived. Only, what did the other want?

Nick concentrated, following the faint trace to the front door and out into the grounds. He whistled for Perry then. With the carouche by his side, he intended to end the game now.

The vampire's trail wound through the grounds, crossing back, through the stables, and then he almost lost it. Nick lifted a few feet off the ground, finding the trail again. Then he knew where to look. As though a shield had suddenly dropped, Nick knew a vampire waited for him on the roof.

Perry flew with him, guiding him to the small widow's walk at the peak of the Victorian home. Anger consumed Nick, even as he felt fear twist in his gut. "Who's there!" he demanded.

The vampire moved, circling around Nick and he turned to follow. "Who are you! What do you want!"

The vampire seemed to stop moving then. For a moment he lost the sense and wondered if he'd been chasing phantoms, but then the sensation returned. Nick took a step forward. Perry growled menacingly.

"Who do you think I am," asked a man's voice.

Nick growled, baring his fangs. "I think you are a mindless fool, with too little to do."

The vampire laughed. "Approach, young Nicholas de Brabant, and find out for yourself."

Nick blanched, his gut was on fire. The vampire used his mortal name instead of his current moniker. It would suggest that he was at least as old, if not older, than Nick himself, and yet, he did not sense him as he should. For a moment he wondered if it might be an Enforcer, but then he wouldn't sense him at all unless he allowed it. What if he was an Enforcer? Then Nick's days were numbered.

"Come ahead," the voice encouraged him. It didn't sound menacing. It was a pleasant voice, a little gravelly, and slightly accented. His English was perfect, but Nick could not place the country of his origin.

Hesitantly, Nick stepped closer and reached out until his hands found the sleeve of the vampire. Moving slowly, he felt the vampire's shoulders. He was a little taller than Nick, and much wider. Then he felt the neck, smoothly shaven, and finally the face. The vampire did not move as he permitted Nick's contact. He chuckled once and Nick stopped, but curiosity emboldened him.

Gently, cold fingers continued the exploration. A wide smile, fang tips barely exposed, high cheekbones, a thickish nose, bushy eyebrows and deep-set eyes, and very short, coarse hair in tight, wiry curls. Nick's hands returned to the shoulders, keeping in contact with the elusive stranger, but no longer probing.

"I don't know you," Nick stated.

"No, we have never met."

Nick grew tired of the game. He punched through with his other senses, forcing his way where he met resistance, until he found what he was seeking. What he felt terrified him. He staggered backward, dropping down on one knee.

"My lord," he stammered. "Forgive my rudeness. I, I had no idea!"

"Of course you didn't, child. I wasn't intending to reveal my presence to you."

Nick drew in a breath. His mind was filled with questions, his heart with fear. What he felt from the ancient was more powerful than the Enforcers. He was from the Council, the governing body, a panel of ancients that would make LaCroix an infant by comparison. They were generally reclusive, avoiding vampire and mortal alike, and even their existence was believed by many to be no more than myth. The ancient could destroy him in seconds with no more than a glance.

"Then, why did you?" he whispered.

The vampire chuckled again. It was a warm, pleasant sound, but it did little to alleviate Nick's fear. "I did not, Nicholas. No vampire has ever sensed my presence before. How do you do it?"

Nick stammered. How did he do what? Perhaps the ancient was toying with him. Foolish anger stirred, he didn't want his death to provide amusement for some sick elder. Before he could blurt something stupid, his stomach lurched. Nick turned, doubled over and vomited.

The ancient took a step nearer, but the carouche bared his fangs and growled, protecting him. "Down, Perry," Nick gasped, as the spasms continued to shake him. There was no reason to drag the carouche into hell with him tonight.

"So, at least part of what I've heard is true," the ancient murmured. "Come here, child."

Nick wanted to resist. The illness always left him feeling weak afterwards and very tired. He struggled to stand, then squared his shoulders. If the ancient wanted to kill him, Nick would not make a show of pleading for mercy. Following his other, stronger senses he approached the ancient again. He bristled as he felt the ancient's approval. Damned arrogant… Nick stopped his thoughts quickly, as he realized that the ancient was most likely able to read them.

The ancient put an arm around his shoulders, at once both commanding and supportive. "We have much to discuss, Nicholas. Is there a place you would recommend where we will not be interrupted?"

Nick thought quickly. So he would not die on the rooftop, his bones would not greet the sun. "I have an apartment. I have not lived there for some time." He gave the address. The ancient rose then, supporting Nick as they flew. Perry whined uncertainly. Nick whistled to him and the dog leaped to follow.

The apartment smelled of lemons and beeswax. Robin must have moved out and cleaned thoroughly after herself, for Serena had never shown much talent in keeping house. Nick was unsure. What if Robin had rearranged the furniture? He wished the ancient would release him, as Perry would not let him trip over anything.

"You may call me Zuhayr," the ancient said. "Explain to me. You are strong; I have seen you with your fledgling. You were able to follow me, although I tried in earnest lose you. Yet, now I see the blood on your brow and sense you are quite weak. What is the cause?"

"You were there? At Serena's?" Nick stammered. He was not proud of the way he had abused her. Although she promised to make changes in her life which would only be for the better, Nick knew the ends did not justify the means. Still, he had acted as a vampire master was expected to act. Of course the ancient would be pleased with that.

The ancient waited for the answer to his question. Perry came to sit at Nick's heel, whining softly. The carouche could sense Nick's exhaustion and wanted only to protect his young charge, yet now he realized the ancient was one to command respect.

"I don't know for sure," Nick said. He knew that it was impossible to tell a lie to one such as Zuhayr. If the ancient took his blood, the truth would be manifest, and yet, the truth would very likely get him in deeper waters than he was already. His stomach was still on fire, and threatened to revolt again. When it was this painful, human blood would not help.

"I was searching for a cure," he confessed. "For a long time. I tried to consume many things that I might find a substitute for the blood of mortals. A hole formed in my stomach's lining, and strong emotions irritate it."

Zuhayr grumbled softly at Nick's confession, but he hadn't told any secrets. He had been searching for a cure for over a century, surely every vampire on the planet had heard of that by now.

"And what of this cure? Did you find one?"

"No." Nick rubbed at his stomach absently. They still stood in the entryway of the apartment, the ancient's heavy arm still around his shoulder. Nick needed to sit down.

"There is no cure. And I have stopped searching." That too, was truth. Perhaps one day he would look again, but not for a long time. He would give anything if only he could be once again a healthy vampire.

Zuhayr brushed the hair at Nick's forehead in a paternal gesture. Then he loosened his collar and invited Nick to drink, drawing Nick in with a firm hand.

Nick hesitated. It was wrong. Ancients fed on the young. He should not take such liberties with a member of the council, and yet, how could he disobey? His knees were weakening and he would have fallen to the floor without Zuhayr's quick support. His face was pressed against the smooth throat, his fangs erupted again. Nick nuzzled the tender flesh, and felt the ancient chuckle.

"Go ahead, child," Zuhayr encouraged him.

Then Nick struck, sinking his fangs. The ancient blood filled his mouth and he gulped greedily. It had a warm flavor Nick could not identify, but he was too hungry to analyze it. When he would have withdrawn, the ancient held him firm.

"Will you submit?" he asked.

Nick stiffened. The ancient had just asked for his blood. It was as it should be, and yet he felt somewhat betrayed, almost like the ancient had tricked him into intimacy like some ignorant virgin. He craned his neck to bare the throat in unspoken supplication, but he bit harder and sucked more fiercely.

Zuhayr returned the bloodkiss and tenderly sipped from him, only a mouthful, and then he closed the wound. It was so quick, that it could not have truly satisfied any carnal needs. Nick withdrew his fangs then, shamed and confused.

"Better now?" Zuhayr asked.

Nick nodded meekly. "Yes, lord. Thank you."

Zuhayr loosened his hold as if testing if Nick truly could stand on his own. Then he stepped back. "Nice little place," he said, moving away from Nick. "Come into the living room and sit down."

Perry jumped to Nick's aid. Robin had moved the furniture around from how he'd remembered it, but Perry brought him to a couch and sat at his feet, resting his head on Nick's shoes.

Zuhayr then questioned him about his blindness, and the carouche guide dog, and his presence in Montreal, and how he was getting along with LaCroix. The questions were interminable and unnecessary. He should have been able to read what he needed to know in the blood.

"Nicholas, charges against you were brought to the council," Zuhayr said hours later. "Joseph Ben Achmed, child of Tamar, reported that you were blind and dependent upon a carouche to survive. No one believed him at first. He claimed that your weakness exposed you to the mortal world, and that your mortal friend, in trying to find a cure for vampirism, created the Fever that killed so many of us. These are formidable charges.

"Yet, LaCroix is no fool. He knows the Code and has earned the right to defend himself and his progeny. Joseph cried out favoritism, and took his complaint to the Enforcers. I decided to come and investigate personally, before this situation gets out of hand."

"Natalie did not cause the Fever!" Nick blurted. "She found the cure!"

"Others say it was LaCroix who discovered the cure, Nicholas. Even your own blood supports that."

Nick covered a yawn and shuddered. Dawn must be near. He still didn't know if he was to be killed, but it seemed less likely.

"LaCroix was angry. I was dying. Many others had already died. He attacked one of Natalie's friends and killed him, exacting his form of justice. Only, when he brought the corpse to the morgue to gloat, Natalie saw that he was no longer ill. She realized then that blood infected with the AIDS virus would cure the Fever in vampires. She didn't want this knowledge to lead to indiscriminate killing of all AIDS patients, so she searched for tainted, donated blood and created a "vaccine" for vampires. Only, there wasn't time for that to save me. The tainted blood still flowed in LaCroix's veins. When I fed from him, I fed on his victim as well. So LaCroix cured me, but Natalie's vaccine cured all the others."

"I see," Zuhayr said thoughtfully.

"The rest is true, I'm afraid," Nick murmured. He yawned again. "I am blind, and Perry does help me."

Perry perked up at the mention of his name. He smiled at the ancient vampire and panted expectantly.

"He may be your eyes, Nicholas, but he is not your strength. You have discovered abilities no vampire your age has ever before possessed. Perhaps you have discovered something important? A new way of training our progeny? We need to be stronger, for in these modern times, our old ways are no longer enough."

Nick nodded blankly. He thought intentionally blinding a fledgling in order to train him was a bit extreme. His thoughts were fuzzy. He felt strangely weightless, then felt the familiar comforting sound of a vampire's slow heartbeat pulsing against his face. A chill air touched his skin as his clothing was gently removed. Then he was in bed, in a protective embrace. He couldn't remember LaCroix's return... he smiled in his sleepy state. The ancient missed him. "Good day, master," he whispered.

Zuhayr did not answer. The golden child curled into his embrace, his features relaxed. LaCroix was a lucky master to possess such a delightful creature. The minute taste of Nicholas had assaulted his senses with light and passion. He would bring an interesting report back to the council.

Zuhayr did not sleep. One as old as he was not as affected by the circadian rhythms of the sun. He could go for days without rest. This young vampire showed great promise. Yet, his sources had informed him that Joseph Ben Achmed was coming to Toronto with a lynch mob, determined to see Nicholas destroyed. There must be some way he could help him, but he could not fight his battles for him. If a vampire could not defend himself, then he was a risk to the entire community. Zuhayr arose, and prepared for the night ahead.

*****

Nick felt a wet tongue on his cheek. "Knock it off, carouche," he warned playfully. Perry licked him again, gently nipping an ear. Nick wrapped his arms around the beast's neck and rolled, wrestling him to the floor. "I warned you," he threatened, grinning around his fangs. "Must be time for you to have a bath, too!"

"Woof!" Perry struggled out of his grasp and pranced just out of reach.

Nick sat up. For a few moments he was disoriented, until he remembered that he was not in the blind school. This was his apartment. Reaching outward, he realized that the ancient Zuhayr was still there. "Come boy," he called.

Perry wagged his tail but remained where he was.

"I was only joking. I won't give you a bath."

"Woof!"

"I promise," Nick said. Perry came to his aid then, assisting him to the shower. Nick took his time. He wasn't really eager to face Zuhayr again. He had thought LaCroix was intimidating, but at least he knew that LaCroix would never intentionally kill him... with Zuhayr he wasn't sure.

Nick and Perry came into the kitchen, but the refrigerator had been emptied and cleaned. There was nothing there to eat. "I should be going," Nick said hesitantly.

"No," Zuhayr answered.

Nick felt ready to argue, as he often did when LaCroix treated him like this, but he wisely held his tongue. Going to the front door, he let Perry out to hunt for himself. Sometimes Nick almost envied the carouche's ability to hunt. Nick just couldn't work up any sympathy for the rats or other vermin the carouche would drain tonight.

Concentrating, Nick recalled the placement of the furniture as best as he could remember it from last night, and went to sit on a couch. Zuhayr joined him, sitting across from him.

"What do you know about Joseph Ben Achmed?" Zuhayr asked.

Nick shrugged. "He is a carpenter. LaCroix had him do some work at his nightclub. I guess he's alright. I don't really know him."

"Why does he want you dead?" Zuhayr asked bluntly.

Nick swallowed. Joe had apologized for teasing him, at LaCroix's insistence, and Nick had accepted the apology at once. He thought they had parted on good terms. "Joe isn't angry with me," Nick said then. "LaCroix kicked him out of Toronto. Perhaps he wants to hurt me to get back at LaCroix. It wouldn't be the first time I have been a target for LaCroix's enemies."

Zuhayr nodded. Unfortunately, such was the case more often than it should be. It placed fledglings in constant risk. Their numbers were diminishing constantly, as so few fledglings ever survived to become mature members of the community. The ancients, even as old as LaCroix, had mostly given up bringing any across. Yet, since they lived in small, isolated communities and were for the most part self-governing, there was little, if anything, the council could do about it.

"Joseph is coming to Montreal to destroy you," Zuhayr said.

Nick blanched. He said not a word, struggling to keep his face expressionless, yet he fervently wished he had never stepped out of Toronto! Still, Joe was not that old. Perhaps he and Vachon could take him on.

"He is not coming alone," Zuhayr continued.

"Then I must leave at once," Nick said, thinking aloud.

"That is one option," Zuhayr said. "But perhaps not the wisest."

"I can't take on a gang right now!"

"No, you can't. And I will not fight with you. If you wish to survive, you must prove that you can defend yourself, in spite of your disability."

Nick clamped his mouth shut. He knew the Code. If only he'd stayed with LaCroix, perhaps his eyesight would have returned before this issue had ever come up.

"I will help, only by keeping the fight fair. I will prevent his comrades from helping him. It will be between you and Joseph. You must vanquish him."

Suddenly, learning to read Braille and manipulate specially adapted computer equipment seemed insignificant. What use were these blind man's tricks? Nick rubbed at his abdomen as the turmoil tore at his stomach savagely.

Zuhayr came to him and offered his ancient blood once more. Nick accepted it readily without regard to custom, so distracted was he. It grew late, Colette would be waiting for him, but Nick couldn't think about that now.

Desperation made him a quick thinker. He couldn't fight Joe here, where the apartment threw a hundred obstacles at him. There were few places he knew well enough. The best location to meet Joe would be outside; he told Zuhayr as much. The ancient agreed. He led the way, and they flew out of the city.

At a clearing, where a new housing project was scheduled for construction, Zuhayr landed. Silently, Nick took Perry by the harness and walked through the area, concentrating on the terrain. He learned where the sewer pipes were being laid, where the ground was torn up, where the electric boxes marked the corner of each new lot. He found where the damp ground showed areas of poor drainage, and where a slight dip in the land led to a shallow creek. The walking helped to keep him focused, taking his mind off his stomach.

Just after midnight Nick felt their approach. "Tell LaCroix I died well," Nick murmured softly.

Zuhayr stood then as well. He searched the skies and the young pup was right. A band of nine young vampires flew nearer. He stared at the blind vampire in awe.

Joe landed not five feet away from Nick. The others all lighted to either side. Zuhayr took several steps closer to Nick, offering silent support.

"So, Nick. You've got a bigger babysitter," Joe taunted.

"Joe. I apologize for LaCroix. He was wrong to treat you so harshly."

"I don't need your help, freak," Joe sneered. "You're a pathetic waste of immortality. We're here to fix that now."

Zuhayr cleared his throat and let his ancient presence flood over the assembly. When he had their attention, he spoke. "Joseph, you brought a complaint against Nicholas to the council. We find him innocent of the more serious charges, and choose to ignore the lesser ones, giving him fair warning. You are ordered to leave here at once."

Joe ignored the order. He threw a few insults at the ancient as well. "I knew you sniveling old geezers wouldn't have the guts to do anything, so I took my complaints to the Enforcers. They're looking for Nick now. So back off."

Zuhayr stepped forward and compelled the eight other vampires to listen. "Nick was not responsible for the Fever. His mortal friend did in fact save us, discovering the cure. Any who harms either him or the mortal, will have the council to answer to."

The eight others backed up, hesitating now to get involved. Joe growled angrily. "Cowards," he hissed. "Forget it. It's just you and me, Nick. You should have stayed with papa!"

He flew at Nick then, tackling him to the ground. Zuhayr winced. Living in seclusion with the other ancients he was unused to the rollicking free-for-alls of the young.

Nick rolled and got back to his feet swiftly. He still did not take an aggressive posture, but rather continued to try to calm Joe with words. Joe flew at him twice more. He pummeled Nick's most vulnerable spot, his stomach. Blood oozed from his mouth, dark and thick with his own, unique scent.

Nick regained his feet, weaving slightly. The next time when Joe lunged for him, he ducked. Again and again Joe tried to tackle him, but each time the blind vampire avoided him almost effortlessly. Joe's fangs lashed out, ripping Nick's forearm. Still Nick did not strike back. He concentrated on defense. Zuhayr admired the way Nicholas handled himself, and it was hard to tell that the vampire could not see.

Joe did not seem to tire. The endless fight only further enraged him. He fought viciously, tearing at Nick's clothing, his arms, his hands, but always missing the vulnerable throat, his ultimate target that would end the battle. Nick was coated in a blood sweat, blood soaked the front of his shirt from his own vomit. Still, he deflected Joe's deadly fangs. Perry whined, begging to come to Nick's aid. Only Nick's firm command, enforced by Zuhayr's more powerful warning, kept him at the periphery of the fight.

Suddenly, Nick gained the advantage. Joe's feet slipped on damp ground, and Nick was on top of him. He plunged his fangs into Joe's throat and sucked him fiercely.

Joe bucked beneath him, screaming first in anger and then in fear. Nick held him firmly. The cold, vampire blood soothed his tortured stomach and renewed his strength. Joe grew weaker, his attempts to throw Nick off became more feeble. Then he relaxed as if resigned to face his death. When Nick had consumed enough, he would be able to rip his head from his shoulders and end his existence. Joe closed his eyes to wait for the end.

Nick withdrew his fangs, angry at himself for losing control, angry that he had enjoyed any part of it. He sat back, still straddling Joe.

"Well," Joe gasped, barely enough strength left to form the word. "Finish it."

"No," Nick said. "You're grievance was with LaCroix, not me. It is over, Joe. Let it go."

Joe blinked.

Nick got up then and hauled Joe to his feet. "Go home, Joseph Ben Achmed. Leave justice to others." Then he turned his back and walked away.

Chapter Seventeen:

"Oh, Van, you are too funny," the heavyset woman who shared their dinner table exclaimed. Nat stared in morbid fascination as her double chins waggled in syncopation. Tristan, or "Giovanni" as he was calling himself now, sat casually beside her, one arm around the back of her chair and the other resting on the dinner table. His plate was still heaped with food, and yet because of his subtle powers of suggestion, no one except Natalie had noticed that he did not eat.

"It has become my personal crusade to expose stupidity wherever it is found," Tristan continued. "We have all grown accustomed to clerks who cannot make change, or construction workers who cannot read the numbers on a tape measure. We even accept it, although I'm sure we should not. My main grievance is when stupidity gets elected or promoted to positions of authority. That is the topic of my book, and unfortunately I have abundant material!"

Natalie found herself smiling easily, enchanted by Tristan's charm. They were still posing as husband and wife and had shared a stateroom for over a week. Tomorrow they would return to Halifax... her dream vacation was nearly over.

It had not turned out quite like she had expected. Natalie had wanted to get away from vampires! Tristan was mainly here to protect her, yet, he unwittingly served another purpose. Natalie realized that she didn't have to base her decision to become a vampire purely on her opinion of LaCroix. There were hundreds of other vampires in the pool. Tristan was handsome, pleasant, relaxed, and she could easily imagine spending half a century in his company before moving on. So her real question was, did she want to live forever in the dark, or enjoy the sun and die?

"But why do you keep such odd hours?" the lady asked. "Natalie is always alone during the day. You didn't even get out to enjoy the beach when we docked at Nassau!"

Tristan laughed lightly. "I always write at night and sleep during the day, dear lady. It is the only way to be productive. During the day, the phones ring constantly with solicitations, and dogs bark, and people come and go. I started to work nights a long time ago, and it is too much a habit to change now. Besides, I think Natalie enjoys getting away from me for a while," he said, grinning widely.

Natalie blushed. She noticed the way he wove half-truths around his stories. He was very convincing.

"That's not true, Nat, is it?" she prodded. "If I were married to such a hunk, I'd be afraid to let him out of my sight ever!"

Her companion, a more slender woman every bit as old as she, grunted disdainfully. "Leave them be, Rosella. Young people are different today. Their ways seem strange to us, but that is the nature of things. Now put off your senseless prattle."

Natalie covered her mouth with her napkin, trying to hide her amusement. They were the funniest couple. They had met twenty years ago when both their husbands passed away. The friendship born of loneliness blossomed over the years. They started taking cruises, originally to try to meet someone "eligible", but even after all thoughts of remarriage had dimmed with time, they continued to travel together.

Natalie saw what could be her future in them. Widowed, alone, and lonely... mortality was looking less desirable all the time.

The band came on stage amidst cheers and applause. Dressed in white tuxedoes and playing jazzed up tunes from bygone eras, they were completely different from the bands Natalie was accustomed to hearing. Tristan stood and extended a hand for her. "Shall we dance?"

Natalie placed her hand in his and smiled, appearing very much to be the blushing bride. Tristan made her pulse race. Was he doing something to her, she wondered? Like whammying her into acquiescence?

He pulled her close and swept her away in the easy ballroom dance. While the other passengers joined in, the staff was able to clear the tables. Natalie could get used to dancing every night after dinner, she thought with a grin.

"So are you looking forward to tomorrow," Tristan asked.

Natalie looked away from him, taking in the other couples on the dance floor. There were young ones recently married, old ones celebrating a full life together, there were couples not officially married, and like her table-mates, couples that were only friends. All seemed carefree, living in the luxury of wining and dining, yet how many of them would return to stressful jobs and careers? None of them had problems as insurmountable as hers, she thought dryly.

She was still caught between LaCroix and Nick. Wanting to help the younger, wanting to love the elder, wanting to belong and be a part of the family, yet still the outsider. And still hunted by some crazed vigilante vampire named Joe.

"Not really," she answered truthfully.

Tristan held her closer, his mouth a grim line. "I do not know what we will find when we reach Halifax," he said softly.

Natalie tried an indifferent shrug to lighten the moment. "Joe's not the whole issue, either," she said. "This is my first real vacation in eight years. I'm just not ready to go back."

"Then don't," he said.

She laughed. "Oh yes, you vampires do take a cavalier attitude to such things as jobs, responsibilities, commitments. I can't just take off again. Besides, I can't afford it."

Tristan leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "Let me treat you to another cruise, Natalie. I feel some responsibility in ruining this one. It is the least I can do to make it up to you."

She leaned her head against his chest. It was rather tempting. And really, what would her boss say? He'd probably throw a temper tantrum and threaten to cut her wages, but he would never do it. He needed her and they both knew it. "I'll think on it," she said, surprising herself.

****

Tracy stared at her master as he destroyed the cab, tearing the doors and ripping the metal panels as though they were only paper. He had caught the scent of Natalie's blood on the seat.

There wasn't enough blood for it to be a mortal wound. Tracy had found that encouraging, but LaCroix saw it as proof that Natalie was indeed in danger. Until now, they'd been chasing phantoms.

The trails had been numerous, all false leads. Natalie's jacket was left at a restaurant on the north side, her passport and wallet had been discovered in a dumpster and handed over to the police on the south side. There were motel owners who swore that she had stayed a night in one of their rooms, and yet, when pressed with vampire hypnotism, LaCroix discovered that their memories had already been altered. Some one was thwarting him, and he was angry enough to tear him limb from limb whenever he caught him!

The cab was the first real lead in their search. Natalie had taken it, her blood attested to that. But where had she gone next?

Caspian flew into the alley with Trevor as always right behind him. "Stop that," he snapped at LaCroix.

The ancient heaved the entire cab, or what little remained of it, and stuffed it into a dumpster. Then he clapped his hands together as if ridding himself of dirt. "Well?" he demanded.

"There was a police call three nights after Natalie's plane landed here. A woman was found with a head wound and no identification. She was taken to the hospital. It may be another dead end, but I have sent Amaru there to investigate."

Tracy blinked tears of empathy. Her master looked so lost. He didn't know what to do, and she was certain it was a situation he was not familiar with. If only there was something she could do for him, to ease his suffering. She'd been trying to be quiet and helpful, and keep out of the way, but if only there was something more. She grew more fearful the longer they went without finding her. Tracy began to doubt that Natalie was even still alive.

She gulped miserably, remembering all the times she'd treated Natalie badly. Teasing her, taunting her, not extending the hand of friendship. How lonely Natalie must be, caught between two worlds and not really a part of either. She could never talk to her mortal friends about her vampire lover, and the other vampires seldom included her in their circles. If only she would be all right! Maybe there was still time to make it up to her?

"Come, Lucius. Let us return to the cottage to wait for him," Caspian directed.

LaCroix let himself be led away. He sat silent and motionless as Tracy brought him something to drink, and Janette stood behind him, massaging his shoulders to comfort him that he was not alone.

They didn't have to wait long for Amaru's return. Tracy was still uncomfortable around him. He had nearly killed her when they first met, right after she discovered the existence of vampires. He had seemed the more honorable of the twins, and yet, it was Vachon who stirred her blood. She stared at him now, assessing him.

He had changed out of his ethnic robes into more generic blue denims and a dark shirt. He wore soft leather moccasins, though, instead of tennis shoes. His hair was shoulder-length, but unlike Vachon's unruly mop, it was smooth and straight, curling under slightly, looking impeccably well-groomed with his perfectly trimmed goatee and mustache.

Amaru stood several feet from LaCroix, his expression solemn. "The woman at the hospital was not Natalie," he said. "The doctor said the Jane Doe had flame red hair and wore glasses."

LaCroix made no sign that he had even heard. He remained impassive. But Tracy could sense the quiet desperation emanating from him. She saw the way a small muscle in his jaw twitched, saw the hands clench until the skin was taut over the knuckles and small drops of blood oozed from where his fingernails tore his flesh.

They had run out of trails. Somehow, the coroner had disappeared without a trace. That was not unusual for a vampire kill. Only the inept would leave a body to be discovered. They all realized that they most likely would never find her now.

Suddenly LaCroix rose. "Where are you going?" Janette asked, voicing Tracy's question as well. He ignored her, throwing the door open wide and lifting into the sky. Silently, all the others followed him.

LaCroix flew towards the harbor. Tracy blinked, rubbing at the tears that threatened to spill. He was going to watch her boat come in, even knowing that she was not on it. There was something so tragic about that.

As he dropped to the pier, the mortals who had come to greet their returning friends and family all pulled away from him, perhaps sensing the black rage that consumed him. He stared at the luxury liner slowing making its way to the pier. A horn blared, a deep, mournful sound. An air of expectation filled the mortals; they cheered and waved to the people on board, although they could not possibly be heard over the other noises. Then, the boat docked. The engines killed, and a gangplank extended to the pier. The guests started to leave the ship, carrying luggage and souvenirs and cameras, juggling all to still manage to wave to some one on the shore.

Then he saw her! His mind must be playing tricks, for Natalie was departing, carrying bags of her own, smiling and laughing to a young man beside her! She looked out over the crowds and spotted him. A confused look, then one of surprise, crossed her familiar features. "Lucien! You're here!" she shouted. She dropped her bags and ran, pushing others aside, as she leaped into his arms and hugged him.

LaCroix remained stiff. This was no phantom. This woman was flesh and blood. And she was on the boat after all, laughing and smiling without a care in the world, while he had gone to hell and back to search for her. Her companion caught up with them then, carrying her bags. LaCroix realized then that he was a vampire.

LaCroix set Natalie aside. He lunged for the vampire's throat, fangs bared, prepared to kill. Caspian gestured to the others to close in around them to prevent any mortals from witnessing the scene. Natalie screamed.

"LaCroix, stop this at once!"

"Natalie, you're alive," Tracy shouted.

"LaCroix, stop," pleaded Tristan.

Trevor trembled. He moved closer to his master for protection, unsure of the violence in the air.

Natalie forced herself between LaCroix's menacing fangs and Tristan's bared throat. "LaCroix! He is not to blame. He protected me from the others! Stop this at once and listen!"

Caspian placed firm hands on LaCroix's shoulders, helping him to bring his rage under control. LaCroix closed his lips over his fangs but kept a grip so tight that he was bruising Tristan.

"Let's take this someplace private," Caspian advised.

LaCroix would not relinquish his hold on the vampire whom he chose to blame for the agony he had been through. Amaru gallantly offered Natalie a lift, Diggin and Trevor took her bags, and the troop returned to the cottage they had rented.

Natalie sank into the soft sofa. She shook her head when Tracy asked if she needed anything to eat. Food had been shoved at her non-stop for the remainder of the cruise - breakfast, morning snacks, lunch, afternoon snacks, dinner, desserts, and after dinner drinks... Nat was certain she had put on a few pounds. She was tired, though, and still worried about the rampaging vampire threat, and glad to see LaCroix, but furious of his treatment of Tristan.

Caspian took control. "Natalie," he said, his deep voice resonating through the room. "We were told you had missed your cruise. We have been looking everywhere for you, and believed you were dead. Can you explain how you happen to be on that ship?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I will, just as soon as you release him, Lucian."

LaCroix glared at her, still enraged and barely recognizing her at all.

"Release him," Nat repeated slowly.

LaCroix loosened the fingers of one hand and then the other. Tristan doubled over, rubbing at his bruised throat, then quickly regained his strength. He glared at LaCroix and bared his fangs, letting the Enforcer in him loose to intimidate them. Amaru and the young vampires all stepped back, but Caspian, Diggin and LaCroix did not move. Natalie cursed loudly. "Oh stop all this I'm-bigger-than-you-are-crap! Tristan, sit down! LaCroix, sit down!"

Caspian laughed uproariously. "Oh, LaCroix! You always knew how to pick the amusing ones! I think she is more disrespectful than even Nicholas!"

Nat glared at him, but his insult had had the desired effect. LaCroix and Tristan sat opposite each other and the tension in the room lifted, if only partially.

"Some vampire named Joe was after me," Nat explained quickly. "Tristan was trying to protect me from him."

Tristan went in to more details then, when LaCroix seemed willing to listen. He told about Joe's failed attempts to incite the council against Nick, and then getting the Enforcers involved. He told how he was only supposed to gather information on Natalie, and not destroy her, but Joe decided to take matters in to his own hands.

"When I couldn't find him, I thought the cruise was the safest place for Natalie to be," he explained.

"I did write to you," Nat said. "But, the mail is so slow, the letter is probably still on its way to Maine. You should be getting it in a day or two."

LaCroix's expression remained impassive. "Joe," he murmured, trying to place the name.

"Joseph Ben Achmed," Tristan said. "He came to us about a month ago, hoping to begin training to become an Enforcer. He does not listen or follow orders, though. I will not give him a favorable recommendation."

"I will kill him," LaCroix said coldly.

Natalie blanched. She knew she would feel safer once he was no longer a threat, but she still could not accept vampire justice. "No, LaCroix. There has to be another way!"

"Actually," Tristan said slowly. "Natalie was never his target in the first place. He wanted to hurt you, LaCroix. I don't know what you did to offend him, but he came to us demanding Nick's death."

"No!" LaCroix gasped, barely audibly.

Silence filled the cottage. No one breathed, not even Natalie. The stress of the past week spent searching for her, slowly coming to accept that she was dead, then discovering she was alive, they had no strength left. Poor Nick! If a crazed vampire had come after him, what hope was there? He was blind, and Vachon was not strong enough to fight alone. LaCroix staggered, losing his balance. Caspian caught him.

"Let us go to him, Lucius," he said quietly.

Nat glanced out the curtained windows. She knew it was very late. They wouldn't get far before the sun forced them to seek shelter.

A phone rang, shattering the deadly quiet.

It rang again. The vampires looked around, wondering whose phone and who could be calling. A third and then a fourth ring sounded, until Nat realized the sound was coming from LaCroix's pocket. "Lucien! Answer the damn phone!"

Zombie-like, LaCroix withdrew a small cellphone from his pocket and put it to his ear. "Yes," he said slowly.

"Father? Are you alright?"

"Nicholas!" LaCroix exclaimed.

"Yes, I know you didn't want to be disturbed, but I felt such strong emotions from you tonight. I had to call. Is anything the matter?"

Natalie was laughing and hugging Tracy. Janette lunged into Amaru's arms, and even Caspian drew Trevor in for an affectionate squeeze. They smiled happily as LaCroix took the cellphone into another room for privacy.

"I was concerned for you, my son. Are you all right?"

Nick laughed. "I am now. I mailed you a letter, but I'm sure you couldn't have received it yet."

LaCroix smiled. He had two letters to look forward to, and this nightmarish week to forget.

"Joe dropped by," Nick said. "I think he's still mad at you. But we came to an agreement, and I don't think he'll be bugging me again."

LaCroix heaved an audible sigh. "That is good news, Nicholas."

His son sounded sleepy. It was so good to hear his voice, though. He missed him terribly. Four weeks were gone. Only two more and he would be coming home again. "How is school going?" he asked.

"Fine." He yawned.

LaCroix didn't want to let him go just yet. It was selfish of him, but he had to hear his voice just a little longer.

"I'm getting pretty good at reading Braille. The computers are fun to use, too. In some ways, I think I can search for information faster, because I don't get distracted by interesting graphics, but the voice function slows it down. Amaru and Vachon have both visited me, and I settled things with Serena."

"That's very good, Nicholas. I am happy for you." LaCroix wanted to say more, but his wits failed him. He couldn't help smiling stupidly, and hoped that his child would sense what he could not say.

"Are you okay now?" Nick sounded worried.

"Everything is fine, Nicholas. You are fine, Natalie is doing fine, and Tracy and I are surviving each other's company just fine." He cringed at the less that poetic speech.

"Hm," Nick said slowly. LaCroix could almost see him, stretched out on his bed, his eyes closed, and his carouche at his side. "Glad to hear it," he murmured.

"Sleep well," LaCroix said. "Good night, my child."

"'night."

The line was disconnected. LaCroix kissed the cellphone before placing it back in his pocket. Nice little piece of technology, he decided. He would make sure that everyone he cared about owned one, with extra batteries as well.

There was much to discuss with the others. He had to thank Tristan for his service and ensure that they parted on good terms. He was not afraid of the young Enforcer, but it never hurt to have friends in high places. He had to comfort Tracy, and there were a few things he wanted to tell Natalie as well. And some how the Inca was involved... he wondered if it was time to initiate him as he had Vachon. But for now, the sun was rising, the problems were over. He was exhausted.

Natalie knocked lightly on the door, then peered inside. "Lucien?"

He gave her a weary smile. "Come in, Natalie."

"I'm sorry that you were worried about me. I didn't think you would even know I was in danger." She wrapped her arms around his waist. With the fingers of one hand, she slipped between the waistband of his trousers to touch bare skin.

LaCroix drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It hurt too much to love others, he chided himself, angry that he had let them get this close.

"So Nick called. Is everything okay?"

LaCroix could only nod his head. Why had speech deserted him this night?

Natalie released him and poked her head back into the hall. "Nick's okay, we're worn out, everybody just go to bed," she said firmly.

LaCroix heard Caspian chuckle again and make some disparaging comments about bossy female mortals.

"Tristan, how do you like your back rubbed?" he heard Tracy ask.

Natalie shut the door and grinned at him. "What about you, Lucien? I believe I owe you a back rub… shall we get naked?"

Chapter Eighteen:

Nick sensed the excitement as soon as he fully awoke. Since it was his last night, he assumed that there would be some sort of party in his honor. He groaned. "What do you think, Perry? Will there be noxious punch and chocolate cake at this one?"

"Woof," Perry agreed.

"I guess I can behave for one more night. It will sure be good to get home, though." He showered and shaved for the occasion, although he had worn the beard stubble for much of his stay.

Perry joined him in the shower for a change, permitting Nick to shampoo his coat until it was sleek and squeaky clean. He gave a good shake, nearly soaking the bathroom when it was over. Then he had to be extra careful that his charge did not slip on the wet floors. Also, he didn't mind being wet so much, but licking his coat dry was nasty. Water hadn't tasted good to him in years.

Nick packed his bags and tidied the room. He preferred using a good housekeeper, but certain things like empty blood bottles just could not be left lying around. He found the most recent letters and tucked them in an outside pocket. He'd had quite a few, actually.

Natalie had sent six postcards from Hawaii. It seemed rather foolish, as he'd been unable to appreciate the lush pictures, but Vachon had described them to him carefully. Apparently, some one named Tristan had bought her a cruise of the islands, after her first Bahamian cruise ended. It sounded like she was having a wonderful time. Nick smiled, he knew she'd been moody and overworked lately. He hoped she found the answers she was seeking.

Tracy had written to him twice, amusing little stories, in Braille, in Spanish. She had joined the migrant workers for a wedding banquette one night, where the wine flowed like rivers and the songs and dances had stretched until dawn.

LaCroix wrote to him constantly. The ancient had been more expressive in print than he had ever managed in person. The letters were profoundly personal, and Nick would treasure them forever.

Urs wrote only once. She apologized, but said she'd never been much of a writer and didn't know what to say. Then she had filled several pages as she told him about her business and some of her customers, about the Raven, and how Caspian was managing. She even mentioned how Trevor had developed a crush on Janette, but she hardly noticed he was even there. Nick smiled, feeling great sympathy for the young vampire.

Janette had not written at all. Nick could sense her now, more clearly than ever before. Perhaps it was because she was now his child, or because he could sense everyone better. But, she seemed forlorn and unhappy. Finally, he had called her. They sat up for hours, talking long distance. Nick could almost forget the years that had kept them apart. He could envision her clearly, her seductive little pout, her elegant manners and soft, feminine ways. He remembered the way she always smelled, a musky scent of passion, a heady perfume that left his senses reeling. When finally the call had ended, Nick had fallen asleep for the best rest he'd had in weeks.

Finally, Nick zipped the last bag closed. "Come along, boy," he called. He set the bags by the front door, then followed the sounds to the parlor where the entire household waited for him.

Several children latched onto his legs, already tearful. "Don’t go!" they pleaded.

The caretaker admonished them. "Children, this is a happy occasion. Nicholas has mastered the skills he will need to return to his life in Toronto. We are here to celebrate with him."

Like all mortal occasions, Nick was handed a glass of punch and a piece of cake. He was polite, and later managed to pass the cake to one of the kids to devour. The caregivers were formal. They seemed uncomfortable around him, but Aunt Mary was effusive.

"We've never taken on an adult student before," she confessed.

Nick nearly dropped his punch. "No?"

"No. I started caring for children when I was forced to retire from teaching," she said, settling in for a long story. "I got interested in fostering disabled children, and then, most of the children I got were blind. I poured all of my retirement funds into caring for blind orphans and foster kids, the children no one else seemed to want. When I got too old to handle them on my own, I hired a couple to act as primary caregivers, and I became more of a foster grandparent."

Something was very puzzling about this. "But, I applied to the National Institutes of the Blind. Aren't you associated with them?"

"No. I get my funding from child welfare. And not enough of it, either. About three months ago, a nice-looking black man came and offered me a large sum of money if I would accept one student for the summer. It was a ridiculous amount, enough to repair the roof and pay the gardener. So, I accepted his offer."

Nick squirmed uncomfortably. This wasn't even a blind school? Someone had manipulated him to be here? But it didn't seem like LaCroix's game. Who else? "Do you remember his name?" he asked quietly.

"It was foreign sounding. Zayr's, or something," she said.

Nick nodded. Zuhayr, the ancient from the council. Nick wasn't sure how he felt about being manipulated. The summer experience had turned out well. Colette was a great teacher, and Nick had learned all he had hoped for. But why had the ancient brought him here, away from LaCroix and the security of his home, except maybe to provide some sick amusement? Perhaps, it didn't matter.

"Play for us?" some of kids begged.

Nick settled on the piano bench, grateful that no one would be able to pass him any more food. He played a slew of children's songs, from "The Sausage Making Machine" to "Freddie Wilson's Cat." The children sang along, clapping their hands and shrieking happily.

Much later, Vachon knocked at the door. He had come with a cab to bring Nick back to the harbor. Nick hugged each of the kids, and Aunt Mary, and shook hands with the caregivers. He made a mental note to ask the Brabant Foundation to look into this home and others like it, to see if they needed anything.

"Thanks, Colette," he said, hugging her last. "I know I wasn't an easy student. Thanks for putting up with me."

She laughed effusively. "You are a master of understatement, Nick. But you're welcome. Take care, now!"

The cab ride was far different from the one he'd taken six weeks ago when he'd first arrived. He felt strong, contented, and ready to go home. His stomach wasn't at war with him either.

"Vachon," he asked, as they set the sails. "I don't think I'll go back to work right away. I want to take a trip, just for fun, before I get back into the grind. Want to sail down Lake Michigan with me and tour Chicago first?"

Vachon whooped. "Would I! That'd be great! When?"

"I imagine LaCroix's going to want to see me for a few days first. But maybe we can get away by next Sunday?"

"That's a date," Vachon said eagerly. "But, maybe we should invite the girls?"

Nick stroked his chin as if considering it gravely. "You miss the baby?" he asked. "I guess I could put up with her. Fine. We'll ask the girls. I can't wait, either. He'd begun his career in law enforcement in Chicago some time ago, and he'd returned there again recently, just before beginning his current life in Toronto. There was a quaint little sports bar he remembered with fondness, and a strange old man named Lucius Snow.

Perry had listened to the conversation with growing dread and wondered if they could slip some Dramamine into his blood.

The end.

(* Parajó: little bird)